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POEMS. 
 
POEMS 
 
 MRS. eRi^h/e vans 
 
 t^iitji B ^tihn 
 
 BY HER BROTHER, 
 
 T. H. STOCKTON. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO. 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO GRIGG, ELLIOT & CO. 
 
 1851. 
 L 
 
7S /4<rf- 
 
 26598 
 
 \f- 
 
 1899 
 
 C. SHERMAN, PRINTER. 
 
TO 
 
 MY BELOVED AND HONOURED FATHER, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING POEMS 
 
 ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED, 
 
 AS A 
 
 SLIGHT OFFERING 
 
 FROM A daughter's LOVE. 
 
^xttatt. 
 
 It seems fit, that this volume should be accompa- 
 nied by at least a few words, in the form of a pre- 
 face: and, moreover, that a brother's hand should 
 write them. And yet, who that shall read the 
 modest '^ Apologetic" of the author, herself, will need 
 any other introduction ? 
 
 Perhaps it is a difficult thing for the world to esti- 
 mate correctly the delicate solicitude of a sensitive 
 and retiring nature, in relation to the success of a 
 first venture, like the present, to give pleasure and 
 do good to the public. What if it fail ? Well — the 
 former seclusion is very sweet, -and a clear conscience 
 is a ceaseless comfort. But, suppose it to succeed — 
 what then ? Here is the charm. What openings of 
 usefulness irradiate the future, and how is life hal- 
 lowed by the hope of improving them ! 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 I have always been an admirer of female genius. 
 Especially has it delighted me, when I have seen its 
 pure and serene flame rising from the altar of reli- 
 gion : for there it is sanctified to a substantial ser- 
 vice — attracting all eyes to our common refuge on 
 earth, and elevating all hearts to our common home 
 in heaven. If any one has a right to speak on this 
 subject, methinks I have : for the publication of an 
 earnest Essay on the Proper Character of Woman is 
 one of the reminiscences of my boyhood — an Essay 
 that extended its sections through nearly a dozen 
 numbers of a popular periodical. What a series of 
 brilliant names adorned it ! And yet, if I remember 
 it truly, all its examples were European : some, 
 British ; others. Continental. Whatever credit was 
 claimed for American ladies, in other and more 
 important respects, the geniuses were brought from 
 foreign countries. That, doubtless, was a fault : owing, 
 in part, to defective information and a want of due 
 appreciation. As it is frankly confessed, it may be 
 freely forgiven. And yet, who can look back, for 
 twenty years or more, without wondering at the rapid 
 progress of the great change which is now accom- 
 plished around us ? What varied and rich results 
 our educational advances have already secured ! 
 What invaluable facilities for the universal multi- 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 plication of refined and happy homes ! In parti- 
 cular, what an efflorescence of genius flushes the 
 spring-zone of our social sphere ! To say nothing 
 of other departments of literature, who can turn 
 over some of the large and beautiful collections of 
 specimens of the poetical productions of our lady- 
 authors, without a highly gratifying assurance of 
 noble ideal attainments among them ? True ; all 
 this scene of promise may be styled of little worth, 
 except as it is connected with its proper consumma- 
 tions — the fruits of piety and charity, of household 
 and sanctuary purities and comforts, which ought to 
 come after. But this is no reason why the develop- 
 ment should be despised. Rather, it is a decisive 
 reason for its encouragement : as the warmer and 
 fuller the blossoming, the more sure and abundant 
 the ripening. My early admiration continues, and 
 is heightened by the present nearness of many of 
 the objects which excite it — the fact that there is 
 now so much sacredly cultivated genius, as well as 
 practically devoted goodness, among the daughters, 
 sisters, and matrons of our own fair land. 
 
 In regard to the volume now in the hands of the 
 reader, it may be allowed me, I think, notwithstand- 
 ing my relation to the author, to intimate my own 
 judgment by the submission of a few questions : 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 Does not the spirit of true poetry sparkle all 
 through the book ? 
 
 Is not this poetic spirit richly imbued with the 
 holiest elements of evangelical religion ? 
 
 Do not the domestic affections — the sympathies in 
 which are the life of home — find here a graceful and 
 glowing utterance ? 
 
 As nearly all young people, and many old people, 
 still love to read poetry, and will read it — is there 
 not a grateful sense of safety and pleasure in recom- 
 mending to them a production so likely to prove 
 interesting and useful? as a personal friend — a house- 
 hold guest — a social companion ? — a Voice of Music, 
 and Gladness, and Tenderness, for the fireside in 
 winter, and the flowery and shadowy walks of the 
 open and charming summer ? 
 
 May a second edition speedily answer. 
 
 T. H. S. 
 
 March 29, 1851. 
 
CDntents, 
 
 PAGE 
 APOLOGETIC, . . . . . .11 
 
 CREATION OF EVE, . . . . . 13 
 
 NIGHT IN EDEN, ...... 16 
 
 CONSUMPTION, ...... 20 
 
 THE LAND FAK AWAY, . . . . .24 
 
 THE PAST, ...... 27 
 
 THE IDIOT BOY, . . . . . . 30 
 
 THE widow's rejection, .... 35 
 
 THE BLIND HUSBAND, . . . - . .40 
 
 RESIGNATION, ...... 55 
 
 THE MOTHER BESIDE HER SLEEPING CHILDREN, . . 59 
 
 A VISION OF THE BLESSED, .... 62 
 
 THE HOME, ....... 66 
 
 THE ROYAL BARGE, ..... 69 
 
 THE YOUNG SISTER's WISH, . . . . .72 
 
 THE CONFLICT, ...... 75 
 
 CHILDHOOD, . . . . . .77 
 
 TO IRENE, ...... 81 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 THE WANDERER, . . . . . .83 
 
 THE BLIND DAUGHTER, ..... 90 
 
 REMEMBER ME, . . . . . .96 
 
 JOAN d'arc, ...... 98 
 
 THE SEA-BIRD, ...... 106 
 
 THE WRECK, ...... 109 
 
 THE DYING WIFE, . . . . . .112 
 
 LINES INSCRIBED TO REV. THOMAS H. STOCKTON, . 115 
 
 LINES, ....... 117 
 
 THE SOUL, . . . . . . 118 
 
 TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN, . . . . .121 
 
 STANZAS, ...... 124 
 
 THE VIGIL OF LOVE, ..... 127 
 
 THE WIFE TO HER ABSENT HUSBAND, . . . 131 
 
 THE LOST CHILD, . . . . , .133 
 
 THE COMING OF TWILIGHT, .... 136 
 
 THE RETURN, ...... 137 
 
 THE EASTERN BRIDE, . . . . . 142 
 
 VISIONS OF BEAUTY, ..... 145 
 
 LOVE IN SORROW, . . . ". . 149 
 
 THE PARTING LOOK, . . . . .151 
 
 THE RICH MAN, ...... 155 
 
 THE RESTORATION, ... ... 160 
 
 THE FALSE ONE, . . . . . 165 
 
 POOR LILY, ....... 171 
 
 LEONORE, . . . . . . 175 
 
 THE BRIDAL, . . . . . .178 
 
 THE WIDOW ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER HUSBAND'S DEATH, 180 
 EMMA, . . . .' . . . 182 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 PAGE 
 I PASSED FROM THEE TO-DAY, LOVE, . . . 186 
 
 IF I WERE AN ANGEL, ..... 188 
 
 I THINK OF THEE, . . . . . 190 
 
 TO ELLEN, . . . . . . . 192 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 THE SLUMBER OF LIFE, ..... 196 
 
 THE SLUMBER OF DEATH, . . . . .197 
 
 TO SPRING, ...... 198 
 
 SUNRISE IN SUMMER, . . . . .199 
 
 MOONLIGHT, . . . . . ' . 200 
 
 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES TO AN INFIDEL, ..... 201 
 
 THE WELCOME, ...... 205 
 
 THE STORM, ....... 207 
 
 WE MIGHT HAVE BEEN, ..... 210 
 
 THE EMBLEMS, . . . . . .212 
 
 THE BIBLE, ...... 214 
 
 THE FAMILY CIRCLE, ..... 217 
 
 CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST, .... 221 
 
 THE PROFFERED HAND, ..... 224 
 
 A LESSON FROM NATURE, .... 22'j 
 
 CHRISTIANS BY THE RIVER OF DEATH, . . . 228 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHRISTIAN, DOTH THE WORLD LOOK JOYOUS, . . 230 
 
 THE saviour's LOVE FOR CHILDREN, . . . 232 
 
 THE REJECTED COMMUNICANT, .... 235 
 
 THE HEAVENLY RIVER, . . . . . 238 
 
 THE angel's "WARNING, ..... 241 
 
 LINES, ....... 244 
 
 THE spirit's RAPTURE, ..... 247 
 
 THE OAK AND THE WILLOW, .... 249 
 
Sl|in(DgEtii:. 
 
 I. 
 
 Because the Nightingale 
 'Tranceth the grove, till every leaf seems thrilling, 
 
 And the rich melody 
 Shakes the bent flowers, the air with perfume filling, 
 
 And proves himself to be 
 Unrivalled ! Shall no other warbler, winging 
 
 His course to distant bowers. 
 Pour forth his joyous anthem, heavenward ringing. 
 
 To cheer the tardy hours ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Because the blushing Rose 
 Charmeth the Breeze to fainting, on her bosom, 
 
 And stands a Fairy Queen, 
 Peerless in beauty, by each sister blossom, — 
 
12 APOLOGETIC. 
 
 Shall not the Violet bloom, 
 Who only seeks to hide beneath the splendour ? 
 
 And keep her humbler charms 
 For some mild spirit, lonely yet, but tender. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then let me sing, if only 
 The friends I love grow glad while I am singing ; 
 
 I will not by my notes 
 Disturb a nobler minstrel's song, upspringing 
 
 In airy measures sweet — 
 But silent sit entranced, glad praise bestowing. 
 
 Only when he hath ceased, 
 And joyously to other spheres is going, 
 
 My harp shall be released. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then if a single heart, 
 Borne down beneath the weight of care or sorrow. 
 
 Should half forget its grief, 
 JWhile I am whispering of a brighter morrow ; 
 
 Not vainly unto me 
 Hath e'en this humble minstrelsy been given. 
 
 Nor shall its music be 
 Without an echo in the courts of Heaven. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 I. 
 
 CREATION OF EVE.* 
 I. 
 
 'TwAS dawn over Eden ! yet brightly on high 
 The morning-star shone in the pearl-tinted sky ; 
 'Twas dawn over Eden, and dimly, yet fair, 
 Showed forest and stream in the pure, balmy air. 
 
 II. 
 There Silence and Slumber, twin-spirits, reclined — 
 Unmoved by the breath of the flower-scented wind ; 
 
 ^ Tliere seems no improbability in supposing Eve to have 
 been created at this hour, — the Bible merely stating that it was 
 on the sixth day, which commenced with the evening. — Genesis 
 i. 31. 
 
