wvaii f ^ J« 'tjujf tinii ji> ^OfCAllFOi?^ ^ ^OF-CAllFOff^ . «^^WEUNIVER% ^vWSANCElfj^ %mmn^ *^ ^IIIBRARY^/: -^tllBRARYQ^ ' ^WEUNIVERS/A o 5^UIBRARYQ^^ A^lllBRARYQr^ so 2 AWEUNIVERS'/Zi ^•10SANGEI% ^TilJDNVSm^'^ %il3AINa-3WV' ^OfCALIFO/?/!^ ^OFCAIIFO/?^ ^^AavaaiH^ ^^AavaaiH^ ,\\UONIVERS'/^ ■:lOSANCElfx> o %13DNVS01^ "^/jaaAiNnawv^ ^^WE11NIVER% ^10SANCEI% ^^ILIBRARYO^ ^^lliBRARYQ^^ <^«!/0JllV0JO>^ ^ ^OJITVOJO"^ "^ijojnvjjo^ ii;^ ^lOSANCElfj)*, ,H;QFCAllFO/?^> ^OFCAilFOff^ > >&AavaaiH^ ^<:?Aavaaii# ^ >i \WEUNIVER5'//, %J nV3- J0>' ^lOSANCElfx^ '%a3AINn-3Wv ^;^IIIBRARYQ<- ^tUBRARY^^ ^y Strahan and Spottiswoode, Printers-Street j FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 1819. PREFACE. In the leading Poem of this Collection, the Author frankly acknowledges that he has so far failed, as to be under the necessity of sending it forth incomplete, or suppressing it altogether. Why he has not done the latter is of little importance to the Public, which will assuredly award him no more credit than his performance, taken as it is, can com- mand ; while the consequences of his temerity, or his misfortune, must remain wholly with himself. aS vi PREFACE. The original plan was intended to embrace the most prominent events in the annals of ancient and modern Greenland ; — incidental descriptions of whatever is sublime or pic- turesque in the seasons and scenery, or peculiar in the superstitions, manners, and character of the natives; — with a rapid retrospect of that moral revolution, which the gospel has wrought among these people, by reclaiming them, almost universally, from idolatry and barbarism. Of that part of the projected Poem which is here exhibited, the first three Cantos contain a sketch of the history of the ancient Moravian Church, the origin of the missions by that people to Greenland, and the voyage of the first three brethren who went thither in 1733. PREFACE. vii The fourth Canto refers principally to traditions concerning the Norwegian colonies, which are said to have existed on both shores of Green- land, from the tenth to the fifteenth centuries. In the fifth Canto the Author has attempted, in a series of episodes, to sum up and exemphfy the chief causes of the extinction of those colo- nies, and the abandonment of Greenland, for several centuries, by European voyagers. Although this Canto is entirely a work of ima- gination, the fiction has not been adopted merely as a substitute for lost facts, but as a vehicle for illustrating many of the most splendid and striking phenomena of the climate, for which a more appropriate place might not have been found, even if the Poem had been carried on to a successful conclusion. But having proceeded thus far, personal circumstances, and viii PREFACE. considerations which it would be impertinent to particularize here, compelled the Author to relinquish his enterprize. Whether he may ever have courage or opportunity to resume it, must depend on contingencies utterly beyond his power. The principal subjects introduced in the course of the Poem, will be found in Crantz's Histories of the Brethren and of Greenland, or in Risler's Select Narratives, extracted from the records of the ancient Unitas Fratrum, or United Brethren. To the accounts of Iceland, by various travellers, the Author is also much indebted. Among the minor pieces that complete the present volume, a few will be found of a more PREFACE. ix religious character than compositions, which aim at the honours of poetry, generally assume. Though these may not be acceptable to all readers, no apology can be necessary for their insertion ; and the writer ventures to cast them, with their companions, upon the liberality of that Public, whose final judgement will be unerring and irreversible. Sheffield, March 27, 1819. CONTENTS. Greenland : Page Canto I , 1 Canto II 23 Canto III 43 . Canto IV ^1 Canto V 89 Appendix to Greenland 127 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Hope 149 A Mother's Love 153 The Time-piece 158 Stanzas to the Memory of the Rev. T. Spencer 1 62 Israel in Captivity 167 Human Life 169 The Christian Israel 171 The Visible Creation 174 CONTENTS. Page Sonnet 1 77 Sonnet 178 Sonnet: — The Crucifixion 179 Christ's Passion 181 Christ's Triumph 183 Saints in Heaven 185 The Bible 187 Instruction 189 The Christian Soldier 191 On the Royal Infant 194 A Midnight Thought 196 A Night in a Stage-Coach 197 The Reign of Spring 203 The Reign of Summer 209 Incognita 226 The Little Cloud 233 To Britain 243 GREENLAND. CANTO I. The three first Moravian Missionaries are represented as on their Voyage to Greenland, in the year 1733. — Sketch of the descent, establishment, persecutions, extinction and revival of the Church of the United Brethren from the tenth to the beginning of the eighteenth century. — The origin of their Missions to the West Indies and to Greejiland. 1 HE moon is watching in the sky ; the stars Are swiftly wheeling on their golden cars ; Ocean, outstretcht with infinite expanse, Serenely slumbers in a glorious trance; The tide, o'er which no troubling spirits breathe. Reflects a cloudless firmament beneath ; Where, poised as in the centre of a sphere^ A ship above and ship below appear ; 2 GREENLAND. canto i. A double image, pictured on the deep. The vessel o'er its shadow seems to sleep ; Yet, like the host of heaven, that never rest, With evanescent motion to the west, The pageant glides through loneliness and night, And leaves behind a rippling wake of light. Hark ! through the calm and silence of the scene, Slow, solemn, sweet, with many a pause between. Celestial music swells along the air ! — No; — 'tis the evening hymn of praise and prayer From yonder deck ; where, on the stem retired, Thi'ee humble voyagers, with looks inspired. And hearts enkindled with a holier flame Than ever lit to empire or to fame. Devoutly stand : — their choral accents rise On wings of harmony beyond the skies ; ' And 'midst the songs, that Seraph-Minstrels sing, Day without night, to their immortal King, These simple strains, — which erst Bohemian hills Echoed to pathless woods and desert rills ; CANTO I. GREENLAND. 3 Now heard from Shetland's azure bound, —»are known In heaven ; and He, who sits upon the throne In human form, with mediatorial power, Remembers Calvary, and hails the hour. When, by the* Almighty Father's high decree, The utmost north to Him shall bow the knee. And, won by love, an untamed rebel-race Kiss the victorious Sceptre of His grace. Then to His eye, whose instant glance pervades Heaven's heights, Earth's circle. Hell's profoundest shades. Is there a groupe more lovely than those three Night- watching Pilgrims on the lonely sea? Or to His ear, that gathers in one sound The voices of adoring worlds around. Comes there a breath of more delightful praise Than the faint notes his poor disciples raise. Ere on the treacherous main they sink to rest, Secure as leaning on their Master's breast ? b2 4 GREENLAND. canto i. They sleep ; but memory wakes ; and dreams array Night in a lively masquerade of day ; The land they seek, the land they leave behind. Meet on mid-ocean in the plastic mind ; One brings forsaken home and friends so nigh, That tears in slumber swell the' unconscious eye ; The other opens, with prophetic view. Perils, which e'en their fathers never knew, (Though school'd by suffering, long inured to toil, Outcasts and exiles from their natal soil;) — Strange scenes, strange men ; untold, untried distress ; Pain, hardships, famine, cold, and nakedness. Diseases ; death in every hideous form. On shore, at sea, by fire, by flood, by storm ; Wild beasts and wilder men: — unmoved with fear. Health, comfort, safety, life, they count not dear. May they but hope a Saviour's love to shew. And warn one spirit from eternal woe ; Nor will they faint ; nor can they strive in vain, Since thus — to live is Christ, to die is gain. CANTO I. GREENLAND. 'Tis morn : — the bathing moon her lustre shrouds; Wide o'er the east impends an arch of clouds, That spans the ocean; — while the infant dawn Peeps through the portal o'er the liquid lawn, That ruffled by an April gale appears, Between the gloom and splendour of the spheres, Dark-purple as the moorlsnd-heath, when rain Hangs in low vapours o'er the' autumnal plain : Till the full Sun, resurgent from the flood. Looks on the waves, and tiu*ns them into blood ; But quickly kindling, as his beams aspire, The lambent billows play in forms of fire. — Where is the Vessel? — Shining through the light, Like the white sea-fowl's horizontal flight. Yonder she wings, and skims, and cleaves ber*^By Thi'ough refluent foam and iridescent spray. Lo ! on the deck, with patriarchal grace. Heaven in his bosom opening o'er his face, Stands Christian David; — venerable name! Bright in the records of celestial fame, b3 « GREENLAND. canto i. On earth obscure; — like some sequester'd star, That rolls in its Creator's beams afar, Unseen by man ; till telescopic eye, Sounding the blue abysses of the sky, Draws forth its hidden beauty into light. And adds a jewel to the crown of night. Though hoary with the multitude of years, Unshorn of strength, between his young compeers, f '-. He towers ; — with faith, whose boundless glance J/ * can see Time's shadows brightening through eternity ; Love, — God's own love in his pure breast enshrined ; Love, — love to man the magnet of his mind; Sublimer schemes maturing in his thought Than ever statesman plann'd, or warrior wrought; While, with rejoicing tears, and rapturous sighs, To heaven ascends their morning sacrifice, (a) (a) The names of the three first Moravian Missionaries to Greenland were Christian David, Matthew Stack, and Christian Stack. CANTO I. GREENLAND. J Whence are the pilgrims ? whither would they roam ? Greenland their port ; — Moravia lioas their home. Sprung from a race of martyrs ; men who bore The cross on many a Golgotha, of yore ; When first Sclavonian tribes the truth received, And princes at the price of thrones believed; (b) — When Waldo, flying from the' apostate west, (c) In German wilds his righteous cause confess'd : (b) The Church of the United Brethren (first established under that name about the year 1460) traces its descent from the Sclavonian branch of the Greek Church, which was spread throughout Bohemia and Moravia, as well as the ancient Dalniatia. The Bulgarians were once the most powerful tribe of the Sclavic nations ; and among them the gospel was introduced in the ninth century. See additional Note (A.) in the Appendix. (c) With the Waldenses, the Bohemian and Moravian Churches, which never properly submitted to the authority of the Pope, held intimate communion for ages : and from Stephen, the last Bishop of the Waldenses, in 1467, the United Brethren received their episcopacy. Almost imme- diately afterwards, those ancient confessors of the truth were dispersed by a cruel persecution, and Stephen himself suffered martyrdom, being burnt as a heretic at Vienna. B 4 8 GREENLAND. cajitq i. — When WiCKLiPFE, like a rescuing Angel, found The dungeon, where the word of God lay bound, Unloosed its chains, and led it by the hand, In its own sunshine, through his native land: (d) — When Huss, the victim of perfidious foes. To heaven upon a fiery chariot rose ; And ere he vanish'd, with a prophet's breath. Foretold the' immortal triumphs of his death: (e) (d) fVickljffe's writings were early translated into the Bohe- mian tongue, and eagerly read by the devout and persecuted people, who never had given up the Bible in their own lan- guage, nor consented to perform their church service in Latin. Archbishop Sbinek, of Prague, ordered the works of Wickliffe to be burnt by the hands of the hangman. He himself could scarcely read 1 (e) It is well known that John Huss (who might be called a disciple of our PVickliffe), though furnished with a safe- conduct by the emperor Sigismund, was burnt by a decree of the council of Constance. Several sayings, predictive of re- tribution to the priests, and reformation in the Church, are recorded, as being uttered by him in his last hours. Among others ; — " A hundred years hence,'' said he, addressing his judges, " ye shall render an account of your doings to God and to me." — Luther appeared at the period thus indicated. CANTO I. GREENLAND. — When ZiSKA, burning with fanatic zeal, Exchanged the Spirit's sword for patriot steel, And through the heart of Austria's thick array To Tabor's summit stabb'd resistless way ; But there, (as if transfigured on the spot The world's Redeemer stood^) his rage forgot; Deposed his arms and trophies in the dust, Wept Hke a babe, and placed in God his trust, While prostrate warriors kiss'd the hallow'd ground. And lay, hke slain, in silent ranks around : {/) — When mild Gregorius, in a lowlier field, As brave a witness, as unwont to yield As Ziska's self, with patient footsteps trod A path of suffering, like the Son of God, (/) After the martyrdom of John Huss, his followers ahd ' countrymen took up arms for the maintenance of their civil and religious liberties. The first and most distinguished of their leaders was John Ziska. He seized possession of a high mountain, which he fortified, and called Tabor. Here he and his people (who were hence called Taborites) worshipped God according to their consciences and his holy word ; while in the plains they fought and conquered their persecutors and enemies. 10 _ GREENLAND. canto i. And nobler palms^ oy meek endurance, won, Than if his sword had blazed from sun to sun \ {g) Though nature fail'd him on the racking wheel. He felt the joys which parted spirits feel ; Rapt into bhss from exstacy of pain, Imagination wander'd o'er a plain : Fair in the midst, beneath a morning sky, A Tree its ample branches bore on high, With fragi'ant bloom, and fruit delicious hung. While birds beneath the foliage fed and sung; All glittering to the sun with diamond dew. O'er sheep and kine a breezy shade it threw ; A lovely boy, the child of hope and prayer. With crook and shepherd's pipe, was watching there ; At hand three venerable forms were seen. In simple garb, with apostolic mien. Who mark'd the distant fields convulsed with strife, — The guardian Cherubs of that Tree of Life ; (g) See TStote (B.) in the Appendix, for a brief account of this Gregory, and an illustration of the lines that follow con- cerning his trance and vision while he lay upon the rack. CANTO I. GREENLAND. 11 Not arm'd like Eden's host, with flaming brands, Alike to friends and foes they stretch'd their hands^ In sign of peace ; and while Destruction spread His path with carnage, welcomed all who fled : — When poor Comenius, with his little flock. Escaped the wolves, and from the boundary rock, Cast o^er Moravian hills a look of woe, Saw the green vales expand, the waters flow, And happier years revolving in his mind, Caught every soimd that murmur'd on the wind ; As if his eye covdd never thence depart. As if his ear were seated in his heart. And his full soul would thence a passage break. To leave the body, for his country's sake ; While on his knees he pour'd the fervent prayer. That God would make that martyr-land his care. And nourish in its ravaged soil a root Of Gregor's Tree, to bear perennial fruit, {h) {h) John Amos Comenius, one of the most learned as well as pious men of his age, was minister of the Brethren's con- 12 GREENLAND. canto i. His prayer was heard: — that Church, through ages past, Assail'd and rent by persecution's blast ; Whose sons no yoke could crush, no burthen tire, Unawed by dungeons, tortures, sword, and fire, (Less proof against the world's alluring wiles. Whose frowns have weaker terrors than its smiles ;) — That Church o'erthrown, dispersed, unpeopled, dead. Oft from the dust of ruin raised her head, And rallying round her feet, as from their graves, Her exiled orphans, hid in forest-caves ; Where, midst the fastnesses of rocks and glens. Banded like robbers, stealing from their dens, gregation at Fulneck, in Moravia, from 1618 to 1627, when the Protestant nobility and clergy being expatriated, he fled with a ^art of his people through Silesia into Poland. On the summit of the mountains forming the boundary, he turned his sorrowful eyes towards Bohemia and Moravia, and kneeling down with his brethren there, implored God, with many tears, that He would not take away the light of his holy word from those two provinces, but preserve in them a remnant for Himself. A remnant was saved. See Appendix, Note (C.) CANTO I. GREENLAND. 13 By night they met, their holiest vows to pay. As if their deeds were dark, and shimn'd the day ; While Christ's revilers, in his seamless robe, And parted garments, flaunted round the globe ; From east to west while priestcraft's banners flew, i)A And harness'd kings his iron chariot drew : — That Church advanced, triumphant, o'er the ground. Where all her conquering martyrs had been crown'd, Fearless her foe's whole malice to defy. And worship God in liberty, — or die : For truth and conscience oft she pour'd her blood, And firmest in the fiercest conflicts stood. Wresting fi'om bigotry the proud controul Claim'd o'er the sacred empire of the soul, Where God, the judge of all, should fill the throne. And reign, as. in his universe, alone. ( i ) 'Twas thus through centuries she rose and fell; At length victorious seem'd the gates of hell; (i) See Note (D.) in the Appendix. 