 2 
 
14 POEMS. 
 
 So stirless each leaf within woodland and glade, 
 It seemed like a vision hj fancy displayed. 
 
 III. 
 But oh ! had you gazed in each covert of green, 
 What wonders of joy- thrilling life had you seen ! 
 From beings of grandeur, of grace, and of power. 
 To the brightest and least that have birth in a 
 flower. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There, gem-like in beauty, with soft, throbbing 
 
 breast. 
 Each warbler of Eden had fluttered to rest ; 
 With golden-winged insects so brilliant and fair, 
 They seemed as if painted by angels, in air. 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet strange was the stillness. No song-loving sprite 
 Enchanted the echoes round mountain and height ; 
 Why came not the sun from his palace on high, 
 To waken the blushes of day in the sky ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 But lo ! a faint rose-hue, — a tremulous ray 
 From a bower in the emerald distance away. 
 Ah ! well knew the angels that favoured retreat. 
 For it imaged the homes where the Seraphim meet. 
 
VISIONS OF EDEN. 15 
 
 VII. 
 
 There, moveless and breathless, yet radiant and fair, 
 A form, with whose beauty nought else can compare ; 
 Unliving, yet stilled not by Death to repose. 
 With a cheek and a bosom like new-fallen snows ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Could an angel but die — so transcendent 's her air, 
 That you'd deem a lost seraph you gazed upon there; 
 So lifeless the fingers by flow'rets caressed. 
 So stirless the feet that on lilies are pressed ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 No crown her brow needed, — her glory was there 
 In the soft, wavy masses of golden-hued hair ; 
 Nor robes of adorning, in envious embrace, 
 Enfolded the limbs that were peerless in grace ! 
 
 X. 
 
 But hark ! — a calm voice — yet with majesty rife ! 
 'Tis the. voice of her Maker ; and instant to life, 
 All thrilling she waketh, with soul-beaming eyes. 
 And risetli, enraptured, 'neath morning's fair skies. 
 
 XI. 
 
 A moment she stood, as in statued repose, 
 
 Ere her cheeks and her lips wore the flush of the 
 
16 POEMS. 
 
 Then lowly, adoring, she knelt on the sod, 
 
 And veiled her pure brow at the feet of her God. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then forth looked the sun, like a monarch on high. 
 While the Angel of gladness soared silently by. 
 All Eden, melodious, rejoiced to receive. 
 From the hand of Jehovah, its beautiful Eve ! 
 
 II. 
 
 NIGHT IN EDEN. 
 I. 
 
 'Twas moonlight o'er Eden ! Such moonlight, I ween, 
 
 As only a night within Eden hath seen. 
 
 So soft fell the radiance, so wondrously blue 
 
 Was the sky, with its star-enthroned Angels in view. 
 
 II. 
 
 How bright was the bower where the fair-fingered 
 Eve 
 
 Her blossoming garlands delighted to weave ; 
 
 While the rose caught its blush from her cheek's liv- 
 ing dye, 
 
 And the violet its hue from her love-lighted eye. 
 
VISIONS OF EDEN. 17 
 
 III. 
 
 There, lulled by the murmurs of musical streams, 
 And charmed by the rainbow-winged Spirit of dreams, 
 The eyes softly closed that so soon were to weep, 
 Our Parents reposed in a bliss-haunted sleep. 
 
 IV. 
 But other forms gazed on the grandeur of Night, 
 And beings celestial grew glad at the sight. 
 All warm from the glow of their amber-hued skies, 
 How strange seemed the shadoAVS of earth to their 
 eyes. 
 
 V. 
 
 There, azure-robed Beauty, with rapture-lit smile, 
 Her golden wings folded, reclined for a while ; 
 And the Seraph of melody breathed but a word, 
 Then listened, entranced, to the echoes she heard. 
 
 VI. 
 From mountain and forest, an organ-like tone. 
 From hill-top and valley, a mellower one. 
 Stream, fountain, and fall whispered low to the sod. 
 For the word that she spoke was the name of our God. 
 
 VII. 
 
 With blushes like Eden's own rose in its bloom. 
 Her censer slow wafting ambrosial perfume, 
 With soft-veiling tresses of sunny-hued hair, 
 The Spirit of fragrance breathed sweets on the air. 
 
18 POEMS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then first on the ears of the Angels of light 
 Rose the singing of birds that enchanted the night ; 
 For the breezes are minstrels in heaven, they say, 
 And the leaves and the flowers have a musical play. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Each form of Creation with joy they surveyed, 
 From the gentle Gazelle to the kings of the glade ; 
 And lily-crowned Innocence gazed in the eyes 
 Of the thunder-voiced Lion with smiling surprise ! 
 
 X. 
 
 All night, as if stains were deserting their posts. 
 The heavens were bright with the swift-coming hosts ; 
 While the sentinel mountains, in garments of green, 
 With glory-decked foreheads, like monarchs were 
 seen. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh, Eden, fair Eden ! where now is thy bloom ? 
 And where are the pure ones who wept o'er thy 
 
 doom ? 
 Their plumes never lighten our shadowy skies. 
 Their voices no more on earth's breezes arise ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 But joy for the faith that is strong in its powers, 
 A fairer and better land yet shall be ours ! 
 
VISIONS OF EDEN. 19 
 
 When Sin sliall be vanquished, and Death yield his 
 
 prey, 
 And earth, with her nations, Jehovah obey. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then, nobler than Adam, more charming than Eve, 
 The Son of the Highest, his palace shall leave. 
 While the saints who adored Him arise from the 
 
 tomb, 
 At the triumph-strain telling " His kingdom is come." 
 
Cniuuimiition. 
 
 All through the dreary winter months 
 
 We nursed her lovely form, 
 And trembled at the slightest gale, 
 
 Or threatening of a storm. 
 How solemnly we guarded her. 
 
 How tearfully caressed, 
 And oh ! with what an anxious gaze 
 
 We watched her troubled rest ! 
 
 II. 
 And when the searching winds of March, 
 
 Swept by with moaning sound, 
 How still became our hearts with fear. 
 
 How pale each face around. 
 And eagerly, yet half iifraid, 
 
 We marked the slightest change, 
 And fancied in her tones of love, 
 
 A cadence sadly strange. 
 
CONSUMPTION. 21 
 
 III. 
 
 We could not bear to see her fade, 
 
 To note lier failing voice, 
 E'en though its murmured melody, 
 
 Still faltered out, — Rejoice ! 
 Her eyes looked larger than of yore. 
 
 Her brow more purely white ; 
 And oh ! we shuddered when she held 
 
 Her hand against the light. 
 
 IV. 
 
 That hand was tremulous and thin, 
 
 Yet oft, when tears we shed. 
 She pressed it tenderly in turn 
 
 Upon each drooping head ! 
 she was lovelier every hour. 
 
 And dearer every day. 
 And made our lowly home a place 
 
 For Angel guests to stay ! 
 
 But winter storms at length were gone, 
 
 The flowers began to bloom, 
 And as she stronger grew, a light 
 
 Broke in upon our gloom. 
 And joy too deep for words to tell, 
 
 Was ours, one balmy day, — 
 It was the softest and the last 
 
 Of the sweet month of May ; — 
 
22 POEMS. 
 
 vr. 
 
 We bore her gently to the shacle- 
 
 Of an old favourite tree ; 
 We placed her on the very spot 
 
 Where she had wished to be. 
 We wept sweet tears of gratitude, 
 
 And smiled with strange delight, 
 To see hoAY freshly bloomed her cheek, 
 
 And how her eyes grew bright. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And one — the youngest of our band. 
 
 Twined roses for her hair ; 
 And merrily our mirth rung out 
 
 Upon the pleasant air. 
 Then, when our hearts were full of hope, 
 
 E'en then she bowed her head ; 
 And with a blessing on her lips 
 
 Her lovely spirit fled ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Yes ! in that very home of life. 
 
 That seemed but made for bloom. 
 Death in our midst unheeded stood. 
 
 And claimed her for the tomb. 
 We put the red-rose garland off — 
 
 It was but mockery there, — 
 And gathered half-blown buds of white. 
 
 To place upon her bier. 
 
CONSUMPTION. 23 
 
 IX. 
 
 We had no words to tell our woe, — 
 
 We were too sad to speak, 
 As, one by one, we pressed a kiss. 
 
 The LAST ! upon her cheek. 
 And since, when all around are gay, 
 
 And birds are on the wing, 
 We hasten to our loved one's grave, 
 
 With the first flowers of spring. 
 
t ICnnb /ar Iraaq. 
 
 I. 
 There are bright homes 'mid bowers of deathless 
 glory,— 
 There are blue skies o'er-bending them in love ; 
 Sweet winds, that never sighed round ruins hoary, 
 
 Or sung the autumn requiem of the grove. 
 Tiiere are fair flowers, by crystal waters springing, 
 
 That never bore the semblance of decay ; 
 On the soft air their perfumed incense flinging. 
 In a land far away. 
 
 II. 
 There, on the mountain tops, the day, declining. 
 
 Hath never caused a twilight shade to rest : 
 Each height with a pure, lambent splendour shining. 
 
 Sunlike in brightness o'er the valleys blest. 
 And there are dwellers in those scenes of gladness. 
 O'er whose pure being Death can have no sway ; 
 Whose voices utter not a note of sadness, 
 In a land far away. 
 
THE LAND FAR AAV AY. 25 
 
 III. 
 
 Cherub and seraphim of glorj, bending 
 In holy raptures at a throne of light : 
 
 Angels and saints their songs of triumph blending, — 
 These are the dwellers in those regions bright ; 
 
 And some have walked with us the path of sorrow, 
 And felt the storms of many a wintry day ; 
 
 But oh ! they wakened to a glorious morrow, 
 In the land far away. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And shall we weep for those to joy departed ? 
 
 Or should we mourn that they shall grieve no 
 more ? 
 Sick as we are, and sad, and weary-hearted. 
 
 Should we recall them from that blessed shore ? 
 See, where they dwell! the forms we loved and che- 
 rished, 
 (From age, dim-eyed, with hair of silver gray, 
 To the fair babe, that like a blossom perished,) 
 In the land far away. 
 
 V. 
 
 Thou, best and dearest, ever-gentle mother ! 
 
 Who soothed me in thy tender arms to rest, — 
 Stilling the cries that would have vexed another, 
 
 By folding me with love upon thy breast. 
 
26 POEMS. 
 
 Green o'er thy grave, for years, the long grass, sigh- 
 
 Hath seemed to mourn above the mouldering clay ; 
 But well I know thy spirit dwells, undying. 
 In a land far away. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And He, whose brightness suns and stars are veiling. 
 Whose form, once seen, would blind our mortal 
 eyes, 
 With Him, who bore unmoved the scoffer's railing. 
 
 And died to give us entrance to the skies : 
 Father and Son, and ever-blessed Spirit, 
 
 There, by their presence, make eternal day ! 
 Oh ! glorious are the homes the good inherit, 
 In the land far away. 
 
€^t fMi\. 
 
 The glorious Past ! How fondly still I turn 
 To the green beauty of its distant bowers ; 
 
 And oh ! how vainly doth my spirit' yearn 
 Once more to be a child among its flowers. 
 
 II. 
 It is the empire of the loved and lost ! 
 
 I hear their voices on the thrilling air ; 
 I see their forms, — not worn and tempest-tossed, 
 
 But, in the mellow light, serene and fair. 
 
 III. 
 
 Look with me, sister, brother, look and see 
 The gentle beaming of our mother's eyes ; 
 
 And hark ! the tones that charmed our infancy 
 Faint on the breezes of the past arise. 
 
28 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Home of departed joys ! Oh, I could gaze 
 Ever unwearied on thy visions bright ; 
 
 Dearer to me thy evening, sunset rays, 
 
 Than all the future's glow of morning light. 
 
 V. 
 
 See, as in life they wandered by our side, 
 With pious looks that did our love engage ; 
 
 With hoary hair, and steps that feebly glide, 
 Slow move the venerable forms of age. 
 
 VI. 
 And laughing children in their shapes of earth, 
 
 Their ringlets floating on the sunny air, 
 As erst they cheered us with their winning mirth, 
 
 Lend their bright presence to that region fair. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh, blest illusion ! Memory, leave me not : — 
 Yet, even as I speak, strange sounds arise ; 
 
 Gray shadows gather round each verdant spot, 
 And clouds go fleeting o'er the summer skies. 
 
 VIII. 
 And lo ! I look upon a land of graves, 
 
 And in their midst I see my mother's tomb ; 
 There stands the yew, and there the cypress waves, 
 
 And 'mid the grass white roses meekly bloom. 
 
THE PAST. 29 
 
 IX. 
 
 And is it thus with all my lovely dreams ? 
 
 Sadly I turn me to the future's light, — 
 Earth's future, — and behold, amid its gleams, 
 
 The lurking shadow of death's coming night. 
 
 X. 
 
 Alas ! how dark were life without the truth 
 That whispers to our weary hearts of heaven ; 
 
 Telling of changeless bliss, immortal youth. 
 And homes of glory to the ransomed given. 
 
 XI. 
 
 There, by the shining stream, or sparkling fount, 
 Lieth no mouldering victim of disease ; 
 
 But life is in the vale and on the mount, — 
 Joy in the air, and health upon the breeze. 
 
 XII. 
 And there again the loved and lost are found — 
 
 But fairer than on earth they blessed our sight ; 
 Harps in their hands, their brows with glory crowned, 
 
 Their raiment brighter than meridian light. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Fair clime of nightless skies and deathless bloom — 
 Land of the blessdd ! — shall it ever be 
 
 That I, escaping from a world of gloom, 
 Shall find repose and happiness in thee ? 
 3* 
 
t IMnt SoDij. 
 
 I. 
 
 Steangers would pause, with admiration gazing 
 
 Upon the features in their perfect mould ; — 
 The soft, dark eyes, their lids so meekly raising, 
 
 The ivory brow beneath its curls of gold. 
 The face was of a child, — though bud and blossom, 
 
 For fifteen summers, had enwreathed his home. 
 Still leaned his head upon his mother's bosom. 
 
 Still with his hand in hers he loved to roam. 
 
 II. 
 Slight was his form, yet graceful in its motion, 
 
 And sweet the voice that breathed one word alone ; 
 And that — oh ! who that feels a child's devotion. 
 
 But knows his mother's was that dearest one ? 
 And oh ! — her soul was full to overflowing. 
 
 Of wild and passionate tenderness for him ; 
 But on his image every thought bestowing, 
 
 From early morning to the twilight dim. 
 
THEIDIOTBOY. 31 
 
 III. 
 
 He held a silent sympathy with nature, 
 
 And with a strange, sweet smile would gaze around. 
 And joy, like light, would brighten every feature, 
 
 When in some mossy cleft a flower he found. 
 The wild bird, in the shady fcyrest singing, — 
 
 The dream-like music of the southern breeze, — 
 The butterfly, its sunny pathway winging, — 
 
 Each had a charm the gentle boy to please. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He had no memory of days departed ; 
 
 His thoughts, like rosy shadow^s, came and went ; 
 He was not one of those, the weary-hearted. 
 
 Who gaze with sorrow on a life misspent. 
 Each time when winter came, with sombre vesture, 
 
 And he beheld the feathery flakes of snow. 
 He hailed them with the same astonished gesture. 
 
 Nor knew that he had seen it long ago. 
 
 And still, with every little new-found treasure. 
 
 His hasty footsteps to his mother led; 
 Clasped in her arms, he knew a sweeter pleasure 
 
 Than he who feels a crown upon his head. 
 Poor and a widow was that lonely mother, 
 
 And by her daily labour fed her child ; 
 Yet there was no one knew her but to love her ; 
 
 She was so gentle, and to all so mild. 
 
32 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 At last, the messenger of death appearing, 
 
 Gave warning that the mother's hour was nigh, 
 When on life's scenes, however sad or cheering, 
 
 The mortal form must close the glazing eye. 
 She had no fear ! — But oh ! the speechless sorrow. 
 
 That swelled her heart, and seemed to press her 
 brain. 
 As, picturing to herself the dreary morrow. 
 
 She knew her boy would call on her in vain. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But wherefore dwell upon the scene of parting ? 
 
 God gave sweet rapture to the saint at last. 
 As, on its plumes of glory upward darting. 
 
 The joyous spirit knew all grief was past. 
 Morn came — and the pure sunlight brightly beaming, 
 
 Gave to that solemn brow a radiant grace ; 
 So calm she looked, you might have thought her 
 dreaming. 
 
 But for the coldness of the placid face. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Mother !" — how like a bird's the notes came sounding. 
 
 From the red, parted lips, that smiled with joy ; 
 As, with his wonted step of airy bounding. 
 
 He came — the orphan child — the Idiot Boy ! 
 The shroud — the bier — the face of marble whiteness, 
 
 Seemed to inspire with wonder, not with dread. 
 As he stood gazing in his youthful brightness. 
 
 The thoughtless living on the unconscious dead. 
 
THE IDIOT BOY. 33 
 
 IX. 
 
 Mother, — alas, that word so often filling 
 
 Her soul with joy no language might impart. 
 Gives to the air a music soft and thrilling. 
 
 But wakes no echo in that silent heart. 
 Ah, this it is that aye forbids our deeming, 
 
 When by the form of death we sit and weep. 
 That after all it may be only seeming. 
 
 And the dear eyes are closed in slumber deep ! 
 
 X. 
 
 'Tis not the pallid brow, or purple tinging 
 
 Of th€ once rosy lip, that proves the most ; 
 Nor the dim orbs just seen through lashes fringing, 
 
 That tell of life and hope for ever lost. 
 But oh, when tears and cries, our grief revealing. 
 
 Fail to excite a soothing look or tone. 
 Then how intense becomes the bitter feeling. 
 
 That even with the loved we are alone ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Poor boy ! when by each little fond endeavour 
 
 His thought could prompt, he had essayed in vain 
 To win one look from eyes now closed for ever. 
 
 One word from lips that ne'er should speak again. 
 With a sweet patience he, who knew not sorrow. 
 
 Close by the bier sat down, of hope possessed ; 
 Nor left her side till, on the weary morrow. 
 
 Exhausted nature claimed and found her rest. 
 
34 POEMS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then to the home of one who loved his mother, 
 
 Even from her youth, the lonely one was borne ; 
 They deemed he'd lose all memory of another. 
 
 And of the lovely tie so rudely torn. 
 So on that lowly grave the rose of summer 
 
 Blossomed and drooped, and autumn hastened by, 
 Bearing rich blessings like an angel-comer, 
 
 Giving new glory to the earth and sky. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And there were strangers in that sacred dwelling. 
 
 Where Love had wept and Innocence reposed ; 
 Gay, happy faces, of contentment telling, 
 
 And shouts of laughter when their labours closed. 
 And often to the cottage-window gliding, 
 
 A fair, sad boy would gaze a moment in, — 
 Then with a plaintive tone, as half in chiding. 
 
 Would murmur "Mother," and depart again. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 This could not last ; day after day declining. 
 
 Gave deeper shadows to the mournful eyes. 
 Though the soft curls upon his forehead shining. 
 
 Still seemed too bright for aught beneath the skies. 
 And ere the autumn glory had departed. 
 
 They laid him gently by his mother's side ; 
 There rest they both in peace — the weary-hearted — 
 
 Whom time nor death shall ne'er again divide ! 
 
t Bihra'0 ^tiKtiun. 
 
 I. 
 Thou little knowest the heart 
 
 Thou fain wouldst call thine own 
 So full of cherished memories, 
 
 And many a haunting tone. 
 Sweet echoes of the voice 
 
 That won me first to love ; 
 And still it hath a sacred charm 
 
 All other sounds above. 
 
 II. 
 
 Nay, listen to my words — 
 
 They have a meaning kind ; 
 And only seek to calm and soothe 
 
 The tumult of thy mind. 
 I know thy noble heart. 
 
 Full of all truth and worth ; 
 Thy pure and lofty intellect. 
 
 That scorns the lures of earth. 
 
36 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 Yet will I wake once more 
 
 Those visions of the past : 
 Ah me ! how well I might have known 
 
 They were too bright to last. 
 I was a thoughtless girl, 
 
 Of changeful, April mood ; 
 One moment singing through the vale, 
 
 Then grieving in the wood. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Beneath the flower-decked sod, 
 
 My blessed parents slept ; 
 And many a time beside the grave. 
 
 Their children sat and wept. 
 My sister had the smile. 
 
 The tender, loving eyes, 
 That made our angel mother seem 
 
 A creature of the skies. 
 
 How beautiful she was ! 
 
 With all a statue's grace 
 Embodied in her perfect form. 
 
 And softly rounded face. 
 She numbered seven years. 
 
 When first I saw the light, — 
 Than me by seven years lovelier, 
 
 In every virtue bright. 
 
THE widow's rejection. 37 
 
 VI. 
 
 We had no thought unshared, 
 
 No interest apart, 
 Till his sweet whispers charmed my ear, 
 
 His image filled my heart. 
 Yet when he told our love, 
 
 She listened with a smile ; 
 Though tears of holy tenderness. 
 
 Were in her eyes the while. 
 
 VII. 
 
 She decked me for a bride, 
 
 And twined amid my hair 
 Pure blossoms of the orange tree, 
 
 With her small fingers fair. 
 And Avhen she saw new joys. 
 
 Day after day arise. 
 Like one whose mission was fulfilled. 
 