14 GREENLAND. canto i. But founded on a rock, which cannot move — The' eternal rock of her Redeemer's love — That Church, which Satan's legions thought destroy'd, Her name extinct, her place for ever void, Alive once more, respired her native air, But found no freedom for the voice of prayer : Again the cowl'd oppressor clank'd his chains, Flourish'd his scourge, and threaten'd bonds and pains, (His arm enfeebled could no longer kill, But in his heart he was a murderer still :) Then Christian David, strengthen'd from above. Wise as the serpent, harmless as the dove; Bold as a lion on his Master's part. In zeal a seraph, and a child in heart; Pluck'd from the gripe of antiquated laws, ( — Even as a mother, from the felon-jaws Of a lean wolf, that bears her babe away, With courage beyond nature, rends the prey,) The little remnant of that ancient race : — Far in Lusatian woods they found a place ; CANTO I. GREENLAND. 15 There, — where the sparrow builds her busy nest, And the clime-changing swallow loves to rest, Thine altar, God of Hosts ! — there still appear The tribes to worship, unassail'd by fear ; Not like their fathers, vex'd from age to age By blatant Bigotry's insensate rage. Abroad in every place, — in every hour Awake, alert, and ramping to devour. No; peaceful as the spot where Jacob slept, And guard all night the journeying angels kept, Herrnhut yet stands amidst her shelter'd bow^s ; — The Lord hath set his watch upon her towers, {j ) (7 ) In 1721, (ninety-four years after the flight of Qomeniu&) the Church of the United Brethren was revived by the per- secuted refugees from Moravia (descendants of the old con- fessors of that name), who were led from time to time by Christian DavUi, (himself a Moravian, but educated in the Lutheran persuasion,) to settle on an uncultivated piece of land, on an estate belonging to Count Zinzendorf, in Lu- satia. Christian David, who was a carpenter, began the work of building a church in this wilderness, by striking his axe into a tree, and exclaiming — " Here hath the 16 GREENLAND. canto i. Soon, homes of humble form, and structure rude, Raised sweet society in sohtude : And the lorn traveller there, at fall of night. Could trace from distant hills the spangled light. Which now from many a cottage window stream'd, Or in full glory round the chapel beam'd ; While hymning voices, in the silent shade, Music of all his soul's affections made : Where through the trackless wilderness erewhile, No hospitable ray was known to smile ; Or if a sudden splendor kindled joy, 'Twas but a meteor dazzling to destroy : While the wood echoed to the hollow owl. The fox's cry, or wolf's lugubrious howl. Unwearied as the camel, day by day, Tracks through unwater'd wilds his doleful way, sparrow found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself; even thine altars, Lord God of Hosts /" They named the settlement Herrnhut, or The Lord's Watch. See Appendix, Note (E.) CANTO I. GREENLAND. 17 Yet in his breast a cherish'd draught retains^aai ni',. ' V To cool the fervid current in his veins, While from the sun's meridian realms he brings The gold and gems of Ethiopian Kings : So Christian David, spending yet unspent, // On many a pilgrimage of mercy went ; Through all their haunts his suffering brethren sought. And safely to that land of promise brought ; While in his bosom, on the toilsome road, A secret well of consolation flow'd. Fed from the fountain near the' eternal throne, — Bliss to the world unyielded and unknown. In stillness thus the little Zion rose ; But scarcely found those fugitives repose. Ere to the west with pitying eyes they turn'd ; Their love to Christ beyond the' Atlantic burn'd. Forth sped their messengers, content to be Captives themselves, to cheer captivity; Soothe the poor Negro with fraternal smiles, And preach deliverance in those prison-isles, c 18 GREENLAND. canto i. Where man's most hateful forms of being meet, — The tyrant and the slave that licks his feet, (k) O'er Greenland next two youths in secret wept : And where the sabbath of the dead was kept, With pious forethought, while their hands prepare Beds, which the living and unborn shall share, (For man so surely to the dust is brought. His grave before his cradle may be wrought,) They told their purpose, each o'erjoy'd to find His own idea in his brother's mind. For counsel in simplicity they pray'd, And vows of ardent consecration made : (k) In 1732, when the congregation at Herrnhut consisted of about six hundred persons, including children, the two first missionaries sailed for the Danish island of St. Thomas, to preach the gospel to the negroes ; and such was their devo- tion to the good work, that being told that they could not have intercourse otherwise with the objects of their Christian compassion, they determined to sell themselves for slaves on their arrival, and work with the blacks in the plantations. But this sacrifice was not required. Many thousand negroes have since been truly converted in the West Indies. CANTO I. GREENLAND. 19 —Vows heard in heaven ; from that accepted hour, Their souls were clothed with confidence and power, (/) Nor hope deferr'd could quell their hearts' desire j The bush once kindled grew amidst the fire ; But ere its shoots a tree of life became, Congenial spirits caught the' electric flame ; And for that holy service, young and old, Their plighted faith and willing names enroU'd ; Eager to change the rest, so lately found, ' "' - For life-long labours on barbarian ground ; To break, through barriers of eternal ice, A vista to the gates of Paradise ; -^^ oiuii ' ( I ) Matthew Stack and Frederick Boenisch, two young men being at work together, preparing a piece of ground for a burial-place at Herrnhut, disclosed to each other their distinct desires to offer themselves to the congregation, as missionaries to Greenland, They therefore became joint candidates. Con- siderable delay, however, occurred ; and when it was at length determined to attempt the preaching of the gospel there, Frederick Boenisch being on a distant journey. Christian David was appointed to conduct thither Matthew Stack and his cousin, Christian Stack, who sailed from Copenhagen on the 10th of April 1733, and landed in Ball's River on the 20th of May following. c 2 20 GREENLAND. canto i. And light beneath the shadow of the pole The tenfold darkness of the human soul ; To man, — a task more hopeless than to bless With Indian fruits that arctic wilderness ; With God, — as possible when unbegun As though the destined miracle were done. Three chosen candidates at length went forth, Heralds of mercy to the frozen north ; Like marijiers with seal'd instructions sent, They went in faith, (as childless Abram went To dwell by sufferance in a land, decreed The future birthright of his promised seed :) Unknowing whither; — unenquiring why Their lot was cast beneath so strange a sky. Where cloud nor star appear'd, to mortal sense Pointing the hidden path of Providence, And all around was darkness to be felt; — Yet in that darkness light eternal dwelt : They knew, — and 'twas enough for them to know, The still small voice that whisper'd them to go; CANTO I. GREENLAND. 21 For He, who spake by that mysterious voice, Inspired their will, and made His call their choice. See the swift vessel boimding o'er the tide, That wafts, with Christian David for their guide, Two young Apostles on their joyful way To regions in the twilight verge of day; Freely they quit the clime that gave them birth. Home, kindred, friendship, all they loved on earth ; What things were gain before, accounting loss. And glorying in the shame, they bear the cross ; — Not as the Spaniard, on his flag unfurl'd, A bloody omen through a Pagan world : — Not the vain image, which the Devotee Clasps as the God of his idolatry ; But in their hearts, to Greenland's western shore. That dear memorial of their Lord they bore. Amidst the wilderness to lift the sign Of wrath appeased by sacrifice divine; And bid a serpent-stung and dying race Look on their Healer, and be saved by grace. C8 'tfft '3" •>"''- Who wait the resurrection of the justrvj':**-*^*^^^^ ^"i Moor'd on the rock of ages, though decay Moulder the weak terrestrial frame away. The trumpet sounds, — and lo ! wherever spread, Earth, air, and ocean render back their dead. And souls with bodies, spiritual and divine^ In the new heavens, like stars for ever shine. These are thine Hopes: — thy Fears what tongue can tell? Behold them graven on the gates of Hell : " The wrath of God abideth here : his breath " Kindled the flames : — this is the second death." 'Twas Mercy wrote the lines of judgement there ; None who from earth can read them may despair ! Man ! — let the warning strike presumption dumb j — Awake, arise, escape the wrath to come; 36 GREENLAND. canto n. No resurrection from that grave shall be ; The worm within is — immortality. The terrors of Jehovah, and his grace. The Brethren bear to earth's remotest race. And now, exulting on their swift career, The northern waters narrowing in the rear. They rise upon the' Atlantic flood, that rolls Shoreless and fathomless between the poles. Whose waves the east and western world divide, Then gird the globe with one circumfluent tide ; For mighty Ocean, by whatever name Known to vain man, is every where the same. And deems all regions by his gulphs embraced But vassal tenures of his sovereign waste. Clear shines the sun ; the surge, intensely ,l^a^ , , Assumes by day heaven's own aerial hue ; ' Buoyant and jaeautifiil, as through a sky, ,jj i>a[i>iii^ ^ On balanced wings, behold the vessel flyjyiityj/? ih Invisibly impell'd, as though it felt A soul, within its heart of oak that dwelt. CANTO II. GREENLAND. 25?- Which broke the billows with spontaneous force, )H Ruled the free elements, and chose its course. ? Not so : — and yet along the trackless realm, A hand unseen directs the' unconscious helm; The Power that sojourn'd in the cloud by day. And fire by night, on Israel's desert way ; <4m • / That Power the obedient vessel owns : — His will, Tempest and calm, and death and life fulfil. yu\ > Day following day the current smoothly flows ; Labour is but refreshment from repose ; Perils are vanish'd ; every fear resign'd ; Peace walks the waves, Hope carols on the wind ; And Time so sweetly travels o'er the deep. They feel his motion like the fall of sleep On weary limbs, that, stretch'd in stillness, seem To float upon the eddy of a stream^ Then sink, — to wake in some transporting dream. Thus, while the Brethren far in exile roam^ Visions of Greenland shew their future home. — Now a dark speck^ but brightening as it flies, A vagrant sea-fowl glads their eager eyes : 28-. GREENLAND. CAKfO II. How lovely, from the narrow deck to see The meanest link of nature's family, Which makes us feel, in dreariest solitude, Affinity with all that breathe renew'd ; At once a thousand kind emotions start. And the blood warms and mantles round the heart ! — O'er the ship's lee, the waves in shadow seen. Change from deep indigo to beryl green. And wreaths of frequent weed, that slowly float. Land to the watchful mariner denote : Ere long the pulse beats quicker through his breast. When, like a range of evening clouds at rest, Iceland's grey cliffs and ragged coast he sees. But shuns them, leaning on the southern breeze ; And while they vanish far in distance, tells Of lakes of fire and necromancers' spells. Strange Isle ! a moment to poetic gaze Rise in thy majesty of rocks and bays, Glens, fountains, caves, that seem not things of earth, But the wild shapes of some prodigious birth j CANTO II. GREENLAND. 29 As if the kraken, monarch of the sea, Wallowing abroad in his immensity, : iiov / By polar storms and lightning shafts assail'd, Wedged with ice-mountains, here had fought and fail'd ; Perish'd, — and in the petrifying blast. His hulk became an island rooted fast ; ( a ) — Rather, from ocean's dark foundation hurl'd, Thou art a type of his mysterious world. (a) The most horrible of fabulous sea-monsters is the kraken or hafgufa, which many of the Norway fishers pretend to have seen in part, but none entire. They say, that when they find a place which is at one time 80 or 1 00 fathoms deep and at another only 20 or 30, and also observe a multitude of fishes, allured by a delicious exhalation which the kraken emits, they conclude that there is one below them. They therefore hasten to secure a large draught of the fry around them ; but as soon as they perceive the soundings to grow shallower, they scud away, and from a safe distance behold him rising, in a chain of ridges and spires, that thicken as they emerge till they resemble the masts of innumerable vessels moored on a rocky coast. He then riots upon the fish that have been stranded and entangled in the forest of spikes upon his back, and having satiated his hunger, phinges into the depths with a violent agitation of the waters. See Crantz's Greenland. so GREENLAND. canto h. Buoy'd on the desolate abyss, to shew ., . What wonders of creation hide below. '^^ Here Hecla's triple peaks, with meteor lights, Nature's own beacons, cheer hybernal nights : But when the orient flames in red array, Like ghosts the spectral splendours flee the day; Morn at her feet beholds supinely spread The carcase of the old chimera dead, That wont to vomit flames and molten ore, Now cleft asunder to the inmost core ; In smouldering heaps, wide wrecks and cinders strown, Lie like the walls of Sodom overthrown, ( Ere from the face of blushing Nature swept, And where the city stood the Dead Sea slept :) While inaccessible, tradition feigns. To human foot the guarded top remains, Where birds of hideous shape and doleful note. Fate's ministers, in livid vapoiu^ float, {b) (6) Hecla is now the ruins of a volcano. The three peaks iire said to be haunted by evil spirits in the shape of birds. The island abounds with volcanic mountains. CANTO n. GREENLAND. 31 Far off, amidst the placid sunshine, glow to (in // Mountains with hearts of fire and crests of snow, Whose blacken'd slopes with deep ravines entrench'd. Their thunders silenced, and their lightnings queneh'd, Still the slow heat of spent eruptions breathe, While embryo earthquakes swell their wombs beneath. Hark ! from yon cauldron-cave, the battle-sound Of fire and water warring under ground ; Rack'd on the wheels of an ebullient tide, > . .li.'^T Here might some spirit, fall'n from bliss, abide. Such fitful wailings of intense despair. Such emanating splendours fill the air. (c) — He comes, he comes ; the' infiiriate Geyser springs Up to the firmament on vapoury wings; (c) The Geysers, or boiling fountains, of Iceland, have been so frequently and so happily described, that their phenomena are sufficiently familiar to general readers not to require any particular illustration here. The Great Geyser, according to Dr. Henderson, (the latest traveller who has published an ac- count of Iceland,) is seventy-eight feet in perpendicular depth, and from eight to ten feet in diameter : the mouth is a considerable basin, from which the column of boiling water is ejaculated to various heights ; sometimes exceeding 100 feet. 32 GREENLAND. canto ii With breathless awe the mounting glory view ; White whirling clouds his steep ascent pursue. But lo ! a glimpse I — refulgent to the gale, He starts all naked through his riven veil ; A fountain-column, terrible and bright, A living, breathing, moving form of light : From central earth to heaven's meridian thrown, The mighty apparition towers alone. Rising, as though for ever he could rise. Storm and resume his palace in the skies. All foam, and turbulence, and wrath below ; Around him beams the reconciling bow ; ( Signal of peace, whose radiant girdle binds. Till nature's doom, the waters and the winds;) While mist and spray, condensed to sudden dews, The air illumine with celestial hues, As if the bounteous sun were raining down The richest gems of his imperial crown. In vain the spirit wrestles to break free. Foot-bound to fathomless captivity; CANTO II. GREENLAND. 53 A power uilseen, by sympathetic spell For ever working, — to his flinty cell, Recalls him from the ramparts of the spheres; He yields, collapses, lessens, disappears ; Darkness receives him in her vague abyss, Around whose verge light froth and bubbles hiss, While the low murmurs of the refluent tide Far into subterranean silence glide. The eye still gazing down the dread profound. When the bent ear hath wholly lost the sound. — But is he slain and sepulchred? — Again The deathless giant sallies from his den, Scales with recruited strength the' etherial walls, Struggles afresh for liberty, — and falls. Yes, and for liberty the fight renew'd. By day, by night, imdaunted, unsubdued, He shall maintain, till Iceland's solid base Fail, and the mountains vanish from its face. And can these fail ? — Of Alpine height and mould Schapta's unshaken battlements behold ; 34 GREENLAND. canto h. His throne an hundred hills ; his sun-crown'd head Resting on clouds ; his robe of shadow spread O'er half the isle ; he pours from either hand An unexhausted river through the land, On whose fair banks, through valleys warm and green, Cattle and flocks, and homes, and spires are seen. Here Nature's earthquake-pangs were never felt ; Here in repose hath man for ages dwelt ; The everlasting mountain seems to say, " I am, — -and I shall never pass away." Yet fifty winters, and with huge uproar. Thy pride shall perish j — thou shalt be no more ; Amidst chaotic ruins on the plain. Those cliifs, these waters shall be sought in vain \ (d) (d) This imaginary prophecy (1733) was fulfilled just fifty years afterwards in 1 783. The Schapta, Schaptka, or Skaftar Yokul and its adjacencies were the subjects of the most tre- mendous volcanic devastation on record. Two rivers were sunk or evaporated, and their channels filled up with lava ; many villages* were utterly destroyed ; and one-fourth part of the island rendered nearly uninhabitable. Famine and pesti- lence followed. CANTO II. GREENLAND. 