 She left us for the skies. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then uncontrolled and wild 
 
 Had been my wayward grief. 
 But for his soft, consoling words, 
 
 That brought me sweet relief. 
 And now I had but him 
 
 To love, upon the earth ; 
 Yet never felt we loneliness 
 
 Beside our household hearth. 
 4 
 
38 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 How tender were his cares ! 
 
 His thoughts all turned to me, 
 Whether in solitude he roamed, 
 
 Or in gay company. 
 He ever knew the cleft 
 
 Where Spring's first footsteps fell, 
 And plucked for me the early flowers 
 
 He knew I loved so well. 
 
 X. 
 
 W^hen summer winds were soft, 
 
 At starry eventide, 
 Discoursing upon holy themes. 
 
 He wandered by my side. 
 And when the winter storms 
 
 About our home Avould rage, 
 Then with a sweetly serious air 
 
 He read the sacred page. 
 
 XI. 
 
 At last, with speechless woe, 
 
 I marked his strength decline ; 
 Yet purer grew his hopes the while. 
 
 As stars in darkness shine. 
 But, oh, enough to say, 
 
 I was at length alone ! 
 I, who was not prepared for heaven. 
 
 Where they, the blest, had gone. 
 
THE WIDOAV'S llEJECTION. 39 
 
 XII. 
 
 Then deem me not unkind, 
 
 Whose love is in his grave ; 
 I know thou wouldst not that my hand, 
 
 Without my heart, I gave. 
 There is no scene or place 
 
 That 'minds me not of him ; 
 There is no hour, from rosy morn 
 
 To the gray twilight dim. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Winter, and budding spring, 
 
 Summer and autumn fair. 
 His image is before me still, 
 
 As pictured in the air. 
 Thou couldst not even speak 
 
 A word of love to me. 
 That would not fill my eyes with tears. 
 
 My soul with agony ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then seek another bride. 
 
 Untouched by sorrow's dart, 
 Who will repay the tenderness 
 
 Of such a noble heart. 
 And give thy prayers to her, 
 
 Who longs to close her eyes, 
 And hasten to the blessed ones 
 
 Rejoicing in the skies. 
 
I Solinb Itisbanb. 
 
 I. 
 
 A LOWLY home, its roof was moss, 
 
 And fair blush-roses decked the door ; 
 All day among the sheltering trees 
 The song of the enamoured breeze, 
 In love with such a fairy spot, 
 A mellow chaunt would pour. 
 
 II. 
 The very plants seemed brighter there, 
 As if on blessed ground they stood ; 
 And all the fair and lovely things 
 That spied it in their wanderings, 
 Folded their wings amid its shades. 
 And charmed its solitude. 
 
 III. 
 Soft fell the golden light of June 
 Athwart low roof and lattice green. 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 41 
 
 When, like the love-song of a bird, 
 A sweet and gentle voice Avas heard, 
 And leaning from the casement forth, 
 A fair J form was seen. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A slender, girlish form it was. 
 
 But with a proud and stately grace, 
 And when her glorious eyes she raised, 
 Had you within their clear depths gazed. 
 You would have thought their beauty came 
 From an immortal race. 
 
 V. 
 
 Tinged was her cheek with faintest red ; 
 
 And yet a something in her mien 
 Declared it more the glow of youth 
 Than born of joy and hope's sweet truth. 
 
 For o'er her face, as sculpture fair, 
 A shadowy grief was seen. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A passing glance at that soft sky. 
 
 With its one cloud of amber hue ; 
 A slighter one on scene around, 
 And on the blossom-brightened ground. 
 And she had vanished suddenly, 
 As angel visions do. 
 4* 
 
42 POEM s. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But enter, as the poet may, 
 
 The modest home of faithful love, 
 The home of truth, where, day and night. 
 In shining robes of spotless white. 
 Seraphic Innocence looked down, 
 Mild as her emblem dove. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 No costly hangings rivalled there 
 
 The pomp of Oriental sheen ; 
 But pure as stars 'mid evening's gloom. 
 Pale jasmine flowers, with breath of bloom, 
 Came like a living fairy band. 
 With waving, leafy screen. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And all was rare simplicity. 
 
 Save that, in honoured resting-place, 
 With many an airy column bright. 
 And polished keys of ivory white. 
 Uprose a noble organ, proud, — 
 Magician of its race. 
 
 X. 
 
 And well its Master's skilful hand 
 Knew to awake its wondrous powers ; 
 
 Sometimes, like muttered thunder, swelling 
 Majestic round the lowly dwelling; 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 43 
 
 But oftener, sad as lovelorn maid, 
 It charmed the listening hours. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To him the glowing world of light 
 
 Did all like faded vision seem ; 
 Since, in his boyhood's rosy time, 
 Dark shadows veiled the scene sublime, 
 
 And sparkling wave and leaping fount 
 Were splendours of a dream. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Pale was his face, but not with years, 
 And dark the tresses waving round ; 
 
 While on his ample brow were wrought 
 
 Traces of sad, conflicting thought, 
 But at the magic of his smile 
 The coldest heart would bound. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And oh ! his very being clung 
 
 Almost adoring to his bride : 
 With her soft cheek reclined on his, — 
 Her clasping hand — her tender kiss 
 
 Sometimes his heart with rapture thrilled, 
 Or swelled with sorrow's tide. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He knew her beautiful — for fame 
 
 Had sung her charms of form and face ; 
 
44 POEMS. 
 
 And often 'mid her silken hair, 
 And o'er her chiselled features fair, 
 His gentle hand was wont to glide, 
 Their perfect form to trace. 
 
 XV. 
 
 So, loving and beloved they dwelt ; 
 
 He, in his song-enchanted night, 
 Following serene her guidance sweet, — 
 Or, as she rested at his feet. 
 
 Of lofty themes discoursing high, 
 Or genius strong and bright. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Yet oft strange sadness filled his heart ; 
 
 While she, with many a secret sigh. 
 Had marked the traitor hectic flush. 
 That lighted with its crimson blush 
 
 The hollow cheek, and brilliance lent 
 E'en to the sightless eye. 
 
 XVII. 
 And from his soul-entrancing strains 
 
 She lured him with a sportive mirth ; 
 Though tears were in her eyes the while, 
 Pleading with sweet deceiving guile, 
 In tender strains like these : — 
 (Poor, trembling child of earth.) 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 45 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ^' Come, dearest, to the greenwood forth, 
 
 Ere evening shadows veil the sky ; 
 And leaning on thy loved one's arm, 
 Bare thy pale forehead to the charm 
 Of softest southern winds. 
 That wander, singing, by. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ^' About thy favourite seat again 
 The blue-eyed violets gaily spring ; 
 
 And twining round thy shading tree. 
 
 Rich honeysuckles fling for thee 
 
 Their wealth of fragrance on the air 
 From many an amber ring. 
 
 XX. 
 
 *' Then come with me, beloved one ! 
 
 For all the radiance of the sky. 
 And all the beauty of the land. 
 Seem pale and dim, save when I stand 
 
 By thy dear side, discoursing glad 
 Of hopes that cannot die." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And so, on many a balmy day. 
 
 By humble neighbours were they seen ; 
 She with her young and loving face. 
 And all a Hebe's fabled grace. 
 
46 P E M s. 
 
 Leading her sightless one along 
 The pathway smooth and green. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But on that eve of which I spoke, 
 
 In vain was every sweet endeavour, 
 A strangely solemn air he wore, 
 Such as she had not marked before ; 
 
 And while her heart with life beat high. 
 That look w^as graved for ever. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Nay, loveliest, since for me in vain 
 
 All nature's grandeur is displayed ; 
 Since thy blest presence makes my day. 
 And night is but when thou'rt away. 
 More dear to me our quiet home. 
 Than music-haunted glade. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " A constant presage fills my heart ; 
 
 And often on the fragrant air, 
 A spirit-voice has seemed to rise, 
 Calling me from earth's darkened skies. 
 
 To visions of an endless day. 
 Than Paradise more fair. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 '' But ere from thee, my cherished one. 
 My life's supremest bliss, I part, 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 47 
 
 Fain would I pour my soul in song, 
 Though wildly on my memory throng, 
 Each gentle act, and tender word. 
 Warm from thy guileless heart." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Ah, as the organ-tones arose. 
 
 Stood there some heavenly minstrel by ? 
 Thrilling the air with sounds divine. 
 Making the enthusiast's pale face shine 
 
 With lustre mild as morning star 
 In the faint, pearly sky ? 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " I know thou mad'st my days to seem," 
 With faltering voice he thus began, 
 
 " More as a bright and blessed dream, 
 Than like the life of mortal man. 
 
 Thy voice has charmed my starless night, 
 
 Thy presence made my soul's delight ; 
 
 Forgive me if I sometimes sighed 
 
 For the one blessing fate denied. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " 'Twas not as when, in boyhood's time, 
 I pined on nature's charms to gaze ; 
 
 Her beetling cliffs — her mounts sublime — 
 Her ocean surge — her trackless ways ; 
 
48 POEMS. 
 
 Or, melting to a softer mood, 
 Reclined within some shady wood. 
 Wept bitter tears of anguish free 
 O'er flowers whose hue I might not see. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " But w^hen within thy stately home. 
 
 Thanks to thy love of song, I dwelt ; 
 When thou with fairy tread didst come, 
 
 That scarcely would a snow-flake melt ; 
 Then when thy perfumed robes swept by, 
 All viewless to my darkened eye. 
 My very soul with frenzy burned, 
 And love I dreamed not was returned. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " But why recall the anguish wild 
 
 That with unrufiled brow I bore ; 
 Hearing thou hadst on others smiled, 
 
 Or at their words soft blushes wore. 
 I heard low tones, and smothered sighs. 
 And maddened at the mute replies 
 I fancied in thy love-fraught look 
 To none but me a sealed book ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Thy words to me were ever kind. 
 
 Yet pained me with their strange restraint ; 
 
 But if by chance our hands entwined. 
 
 Thine trembled, and thy voice grew faint. 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 49 
 
 At length too fierce the conflict waged ; 
 The fire that in my bosom raged, 
 This trembling frame had nigh consumed, 
 And life with hope at once entombed. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " Ah, shall I e'er forget the hour 
 
 When, all despairing at thy side, 
 I yielded to love's victor power 
 
 Despite my reason and my pride ? 
 Then while I owned thy magic spell, 
 I taught my heart a wild farewell ! 
 Lonely and blind — without a name. 
 What but thy pity could I claim ? 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " One only boon I asked of thee ; 
 
 Upon thy fairy hand to press 
 One parting kiss of agony. 
 
 With memory's spell my life to bless. 
 Thy utter silence chilled my heart, 
 I turned all hopeless to depart ; 
 Ah, moment of serenest rest, — 
 Thy head was pillowed on my breast ! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 "Twined round my neck thy gentle arm, 
 Mine did thy slender form embrace. 
 
 And love's sweet tear-drops, soft and warm, 
 I kissed from off thy glowing face. 
 5 
 
50 POEMS. 
 
 Far-waving fell thy silken hair, 
 Filling with fragrance rich the air. 
 The throbbing of thy heart I heard 
 Fluttering like an imprisoned bird ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 " Strange mystery of woman's heart ! 
 