3ff — Through the dim vista of unfolding years, A pageant of portentous woe appears. *) v-ivi- Yon rosy groupes, with golden locks, at play, I see them, — few, decrepid, silent, grey ; Their fathers all at rest beneath the sod, • Whose flowerless verdure marks the House of God, Home of the living and the dead ; — -where meet Kindred and strangers, iii communion sweet. When dawns the Sabbath on the block-built pile ; The kiss of peace, the welcome, and die smile Go round ; till comes the Priest, a. father there. And the bell knolls his family to prayer : Angels might stoop fi*om thrones in heaven, to be Co-worshippers in such a family. Whom from their nooks and dells, where'er they roam. The Sabbath gathers to their common home. Oh ! I would stand a keeper at this gate Rather than reign with kings in guilty state ; A day in such serene enjoyment spent Were worth an age of splendid discontent ! D 2 36 GREENLAND. cANto n. — But ti^hither am I hurried from my theme ? Schapta returns on the prophetic dream. From eve till morn strange meteors streak the pole; At cloudless noon mysterious thunders roll, As if below both shore and ocean hurl'd From deep convulsions of the nether world. Anon the river, boiling from its bed, Shall leap its bounds and o'er the lowlands spread. Then waste in exhalation, — leaving void As its own channel, utterly destroy'd, Fields, gardens, dwellings, churches and their graves, All wreck'd or disappearing with the waves. The fiigitives that 'scape this instant death Inhale slow pestilence with every breath ; Mephitic steams from Schapta's smouldering breast With livid horror shall the air infest ; And day shall glare so foully on the sight. Darkness were refuge from the curse of light. Lo ! far among the glaciers, wrapt in gloom. The red precursors of approaching doom, CANTO 11. GREENLAND. 37 Scatter'd and solitary founts of fire, Unlock'd by hands invisible, aspire ; Ere long more rapidly than eye can count, Above, beneath, they multiply, they moimt, Converge, condense, — a crimson phalanx form. And rage aloft in one unbounded storm ; From heaven's red roof the fierce reflections throw A sea of fluctuating light below. — Now the whole army of destroyers, fleet As whirlwinds, terrible as lightnings, meet ; The mountains melt like wax along their course. When downward, pouring with resistless force, Through the void channel where the river roll'd, To ocean's verge their flaming march they hold ; While blocks of ice, and crags of granite rent, Half-fluid ore, and rugged minerals blent,. Float on the gulph, till molten or immersed, Or in explosive thunderbolts dispersed. Thus shall the Schapta, towering on the brink Of unknown jeopardy, in ruin sinkj D 9 38 GREENLAND. canto n. And this wild paroxysm of frenzy past, •■ •: ^as*^ • At her own work shall Nature stand aghast. Look on this desolation : — mark yon brow. Once adamant, a cone of ashes now : Here rivers swampt ; there valleys levell'd, plains O'erwhelm'd ; — one black-red wilderness remains, One crust of lava, through whose cinder-heat The pulse of buried streams is felt to beat ; These from the frequent fissures, eddying white. Sublimed to vapour, issue forth like light Amidst the sulphury fumes, that drear and dun Poison the atmosphere and blind the sim. Above, as if the sky had felt the stroke Of that volcano, and consumed to smoke. One cloud appears in heaven, and one alone. Hung round the dark horizon's craggy zone, Forming at once the vast encircling waU, And the dense roof of some Tartarean hall, Propt by a thousand pillars, huge and strange, Fantastic forms that every moment change. CANTO II. GREENLAND. Sd As hissing, surging from the floor beneath, Volumes of steam the' imprison'd waters breathe. Then should the sun, ere evening gloom ascend, Quick from the west the murky curtain rend, And pour the beauty of his beams between These hideous arches, and light up the scene; At the sweet touch of his transforming rays With amber lustre all the columns blaze. And the thick folds of cumbrous fog aloof Change to rich drapery of celestial woof: With such enchantment air and earth were fraught, Beyond the colouring of the wealthiest thought, That Iceland Scalds, transported at the view. Might deem the legends of their fathers true. And here behold, illumining the waste. The palace of immortal Odin placed ; TiU rapt imagination joy'd to hear The neigh of steeds, the clank of armour near. And saw, in barbarous state, the tables spread With shadowy food, and compassed with the dead, D 4 40 GREENLAND. canto ii. Weary from conflicts, — still the fierce delight Of spectre-warriors, in the daily fight : Then while they quafF'd the mead from sculls of foes, By whu'lwind gusts the din of battle rose ; The strife of tongues, the tournament of words Following the shock of shields, the clash of swords ; Till, gorged and drunken at the' enormous feast. Awhile their revels and their clamours ceased; Ceased to the eye and ear; — yet where they lay. Like sleeping lions, surfeited with prey, In tawny groupes recumbent through the den. In dreams the heroes drank and fought again. Away with such Divinities ! their birth Man's brain-sick superstition, and their mirth Lust^ rapine, cruelty; — their fell employ God's works and their own votaries to destroy. — The Runic Bard to nobler themes shall string His ancient harp, and mightier triumphs sing : For glorious days are risen on Iceland: — clear The gospel-trumpet sounds to every ear, CANTO II. GREENLAND. 41 And deep in many a heart the Spirit's voice Bids the believing soul in hope rejoice. O'er the stem face of this tempestuous isle, Though briefly Spring, and Autumn never, smile, Truth walks with naked foot the' unyielding snows, And the glad desert blossoms like the rose. Though earthquakes heave, though torrents drown his cot. Volcanoes waste his fields, — the peasant's lot Is blest beyond the destiny of kings : — Lifting his eyes above sublunar things, Like dying Stephen, when he saw in prayer Heaven open'd, and his Saviour beckoning there, He cries, and clasps his Bible to his breast, " Let the earth perish, — here is not my rest." {e) (e) One of the finest specimens of Icelandic poetry extant is said to be the " Ode to the British and Foreign Bible Society," composed by the Rev. John Thorlakson, of BcEgisa, the trans- lator of Milton's Paradise Lost into his native tongue. Of this Ode there is a Latin translation by the learned Iceland Professor, Finn Magnusson. A spirited English version has also appeared. Thorlakson is a venerable old man^ and holds church preferment to the amount of six pounds five shillings per annum, out of which he allows a stipend to a curate. GREENLAND. CANTO III. The voyage to Greenland concluded. — A fog at sea.-— Ice-fields. — Eclipse of the Sun. — The Greenland fable of Malina and Aninga. — A storm. — The ice-blink.-— Northern lights.'— The Brethren land. xlow speed the faithful witnesses, who bore The pible and its hopes to Greenland's shore ? — Like Nbah's ark, alone upon the wave, (Of one lost world the' immeasurable grave,) Yonder the ship, a solitary speck. Comes bounding from the horizon ; while on deck Again imagination rests her wing. And smooths her pinions, while the Pilgrims sing 44 . GREENLAND. canto iii. Their yesper-oraisons. — The Sun retires, Not as he wont, with clear and golden fires ; Bewilder'd in a labyrinth of haze, His orb redoubled, with discolour'd rays. Struggles and vanishes; — along the deep. With slow array, expanding vapours creep. Whose folds, in twilight's yellow glare uncurl'd. Present the dreams of an unreal world ; Islands in air suspended ; marching ghosts Of armies, shapes of castles, winding coasts, Navies at anchor, mountains, woods, and streams, Where all is strange, and nothing what it seems ; Till deep involving gloom, without a spark Of star, moon, meteor, desolately dark. Seals up the vision : — then, the Pilot's fears* Slacken his arm ; a doubtful course he steers, Till morning comes, but comes not clad in light ; Uprisen day is but a paler night, Revealing not a glimpse of sea or sky ; The ship's circumference bounds the sailor's eye. CANTO III. GREENLAND. 4& So cold and dense the' impervious fog extends, He might have touch'd the point where being ends ; His bark is all the universe ; so void The scene, — as though creation were destroy'd. And he and his few mates, of all their race, Were here becalm'd in everlasting space, (a) Silent and motionless, above, below. The sails all struck, the waves unheard to flow, In this drear blank of utter solitude. Where life stands still, no faithless fears intrude; Through that impervious veil the Brethren see The face of omnipresent Deity : Nor Him alone; — whate'er his hand hath made ; His glory in the firmament display'd ; The sun majestic in his course, and sole ; The moon and stars rejoicing round the pole ; (a) The incidents described in this Canto are founded upon the real events of the voyage of the Missionaries, as given in Crantz'a History. See the Appendix, Note ( F.) 46 GREENLAND. canto in. Earth o'er its peopled realms and wastes unknown, Clad in the wealth of every varying zonej?--* •:!•, Ocean through all the' enchantment of his forms, From breathing calms to devastating storms ; Heaven in the vision of eternal bliss, Death's terrors, hell's unsearchable abyss ; — Though rapt in secrecy from human eye. These in the mind's profound sensorium lie, And, with their Maker, by a glance of thought, Are in a moment to remembrance brought ; Then most, when most restrain'd the' imperfect sight, God and his works shine forth in his own light. Yet clearest through that veil the Pilgrims trace Their Father's image in their Saviour's face ; A sigh can waft them to his feet in prayer, Not Gabriel bends with more acceptance there. Nor to the throne from heaven's pure altar rise The odours of a sweeter sacrifice, Than when before the mercy-seat they kneel. And tell Him all they fear, or hope, or feel ; CANTO III. GREENLAND, 47 Perils widiout, and enemies within, Satan, the world, temptation, weakness, sin ; Yet rest unshaken on his sure defence, Invincible through his omnipotence : " Oh ! step by step," they cry, " direct our way. And give thy grace, like manna, day by day; The store of yesterday will not suffice. To-morrow's sun to us may never rise ; Safe only, when our souls are staid on Thee ; Rich only, when we know our poverty." And step by step the Lord those suppliants led ; He gave them daily grace like daily bread ; By sea, on shore, through all their pilgrimage, In rest and labour, to their latest age, ,■ > Sharp though their trials, and their comforts scant, God was their refuge, and they knew not want. On rustling pinions, like an unseen bird. Among the yards, a stirring breeze is heard ; The conscious vessel wakes as from a trance. Her colours float, the filling sails advance ; 48 GREENLAND. canto in. "White from her prow the murmuring surge recedes : — So the swan, startled from her nest of reeds, Swells into beauty, and with curving chest, Cleaves the blue lake, with motion soft as rest. Light o'er the liquid lawn the pageant glides ; Her helm the well-experienced pilot guides. And while he threads the mist-enveloped maze, Turns to the magnet his enquiring gaze. In whose mute oracle, where'er he steers, The pointing hand of Providence appears ; With this, though months of gloom the main enrobe, His keel might plough a furrow round the globe. Again the night ascends without a star : . Low sounds come booming o'er the waves afar. As if conflicting navies shook the flood. With human thunders, in the strife of blood, That slay more victims in one brief campaign. Than heaven's own bolts through centuries have slain. The seaman hearkens; — colour flies his cheek, His stout heart throbs with fears he dare not speak ; CANTO HI. GREENLAND. 49 No lightning-splendours streak the' unbroken gloom; — His bark may shoot the gulph beyond the tomb, And he, if e'er it come, may meet a light. Which never yet hath dawn'd on living sight. Fresher and fresher blows the' insurgent gale ; He reefs his tops, he narrows sail by sail, Yet feels the ship with swifter impulse sweep, O'er mightier billows, the recoiling deep ; While still, with doleful omen on his ear. Come the deaf echoes of those sounds of fear. Distant, — yet every volley rolls more near. Oh ! intthat agony of thought forlorn, How longs the' impatient mariner for mom ! She wakes, — his eyes are wither'd to behold The scene which her disastrous beams unfold : The fog is vanish'd, but the welkin lowers. Sharp hail descends, and sleet in blinding showers ; Ocean one bed of foam, with fury tost, In undistinguishable whiteness lost. Save where vast fields of ice their surface shew, Buoyant, but many a fathom sunk below : } 50 GREENLAND. canto in. Changing his station as the fragments pass. Death stands the pilot of each ponderous mass ; Gathering his brow into the darkest frown, He bolts his raft to run the victim down. But shoots astern: — the shock the vessel feei% A moment in the giddy whirlpool reels. Then like an arrow soars, as through the a^r, So high the salient waves their burtiien bea^. Quick skirmishes with floating batteries past, Ruin inevitable threats at last : Athwart the north, like ships of battle spread. Winter's flotilla, by their captain led, (Who boasts with these to make his prowess known. And plant his foot beyond the arctic zone,) Islands of ice, so wedged and grappled lies One moving continent appals the eye. And to the ear renews those notes of in his dog^rawn car. Pursues the rein-deer to the farthest star. But when eclipse his baneful disk invades, He prowls for prey among the Greenland maids. Till roaring drums, belabouring sticks, and cries Repel the errant Demon to the skies. The Sim hath cast aside his veil; — he shines With purest i^lendour till his orb declines ; Then landward^ marshalling in black aaray. Eruptive vapours drive him from the day ; And night again, with premature ccmtroul. Binds light in chains of darkness o'er the pole; CANTO III. GREENLAND. fr9 Heaven in one ebon mass of horror scowls : — Anon a universal whirlwind howls, With such precipitation dash'd on high, 7 Not from one point, but from the whole dark sky. The surges at the onset shrink aghast, Borne down beneath the paralyzing blast ; But soon the mad tornado slants its course. And rolls them into mountains by main force, Then utterly embroil'd, through clouds and waves, As *twixt two oceans met in conflict, raves. Now to the passive bark, alternate tost. Above, below, both sea and sky are lost, All but the giddy summit, where her keel Hangs in light balance on the billowy wheel ; Then, as the swallow, in his windward flight. Quivers the wing, returns, and darts downright. She plunges through the blind abyss, and o'er Her groaning masts the cavern'd waters roar. Ruled by the hurricane, no more the helm Obeys the pilot ; — seas on seas o'erwhelm 60 GREENLAND. canto hi. The deck ; where oft embattled currents meet, Foam in white whirlpools, flash to spray, retreat, And rock the vessel with their huge turmoils, Like the cork-float aroimd the fisher's toils. Three days of restless agony, that seem Of one delirious night the waking dream, The mariners in vain their labours ply, Or sick at heart in pale despondence lie. The Brethren weak, yet firm as when they faced Winter's ice-legions on his own bleak waste, In patient hope, that utters no complaint. Pray without ceasing ; pray, and never faint ; Assured that He, who from the tempest's neck Hath loosed his grasp, still holds it at his beck. And with a pulse too deep for mortal sense, — The secret pulse of his omnipotence, That beats through every motion of the storm, — Can check destruction in iis wildest form : Bow'd to his will,— their lot how truly blest. Who live to serve Him, and who die to rest ! CANTO III. GREENLAND. 61 To live and serve KQm is their Lord's decree ; He curbs the wind, he ca|ms the' infuriate sea ; The sea and wind their Maker's yoke obey, And waft his servants on their destined way. Though many a league by that disaster driven 'Thwart from their course; with planks and cordage riven. With hands disabled, and exhausted strength, The active crew refit their bark at length : Along the placid gulph, with heaving sails, That catch from every point propitious gales. Led like the moon, from infancy to age. Round the wide zodiac of her pilgrimage. Onward and smooth their voyage they pursue. Till Greenland's coast again salutes their view. 'Tis sunset : to the firmament serene, The' Atlantic wave reflects a gorgeous scene ; Broad in the cloudless west, a belt of gold Girds the blue hemisphere ; above unroll'd. The keen, clear air grows palpable to sight. Embodied in a flush of crimson light. S3 GREENLAND. CANTO III. Through which the evening star, with milder gleam. Descends to meet her image in the stream. Far in the east, what spectacle unknovm Allures the eye to gaze on it alone ? — Amidst black rocks, that lift on either hand Their countless peaks, and mark receding land ; Amidst a tortuous labyrinth of seas, That shine around the arctic Cyclades ; Amidst a coast of dreariest continent, In many a shapeless promontory rent ; — O'er rocks, seas, islands, promontories spread^ The Ice- Blink rears its undulated head ( c ) On which the sun, beyond the' horizon shrined. Hath left his richest garniture behind ; Piled on a hundred arches, ridge by ridge^ O'er fix'd and fluid strides the Alpine bridge^ (c) The t&pea Ice- Blink is generally applied by our mari- ners to the nocturnal illumination in the heavens, which denotes to them the proximity of ice-mountains. In this place a description is attempted of the most stupendous accu- mulation of ice in the known world, which has been long distinguished by this peculiar name by the Danish navigators. CANTO III. GREENLAND. 63 Whose Wocks of sftj^diire seem to mortal eye Hewn from cerulean His old sea-faring father's only joy ; Spnmg from a race of rovers^ ocean-bom. Nursed at the helm, ho trod dry-land with scorn ; Through fourscore years from port to port he veer*d, Quicksand, nor rock, nor foe, nor tempest fear'd ; 1 3 118 GREENLAND. canto v. Now cast ashore, though like a hulk he lie, His son at sea is ever in his eye, And his prophetic thought, from age to age, Esteems the waves his offspring's heritage : He ne'er shall know, in his Norwegian cot, How brief that son's career, how strange his lot ; Writhed round the mast, and sepulchred in air. Him shall no worm devour, no vulture tear ; Congeal'd to adamant his frame shall last. Though empires change, till time and tide be past. On deck, in groupes embracing as they died. Singly, «rect, or slumbering side by side, Behold the crew ! — They sail'd, with hope elate. For eastern Greenland ; till, ensnared by fate. In toils that mock'd their utmost strength and skill, They felt, as by a charm, their ship stand still ; The madness of the wildest gale that blows, Were mercy to that shudder of repose, , i , - When withering horror struck from heart to heart The blunt rebound of Death's benumbing dart. CANTO V. GREENLAND. 119 And each, a petrifaction at his post, Look'd on yon father, and gave up the ghost ', {e) He meekly kneeling, with his hands upraised, His beard of driven snow, eyes fix'd and glazed, Alone among the dead shall yet survive, — The' imperishable dead that seem alive ; — The' immortal dead, whose spirits, breaking free, Bore his last words into eternity. While with a seraph's zeal, a christian's love. Till his tongue fail'd, he spoke of joys above. Now motionless, amidst the icy air, He breathes from marble lips imutter'd prayer* (c) The Danish Chronicle says, that the Greenland colo- nists were tributary to the kings of Norway from the year 1023 ; soon after which they embraced Christianity. In its more flourishing period this province is stated to have been divided into a hundred parishes, under the superintendance of a bishop. From 1120 to 1408 the succession of seventeen bishops is recorded. In the last-mentioned year, Andrew, ordained bishop of Greenland by Askill, archbishop of Dron- theim, sailed for his diocese, but whether he arrived there* or was cast away, was never known. To his imagined fate this episode alludes. 14 120 GREENLAND. canto v. The clouds condensedj with dark, unbroken hue Of stormy purple, overhang his view, Save in the west, to which he strains his sight. One golden streak, that grows intensely bright, Till thence the' emerging sun, with lightning blaze. Pours the whole quiver of his arrowy rays ; The smitten rocks to instant diamond turn, And round the* expiring saint such visions bum, As if the gates of Paradise were thrown "Wide open to receive his soulj 'tis flown. The glory vanishes, and over all Cimmerian darkness spreads her funeral pall. Morn shall return, and noon, and eve, and night Meet here with interchanging shade and light; But from this bark no tunber shall decay, Of these cold forms no feature pass away ; Perennial ice around the' encrusted bow. The peopled deck, and full-rigg'd masts shall grow, Till from the sun himself the whole be hid, Of spied beneath a crystal pyramid ; CANTO V. GREENLAND. 121 As in pure amber, with divergent lines, A rugged shell emboss'd with sea- weed shines. ; <• From age to age increased with annual snow, This new Mont Blanc among the clouds may glow. Whose conic peak, that earliest greets the dawn. And latest from the sun's shut eye withdrawn, Shall from the zenith, through incumbent gloom, f Burn like a lamp upon this naval tomb. , JUA But when the' archangel's trumpet sounds on high. The pile shall burst to atoms through the sky, And leave its dead, upstarting, at the call, 'O Naked and pale, before the Judge of all. Once more to Greenland's long-forsaken beach. Which foot of man again shall never reach, *' Imagination wings her flight, explores liii ^jiitt The march of Pestilence along the shores. And see^ how Famine in his steps hath paced, While Winter laid the soil for ever waste. Dwellings are heaps of fall'n or falUng stones, t>li The charnel-houses of unburied bones, . 122 GREENLAND. canto v. On which obscene and prowling monsters fed, But with the ravin in their jaws fell dead. Thus while Destruction, blasting youth and age. Raged till it wanted victims for its rage ; Love, the last feeling that from life retires, Blew the faint sparks of his unfuell'd fires. In the cold simshine of yon narrow dell. Affection lingers; — there two lovers dwell, Greenland's whole family ; nor long forlorn. There comes a visitant ; a babe is bom. O'er his meek helplessness the parents smiled ; 'Twas Hope; — for Hope is every mother's child: Then seem'd they, in that world of solitude. The Eve and Adam of a race renew'd. Brief happiness ! too perilous to last ; ,,,,...,, The moon hath wax'd and waned, and all is past : Behold the end : — one mom, athwart the wall, They mark'd the shadow of a rein-deer fall. Bounding in tameless freedom o'er the snow ; The father track'd him, and with fatal bow CANTO V. GREENLAND. 123 Smote down the victim ; but before his eyes, A rabid she-bear pomiced upon the prize ; A shaft into the spoiler's flank he sent, She tum'd in wrath, and limb from limb had rent The hunter; but his dagger's plunging steel. With riven bosom, made the monster reel ; Unvanquish'd, both to closer combat flew, Assailants each, till each the other slew; Mingling their blood from mutual wounds, they lay Stretcht on the carcase of their antler'd prey. Meanwhile his partner waits, her heart at rest, No burthen but her infant on her breast : With him she slumbers, or with him she plays, And tells him all her dreams of future days. Asks him a thousand questions, feigns replies, ;i ?' And reads whate'er she wishes in his eyes. — Red evening comes ; no husband's shadow falls. Where fell the rein-deer's, o'er the latticed walls : 'Tis night; no footstep sounds towards her door; The day returns, — but he returns no more. 124 GREENLAND. canto v. In frenzy forth she sallies ; and with cries, To which no voice except her own replies In frightful echoes, starting all around, Where human voice again shall never sound, She seeks him, finds him not ; some angel-guide In mercy turns her from the corpse aside ; Perhaps his own freed spirit, lingering near. Who waits to waft her to a happier sphere, But leads her first, at evening, to their cot. Where lies the little one, all day forgot ; Imparadised in sleep she finds him there. Kisses his cheek, and breathes a mother's prayer. Three days she languishes, nor can she shed One tear, between the living and the dead ; When her lost spouse comes o'er the widow's thought. The pangs of memory are to madness wrought ; But when her suckling's eager lips are felt. Her heart would fain — but oh ! it cannot — melt; /„ At length it breaks, while on her lap he lies, With baby wonder gazing in her eyes. CANTO V. GREENLAND. 13ft Poor orphan ! mine is not a hand to trace Thy little story, last of all thy race ! Not long thy sufferings; cold and colder grown, The arms that clasp thee chill thy limbs to stone. — 'Tis done: — from Greenland's coast, the latest sigh Bore infant innocence beyond the sky. APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. CANTO I. (A.) p. 7. The story of the introduction of Christianity among the Sclavonic tribes is interesting. The Bulgarians, being bor« defers on the Greek empire, frequently made predatory incur- sions on the Imperial territory. On one occasion the sister of Bogaris, King of the Bulgarians, was taken prisoner, and carried to Constantinople. Being a royal captive she was treated with great honour, and diligently instructed in the doctrines of the gospel, of the truth of which she became so deeply convinced, that she desired to be baptized ; and when» in 845, the Emperor Michael III. made peace with the Bulgarians, she returned to her country a pious and zealous christian. Being earnestly concerned for the conversion of her brother and his people, she wrote to Constantinople for teachers to instruct them in the way of righteousness. Two 128 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. distinguished bishops of the Greek Church, Cyrillus and Methodius, were accordingly sent into Bulgaria. The King Bogaris, who heretofore had resisted conviction, conceived a particular affection for Methodius, who, being a skilful painter, was desired by him, in the spirit of a barbarian, to compose a picture exhibiting the most horrible devices. Methodius took a happy advantage of this strange request, and painted the day of judgement in a style so terrific, and explained its scenes to his royal master in language so awful and affecting, that Bogaris was awakened, made a profession of the true faith, and was baptized by the name of Michael, in honour of his benefactor, the Greek Emperor. His subjects, ac- cording to the fashion of the times, some by choice, and others from constraint, adopted their master's religion. To Cyrillus is attributed the translation of the Scriptures still in use among the descendants of the Sclavonian tribes, which adhere to the Greek Church ; and this is probably the most ancient European version of the Bible in a living tongue. But notwithstanding this triumphant introduction of Christianity among these fierce nations (including the Bo- hemians and Moravians), multitudes adhered to idolatry, and among the nobles especially many continued Pagans, and in open or secret enmity against the new religion and its pro- fessors. In Bohemia, Duke Borziwog, having embraced the APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. : (D.) page 13. Previous to the Reformation, for about fifty years, the prisons in Bohemia, and especially at Prague, were filled from time to time, in consequence of special decrees, with mem- bers of the Brethren's church. Michael, one of their first bishops, was long under rigorous confinement. Many perished in deep dungeons, with cold and hunger ; others were cruelly tortured. The remainder were obliged to seek refuge in thick forests, and to hide themselves by day in caverns and recesses among the rocks. Fearing to be betrayed in the dayrtime by the smoke, they kindled their fires only at night, around which they employed their time in reading the scriptures, and in prayer. If they were under the necessity of going out in the snow, either to seek provisions or to visit their neighbours, they always walked behind one another, each in his turn treading in the footsteps of the first, and the last dragging a piece of brushwood after him, to oblite- rate the track, or to make it appear as if some poor peasant had been to the woods to fetch a bundle of sticks. With the Reformers, Luther, Calvin, Zuingliics, Melanchton, Bucer, and Capita, the Brethren held the most friendly correspondence, and by all were acknowledged to be a true apostolical church. The strictness of their church-dis- cipline, however, and the difference which subsisted among these great men themselves on that general subject, as well k4 1S6 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. as the insulated locality of the Brethren, probably were the cairses why they remained still totally distinct from any of the new christian societies which were then instituted, yifter the Reformation, especially about the beginning and till the middle of the seventeenth century, they were exposed to the same kind of persecutions and proscriptions which their an- cestors had suffered. After the death of the emperor flwdoZp//, in 1612, the resolutions of the Council of Trent were decreed to be put in force against all Protestants in Bohemia. This occasioned a civil war, like that of the Hussites. The Bre- thren, though they are understood to have taken very little share in this defence of the truth, by weapons of carnal war- fare, were nevertheless exposed to all the vindictive cruelty, by which the Protestants in Bohemia were nearly extirpated, after their defeat by the Imperialists, on the White Mountain, near Prague, in 1620. On the 21st June 1621, no less than twenty-seven of the Patrons (Defensores) of the Protestant cause, principally nobles and men of distinction, were be- headed, who all died as faithful witnesses and martyrs to the leligion of Christ. This execution was followed by a decree of banishment against all ministers of the Brethren's churches in Bohemia and Moravia. Many hundred families, both noble and plebeian, fled into the neighbouring provinces. Emigration, however, was rendered as difficult as possible to the common people, who were strictly watched by the erais- APPENDIX TO GREENLAND^ t^ sarles of persecution. Many thousands, notwithstandlngi' gradually made their escape, and joined their ministers in exile; others, who from age, infirmity, or the burthen of large families, could not do the same, remained in their country, but were compelled to worship God, after the man- ner of their forefathers, in secret only; for thenceforward neither churches nor schools for Protestants were allowed to exist in Bohemia and Moravia. Search was made for their bibles and religious books, which were burnt in piles, and in some places under the gallows. ( E.) page 1 6. After the lapse of nearly a century, during which the refugees of the Brethren's churches, in Saxony, Poland, and Prussia, were nearly lost among the people with whom they associated, and the small remnant that continued in Moravia kept up the fire on their family-altars, while in their churches it was utterly extinct, a new persecution against this smalt remnant drove many of them from their homes, who, under the conduct of Christian David, finding an asylum on the estates of Count Zinzendorf, founded near Bertholsdorf the first congregation of the revived church of the United Bre- thren. On the 8th of June 1722, Christian David, with four of the first fugitives that arrived in Lusatia, were presented to Count Zinzendorf 's grandmother, who instantly gave them protection, and promised to furnish them with the means of 138 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. establishing themselves on one of her family-estates. Count Zinzendorf himself gives the following account of the cir- cumstances under which he fixed upon the situation for these settlers. He proposed a district called the Hutberg, near the high road to 12'ttau. It was objected, by some who knew the place, that there was no water there : he answered, " God is able to help;" and the following morning early he repaired thither to observe the rising of the vapours, that he might determine where a well might be dug. The next morning he again visited the place alone, and satisfied himself of its eli- gibility for a settlement. He adds, " I laid the misery and " desire of these people before God with many tears ; be- " seeching Him, that his hand might be with me and frus- " trate my measures, if they were in any way displeasing to " Him. I said further to the Lord : Upon this spot J will, " in thy name, build the first house for them. In the mean- «* time the Moravians returned to the farm-house, (where " they had been previously lodged,) having brought their " families thither out of their native country. These I as- *' sisted to the best of my power, and then went- to Henners- " dor/ to acquaint my lady (his grandmother aforementioned) " with the resolution I had taken. She made no objection, " and immediately sent the poor strangers a cow, that they " might be furnished with milk for their little children ; and " she ordered me to shew them the trees to be cut down for " their building." APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. 139 CANTO III. (F.) page 45. Crantz says : — "On the 10th of April the Brethren went •' on board the king's ship Carilas, captain Uildebrand, ac- " companied with many sincere wishes for blessing from the " court (of Denmark) and all benevolent minds. The con- " gregation at Herrnhut had a custom, from the year 1729, " before the commencement of a year, to compile a little " manual, containing a text of holy scripture for every day in '* the same, and each illustrated or applied by a verse an- " nexed, out of the hymn-book. This text was called the *' word of the day ; it was given to be the subject of meditation " with each member of the church in private, and of dis- " course by the ministers in the public meeting. Many a " time it has been found that the word of the day, on which *• some peculiar event occurred, has remarkably coincided "with it. Thus on this 10th of April, when our brethren •♦ set sail (from Copenhagen) on a mission, which often after- '* wards seemed to baffle all hope, the word was {Heb. xi. i.) '• • Faith w the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of " * things not seen.* " ' We vieu> Him, whom no eye can see, " « With faith's perspective steadfastly.' 