 From all thy suitors rich and proud, — 
 The sought of fame — the wooed of Art — 
 
 The princely to whom fashion bowed — 
 Thou turnedst with a meek disdain, 
 That only grieved to give them pain. 
 And sought, with all thy wealth of charms, 
 Repose within the blind one's arms ! 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Since, exiled from thy father's hall. 
 
 No murmuring word thy lip hath sighed ; 
 Thou who didst shine the Queen of all. 
 
 Where Beauty smiled, or Wit replied. 
 And often all the summer day 
 I hear the music of thy lay. 
 Yet feel within my troubled breast 
 A presage that forbids my rest. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " For well I know, beloved one. 
 
 That soon our blissful dream shall close ; 
 
 That thou must tread life's path alone, 
 Whilst I within the grave repose. 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 51 
 
 The grave ! All, 'twas a sinful word, — 
 Forget that thou its sound hast heard. 
 To purer life my soul aspires, 
 Yet clings to thee with fond desires ! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " I know thy tender, faithful heart. 
 
 Thy ever-gentle cares for me ; 
 I know — all peerless as thou art, — 
 
 No second love remains for thee. 
 And oft when faith would upward gaze, 
 The vision of thy pale, sweet face, 
 Shadowed by grief, obstructs the sight 
 That hope arrays in heavenly light. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 *' Come, press thy lips upon my brow. 
 E'en though thy tears, like April rain. 
 
 Fall warm and fast — for now — even now, 
 My spirit strengthens for the pain. 
 
 The mortal pang of leaving thee ! 
 
 Ah, dearest, soon life's mystery 
 
 All clearly to my view shall rise 
 
 As unto thine these earthly skies. 
 
 XL. 
 
 "Oh, world, unshadowed by a grief, 
 Almost I tread thy shining plains ! 
 
52 POEMS. 
 
 Angels, who stoop to woe's relief, 
 
 Soon shall I join your blessed strains ! 
 Then, if to mortal love 'tis given 
 To bear to earth the bliss of heaven, 
 Know, dearest, at the twilight hour 
 Thy spirit-lover seeks thy bower !" 
 
 XLI. 
 
 He ceased ; life's latest sigh was o'er ; 
 
 His song had hushed its airy spell. 
 And faintly drooped the weary head 
 Upon the bosom of the dead. 
 
 Ere, with a quick, convulsive cry, 
 The early-widowed fell. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Ah, for that lone, deserted one, 
 
 'Twere mockery, with our feeble powers, 
 To paint the agonizing strife. 
 The frenzy of returning life, 
 
 Or seek to draw the veil aside 
 From grief-devoted hours. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 'Twas Sabbath calm. The twilight gray 
 Had wrapt the earth in mystery ; 
 
THE BLIND HUSBAND. 53 
 
 And Night was folding on her breast 
 All fair and gentle things to rest, 
 When suddenly a wild, sweet strain. 
 Came floating o'er the lea. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 A low, but all-pervading sound. 
 
 That thrilled the charmed atmosphere. 
 
 While light, as sprung from glorious bloom. 
 Made golden all the humble room. 
 Ah, well the lovely mourner knew 
 Who gazed upon her there ! 
 
 XLV. 
 But 'twas no joy of mortal birth. 
 
 That gave such brightness to her brow ! 
 That lent unto her upraised eyes, 
 The starry glory of the skies. 
 And won her lovely lips to smile 
 Again with pleasure's glow. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Nay, rather, as the legend tells. 
 
 Her soul went forth in that sweet hour. 
 
 With the wild thrill of heavenly bliss, 
 
 Waked by the spirit-lover's kiss ; 
 Threw by its mortal vestments then, 
 And gained his side once more. 
 
54 POEMS. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 And now beside life's golden wave, 
 
 Immortal Love with them doth talk. 
 Nor shadowing cloud or darkened sight, 
 Have place amid that home of light ; 
 But, gazing on each radiant face, 
 With clasped hands they walk. 
 
^t0ignnt!0n 
 
 She was a meek and gentle-hearted girl, 
 
 With eyes of azure 'neath their fair lids beaming, 
 Like violets shadowed o'er by lily leaves, 
 
 And with a dewy lustre sadly gleaming. 
 Her voice was like a mournful strain of love. 
 
 At which we smile and weep, with changeful seem- 
 ing ; 
 While o'er her cheek sweet thoughts their tracery 
 made, 
 
 In fleeting blushes, bright as fancy's dreaming. 
 
 II. 
 
 Her mouth was like a rosebud, hiding pearls ; 
 
 Her hair, as sun-bathed cloud, was softly golden ; 
 And her slight form, in its unstudied grace, 
 
 Seemed like some fairy sprite of vision olden. 
 
56 POEMS. 
 
 Her robes were always white, without a gem ; 
 
 To seek bj art to make her charms the rarer, 
 Were vain, as with our feeble skill to paint 
 
 A floweret's silken leaf, to show it fairer. 
 
 III. 
 And then her soul, within its breathing shrine. 
 
 Seemed Love reposing in the arms of Beauty, 
 Watching the spirit-buds of hope expand. 
 
 Or thrilling, angel-like, at each new duty. 
 She was no votary 'mid Fashion's throng, 
 
 In the voluptuous waltz all languid gliding, 
 Where, with flushed cheek and bosom slightly veiled. 
 
 The child of pleasure mocks at Wisdom's chiding. 
 
 IV. 
 
 She, to the lowly vale where Sorrow pined. 
 
 Brought smiling, sweet relief and heavenly bless- 
 ing ; 
 And warmed the lonely, widowed mother's heart, 
 
 Folding her laughing babe with mild caressing. 
 The very ploughman, rough and rude to most. 
 
 Softened his voice whene'er he heard her greeting, 
 And with bared brow, and meek, respectful gaze. 
 
 Seemed to grow gentler from the transient meet- 
 ing. 
 
 V. 
 Yet was she ever pensive — for to her 
 
 Earth had no power to wake its best emotion ; 
 
RESIGNATION. 57 
 
 For she had loved, as only such can love, 
 One who was worthy of her pure devotion. 
 
 Already had the blissful day been named. 
 
 And Hope lay dreaming upon Fancy's bosom ; 
 
 But ah ! stern Death remorseless watched the scene, 
 And froze with icy breath each bridal blossom. 
 
 VI. 
 
 She did not pray to die, though dark and drear 
 
 Seemed all life's future to her speechless sorrow ; 
 But humbly bending to the will of God, 
 
 Looked all serenely to a better morrow ; 
 A morrow not of earth, but distant far 
 
 In that blest world where love shall fear no part- 
 ing ; 
 The only world, perchance, without a grave. 
 
 World without pain, or sin, or tear-drop starting. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And often when the silvery vesper light 
 
 Made all the landscape like a fairy vision. 
 Her listening soul, entranced, heard a voice 
 
 Sweeter than breath of fabled harp Elysian. 
 And rapt Imagination's eager eye 
 
 Saw a tall form in robes of dazzling glory. 
 With brow resplendent as with sunny rays, 
 
 And beaming glance that shamed the poet's story. 
 
58 P E M s. 
 
 VIII. 
 Then did her raptured heart this truth discern, 
 
 That love doth pass beyond death's gloomy portal ; 
 And with clear gaze and knowledge ever right, 
 
 Doth watch and guard us with a power immortal. 
 And so with patient resignation sweet, 
 
 She put aside all weak and vain dejection. 
 And sought to soothe the sick, relieve the poor, 
 
 And teach the outcast words of home's affection ; 
 Praying to God for grace to do His will, 
 Knowing her lover's thought approved her still. 
 
€^t Motljer HlVsibe fkt llffping 
 
 Oh, fair and gentle children, 
 
 Love-nurtured from your birth ! 
 And guarded like young blossoms, 
 
 From every storm of earth ; 
 Fanned by the summer breezes. 
 
 Or the light, soft airs of spring, 
 But shielded when the winter gale 
 
 Sweeps by on chilling wing ; 
 
 II. 
 
 Ye think that smiles and sunshine 
 Are yours by sacred right ; 
 
 Nor dream that in the future 
 May lurk a withering blight. 
 
60 POEMS. 
 
 A blue unclouded heaven 
 The future is to you, — 
 
 Where bright and glorious visions 
 Rise softly into view ! 
 
 III. 
 Ah, can it be, my treasures, 
 
 That ye, in after years, 
 Shall bow your heads wdth anguish 
 
 And unavailing tears ? 
 Shall eyes look scornful on ye. 
 
 Or hard and bitter words 
 Make your poor hearts to flutter 
 
 Like newly prisoned birds ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah, darlings, shall ye ever 
 
 Know what, alas ! is known 
 To thousands once as cherished 
 
 As ye amidst your own ? 
 Toiling for food and raiment 
 
 From morn till weary night, 
 Forgetting, in your sadness. 
 
 That ever earth seemed bright. 
 
 Will shame bow down the eyelids 
 That now ye fearless raise ? 
 
 Or darken in the glances 
 
 Where joy like sunshine plays ? 
 
THE MOTHER AND SLEEPING CHILDREN. 61 
 
 Oh, shall yc learn to utter 
 Wild words of sin's despair ? 
 
 Fair-browed and dimpled sleepers 
 Fresh from your evening prayer ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Nay, these are thoughts of darkness 
 
 I may not longer brook ; 
 Such fancies fade and vanish, 
 
 As on each face I look. 
 Ye may be poor, my darlings, 
 
 And toil for many a day ; 
 But never in your bosoms 
 
 Shall aught but honour stay. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Beside ye may walk Sorrow 
 
 In shadows like the night, 
 But Truth and Love shall robe ye 
 
 In vestment snowy white. 
 The God who blessed your fathers 
 
 Their children's God will be ; 
 Whilst I adore the goodness 
 
 That gave ye unto me. 
 
I Sisinn nf t|ir ^UbsA 
 
 N SCRIBED TO E. L. B. 
 
 Now, while deep slumber seals the eje of man, 
 And Beauty blushes in her conscious dreams ; 
 
 While fairy Childhood communes once again 
 With kindred angels by eternal streams ; 
 
 Slowly, with piercing glance, and faith sublime. 
 
 The soul looks through the parted veil of time ! 
 
 II. 
 
 See, pure and fresh amid the vernal air. 
 
 Stand towering trees, of strange, mysterious bloom. 
 
 And lofty palaces, of splendour rare. 
 
 Pour a broad radiance from each sunlike dome ; 
 
 While giant mountains in the distance rise. 
 
 With throne-like crests that shame the rainbow's 
 dyes. 
 
A VISION OF THE BLESSED. 63 
 
 III. 
 