14-0 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. " In this confidence they set sail, nor did they suflfer them- " selves to be confounded by any of the unspeakable diffi- " culties of the following years, till they and we at last " beheld the completion of what they hoped for by faith. '• They had a speedy, and, excepting some storms, a commo- " dious voyage. They sailed by Shetland April 22d, passing " there out of the North into the West Sea, or long reach, " and entered Davis's Straits about the beginning of May. '• On the 6th they fell among some floating ice, in a thick *' fog, and the next day were assailed by a terrible tempest, " but this very tempest drove the ice so far asunder, that it *' also dissipated their fears. The 13th they descried land, but " on the same day, after a total eclipse of the sun, there *' arose a violent storm, that lasted four days and nights, and ♦' drove them sixty leagues back. May the 20th they entered ♦' Ball's River, after a voyage of six weeks. The word of the •' day was, ' The peace of God, which passeth all understand- " * ing, keep your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ,* " By this they were frequently encouraged in the first years " ensuing, amidst all the opposition which they encoun- " tered, and the small prospect of the conversion of the " heathens." APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. l*t (G.) page 56. The Greenlanders believe that the sun and moon are sister and brother. They, with other children, were once playing together in the dark, when Aninga behaving rudely to his sister Malina, she rubbed her hands in the soot about the ex- tinguished lamp, and smeared his face, that she might discover by day-light who was her tormentor ; and thus the dusky spots on the moon had their origin ; for she, struggling to escape, slipped out of his arms, soared aloft, and became the sun. He followed up into the firmament, and was trans- formed into the moon ; but as he has never been able to rise so high as she, he continues running after her, with the vain hope of overtaking her. When he is tired and hungry, in his last quarter, he sets out from his house a seal- hunting, on a sledge drawn by four great dogs, and stays several days abroad to recruit and fatten ; and this produces the full moon. He rejoices when the women die, and Malina, in revenge, rejoices when the men die : therefore the men keep at home during an eclipse of the sun, and the women during an eclipse of the moon. "SVhen he is in eclipse, Aninga prowls about the dwellings of the Green- landers, to plague the females, and steal provisions and skins, nay even to kill those persons who have not duly ob- served the laws of temperance. At these times they hide 1 142 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. their most precious goods ; and the, men carry kettles and chests to the tops of their houses, and rattle upon them with cudgels to frighten away the moon, and make him re- turn to his place in the sky. During an eclipse of the sun, the men skulk in terror into the darkest corners, while the women pinch the ears of their dogs ; and if these cry out, it is a sure omen that the end of the world is not yet come ; for as dogs existed before men, according to Greenland logic, they must have a quicker foresight into futurity. Should the dogs be mute, (which of course they never are, under such ill treatment,) then the dissolution of all things must be at handi — See Crantz. CANTO IV. (H.) page 76. An Icelander, named Bioern, in the year 1001, following his father, who had emigrated to Greenland, is said to have been driven] by a storm to the south-west, where he disco- vered a fine champaign country covered with forests. He did not tarry long there, but made the best of his way back again, north-east, for Greenland, which he reached in safety. The tidings of his adventure being rumoured abroad there. APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. 14S one Leif, the son of Eric tlie Red, a famous navigator, being ambitious of acquiring fame by discovering and planting new lands, fitted out a vessel, with thirty-five men, ftnd sailed with Bioern on board, in search ©f the south-west country. They arrived, in due time, at a low woody coast, and sailed up a river to a spacious lake, which communicated by it with the sea. The soil was exceedingly fruitful, the waters abounded with fish, particularly salmon, and the climate was mild. Leif and his party wintered there, and observed that on the shortest day the sun rose about eight o'clock, which may correspond with the forty-ninth degree of latitude, and de- notes the situation of Newfoundland, or the river St. Lau- rence in Canada. — When they had built their huts, after landing, they one day missed a German mariner named Tyrker, whom, after a long search, they found in the woods, dancing with delight. On being asked what made him so merry, he answered, that he had been eating such grapes of which wine was made in his native country. When Leif saw and tasted the fruit himself, he called the new region Viinland, or Wineland. Crantx, who gives this account, on various authorities, adds in a note, that ** well-flavoured " wild grapes are known to grow in the forests of Canada, " but no good wine has been produced from them."— After the return of Leif to Greenland, many voyages were under- taken to Wineland, and some colonies established there. 144 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. One Thorjin, an Icelander, who had' married a Greenland heiress, Gudrid, the widow of the third son of Eric the Red, by whom he obtained the inheritance of Wineland, ventured thither with sixty-five men and five women ; taking cattle and implements of husbandry with them, for the purpose of building and planting. The natives (probably the Esqui' maux,) found them thus settled, and were glad to barter with their furs and skins in exchange for iron instruments, &c. One of these barbarians, however, having stolen an axe, was dolt enough to try its edge on his companion's skull, which cost the poor wretch his life; whereupon a third, wiser than either, threw the murderous weapon into the sea. — Commerce with Wineland is reported to have been carried on for upwards of an hundred years afterwards. (I.) page 83. The ancestors of the modern inhabitants first appeared on the western coast of Greenland in the fourteenth century, and are generally supposed to have overpowered the few Norwegians scattered in that quarter. They were called Skraellings, a word of uncertain etymology, but most pro- bably a corruption of Karallit or People, by which they de- signated themselves. Of their origin nothing can be ascertained. It seems on the whole not incredible (from APPENDIX TCT GREENLAND. 145 evidence and arguments which need not be quoted here,) that they are the descendants of Tartarean rovers, gradually emigrating from the heart of Asia, crossing over into West America, traversing the northern latitudes of that continent, «nd settling or wandering, as suited their convenience, till the foremost hordes reached Canada and Labrador ; from whence the first Skraellings may have found a passage, by land or sea, to Greenland. That the Greenlanders are of the same stock with the Esquimaux, is obvious from the remarkable correspondence between their persons, dress, habitations, boats, and implements of hunting and fishing, as well as the similarity of manners, customs, superstitions, and language. Of these more may be said hereafter, should the. poem of Greenland ever be completed. Meanwhile the slight sketch given in the context may suffice. The follow- ing description of a Greenlander's fishing-boat, or kayak, will, however, be useful to illustrate the passage. The kayak is six yards in length, pointed at the head and stern, and shaped like a weaver's shuttle ; it is at the same time scarcely a foot and a half broad over the middle, and not more than a foot deep. It is built of a slender skeleton of \vood, consisting of a keel, and long side-laths, with cross- ribs, like hoops, but not quite round. The whole is covered with seal's skin. In the middle of this covering there is a round aperture, supported with a strong rim of wood 146 APPENDIX TO GREENLAND. or bone. The Greenlander slips into the cavity with his feet, and sits down upon a board covered with soft skin ; he then tucks his water-pelt, or great coat, so tight about him, (the rim of the opening forming a girdle round his loins,) that no water can penetrate into his little skiff. His lance, harpoon, and fishing tackle are all arranged in due order before him. His pautik, or oar, (made of red deal, and strengthened with bone inlaid,) he uses with ad- mirable dexterity. This, except when he is using his weapons, he grasps with both hands in the middle, strik- ing the water on either side alternately, by which means he can sail at the rate of twenty or even twenty-four leagues a day. In his kayak the Greenlander fears no storm, so long as he can keep his oar, which enables him to sit upright among the roughest breakers, or if overturned, while the head is downward imder water, with one stroke he can recover himself ; but if he loses his oar, in a high sea, he loses all. No European has ever yet been able to learn to manage a kayak except in calm weather, and when he had nothing to do but to row : to fish in it has been found im- practicable to any but the natives themselves, trained from their infancy to all the hardy exercises, which constituted, before the introduction of Christianity, the whole education ef the poor barbarians. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS L S 'JOW/il ^i HOPE, Imitated from the Italian of Serafino AauiLANO. rlopEj unyielding to Despair, ^ Springs for ever fresh and fair ; ^^^ Earth's serenest prospects fly, Hope's enchantments never die. t .ui'.i t.lit X At Fortune's frown, in evil hour, Though honour, wealth, and friends, depart, ^^«M She cannot drive, with all her power, This lonely solace from the heart : '^ Jwl And while this the soul sustains, Fortune still unchanged remains ; Wheresoe'er her wheel she guides, Hope upon the circle rides. . ^-^ L 3 150 HOPE. The Syrens, deep in ocean's caves, Sing while abroad the tempests roar, Expecting soon the frantic waves To ripple on a smiling shore : In the whirlwind, o'er the spray, They behold the halcyon play ; And through midnight clouds afar, Hope lights up the morning star. This pledge of bliss in future years Makes smooth and easy every toil ; The swain, who sows the waste with tears, In fency reaps a teeming soil : What though mildew blight his joy, Frost or flood his crops destroy. War compel his feet to roam^ Hope still carols Harvest Home ! HOPE. 151 The moijarch exiled from his realm. The slave in fetters at the oar. The seaman sinking by the helm. The captive on his dungeon floor ; All through peril, pain, and deatb^ Fondly cling to parting breath ; Glory, freedom, power, are past. But the dream of Hope will last. Weary and faint, with sickness worn, Blind, lame, and dea^ and bent with age. By man the load of life is borne T6 his last step of pilgrimage : Though the branch no longer shoot. Vigour lingers at the root. And in Winter's dreariest day, Hope foretells returning May. L 4 \52 HOPE. When, wrung with guilt, the wretch would end His gloomy days in sudden night, Hope comes, an unexpected friend, To win him back to hated light : " Hold !" she cries ; and from his hand Plucks the suicidal brand ; " Now await a happier doom, - " Hope will cheer thee to the tomb." When Virtue droops, as comforts fail, >J*^ X'fi'-^ And sore afflictions press the mind. Sweet Hope prolongs her pleasing tale, '^ ■"^' Till all the world again looks kind : '.pi^ ic: ^::\ Round the good man's dying bed, Were the wreck of Nature spread, Hc^e would set his spirit free, Crying — " Immortality ! " A MOTHER'S LOVE A Mother's Love, — how sweet the name ! What is a Mother's love ? — A noble, pure, and tender flame, Enkindled from above. To bless a heart of earthly mould i The warmest love that can grow cold ; This is a Mother's Love. To bring a helpless babe to light, Then while it lies forlorn. To gaze upon that dearest sight. And feel herself new-born. 154 A MOTHER'S LOVE. In its existence lose her own, And live and breathe in it alone ; This is a Mother's Love. Its weakness in her arms to bear ; To cherish on her breast, Feed it from Love's own fomitain there , And lull it there to rest ; Then while it slmnbers watch its breath, As if to guard from instant death ; This is a Mother's Love. To mark its growth from day to day, Its opening charms admire. Catch from its eye the earliest ray Of intellectual fire ; To smile and listen while it talks, And lend a finger when it walks ; This is a Mother's Love. A MOTHER'S LOVE. Bftr And can a Mother's Love grow cold ? Can she forget her boy? His pleading innocence behold. Nor weep for grief — for joy ? A Mother may forget her child. While wolves devour it on the wild ; — Is ^Ats a Mother's Love? Ten thousand voices answer " No !" Ye clasp your babes and kiss ; Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow ; Yet ah ! remember this ; — The infant, rear'd alone for earth, May live, may die, — to curse his birth ; — Is this a Mother's Love ? A parent's heart may prove a snare; The child she loves so well. Her hand may lead, with gentlest care, Down the smooth road to hell ; 156 A MOTHER'S LOVE. Nourish its frame, — destroy its mind; Thus do the blind mislead the blind. Even with a Mother's Love. Blest infant ! whom his mother taught Early to seek the Lord, And pour'd upon his dawning thought The day-spring of the word ; This was the lesson to her son, — Time is Eternity begun ; Behold that Mother's Love, (a) Blest Mother ! who, in wisdom's path, By her own parent trod, Thus taught her son to flee the wrath, -^^-^ -]^ And know the fear of God : Ah ! youth, Hke him enjoy your prime. Begin eternity in time, Taught by that Mother's Love. (a) 2 Tim. c. 1. v. 5. andc.3. v. 14, 15. A MOTHER'S LOVE. 157 That Mother's Love ! — how sweet the name ! What ixas that Mother's Love ? — The noblest, purest, tenderest flame, That kindles from above Within a heart of earthly mould, As much of heaven as heart can hold. Nor through eternity grows cold : This was that Mother's Love. I THE TIME-PIECE. W HO is He, so swiftly flying, His career no eye can see ? Who are They, so early dying, From their birth they cease to be ? Time : — behold his pictured face ! Moments : — can you count their race ? Though, with aspect deep-dissembling, Here he feigns unconscious sleep, Round and round this circle trembling, Day and night his symbols creep. While unseen, through earth and sky. His unwearying pitiions ply. THE TIME- PIECE. 159 Hark ! what petty pulses, beating. Spring new moments into light ; Every pulse, its stroke repeating. Sends its moment back to night ; Yet not one of all the train Comes uncall'd, or flits in vain. In the highest realms of glory, Spirits trace, before the throne. On eternal scrolls, the story Of each little moment flown; Every deed, and word, and thought, -,ai<1!/, Through the whole creation wrought. Were the volume of a minute Thus to mortal sight unroll'd. More of sin and sorrow in it. More of man, might we behold. Than on History's broadest page In the reliques of an age. 160 THE TIME-]^IECE. Who could bear the revelation ? Who abide the sudden test ? — With instinctive consternation, Hands would cover every breast, Loudest tongues at once be hush'd, Pride in all its writhings crush'd. Wlio, with leer malign exploring, On his neighbour's shame durst look ? Would not each, intensely poring On that record in the book, Which his inmost soul reveal'd. Wish its leaves for ever seal'd ? Sealed they are for years, and ages, Till, — the earth's last circuit run, Empire changed through all its stages, Risen and set the latest sun, — On the sea and on the land, -'^^tC m «i^' Shall a midnight Angel stand : — ■ *^^ ^* /: THE TIME -PIECE. 161 Stand; — and, whUe the' abysses tremble, Swear that Time shall be no more : Quick and Dead shall then assemble. Men and Demons range before That tremendous judgement-seat. Where both worlds at issue meet. Time himself, with all his legions. Days, Months, Years, since Nature's birth. Shall revive, — and from all regions. Singling out the sons of earth. With their glory or disgrace, Charge their spenders face to face. Every moment of my being Then shall pass before mine eyes : — God, all-searching ! God, all-seeing ! Oh ! appease them, ere they rise ; Wam'd I fly, I fly to Thee: God, be merciful to me ! M STANZAS To the Memory of the Rev. Thomas Spencee, of Liverpool, who was drowned, while bathing in the tide, on the 5th of August 1811, in his 21st Year, *' Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters ; *' and thy footsteps are not known." Psalm Ixxvii. 19. f • — ^ 1 WILL not sing a mortal's praise ; To Thee I consecrate my lays, To whom my powers belong ; These gifts, upon thine altar strown, O God ! accept; — accept thine own ; My gifts are Thine, — be Thine alone The glory of my song. STANZAS, &c. 163 In earth and ocean, sky and air, All that is excellent and &ir. Seen, felt, or understood. From one eternal cause descends, To one eternal centte tends, With God begins, continues, ends, The source and stream of good. I worship not the Sun at noon, The wandering Stars, th6 changing Moon, The Wind, the Flood, the Flame ; 1 will not bow the votive knee To Wisdom, Virtue, Liberty ; " There is no God but God,** for me; — Jehovah is his name. Him through all nature I explore, Him in his creatures I adore. Around, beneath, above; But, clearest in the human mind, His bright resemblance when I find, Grandeuj* with purity combined, I most admire and love. MS 164 STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF Oh! there was One, — on earth a while He dweh ; — but transient as a smile That turns into a tear, His beauteous image pass'd us by ; He came, like lightning from the sky. He seem'd as dazzling to the eye, As prompt to disappear. Mild, in his undissembling mien. Were genius, candour, meekness seen ; — The lips, that loved the truth ; The single eye, whose glance sublime Look'd to eternity through time ; ITie soul, whose hopes were wont to climb Above the joys of youth. ,L*iT., vn-,^ Of old, — before the lamp grew dark. Reposing near the curtain'd ark, Tlie child of Hannah's prayer Heard, through the temple's silent round, r^:r- A living voice, nor knew the sound,-, , — That thrice alarm'd him, ere he found . The Lord, who chose him there.* * 1 Sana. chap. iii. r THE REV. T. SPENCER. 1615 Thus early call'd, and strongly moved, A prophet from a child, approved, »^1.' Spencer his course began ; From strength to strength, from grace to grace, Swiftest and foremost in' the race. He carried victory in his face ; ii He triumph'd as he ran. How short his day ! — ^the glorious prize, To our slow hearts and failing eyes, Appear'd too quickly won : — The warrior rush'd into the field, n With arm invincible to wield IT The Spirit's sword, the Spirit's shield. When lo ! the fight was done. The loveliest star of evening's train Sets early in the western main. And leaves the world in night ; The brightest star of morning's host. Scarce-risen, in brighter beams is lost ; Thus sunk hi8:form on ocean's coasts Thus sprang his soul to light. M 3 166 STANZAS, &c. Who shftll forbid ti»e ^e to weep. That saw him, from the ravening deep, Pluck'd like the lion's prey ? For ever bow'd his hoiiour'd head. The spirit in a moment fled, The heart of friendship cold and dead, The limbs a wreath of clay ! Revolving his mysterious lot, I mourn him, but I praise him not ; Glory to God be given. Who sent him, like the radiant bow. His covenant of peace to show ; Athwart the breaking storm to glow. Then vanish into heaven, O Church ! tp whom that youth was dear, The Angel of thy mercies here. Behold the path he trod, *^ A milky way" through midnight skies ! • — Behold the grave in which he liei. Even from this dust thy prophet cries, ^- Prepare to meet thy GOD." ISRAEL IN CAPTIVITY. Psalm 137. aVhere Babylon's proud waters roll, In exile we sate down to weep j For thoughts of Zion, o*er our soul, Came like depaited joys in sleep, Whose forms to sad remembrance rise, Though lost for ever from our eyes. Our harps upon the willows himg, Where worn with toil our limbs reclined ; The chords, untuned and trembling, rung With mournful music on the wind ; While foes, insulting o'er our wrongs. Cried, " Sing us one of Zion's songs." M 4< 168 ISRAEL IN CAPTIVITY. How can we sing the songs we love, Far from our own delightful land ? If I prefer thee not above My chiefest joy, may this right hand, — Jerusalem ! — forget her skill, My tongue lie mute, my pulse be still. HUMAN LIFE. Job^ ch. 14). JnLow few and evil axe thy days, Man, of a woman bom ! Trouble and peril haunt thy ways : — Forth hke a flower at morn, The tender infant springs to light, Youth blossoms with the breeze. Age, withering age, is cropt ere night ; — Man like a shadow flees. And dost Thou look on such an one ? Will God to judgement call A worm, for what a worm hath done Against the Lord of all ? 170 HUMAN LIFE. As fail the waters from the deep. As summer brooks run dry, Man lieth down in dreamless sleep ; — Our life is vanity. Man lieth down, no more to wake, Till yonder arching sphere Shall with a roll c£ thunder break, And nature disappear, — Oh ! hide me, till thy wrath be past. Thou, who canst kill or save ; Hide me, where hope may anchor fast. In my Redeemer's grave. THE CHRISTIAN ISRAEL. Thus far on Life's perplexing path. Thus far the Lord our steps hath led ; Safe from the world's pursuing wrath, Unharm'd through floods hung o'er our head ; Here then we pause, look back, adore, Like ransom'd Israel from the shore. Strangers and pilgrims here below. As all our fathers in their day. We to a Land of Promise go, Lord ! by thine own appointed way ; Still guide, illumine, cheer our flight. In cloud by day, in fire by night. 172 THE CHRISTIAN ISRAEL. Protect us through this wilderness From serpent, plague, and hostile rage ; With bread from heaven our table bless. With living streams our thirst assuage ; Nor let our rebel-hearts repine, Or follow any voice but thine. Thy righteous laws to us, proclaim, But not from Sinai's top alone ; Hid in the rock-clift, be thy name, Thy power, and all thy goodness shewn ; And may we never bow the knee i>f ' To any other Gods but Thee. Thy presence with us move or rest; — And as the eagle, o'er her brood. Flutters her pinions, stirs the nest^ Covers, defends, provides them food, Bears on her wings, instructs to fly ; — Thus, thus prepare us for the sky. THE CHRISTIAN ISRAEL. 173 When we have number'd all our years, And stand at length on Jordan's brink; Though the flesh fail with human fears, Oh ! let not then the spirit shrink^ But strong in faith, and hope, and love. Plunge through the stream, — to rise above. mH" 'il( THE VISIBLE CREATION. 1 HE God of Nature and of Grace In all his works appears ; His goodness through the earth we trace, His grandeur in the spheres. Behold this fair and fertile globe. By Him in wisdom plann'd ; *Twas He, who girded, like a robe. The ocean round the land. Lift to the firmament your eye t Thither his path pursue ; His glory, boundless as the sky, O'erwhelms the wondering view. THE VISIBLE CREATION. . 175 He bows the heavens, — the mountains stand A high -way for their God ; He walks amidst the desert land, — *Tis Eden where He trod. The forests in his strength t'ejoice ; Hark ! on the evening breeze. As once of old, the Lord God's voice Is heard among the trees. Here on the hills He feeds his herds, tlia flocks on yonder plains ; His praise is warbled by the birds ; — O could we catch their strains I fw.,/ I ^/ — Mount with the lark, and bear our song Up to the gates of light, Or with the nightingale prolong Our numbers through the night ! 176 THE VISIBLE CREATION. In every stream his bounty flows, Difiusing joy and wealth ; In every breeze his spirit blowsj -^The breath of life and health. His blessings fall in plenteous showers Upon the lap of earth, That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers, And rings with infant mirth. If God hath made this world so fair, Where sin and death abound ; How beautiful beyond compare Will Paradise be found ! .J orfj S'm lO SONNET. Imitated from the Italian of Gaetana Passbrini. If in the field I meet a smiling flower, Methinks it whispers, " God created me, " And I to Him devote my little hour, " In lonely sweetness and humility." If, where the forest's darkest shadows lower, A serpent quick and venomous I see, It seems to say,—" I, too, extol the power « Of Him, who caused me, at his will, to be." The fountain purling, and the river strong, The rocks, the trees, the mountains raise one song; « Glory to God !" re-echoes in mine ear : — Faithless were I, in wilful error blind. Did I not Him in all his creatures find. His voice through heaven, and earth, and ocean hear N SONNET. Imitated from the Italian ©/"Giambattista Cotta. I SAW the' eternal God, in robes of light. Rise from his throne, — to judgement forth He came ; His presence pass'd before me, like the flame That fires the forest in the depth of night ; Whirlwind and storm, amazement and affright, Compass'd his path, and shook all Nature's frame, When from the heaven of heavens, with loud acclaim. To earth he wing'd his instantaneous flight. As some triumphal oak, whose boughs have spread Their changing foliage through a thousand years, Bows to the rushing wind its glorious head. The universal arch of yonder spheres Sunk with the pressure of its Maker's tread. And earth's foundations quaked with mortal fears. SONNET. THE CRUCIFIXION. Imitated from the Italidn o/" Crescrmbini. I ASK*D the Heavens ; — " What foe to God hath done " This unexampled deed ?" — The Heavens exclaim, ** 'Twas Man; — and we in horror snatch'd the sun " From sudi a spectacle of guilt and shame." I ask'd the Sea; — the Sea in fury boii'd, And answer'd with his voice of storms, — " 'Twas Man ; " My waves in panic at his crime recoil'd, " Disclosed the abyss, and from the centre ran." n2 180 THE CRUCIFIXION. I ask'd the Earth; — the Earth repHed aghast, " 'Twas Man; — and such strange pangs my bosom rent, " That still I groan and shudder at the past." — To IV^an, gay, smiling, thoughtless Man, I went, And ask'd him next : — He turn'd a scornful eye. Shook his proud head, and deign'd me no reply. CHRIST'S PASSION. 1 HE morning dawns upon the place, Where Jesus spent the night in prayer; Through brightening glooms behold his face. No form nor comeliness is there. Last eve, by those He call'd his own, Betray'd, forsaken, or denied,^ He met his enemies alone, In all their malice, rage, and pride. Brought forth to judgement now he stands, Arraign'd, condemn'd, at PUate's bar ; Here spum'd by fierce Praetorian bands, There mock'd by Herod's men of war : He bears their bufFetting and scorn, Feign'd homage of the lip, the knee, The purple robe, the crown of thorn, The scourge, the nail, the* accursed tree. k8 182 CHRIST'S PASSION. No guile within his mouth is found, He neither threatens nor complains ; Meek as a lamb for slaughter bound. Dumb midst his murderers He remains : But hark ! He prays; — 'tis for his foes; He speaks ; — 'tis comfort to his friends ; Answers; — and Paradise bestows ; " 'Tis finish'd !" — here the conflict ends. He dies ; the veil is rent in twain ; Darkness o'er all the land is spread, High, without tempest, rolls the main, Earth trembles, graves give up their dead ; « Truly this was the Son of God !" — Though in a servant's mean disguise, And bruised beneath the Father's rod. Not for Himself, — for Man He dies. /wv CHRIST'S TRIUMPH. JlIark ! the song of Jubilee, Loud as mighty thunders roar, Or the fulness of the sea, When it breaks upon the shore : — Hallelujah ! for the Lord, God Omnipotent, shall reign ; Hallelujah ! — let the word Echo round the earth and main. Hallelujah ! — hark ! the sound, From the* abysses to the skies, Wakes above, beneath, around, All Creation's harmonies : See Jehovah's banner furl'd, Sheathed his sword: — He speaks, — 'tis done; And the kingdoms of this world Are the kingdoms of his Son. ir4 184 CHRIST'S TRIUMPH. He shall reign from pole to pole, With illimitable sway ; He shall reign, when, like a scroll. Yonder heavens have pass'd away : Then the end : — beneath his rod, Man's last enemy shall fall ; Hallelujah ! Christ in God, God in Christ, is All in All. ,J!r 9tA SAINTS IN HEAVEN. What axe these in bright array ? This innumerable throng, Round the altar, night and day. Tuning their triumphant song ? — " Worthy is the Lamb once slain, Blessing, honour, glory, power. Wisdom, riches, to obtain ; New dominion, every hour." These through fiery trials trod ; These from great affliction came ; Now before the throne of God, Seal'd with his eternal name ; Clad in raiment pure and white, Victor-palms in every hand, Through their great Redeemer's might, More than conquerors they stand. 186 SAINTS IN HEAVEN. Hunger, thirst, disease, unknown, On immortal fruits they feed ; Them the Lamb, amidst the throne, Shall to living fountains lead ; Joy and gladness banish sighs. Perfect love dispels their fears. And for ever from their eyes God shall wipe away all tears. THE BIBLE. AA' HAT is the world ? — A wildering maze, Where Sin hath track'd ten thousand ways, Her victims to ensnare ; All broad, and winding, and aslope. All tempting with perfidious hope, All ending in despair. Millions of pilgrims throng those roads. Bearing their baubles, or their loads, Down to eternal night : — One humble path, that never bends, Narrow, and roughs and steep, ascends From darkness into light. 188 THE BIBLE. Is there a Guide to shew that path ? The Bible: — He alone, who hath The Bible, need not stray : Yet he who hath, and will not give That heavenly Guide to all that live, Himself shall lose the way. ;/ INSTRUCTION. r ROM heaven descend the drops of dew, y*^ From heaven the gracious showers, Earth's winter-aspect to renew, And clothe the spring with flowers ; From heaven the beams of morning flow, That melt the gloom of night ; From heaven the evening breezes blow, Health, fragrance, and delight. Like genial dew, like fertile showers. The words of wisdom fall. Awaken man's miconscious powers. Strength out of weakness call : Like morning beams they strike the mind. Its loveliness reveal ; And softer than the evening wind. The wounded spirit heal. 190 INSTRUCTION. As dew and rain, as light and air, From heaven Instruction came ; The waste of Nature to repair. Kindle a sacred flame ; A flame to purify the earth, Exalt her sons on high. And train them for their second birth, —Their birth beyond the sky. Albion ! on every human soul. By thee be knowledge shed, Far as the ocean-waters roll, Wide as the shores are spread : Truth makes thy children free at home ; Oh ! that thy flag, unfurl'd, Might shine, where'er thy children roam. Truth's banner round the world. THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. Occasioned by the sudden death of the Reverend Thomas Taylor ; after having declared^ in his last Sermon, on a preceding evening, that he hoped to die as an old soldier of Jesus Christ, with his sword in his hand. Servant of God ! well done ; Rest from thy loved employ ; The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy.'* — The voice at midnight came ; He started up to hear, A mortal arrow pierced his frame ; He fell, — but felt no fear. Tranquil amidst alarms. It found him in the field, A veteran slumbering on his arms. Beneath his red-cross shield : 192 THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. His sword was in his hand, Still warm with recent fight ; Ready that moment at command, Through rock and steel to smite. It was a two-edged blade, Of heavenly temper keen ; And double were the wounds it made. Where'er it smote between : 'Twas death to sin ; — 'twas life To all that mourn'd for sin ; It kindled and it silenced strife, Made war and peace within. Oft with its fiery force. His arm had quell'd the foe. And laid, resistless in his course. The alien-armies low. Bent on such glorious toils, The world to him was loss ; Yet all his trophies, all his spoils, He hung upon the cross. THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. 193 At midnight came the cry, "To meet tliy God prepare !" He woke,— r- and caught his Captain's eye; Then, strong in faith and prayer, His spirit, with a bound, Burst its encumbering clay ; His tent, at sun-rise, on the ground, A darken'd ruin lay. The pains of death are past, Labour and sorrow cease, And life's long warfare closed at last, His soul is found in peace. Soldier of Christ ! well done ; i' Praise be thy new employ ; And whilp eternal ages run, Rest in thy Saviour's joy. ON THE ROYAL INFANT, Still-born, Nov. 5, 1817. A THRONE on earth awaited thee; A nation long*!! to see thy face, Heir to a glorious ancestry. And father of a mightier race. Vain hope i that throne thou must not fill; Thee may that nation ne'er behold; Thine ancient house is heirless still, Thy line shall never be unroU'd* , ,r Yet while we mourn thy flight from earth, Thine was a destiny sublime ; Caught up to Paradise in birth, Pluck'd by Eternity from Time. ON THE ROYAL INFANT. 195 The Mother knew her ofispring dead : Oh ! was it grief, or was it love That broke her heart ? — The spirit fled To seek her nameless child above. Led by his natal star, she trod The path to heaven : — the meeting there, And how they stood before their God, Tlie day of judgement shall declare. o2 A MIDNIGHT THOUGHT. In a land of strange delight, My transported spirit stray'd, I awake where all is night, Silence, solitude, and shade. Is the dream of Nature flown ? Is the universe destroy'd, Man extinct, and I alone Breathing through the formless void ? No : — my soul, in God rejoice ; Through the gloom his light I see. In the silence hear his voice. And his hand is over me. When I slumber in the tomb. He will guard my resting-place ; Fearless in the day of doom. May I stand before his face ! A NIGHT IN A STAGE-COACH : BEING A Meditation on the way between London and Bristol, Sept. 23, 1815. I TRAVEL all the irksome night. By ways to me unknown ; I travel, like a bird in flight, Onward, and all alone. In vain I close my weary eyes, They will not, cannot sleep, But, like the watchers of the skies, Their twinkling vigils keep. My thoughts are wandering wild and far ; From earth to heaven they dart^ Now wing their flight from star to star, Now dive into my heart. OS 198 A NIGHT IN A STAGE-COACH. Backward they roll the tide of time, And live through vanish'd years ; Or hold their " colloquy sublime" With future hopes and fears ; — Then passing joys and present woes Chase through my troubled mind ; Repose still seeking, — but repose Not for a moment find. So yonder lone and lovely moon Gleams on the clouds gone by, Illumines those around her noon, Yet westward points her eye. Nor wind nor flood her course delay, Through heaven I see her glide ; She never pauses on her way. She never turns aside. A NIGHT IN A STAGE-COACH. 