 And there are bowery homes of odorous shade, 
 And bright, melodious fountains, leaping free ; 
 
 And angel-tended flowers, too pure to fade. 
 Flinging their balmy incense silently ; 
 
 And crystal streams, where forms celestial glide, 
 
 Nor need a bark to bear them o'er the tide. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ay, gorgeous are the vestments waving there, 
 Of cherub, seraphim, and powers of light ! 
 
 And with hushed reverence, and a solemn prayer. 
 Our hearts grow still before their presence bright. 
 
 Too glorious seem they, in their stately grace, 
 
 And Admiration falls, and veils her face ! 
 
 V. 
 
 But see, where moving joyously along, 
 The lovely sainted ones of earth appear, 
 
 Blooming with youth immortal ; where they throng. 
 The landscape seems a softer charm to wear ; 
 
 A rose-like freshness scents the balmy breeze. 
 
 That waves its wings 'neath music-thrilling trees! 
 
 VI. 
 
 There, oh my soul, the ethereal form behold. 
 Of her who smiled upon thy infant hours ; 
 
 Gaze in her eyes, nor fear that love grows cold. 
 Mid the luxuriant bloom of heavenly bowers ; 
 
64 POEMS. 
 
 For in their beaming depths, methinks there lies 
 A softened shade as if from earthly skies. 
 
 VII. 
 More would I see — and that bright band, whose mind. 
 
 (Filled with all true perception,) knows my heart — 
 With gracious words, and looks on me inclined, 
 
 Stand from the cherished ones I seek, apart. 
 Ah, loveliest group ! Ah, friends of bygone years ! 
 I see your smiles, and answer but with tears. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 How from my morning path, like stars, ye waned, 
 
 Lost in the glory of eternal day ; 
 Though yet fond memory many a trace retained. 
 
 As echo still repeats the parted lay. 
 But memory only showed each earthly grace ; 
 Faith crowns the brow, and glorifies the face ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Lo, all serene, with matron charms arrayed, 
 A central form, with air majestic stands. 
 
 Silvery the locks which in the grave we laid. 
 And dim the eyes we closed with careful hands ! 
 
 Now, He whose Name awoke her last sweet smile. 
 
 Thrills with new life that heart that knew no guile. 
 
 But who are they, in infant beauty bright. 
 With glowing garments of unfading dyes ? 
 
A VISION OF THE BLESSED. 65 
 
 A richer gladness, in that world of light, 
 
 Upsprings, where'er they turn their joyous eyes. 
 They are the bird-like ones, whose fleeting wings 
 Shook off, unsoiled, the dust of earthly things ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 And nearest unto vision, see I those. 
 
 Who, with small clasping hands, did leave our 
 shore, 
 Thy fair " twin boys" crowned with immortal rose, 
 
 Stand side by side, in bliss, for ever more. 
 And still the angelic ones the scene repeat. 
 When first their beauty charmed the Golden Street. 
 
 6* 
 
Cljp Ikmp. 
 
 Not where the ray of morning falls, 
 On the marble pride of palace walls, 
 Not on a mountain's airy height, 
 Would I rear the home of my fancy bright. 
 But oh, in a valley's flowery shade. 
 
 Where the voice of song, 
 
 All day long, 
 Warbles and echoes and floats away, 
 Like the laugh of a joyous sprite at play. 
 
 II. 
 
 O'er the mossy roof of my cottage home, 
 SJiould the feet of the gentle breezes roam ; 
 And sweet as if wooed by April showers. 
 Should be the breath of the clustering flowers, 
 Peeping from out their hoods of green. 
 
T H E II M E. 67 
 
 Like a lovely band 
 
 From fairy-land, 
 Coming to gaze in each quiet room, 
 With their dewy eyes and their cheeks of bloom. 
 
 III. 
 I would not ask an unshadowed sky, 
 With the same blue glory still on high, 
 And the radiant form of the king of day. 
 Passing all lonely on his way ; 
 Let the solemn clouds his path attend. 
 
 And fold their wings 
 
 Like living things, 
 About the gates of the golden west, 
 As angels wait on a spirit blest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And then, when the distant realm of night 
 Is all disclosed, with its homes of light, 
 How sweet to recline by a fairy stream, 
 Till the soul is rapt 'neath the starry gleam. 
 And far away from the river bank 
 
 The spirit soars 
 
 To lovelier shores. 
 Till, at the throne of God boAved down. 
 It thrills at the touch of the radiant crown. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh, ever thus, — though the scenes of earth 
 Be vocal with countless tones of mirth, — 
 
68 POEMS. 
 
 Though Beauty walk like a seraph by, 
 And the Angel of Glory look from the sky ; 
 The deathless soul, like a prisoned bird, 
 
 Pants to be free 
 
 From mortality. 
 Nor rests his plumes on their upward flight. 
 Till he veils his face at the Throne of light ! 
 
(an illustration.) 
 
 How swiftly o'er the tranquil tide 
 Yon bark of beauty seems to glide ; 
 Parting the golden light around, 
 It speedeth on to music's sound ; 
 And as I gaze, methinks I stand 
 Spellbound in an enchanted land ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The sunset radiance stoops to lave 
 Its plumes of glory in the wave ; 
 While, loveliest of all viewless things, 
 The breeze unfolds its odorous wings, 
 And clouds of gold and crimson hue, 
 Go sailing up yon heaven of blue. 
 
70 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 Like jewels thrown neglected round, 
 Flowers brighten all the verdant ground ; 
 While trees their shadowing arms extend, 
 And o'er the picturing waters bend ; 
 And birds that wear the rainbow's dyes. 
 Soar upward to the summer skies. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A king looks out beneath the shade. 
 By yonder gay pavilion made ; 
 A king, yet pensive is his gaze, 
 Perchance with thought of other days ; 
 Before the crown had pressed his brow, 
 And he was happier far than now. 
 
 But yet, where'er he turns his eye. 
 The form of beauty wanders by ; 
 While music sings in every glade. 
 And fragrance haunts each flowery shade ; 
 And still the purple splendour falls 
 Brightly on his own palace walls. 
 
 VI. 
 
 How like a thing of human pride 
 The boat 'speeds o'er the placid tide ; 
 And see — the monarch's eye grows bright 
 With pleasure at its bird-like flight ; 
 
THE ROYAL BARGE. 71 
 
 As, all unfettered by the wind, 
 
 It leaves each gleaming sail behind. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But now the light begins to fade, 
 And deeper grows the plantain's shade ; 
 While from the brake the jackall's cry, 
 Warns that the hour he loves is nigh ; 
 And, lurking in the thicket green. 
 The tiger's crouching form is seen. 
 
 ' VIII. 
 
 Faint, and still fainter to the ear. 
 
 The boatman's measured strokes appear ; 
 
 While, fading 'neath the purple ray. 
 
 The bark glides silently away. 
 
 Like a fair vision of delight, 
 
 Or dream that haunts the slumbering night ! 
 
€^t f^nang liattr's Wis^. 
 
 I. 
 
 Language hath not power to tell 
 
 How I love thee, brother ! 
 Dearer than all else below, 
 
 Since we lost our mother. 
 Ever, while I think of thee, 
 
 Tears of sweet emotion, 
 And the faltering of my voice. 
 
 Show mj deep emotion. 
 
 II. 
 Could a sister's prayer prevail. 
 
 And her warm caressing, 
 Thine should be a charmed life, 
 
 Rich in every blessing. 
 Never more should thrill of pain 
 
 Cause a start of anguish ; 
 Or a moment's weariness 
 
 Make thy spirit languish. 
 
THE YOUNG SISTER'S WISH. 73 
 
 III. 
 
 I would rear for thee a home, 
 
 In a clime Eljsian ; 
 Decked with every beauty rare, 
 
 Like a fairy vision. 
 Nothing sad should entrance gain. 
 
 But, from morn till even, 
 Joy should rest on folded wings, 
 
 'Neath a smiling heaven. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Flowers, whose leaves should wither not, 
 
 By clear waters growing. 
 Pure as are an infant's dreams. 
 
 Bright as fancies glowing ; 
 Lofty trees, like guarding Love, 
 
 Pleasant shelter making. 
 Singing winds, from all around 
 
 Echoes sweet awaking. 
 
 V. 
 
 These should cluster round thy home. 
 
 Brother, — dearest brother ! 
 Ah, that smile ! it tells me thou 
 
 Dreamest of another. 
 And that other ! Mortal eye 
 
 Hath not seen its splendour ; 
 All of power most grand is there, 
 
 All of love most tender. 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Vanish, then, my fairy dream, 
 
 As the blush of morning 
 Fades amid the golden glow, 
 
 Noon's bright skies adorning. 
 Brother, this shall be my prayer. 
 
 Other hopes suppressing, — 
 Sister cannot ask for more, — 
 
 'Tis Jehovah's blessing. 
 
t Conflict. 
 
 When I behold some strong-winged child of song, 
 Swift through the upper glories borne along ; 
 Or calmly pausing on his way, to gaze 
 With undimmed glance upon the dazzling blaze 
 Poured from the lavish splendours of the sun ; 
 My poor sad soul, thus left so far and lone. 
 With tearful eye looks down upon the sands 
 
 Where its faint foot-prints lie, and dreamily 
 Traces unfinished sentences, with hands 
 
 That tremble as they write ; half wearily, 
 Yet half in earnest too, thinking that soon 
 The laughing waves, crowned with the gold of noon. 
 Will dance away beneath their shining feet 
 Each record of fond hopes, and fancies incomplete ! 
 
 Yet do I know such thoughts are worse than vain, 
 And I uplift a happier glance again. 
 And crushing down all selfish, sad repining. 
 Watch with admiring wonder the proud flight 
 
76 POEMS. 
 
 Of him, who now in the blue distance shining, 
 Gleams like a star amid excess of light. 
 
 And with my sinful soul I thus cammune : ^ 
 " Poor, frail dependent on the Will divine ! 
 
 Art thou so grasping ? Must each separate boon 
 Of others' lot, united be in thine ? 
 
 Thou to whom Love, with never-wavering choice. 
 
 Doth hourly talk, with sweet, melodious voice ; 
 
 In proud ambition's paths let others roam, — 
 
 Seek thou the tenderer joys — the flowery shades of 
 home !" 
 
C[iUii|)Qob. 
 
 Memories of my happy childhood, haste to me, and 
 
 show again 
 Vanished joys, like fairy vessels gliding o'er a sunny 
 
 main ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Oft my wondering spirit questions, but hath yet no 
 
 answer heard. 
 Why I now behorld with calmness what my childish 
 
 rapture stirred. 
 
 III. 
 
 Wherefore was it that a glory then o'er scenes most 
 
 homely fell ? 
 And a voice of richest music ever poured a ceaseless 
 
 swell ? 
 
 7^ 
 
78 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Was it that my guardian angel folded my unconscious 
 
 form, 
 With her wings of living beauty, to her bosom soft 
 
 and warm ? 
 