199 With anxious heart and throbbing brain, T Strength, patience, spirits gone, Pulses of fire in every vein, Thus, thus I journey on. But soft I — in Nature's failing hour, Up springs a breeze, — I feel Its balmy breath, its cordial power, —A power to soothe and heal. Lo ! grey, and gold, and crimson streaks The gorgeous east adorn. While o'er the' empurpled mountain breaks The glory of the mom^ Insensibly the stars retire, Exhaled like drops of dewj Now through an arch of living fire, The sun comes forth to view. ' o 4 200 A NIGHT IN A STAGE-COACH. The Jiills, the vales, the waters burn With his enkindling rays, i j No sooner touch'd than they return , A tributary blaze. His quickening light on me descends. His cheering warmth I ownj i] Upward to. him my spirit tends, iud gtl But worships God alone. A — Oh! that on me, widi beams benign, His countenance would turn ; ;;' I too should then arise and shine, ;iii /f — Arise, and shine, and burn. . :}'i\ Slowly I raise my languid head ; Pain and soul-sickness cease, x. .! The phantoms of dismay are fled, , ; And health returns, and peace, ^^b a^f 1 A NIGHT IN A STAGE-COACH. 201 Where is the beauty of the scene. Which silent night display'd ? The clouds, the stars, the blue serene. The moving light and shade ? All gone ! — the moon, erewhile so bright, Veil'd with a dusky shroud, Seems, in the sun's o'erpowering light, The fragment of a cloud. At length, I reach my journey's end ; —Welcome that well-known face ! I meet a brother and a friend ; I find a resting-place. Just such a pilgrimage is life ; Hurried from stage to stage. Our wishes with our lot at strife, Through childhood to old age. 202 A NIGHT IN A STAGE-COACH. The world is seldom what it seems ;— To man, who dimly sees, Realities appear as dreams, And dreams realities. The christian's years, though slow their flight, When he is call'd away. Are but the watches of a night. And Death the dawn of day. THE REIGN OF SPRING. yVuo loves not Spring's voluptuous hours. The carnival of birds and flowers ? Yet who would chuse, however dear, That Spring should revel all the year ? —Who loves not Summer's splendid reign^ The bridal of the earth and main Yet who would chuse, however bright, A Dog-day noon without a night ? — Who loves not Autumn's joyous round. When com, and wine, and oil abound ? Yet who would chuse, however gay, A year of unrenewed decay ? — Who loves not Winter's awefiil form ? The sphere-bom music of the storm ? 204 THE REIGN OF SPRING. Yet who would chuse, how grand so ever, The shortest day to last for ever ? 'Twas in that age renown'd, remote. When all was true that Esop wrote ; And in that land of fair Ideal, Where all that poets dream is real ; Upon a day of annual state. The Seasons met in high debate. There blush'd young Spring in maiden-pride, Blithe Summer look'd a gorgeous bride. Staid Autumn moved with matron-grace, And beldame Winter pursed her face. Dispute grew wild ; all talk'd together j The foiu* at once made wondrous weather j Nor one, (whate'er the rest had shewn,) Heard any reason but her own. While each, (for nothing else was clear,) Claim'd the whole circle of the year. Spring, in possession of the field, Compell'd her sisters soon to yield ; THE REIGN OF SPRING. 206 They part, — resolved elsewhere to try A twelve-month's empire of the sky ; And calling oflF their airy legions, Alighted in adjacent regions. Spring o'er the eastern champaign smiled, Fell Winter ruled the northern wild ; ^ Summer pursued the sun's red car, But Autumn loved the twilight star. As Spring parades her new domain, Love, Beauty, Pleasure, hold her train ; Her footsteps wake the flowers beneath, That start, and blush, and sweetly breathe ; Her gales on nimble pinions rove. And shake to foliage every grove ; Her voice, in dell and thicket heard. Cheers on the nest the mother-bird ; The ice-lock'd streams, as if they felt Her touch, to liquid diamond melt ; The lambs around her bleat and play ; The serpent flings his slough away, 208 THE REIGN OF SPRINGS And shines, in orient colours dight, A flexile ray of living light. Nature luibinds her wintry jshroud, (As the soft sunshine melts the cloud,) With infant gambols sports along, Bounds into youth, and soars in song. The morn impearls her locks with dew ; Noon spreads a sky of boundless blue ; The rainbow spans the evening scene, The night is silent and serene, Save when her lonely minstrel wrings The heart with sweetness, while he sings. — Who would not wish, unrivall'd here, That Spring might frolic all the year ? Three months are fled, and still she reigns, Exulting queen o'er hills and plains ; The birds renew their nuptial vow. Nestlings themselves are lovers now ; Fresh broods each bending bough receives. Till fealiiers far outnumber leaves | THE REIGN OF SPRING. 207 But kites in circles swim the air. And sadden music to despair. The stagnant pools, the quaking bogs. Teem, croak, and crawl with hordes of frogs; The matted woods, the' infected earth, Are venomous with reptile-birth ; Armies of locusts cloud the skies ; With beetles hornets, gnats with flies, Interminable warfare wage, And madden heaven with insect-rage.> i nf; The flowers are wither'd ; — sun nor dew Their fallen glories shall renew; The flowers are wither'd ; — germ nor seed Ripen in garden, wild, or mead : The cornfields shoot ; — their blades, alas ! Run riot in luxuriant grass. The tainted flocks, the drooping kine, In famine of abundance pine. Where vegetation, sour, unsound. And loathsome, rots, and rankles round ; ^8 THE REIGN OF SPRING. Nature with nature seems at strife ; Nothing can live but monstrous life, By death engender'd; — food and breath Are tum'd to elements of death ; And where the soil his victims strew, Corruption quickens them anew. But ere the year was half expired. Spring saw her folly, and retired ; Yoked her light chariot to a breeze, And mounted to the Pleiades,* Content with them to rest or play Along the calm nocturnal way ; Till hediVen's remaining circuit run, They meet the pale hybemal sun, And gaily mingling in his blaze, Ebil the true dawn of vernal days. THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 1 HE hurricanes are fled ; the rains, That plough'd the mountains, wreck'd the plains, Have pass'd away before the wind. And left a wilderness behind. As if an ocean had been there Exhaled, and left its channels bare. But, with a new and sudden birth, Nature replenishes the earth ; Plants, flowers, and shrubs, o'er all the land, So promptly rise, so thickly stand, As if they heard a voice, — and came, Each at the calling of its name. The tree, by tempests stript and rent. Expands its verdure like a tent, 210 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. Beneath whose shade, in weary length, The* enormous lion rests his strength, For blood, in dreams of hunting, burns, Or, chased himself, to fight returns ; Growls in his sleep, a dreary sound, Grinds his wedged teeth, and spurns the ground ; While monkeys, in grotesque amaze, Down from their bending perches gaze. But when he lifts his eye of fire. Quick to the topmost boughs retire. Loud o'er the mountains bleat the flocks ; The goat is bounding on the rocks ; Far in the valleys range the herds ;^9« & a i The welkin gleams with flitting birds, l^i *rr«li*K Whose plumes such gorgeous tints adorn, i^ They seem the oflfepring of the morn. From nectar'd flowers and groves of spice, Earth breathes the air of Paradise ; -Her mines their hidden weaith betray, Treasures of darkness burst to day ; .THE REIGN OF SUMMER. - t^l 0*er golden sands the rivers glide, And pearls and amber track the tide. Of every sensual bliss possest, Man riots here ; . — but is he blest ? And would he chuse, for eVer bright, This Summer-day without a night? For here hath Summer fix'd her throne, Intent to reign, — and reign alone. Daily the sun, in his career. Hotter and higher, climbs the sphere, Till from the zenith, in his rays. Without a cloud or shadow, blaze The realms beneath him: — in his march. On the blue key-stone of heaven's arch, He stands: — air, earth, and ocean lie Within the presence of his eye. The wheel of Nature seems to rest, Nor rolls him onward to the west. Till, thrice three days of noon unchanged That torrid clime have so deranged, PS 2*2 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. Nine years may not the wrong repair ; But Summer checks the ravage there; Yet still enjoins the sun to steer By the stem Dog star round the year. With dire extremes of day and night, Tartarean gloom, celestial light. In vain the gaudy season shines, Her beauty fades, her power declines ; Then first her bosom felt a care ; — No healing breeze embalm'd the air, No mist the mountain tops bedew'd. Nor shower the arid vale renew'd ; The herbage shnmk ; the ploughman's toil Scatter'd to dust the crumbling soil ; Blossoms were shed ; the' umbrageous wood, Laden with sapless foliage, stood; The streams, impoverish'd day by day, Lessen'd insensibly away ; Where cattle sought, with piteous moans, The vanish'd lymph, midst burning stones. THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 218 And tufts of wither'd reeds, that fill The wonted channel of the rill ; Till, stung with hornets, mad with thirst, In sudden rout, away they burst. Nor rest, till where some channel deep Gleams in small pools, whose waters sleep ; There with huge draught and eager eye Drink for existence, — drink and die ! But direr evils soon arose. Hopeless, unmitigable woes ; Man proves the shock ; through all his veins, The frenzy of the season reigns ; With pride, lust, rage, ambition blind, He burns in every fire of mind. Which kindles from insane desire. Or fellest hatred can inspire ; Reckless whatever ill befall, He dares to do and suffer all That heart can think, that arm can deal, Or out of hell a fury fe^. p3 214 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. There stood in that romantic clime, A mountain awefully sublime; O'er many a league the basement spread. It tower'd in many an airy head, Height over height, — now gay, now wild, The peak with ice eternal piled; Pure in mid-heaven, that crystal cone A diadem of glory shone ; Reflecting, in the night-fall'n sky, The beams of day's departed eye ; Or holding, ere the dawn begim. Communion with the' unrisen sun. The cultured sides were clothed with woods, Vineyards, and fields, or track'd with floods. Whose glacier-fountains, hid on high. Sent down their rivers from the sky. O'er plains, that mark'd its gradual scale. On sunny slope, in shelter'd vale, Earth's universal tenant, — He, Who lives wherever life may be. THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 215 Sole, social, fix'd, or free to roam. Always and every where at home, Man pitch'd his tents, adorn'd his bowers, Built temples, palaces, and towers, And made that Alpine world his own, — The miniature of every zone. From brown savannahs parch'd below To ridges of cerulean snow. Those high-lands form'd a last retreat From rabid Summer's fatal heatijua^ «;4i]^-! Though not unfelt her fervours there. Vernal and cool the middle air ; While from the icy pyramid Streams of unfailing freshness slid. That long had slaked the thirsty land. Till avarice, with insatiate hand, ^ Their currents check'd ; in sunless caves. And rock-bound dells, ingulph'd the waves. And thence in scanty measures doled. Or turn'd heaven's bounty into gold. f4 216 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. Ere long the dwellers on the plain Murmur'd; — their murmurs were in vain; Petition'd, — but their prayers were spurn'd; Threaten'd, — defiance was return'dj Then rang both regions with alarms ; Blood-kindling trumpets blew to arms ; The maddening drum and deafening fife Marshall'd the elements of strife : Sternly the mountaineers maintain Their rights against the' insurgent plain ; The plain's indignant myriads rose To wrest the mountain from their foes, Resolved its blessings to enjoy By dint of valour; — or destroy. The legions met in war-array ; The mountaineers brook'd no delay, Aside their missile weapons threw. From holds impregnable withdrew. And, rashly brave, with sword and shield, Rush'd headlong to tne open field. THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 217 Their foes the' auspicious omen took, And raised a battle- shout, that shook The champaign: — staunch and keen for blood, Front threatening front, the columns stood, But, while like thimder- clouds they frown, In tropic haste the sun went down ; Night o'er both armies stretch'd her tent. The star-bespangled firmament, Whose placid host, revolving slow. Smile on the' impatient hordes below, That chafe and fret the hours away. Curse the dull gloom, and long for day. Though destined by their own decree No other day nor night to see. — That night is past, that day begun, Swifl as he sunk ascends the sun. And from the red horizon springs Upward, as borne on eagle-wings ; Aslant each army's lengthen'd lines. O'er shields and helms he proudly shines, 21 S THE REIGN OF SUMMER. While spears, that catch his lightnings keen, Flash them athwart the space between. Before the battle-shock, when breath And pulse are still, — awaiting death; In that cold pause, which seems to be The prelude to eternity. When fear, ere yet a blow is dealt, Betray'd by none, by all is felt ; While, moved beneath their feet, the tomb Widens her lap to make them room ; — Till, in the onset of the fray. Fear, feeling, thought are cast away. And foaming, raging, mingling foes. Like billows dash'd in conflict, close. Charge, strike, repel, wound, struggle, fly, Gloriously win, unconquer'd die; — -. Here, in dread silence, while they stand, Each with a death-stroke in his hand, His eye fix'd forward, and his ear Tingling the signal blast to hear ; THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 21d The trumpet sounds; — one note, — no more; The field, the fight, the war is o'er ; An earthquake rent the void between ; A moment shew'd, and shut the scene ; Men, chariots, steeds, — of either host, The flower, the pride, the strength were lost : A solitude remains; — the dead Are buried there; — the living fled. Nor yet the reign of Summer closed : — At night in their own homes reposed The fugitives, on either side, Who 'scaped the death their comrades died ; When lo ! with many a giddy shock. The mountain-cliffs began to rock. And deep below the hollow ground Ran a strange mystery of sound. As if, in chains and torments there, Spirits were venting their despair. That sound, those shocks the sleepers woke ; In trembihig consternation, broke 220 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. Forth from their dwellings, young and old ; — Nothing abroad their eyes behold But darkness so intensely wrought, 'Twas blindness in themselves they thought. Anon, aloof, with sudden rays> Issued so fierce, so broad a blaze. That darkness started into light, And every eye, restored to sight. Gazed on the glittering crest of snows. Whence the bright conflagration rose, Whose flames condensed at once aspire, — A pillar of celestial fire, Alone amidst infernal shade, In glorious majesty display'd : Beneath, jfrom rifted caverns broke Volumes of suiFocating smoke. That roll'd in surges, like a flood, By the red radiance tum'd to blood. Mom look'd aghast upon the scene, Nor could a sun-beam pierce between THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 221 The panoply of vapours, spread Above, around the moimtain's head. In distant fields, with drought consumed, Joy swell'd all heaits, all eyes illumed, When from that peak, through lowering skies, Thick curling clouds were seen to rise, And hang o'er all the darken'd plain. The presage of descending rain. The' exulting cattle bound along. The tuneless birds attempt a song, The swain, amidst his sterile lands. With outstretcht arms of rapture stands. But, fraught with plague and curses, came The' insidious progeny of flame : Ah ! then, — for fertilizing showei-s, The pledge of herbage, fruits, and floweis, — Words cannot paint, how eveiy eye, (Blood-shot and dim with agony,) Was glazed, as by a palsying spell, When light sulphureous ashes fell, 222 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. Dazzling, and eddying to and fro, Like wildering sleet or feathery snow : Strewn with grey pumice Nature lies, At every motion quick to rise, Tainting with livid fumes the air ; — Then hope lies down in prone despair, And man and beast, with misery dimib, Sullenly brood on woes to come. The mountain now, like living earth. Pregnant with some stupendous bu*th, Heaved, in the anguish of its throes. Sheer from its crest the' incumbent snows And where of old they chill'd the sky. Beneath the sun's meridian eye, Or, purpling in the golden west, Appear'd his evening throne of rest, There, black and bottomless and wide, ' i A cauldron rent from side to side, Simmer'd and hiss'd with huge turmoil ; Earth's disembow^ell'd minerals boil, THE REIGN OF SUMxMER. 223 And thence in molten torrents rush : — Water and fire, like sisters, gush From the same source ; the double stream Meets, battles, and explodes in steam ; Then fire prevails ; and broad and deep Red lava roars from steep to steep ; While rocks unseated, woods upriven, Are headlong down the current driven ; Columnar flames are rapt aloof, In whirlwind forms, to heaven's high roof And there, amidst transcendent gloom, Image the wrath beyond the tomb. The mountaineers, in wild aflFright, Too late for safety, urge their flight ; Women, made childless in the fray, Women, made mothers yesterday. The sick, the aged, and the blind ; — None but the dead are left behind. Painful their journey, toilsome, slow ; Beneadi their feet quick embers glow, 224 THE REIGN OF SUMMER. And hurtle round in dreadful hail ; Their limbs, their hearts, their senses fail, While many a victim, by the way. Buried alive in ashes lay, Or perish'd by the lightning's stroke. Before the slower thunder broke. A few the open field explore ; ^kv i ouci tv The throng seek refuge on the shore. Between two burning rivers hemm'd, Whose rage nor mounds nor hollows stemm'd ; Driven like a herd of deer, they reach The lonely, dark^ and silent beach, at ji»*M«.l Where, calm as innocence in sleep. Expanded lies the' unconscious deep. Awhile the fugitives respire, And watch those cataracts of fire .