 And the eyes that gazed delighted on the flowery 
 
 bloom around. 
 Caught the brilliance of her presence, heard her 
 
 words' entrancing sound ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Or that still on childhood's pathway, from the ever- 
 open gate, 
 
 Rays of heaven beam more brightly than upon our 
 after state ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Ay, most truly saith the poet, that to blessdd child- 
 hood's eyes. 
 
 Nearer, in their glorious beauty, lie the fields of 
 Paradise. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then, with artless, sweet confiding, all I met I 
 
 counted friends, — 
 Trusted all were fair and faultless, stooping not to 
 
 selfish ends. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 79 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then beside me walked a charmer, that to childhood's 
 
 hours alone 
 Lent the magic of her presence, lent a beauty all 
 
 her own. 
 
 X. 
 
 'Twas my fond and gentle mother, brightening daily 
 
 for the skies. 
 E'en though earthly loves were beaming softly in her 
 
 hazel eyes. 
 
 XI. 
 
 In those early hours she faded, vanished from my 
 
 sight away. 
 Like a snow-white dove ascending, lost amid the 
 
 splendid day. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Hours of childhood ! dreams of childhood ! ah, in 
 
 vain I call ye back ; 
 Parted, in your morning radiance, from Life's dimmed 
 
 and saddened track ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Yet your purity and freshness, though from earth 
 
 for ever flown, 
 Sainted spirits shall recover, 'neath the shining of 
 
 the Throne ! 
 
POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 For the King of those fair regions, when on earth 
 
 He dwelt awhile, 
 Answered those who rudely questioned, seeking to 
 
 entrap with guile : 
 
 XV. 
 
 " If the subjects of My Kingdom, ye in truth desire 
 
 to be. 
 Trust Me with a child's confiding, and ye shall My 
 
 Glory see !" 
 
n Mum. 
 
 I. 
 I SEE thee jet — I see thee yet, 
 For how could Love thy form forget ? 
 The lustre of those beaming eyes, 
 That face, where soul with beauty vies ; 
 Ah, they who tell us time hath art, 
 And absence, to estrange the heart, 
 Would change their motto, had they seen 
 The flower of Athens — fair Irene ! 
 
 II. 
 With voice as musical and clear 
 As ever charmed a lover's ear, 
 With smiles upon thy features gay, 
 Like sunbeams on a rose at play ; 
 And with a step whose bounding mirth 
 Seems scarce to press the flowery earth, 
 Who would not own thee beauty's queen, 
 The pride of Athens — sweet L-ene ! 
 
82 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 Away from thee — away from thee, 
 How oft I call on Memory. 
 And Fancy paints the very air, 
 Till thou art pictured everywhere. 
 While Hope, with tones serenely sweet, 
 Whispers that we again shall meet. 
 Where brightly shines in every scene, 
 The star of Athens — bright Irene. 
 
€^t Wnnhtttx, 
 
 The beauty of his home, 
 Amid its sheltering trees, — 
 The soft, sweet music of the woodland throng. 
 And of the waters, murmuring in song, — 
 
 The odorous freshness of the hill-top breeze, — 
 Had lost their wonted loveliness for him, 
 And all their varied charms seemed cold and dim. 
 
 II. 
 
 His gentle mother's smile, 
 
 That wakened at his sight 
 Like beauty at the coming of the day. 
 Whose blue eyes filled with tears were he away. 
 
 As dews within the violet's cup at night ; 
 Ay, even her love, already grieved so much, 
 Wanted the power his restless soul to touch. 
 
84 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 And yet he was her all, 
 
 A widow's only child ! 
 Her bud of promise, scarce unfolded yet, — 
 Her star of hope, w^hen all the rest had set. 
 Lighting her pathway with a lustre mild. 
 Ah, flower ! too early touched by sinful blight- 
 Star, quickly fading from her yearning sight. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The waking up of life 
 In the green, quiet glen. 
 At the first beaming of the rosy dawn, 
 *And all its sounds of joy, as day rolled on. 
 
 He marked not — longing for the haunts of men, 
 Until at last the strong desire to roam 
 Made him an alien from his mother's home. 
 
 Years pass — long years to her 
 Who rests in sorrow's shade ; 
 And feebler grows her step from day to day. 
 Until at length no more she takes her way 
 
 Along the walks where he in boyhood strayed. 
 Fading and dying ! yet within her mind 
 Still is the image of the wanderer shrined. 
 
THE WANDERER. 85 
 
 VI. 
 
 But o'er her reason falls 
 A strange and sudden gloom ! 
 She hath no interest in the present hour, 
 And earth's futurity hath lost its power 
 
 To wake again her drooping hopes to bloom. 
 She heeds not sight or sound, but seems to dwell 
 In the sad past with him she loved so well. 
 
 VII. 
 
 At length a wayworn man. 
 With a soiled garb and poor. 
 Bearing full many a mark of sorrow's trace 
 On his pale brow, and o'er his sunburnt face. 
 
 Came with the evening's shadow to her door. 
 Just ere the last faint signs of life were o'er, 
 He came to her who knew his form no more. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The lamp's uncertain ray 
 
 Shows him her pallid brow. 
 And the dim lustre of her sightless eyes, 
 Wearing the azure of the twilight skies, 
 
 That bend in shadowy radiance o'er them now. 
 But hark ! he hears her call with low, sweet moan 
 Upon his name — alas, that faltering tone ! 
 
86 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 She calls him from afar, 
 (Deeming he still doth roam,) 
 
 With the faint whisper of her dying voice ; — 
 
 " My son, if thou wert here I should rejoice, 
 Thou who didst leave thy mother and her home. 
 
 Taking all beauty and all joy away, 
 
 With thy bright presence, and thy laughter gay." 
 
 She paused — her eyes grew dim, — 
 More slowly came her breath ; 
 Though on her pallid features beamed the while. 
 Pure as its first, affection's latest smile. 
 
 Throwing a glory o'er the face of Death. 
 Then, while remorse and terror shook his frame, 
 Wildly her loved one called upon her name. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Dear mother, here am I, — 
 
 Speak to me once again ! 
 It is your son — here by your couch I stand. 
 Do you not see me ? feel my clasping hand ? 
 
 And must I utter love's own words in vain ? 
 Mother, dear, blessed mother ! Oh, my God, 
 How shall I bear this chastening from thy rod !" 
 
THE WANDERER. 87 
 
 XII. 
 
 Yet even as he spoke, 
 
 Again a murmur came 
 From tlie pale lips he had so wildly prest, 
 And the weak hand that in his own found rest, 
 Trembled at the sweet, mention of his name. 
 " My son !" — and breathlessly he bent to hear. 
 As that familiar music reached his ear. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " How would I bless thee, boy. 
 
 If thou wert with me yet, 
 Twining my fingers in thy shining hair. 
 Wreathed like thy father's round thy forehead fair, 
 
 And feel new life to know our lips had met ! 
 But now I die — and thou perchance art gay. 
 Thoughtless of her who suifers far away !" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " And must she leave me thus ? 
 
 Oh, God, have mercy now ! 
 Mother, look on me — see — your child is near — 
 His love is all your own — arouse and hear — 
 
 These are his lips that rest upon your brow !" 
 In vain — in vain ! — alas, those glazing eyes — 
 Those purpling lips— those life-dissolving sighs ! 
 
88 POEMS. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sorrow and life at once 
 Ceased in her gentle heart ! 
 While he for whom her parting sigh was sped. 
 Fell by her side almost as cold and dead 
 
 As though he too had felt the spoiler's dart. 
 But oh, he woke beside her lifeless clay, — 
 She in a clime where Death no more hath sway ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But other years went by 
 Crowning with wealth and fame; 
 And by the wanderer's side a gentle one, 
 With smile like light, and voice all music's own, 
 
 Spoke to him soothingly, and she became 
 Dearer than life unto him — at her word 
 His heart would bound within him like a bird. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And there were young, bright eyes, 
 
 Upgazing into his, 
 With sweet, confiding innocence and joy; 
 Yet while he looked with pride upon his boy, 
 
 Emotions of a sacred tenderness 
 O'ercame him often, as he stooped to trace 
 His mother's likeness in his daughter's face ! 
 
THE WANDERER. 0\) 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And now when others' round 
 
 Are full of hope and glee, 
 He sees a vision of the past arise, — 
 A pale, meek phantom flits before his eyes, 
 
 And wakes again the pang of memory. 
 Till faith's sweet accents speak his sins forgiven, 
 And hope assures him they shall meet in heaven ! 
 
 8* 
 
93Unb laug^tn. 
 
 Around a cottage door 
 
 Bright honeysuckles twined, 
 And roses of the richest bloom 
 Were lavish of their soft perfume, 
 
 To charm the evening wind. 
 Not yet the sun had left the sky, 
 Though the pale moon was mounting high. 
 
 II. 
 
 Soft fell the purple light 
 
 O'er flower and guardian tree ; 
 
 It wandered o'er the moss-grown eaves, 
 
 And played among the dancing leaves, 
 Like a spirit, silently. 
 
 At last it found a resting-place 
 
 Upon a pale and quiet face ! 
 
THE BLIND DAUGHTER. 91 
 
 III. 
 
 Alas for earthly joy ! 
 
 Death had been busy there. 
 And yet, so lightly did he pass, 
 He had not bent one blade of grass, 
 
 Or stirred the summer air. 
 But ah, too surely aimed his dart 
 Against a true and loving heart ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Smooth o'er the solemn brow 
 
 Reposed the glossy hair ; 
 While here and there, like silver ray 
 Amid its jet, a line of gray 
 
 Tokened of grief and care. 
 But on the lips there lingered yet 
 The seal which parting love had set. 
 
 V. 
 No sound shall wake her more, 
 
 Whether of joy or woe ! 
 And vainly doth her loved one weep — 
 She heeds not, in her dreamless sleep, 
 
 Whose tears of sorrow flow. 
 Happy for her she may not see 
 Her daughter's hopeless agony. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Well may the maiden weep ! 
 Hers is a mournful lot ; 
 
92 POEMS. 
 
 For though her eyes, like violets bright, 
 Shine beauteous in their dewy light. 
 
 Like them — she seeth not ! 
 Hark, while her tears of sorrow flow. 
 She speaks in broken music low. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Have mercy, oh, my God ! 
 
 I could bear all but this : 
 I have not murmured that my eyes 
 Looked not upon the glorious skies. 
 
 Thy home of light and bliss. 
 I asked no more to make me blessed 
 
 Than in my mother's arms to rest. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Her voice was ever soft, — 
 
 I never knew it chide ; 
 And often when I heard them tell 
 The colour of some floweret's bell, 
 
 I felt a tender pride 
 In thinking it was like a word 
 Of music from my mother heard. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " I loved to kiss her brow — 
 
 Her lips — her cheek — her hand — 
 To twine my fingers in her hair 
 Far floating o'er her shoulders bare, 
 Loosed at my gay command. 
 
THE BLIND DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 And I was happy till there came 
 The blight of sickness o'er her frame. 
 