\'mu> ft (That bar escape on either hand,) ' Rush on the ocean from the strand j Back from the onset rolls the tide, jj'^-l But instant cloud» the conflict hide ; THE REIGN OF SUMMER. 225 The lavas plunge to gulphs unknown, And as they plunge relapse to stone. Meanwhile the mad volcano grew Tenfold more terrible to view ; And thunders, such as shall be hurl'd > At the death -sentence of the world; And lightnings, such as shall consume Creation, and creation's tomb, Nor leave, amidst the' eternal void, One trembling atom undestroy'd ; Such thunders crash'd, such lightnings glared : — Another fate those outcasts shared. When, with one desolating sweep, An earthquake seem'd to' ingulph the deep, Then threw it back, and from its bed Hung a whole ocean overhead ; The victims shriek'd beneath the wave. And in a moment found one grave ; Down to the' abyss the flood retum'd ; Alone, unseen, the mountani burn'd. 8 INCOGNITA: Written at Leamington, in 1817, on viewing the Picture of an unknown Lady, " Sbe was a phantom of delight."— Wordsworth. Image of One, who lived of yore ! Hail to that lovely mien, Once quick and conscious ; — now no more On land or ocean seen ! Were all earth's breathing forms to pass Before me in Agrippa's glass,* Many as fair as Thou might be. But Oh ! not one, — not one like Thee. * Henry Cornelius Agrippa, of Nettesheim, counsellor to Charles V. Emperor of Germany, — the author of Occult Phi- losophy, and other profound works, — is said to have shewn to the Earl of Surrey the image of his mistress Geraldine, in a magical mirror. INCOGNITA. 227 Thou ai't no Child of Fancy ; — Thou The very look dost wear, That gave enchantment to a brow, Wreathed with luxuriant hair ; Lips of the morn embathed in dew. And eyes of evening's starry blue ; Of all who e'er enjoy'd the sun, Thou art tlie image of but One, And who was she, in virgin prime. And May of womanhood, Whose roses here, unpluck'd by Time, In shadowy tints have stood ; While many a winter's withering blast Hath o'er the dark cold chamber pass'd, In which her once-resplendent form Slumber'd to dust beneath the storm ? Of gentle blood; — upon her birth. Consenting planets smiled. And she had seen those days of mirth, That frolic round the child ; S2 228 INCOGNITA. To bridal bloom her strength had sprung, Behold her beautiful and young ! Lives there a record, which hath told, That she was wedded, widow'd, old ? How long her date, 'twere vain to guess The pencil's cunning art Can but a single glance express. One motion of the heart ; A smile, a blush, — a transient grace Of air, and attitude, and face ; One passion's changing colour mix ; One moment's flight for ages fix. Her joys and griefs, alike in vain Would fancy here recall ; Her throbs of exstacy or pain Lull'd in oblivion all; With her, methinks, life's httle hour Pass'd like the fragrance of a flower, That leaves upon the vernal wind Sweetness we ne'er again may find. INCOGNITA. 229 Where dwelt she ? — Ask yon aged tree, Whose boughs embower the lawn, Whether the birds' wild minstrelsy Awoke her here at dawn ; Whether beneath its youthful shade, At noon, in infancy she play'd ; — If from the oak no answer come, Of her all oracles are dumb. The Dead are like the stars by day; — Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way. In glory through the sky : Spirits, from bondage thus set free. Vanish amidst immensity. Where human thought, like human sight. Fails to pursue their trackless flight. Somewhere within created space. Could I explore that round, In bliss, or woe, there is a place. Where she might still be found ; Q S 230 INCOGNITA. And oh ! unless those eyes deceive, I may, I must, I will believe, That she, whose charms so meekly glow. Is what she only seem'd below ; — An angel in that glorious realm, Where God himself is King : — But awe and fear, that overwhelm Presumption, check my wing ; Nor dare imagination look Upon the symbols of that book. Wherein eternity enrolls The judgements on departed souls. Of Her, of whom these pictured lines A faint resemblance form ; —Fair as the second rainbow shines Aloof amid the storm ; Of Her, this " shadow of a shade," Like its original must fade. And She, forgotten when imseen, Shall be as if she ne'er had been. INCOGNITA. 231 Ah ! then, perchance, this dreaming strain, // Of all that e'er I sung, : ithmli A lorn memorial may remain. When silent lies my tongue ; When shot the meteor of my fame, Lost the vain echo of my name, : j - This leaf, this fallen lea^ may be Tlie only trace of her and me. ^"/ AN AFTER -THOUGHT. With One who lived of old, my song In lowly cadence rose ; To One who is unborn, belong The accents of its close : Ages to come, with courteous ear, Some youth my warning voice may hear ; And voices from the dead should be The warnings of eternity. 2 4 232 INCOGNITA. When these weak lines thy presence greet, Reader ! if I am blest, Again, as spirits, may we meet In glory and in rest : If not, — and /have lost my way. Here part we ; — go not Thou astray ; No tomb, no verse my story tell ! Once, and for ever. Fare Thee welL THE LITTLE CLOUD, Seen in a Country Excursion, June 30, 1818, The summer smi was in the west, Yet far above his evening rest ; A thousand clouds in air displayed Their floating isles of light and shade, The sky, like ocean's channels, seen In long meandering streaks between. Cultured and waste, the landscape lay ; Woods, mountains, valleys stretch'd away, And throng'd the' inmaense horizon round, With heaven's eternal girdle bound : From inland towns, eclipsed with smoke. Steeples in lonely grandeur broke ; 234 THE LITTLE CLOUD. Hamlets, and cottages, and streams By glimpses caught the casual gleams, Or blazed in lustre broad and strong, Beyond the picturing powers of song : O'er all the eye enchanted ranged. While colours, forms, proportions changed, Or sunk in distance undefined. Still as our devious course inclined; — And oft we paused, and look'd behind. One little cloud, and only one, Seem'd the pure offspring of the sun. Flung from his orb to shew us here What clouds adorn his hemisphere ; Unmoved, unchanging, in the gale. That bore the rest o'er hill and dale, v fo; i i Whose shadowy shapes, with lights around, Like living motions, swept the groimd. > h This Uttle cloud, and this alone, Long in the highest ether shone ;♦ r.'novB • Gay as a warrior's banner spread. Its sunward margin ruby-red. I THE LITTLE CLOUD. 235 Green, purple, gold, and every hue, That glitters in the morning dew, Or glows along the rainbow's form, — The apparition of the storm. Deep in its bosom, diamond-bright. Behind a fleece of pearly white. It seem'd a secret glory dwielt, Whose presence, while unseen, was felt ; Like Beauty's eye, in slumber hid Beneath a half-transparent lid. From whence a sound, a touch, a breath, Might startle it, — as life from death. Looks, words, emotions of surprize Welcomed the stranger to our eyes : Was it the phoenix, that from earth In flames of incense sprang to birth ? Had ocean from his lap let fly His loveliest halcyon through the sky ? No : — while we gazed, the pageant grew A nobler object to our view j 236 THE LITTLE CLOUD. We deem'd, if heaven with earth would hold Communion, as in days of old, Such, on his journey down the sphere, Benignant Raphael might appear. In splendid mystery conceal'd, Yet by his rich disguise reveal'd : — That buoyant vapour, in mid-air, An angel in its folds might bear. Who, through the curtain of his shrine, Betray'd his lineaments divine. The wild, the warm illusion stole, Like inspiration, o'er the soul, Till thought was rapture, language hung, Silent but trembling on the tongue ; And fancy almost hoped to hail The seraph rushing through his veil, Or hear an awfiil voice proclaim The embassy on which he came. But ah ! no minister of grace Shew'd from the firmament his face, THE LITTLE CLOUD. 237 Nor, borne aloof on balanced wings, Reveal'd unutterable things. The sun went down ; — the vision pass'd ; The cloud was but a cloud at last ; Yet when its brilliancy decay'd. The eye still linger'd on the shade. And watching, till no longer seen, Loved it for what it once had been. That cloud was beautiful, — was one Among a thousand round the sun ; The thousand shared the common lot ; They came, — they went, — they were forgot; This fairy-form alone impress'd Its perfect image in my breast, And shines as richly blazon'd there As in its element of air. The day on which that cloud appear'd. Exhilarating scenes endear'd : — The sunshine on the hills, the floods ; The breeze, the twilight of the woods ; 238 THE LITTLE CLOUD. Nature in every change of green, Heaven in unnumber'd aspects seen : Health, spirits, exercise, release From noise and smoke ; twelve hours of peace ; No fears to haunt^ no cares to vex ; Friends, young and old, of either sex ; Converse familiar, sportive, kind. Where heart meets heart, mind quickens mind. And words and thoughts are all at play. Like children on a holiday ; — Till themes celestial rapt the soul In adoration o'er the pole. Where stars are darkness in His sight, Who reigns invisible in Hght, High above all created things, The Lord of Lords, the King of Kings ; Faith, which could thus on wing sublime Outsoar the boimded flight of time ; Hope full of immortality, And God in all the eye could see ; — These, these endear'd that day to me, THE LITTLE CLOUD. 239 And made it, in a thousand ways, ^ A day among a thousand days, That share with clouds the common lot ; They come, — they go, — they are forgot: This, like that plaything of the sun, — The little, lonely, lovely one. This lives within me; — this shall be ^''' A part of my eternity. ^1 Amidst the cares, the toils, the strife. The weariness and waste of life. That day shall memory oft restore. And in a moment live it o'er. When, with a lightning-flash of thought, Morn, noon, and eve at once are brought, (As through the vision of a trance,) All in the compass of a glance. Oh 1 should I reach a world above, And sometirnes think of those I love, Of things on earth too dearly prized, (Nor yet by saints in heaven despised,) 240 THE LITTLE CLOUD. Though Spirits made perfect may lament Life's holier hours as half-mispent, Methinks I could not turn away The fond remembrance of that day, The bright idea of that cloud, • (Survivor of a countless crowds) Without a pause, perhaps a sigh, — To think such loveliness should die. And clouds and days of storm and gloom Scowl on Man's passage to the tomb. — Not so : — I feel I have a heart Blessings to share, improve, impart, ' In blithe, severe, or pensive mood, At home, abroad, in solitude. Whatever clouds are on the wing. Whatever day the seasons bring. TTiat is true happiness below^ Which conscience cannot turn to woe ; And though such happiness depends Neither on clouds, nor days, nor friends. THE LITTLE CLOUD. 241 fVheti friends, and days, and clouds unite. And kindi'cd chords are tuned aright, The harmonies of heaven and earth. Through eye, ear, intellect, give birth To joys too exquisite to last, — And yet more exquisite when past ! "When the soul summons by a spell The ghosts of pleasures round her cell, In saintlier forms than erst they wore, And smiles benigner than before; Each loved, lamented scene renews With warmer touches, tenderer hues ; Recalls kind words for ever flown. But echoing in a soften'd tone ; "Wakes, with new pulses in the breast. Feelings forgotten or at rest; — The thought how fugitive and fair, How dear and precious such things were ! That thought, with gladness more refined, Deep and transportbig, thrills the mind, B 242 ' THE LITTLE CLOUD. Than all those pleasures of an hour^ When most the soul confess'd their power. Bliss in possession will not last ; Remember'd joys are never past; At once the fountain, stream, and sea, They were, — they are, — they yet shall be. TO BRITAIN. The following Address was the concluding Part of a Poem, entitled "Thoughts on Wheels," annexed to a Work, written by a friend of the Author, to expose the evils of the State Lottery.* 1 LOVE Thee, O my native Isle ! Dear as my mother's earliest smile ; Sweet as my father's voice to me Is all I hear, and all I see, When, glancing o'er thy beauteous land, In view thy Public Virtues stand, The guardian angels of thy coast. Who watch the dear domestic Host, * The State LoTTsaY, A Dream ; by Samuel Roberts : — Also, Thoughts on Wheels, a Poem, in Five Parts, by J. M. b2 244 TO BRITAIN. The Heart's Affections, pleased to roam Around the quiet heaven of home. I love Thee, — when I mark thy soil Flourish beneath the peasant's toil, And from its lap of verdure throw Treasures, which neither Indies know. I love Thee, — when I hear around Thy looms, and wheels, and anvils sound, • Thine engines heaving all their force. Thy waters labouring on their course, And arts, and industry, and wealth Exulting in the joys of health. I love Thee, — when I trace thy tale To the dim point where records fail ; Thy deeds of old renown inspire My bosom with our fathers' fire ; A proud inheritance I claim In all their sufferings, all their fame ; Nor less delighted when I stray Down history's lengthening, widening way. TO BRITAIN. 245 And hail Thee in thy present hour, From the meridian arch of power, Shedding the lustre of thy reign. Like sunshine, over land and main. I love Thee, — when I read the lays Of British bards in elder days, Till, rapt on visionary wings. High o'er thy cliffs my spirit sings ; For I, among thy living choir, I, too, can touch the sacred lyre. I love Thee, — when I contemplate The full-orb'd grandeur of thy state ; Thy laws and liberties, that rise, Man's noblest works beneath the skies. To which the pyramids were tame, And Grecian temples bow their fame : These, thine immortal sages wrought Out of the deepest mines of thought; These, on the scaffold, in the field. Thy warriors won, thy patriots seai'd; 246 TO BRITAIN. These, at the pairicidal pyre, Thy martyrs sanctified in fire. And, with the generous blood they spilt, Wash'd fi-om thy soil their murderers' guilt, Cancell'd the curse which vengeance sped. And left a blessing in its stead. — Can words, can numbers count the price. Paid for this little paradise ? Never, oh ! never be it lost ; The land is worth the price it cost. I love Thee, — when thy sabbath dawns O'er woods and mountains, dales and lawns. And streams, that sparkle while they run, As if their fountain were the sun ; When, hand in hand, thy tribes repair. Each to their chosen house of prayer, And all in peace and freedom call On Him, who is the Lord of all. I love Thee, — when ray soul can feel The seraph-ardours of thy zeal: TO BRITAIN. 247 Thy charities, to none confined. Bless, like the sun, the rain, the wind ; Thy schools the human brute shall raise. Guide erring youth in wisdom's ways, And leave, when we are tum'd to dust, A generation of the just. I love Thee, — when I see Thee stand The hope of every other land ; A sea-mark in the tide of time, Rearing to heaven thy brow sublime ; Whence beams of gospel -splendour shed A sacred halo round thine head ; And gentiles from afar behold, (Not as on Sinai's rocks of old,) GOD, — from eternity conceal'd, — In his own light, on Thee reveal'd. I love Thee, — when I hear thy voice Bid a despairing world rejoice, And loud from shore to shore proclaim, In every tongue, Messiah's name ; 248 TO BRITAIN. That name, at which, from sea to sea, All nations yet shall bow the knee. I love Thee : — next to heaven above, Land of my fathers ! Thee I love; And, rail thy slanderers as they will, - « With all thy faults I love Thee" still : For faults Thou hast, of heinous size ; Repent, renounce them, ere they rise In judgement; — lest thine ocean-wall With boundless ruin round Thee fall. And that, which was thy mightiest stay. Sweep all thy rocks Hke sand away. Yes, Thou hast faults of heinous size, 4 From which I turn with weeping eyes ; On these let them that hate Thee dwell : Yet one I spare not, — one I tell. Tell with a whisper in thine ear ; Oh ! might it wring thine heart with fear ! Oh ! that my weakest word might roll, Like heaven's own thunder, through thy soul ! TO BRITAIN. 249 There is a Lie in thy right-hand ; A Bribe, corrupting all the land ; There is within thy gates a pest, — Gold and a Babylonish vest', Not hid in shame-concealing shade, But broad against the sun display'd. These, — ttell it not, — it must be told : These from thy Lottery- Wheels are sold ; Sold, — and thy children, train'd to sin, Hazard both worlds these plagues to win ; Nay thy deluded statesmen stake Thyself, — and lose Thee for their sake ! Lose Thee? — They shall not; — He^ whose will Is Nature's law, preserves Thee still ; And while the' uplifted bolt impends, One warning more his mercy sends. O Britain ! O my country ! bring Forth from thy camp the' accursed thing ; Consign it to remorseless fire. Watch till the latest spark expire* 250 TO BRITAIN. Then cast the ashes on the wind, Nor leave one atom-wreck behind. So may thy wealth and power increase , So may thy people dwell in peace ; On Thee the' Almighty's glory rest, And all the world in Thee be blest. 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