 " I heard, amid the gloom, 
 
 Her voice grow faint and low ! 
 Each day I felt she was more weak, 
 Until at last she could not speak, 
 
 Or I her wishes hear. 
 Vainly I bent my eager ear — 
 She strove to tell — I could not hear ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Yet faithful friends were nigh ; 
 
 They tended her with care ; — 
 They answered to her asking eye 
 With kind and ready sympathy. 
 
 Whilst I sat idly there ! 
 Yes ! I, who loved her more than all, 
 Sat useless by the cottage wall. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " But when at last they told 
 
 My mother soon must die, — 
 When I stood breathless by the bed. 
 And heard a whispering voice that said. 
 
 For the last time, her eye. 
 Loving and as an angel's mild, 
 Was gazing on her darling child. 
 
94 POEMS. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Maddened and sick at heart, 
 I strained my sightless eyes ! 
 
 But all in vain — no blessed ray, 
 
 To show me where my mother lay. 
 Came from the pitying skies. 
 
 I could not mark each change that came, 
 In warning, o'er her gentle frame. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " I thought my heart would break. 
 
 Knowing she looked on me ! 
 That on each feature of my face 
 She lingered with a loving gaze, — 
 
 A gaze I might not see. 
 Silent I stood, as turned to stone. 
 Waiting to hear her dying groan. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " I felt her hand grow cold ! 
 
 It tightened in its grasp ; 
 My tears were frozen in my heart. 
 Until at length they tried to part 
 
 My fingers from her clasp ! 
 Then, with a storm of anguish vain. 
 Gushing they fell, like summer rain. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Who now will lead my feet 
 Where whispering waters glide ? 
 
THE BLIND DAUGHTER. 95 
 
 Or sit with me beneath the trees, 
 Holding sweet converse with the breeze, 
 
 That roams the forest wide ? 
 Or rest amid the odorous bowers, 
 To hear the murmurs of the flowers ? 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Mother, we will not part, — 
 
 Death cannot long divide. 
 But in a far-off world of light, 
 Where God shall gift thy child with sight. 
 
 We'll wander side by side. 
 Joyful I'll spring to thy embrace. 
 Seeing at last thy lovely face !" 
 
Jltraembn* Mi 
 
 I CALL on thee by many a potent spell, 
 
 By all tlie visions of the lovely past, 
 And by our hopes of joy that drooped and fell, 
 
 Like flowers that break beneath the sudden blast ; 
 By morning light and by the sunset ray. 
 
 By earth and air, and hollow-sounding sea, 
 By the smooth river and the fountain gay, 
 Remember me ! 
 
 II. 
 By spring's first whisper in the balmy air. 
 And by the glory of the summer skies, 
 By the calm stars, so spirit-like and fair, 
 
 Still gazing down with their unclouded eyes ; 
 By the clear moonlight, by the sailing cloud, 
 
 And by the shadow of the waving tree. 
 By the young blossom 'neath the dewdrop bowed, 
 Remember me ! 
 
REMEMBER ME. 97 
 
 III. 
 
 By the soft warbling of the woodland bird, 
 And by the melody of woman's song, 
 
 By the sweet echoes in the forest heard, 
 And by the murmurs of the insect throng ; 
 
 By love's low tone, and friendship's gentle voice, 
 And by dear childhood's laughter, full of glee. — 
 
 By all that makes thy spirit most rejoice. 
 Remember me ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 By the dark shadow of the present time, 
 
 And by futurity's unc^^tain light. 
 By all thy thoughts of heavenly truth sublime. 
 
 And by the sorrows of death's lonely night. 
 By vanished joys, and pleasures yet to come, — 
 
 By all the ties that once were dear to thee ; 
 Oh ! sometimes in thy lovely southern home, 
 Remember me ! 
 
nan M^%,xt. 
 
 I. 
 There was a tramp of many feet, 
 
 And liorses prancing round ; 
 Gay banners waving in the street, 
 
 And mirth's exulting sound. 
 Priest, noble, peasant, all were there ; 
 
 And glad beamed Beauty's eye, 
 While shouts of triumph on the air. 
 
 Went soaring to the sky. 
 And sunlight o'er the towers of Rheims 
 Flooded the air with golden gleams. 
 
 II. 
 The massive gates were open thrown — 
 
 The gorgeous arches spread — 
 And still the hurrying crowds passed on 
 
 With heavy-sounding tread. 
 And oh ! so rich the music there, 
 
 So wild its lovely glee, 
 
JOAN d'arc. 99 
 
 It seemed as if the very air 
 Were laughingly merrily. 
 There, side by side, with equal joy 
 Trod white-haired man and rosy boy. 
 
 III. 
 For on this glorious day they hold 
 
 A nation's jubilee ; 
 And Gaul, resplendent as of old, 
 
 Their sunny land is free. 
 Their warrior-troops are marching on — 
 
 Their youthful king is near ; 
 The shade from France for ever gone — 
 
 Her fame without a peer ! 
 The ardent crowds impatient wait 
 Without the ancient city's gate. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Lo ! onward with the glancing spear 
 
 And glittering mail, they come ; 
 The neighing of their steeds We hear, 
 
 The beating of the drum. 
 Now peal on peal their welcome tells — 
 
 High swells the trumpet's song, 
 While chiming, too, the silvery bells 
 
 Pour dulcet strains along. 
 The winds are soft, as if the sky 
 Were fanned by seraphs soaring by. 
 
100 POEMS. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Hail ! noble Dunois, — warrior bold, — 
 
 (Long live the gallant chief 1) 
 For ages shall the deeds be told 
 
 Which won thy laurel leaf. 
 Pass onward with thy gallant train, 
 
 And rest in peace awhile ; 
 For soon the clarion's piercing strain 
 
 Shall call thy troops to file. 
 Who, marching to the battle-field, 
 Will bid the foeman die or yield." 
 
 VI. 
 
 He comes ! the monarch of the land, 
 
 With courtly friends around ; 
 His eagle eye befits command. 
 
 His voice hath kingly sound. 
 With lofty brow exposed and bare. 
 
 And graceful head unplumed. 
 His very smile hath sweetness rare. 
 
 That art hath ne'er assumed. 
 But who this maid with glowing cheek, 
 Whose eyes such heavenly wisdom speak ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 With floating plume and helm of gold — 
 Unsheathed her upright sword, 
 
 Mounted on milk-white steed, behold 
 The Champion of the Lord. 
 
JOAN D'ARC. 101 
 
 The snowy standard wide unfurled 
 
 Her gentle hand uplifts, 
 Vainly 'gainst her the shaft is hurled, 
 
 Guarded by heavenly gifts. 
 It seemed an angel from on high 
 Had flown to save, with pitying eye. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 She led these hosts to battle dire, 
 
 That young and blushing maid ; 
 And armdd men shrank from the fire 
 
 Her flashing eye displayed. 
 Ay, start not at my words — 'tis she. 
 
 That slight and fragile thing. 
 Hath set a hopeless nation free. 
 
 And saved her grateful king. 
 She came — and Britain's warriors fled 
 Before a woman's maildd head. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And there, within those ancient walls 
 
 Their youthful king they crowned ; 
 And triumph filled its mighty halls 
 
 Like ocean's surging sound. 
 And blent with his was Joan's name, 
 
 Dearer than king's or queen's : 
 " Long live," they cried, ''for France and fame, 
 
 The Maiden of Orleans !" 
 Then turned on her the wondering gaze. 
 And the crowd hushed in sweet amaze. 
 
 9* 
 
102 POEMS. 
 
 X. 
 
 She flung the glittering helmet by, 
 
 And bared her lovely brow. 
 Grief dimmed the triumph of her eye, 
 
 And paled her cheek's rich glow. 
 And falling at the monarch's feet, 
 
 With tearful glance upraised. 
 And small hands clasped in union sweet. 
 
 That trembled as she gazed, 
 The weeping maiden asked a boon : 
 What can she ask not granted soon ? 
 
 XI. 
 Think ye for wealth the suppliant prayed- 
 
 Proud halls, and fertile lands ? 
 For serfs in shining garb arrayed. 
 
 To wait her high commands ? — 
 Around were lords and ladies bright, 
 
 With jewels rich and rare ; ^ 
 And many a plume of spotless white 
 
 Was fluttering in the air. 
 Was it for these her spirit sighed 
 Amid that scene of wealth and pride ? 
 
 XII. 
 
 Perchance she sought for empire's sway,— 
 
 A crown to deck her brow ; 
 A sceptre to command her way, — 
 
 Slaves at her feet to bow ! 
 
JOAN d'arc. 103 
 
 Ye little know, if thus ye deem 
 
 The depths of woman's heart — 
 Ne'er did her loving spirit seem 
 
 From childhood's hopes to part. 
 She only saw the crown of flowers 
 She twined amid Domremi's bowers ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 While swelled the solemn music round, 
 
 And rose the incense high — 
 She heard the streamlet's purling sound — 
 
 The breath of fields Avas nigh. 
 For with a gush of pearl-like tears, 
 
 And quivering lip and pale. 
 Thus spake she of her childhood's years. 
 
 And of the lowly vale. 
 And as she spoke the tear-drops dried, 
 And flushed her cheek Love's living tide ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " I pine for my home 
 
 In the valley's shade, 
 Where the flowers first come, 
 
 And the latest fade. 
 With their fragrant breath 
 
 They bid me return ; 
 From their blushing wreath 
 
 A lesson I learn. 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 The lowliest blossom 
 
 On Earth's tender lap, 
 She folds to her bosom 
 
 Secure from mishap. 
 But the gilded leaf 
 
 That is raised on high, 
 In the stormy grief 
 
 Is the first to die. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " I have chased the foe 
 
 On his coward flight ; 
 Like melting snow 
 
 He was lost to our sight. 
 But visions of gloom 
 
 Are gathering round ; 
 I dream of a tomb 
 
 In dishonoured ground ! 
 Ah ! let me die 
 
 In my childhood's home, 
 'Neath whose loving sky 
 
 I was wont to roam ; 
 Where the winds that pass 
 
 Shall sigh o'er my grave. 
 And the verdant grass 
 O'er the dark sod wave !" 
 
 XVI. 
 
 "With smiling looks the monarch raised 
 And soothed the weeper fair, 
 
JOAN d'arc. 105 
 
 While the rapt crowd with murmurs gazed 
 
 On her soft, childish air. 
 But lords and ladies thronged around, 
 
 With prayers and tearful eyes, 
 And on her head the helmet bound 
 
 With loud, imploring cries ; 
 She gave her blighted hopes one sigh — 
 Then triumph lit again her eye. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Once more she led the armdd hosts — 
 
 Alas, for manhood's truth ! — 
 Her troops have fled — the day is lost — 
 
 Woe for her blighted youth. 
 The captive of a ruthless foe, 
 
 And basely led to death. 
 Amid the wreathing flames' fierce glow 
 
 Was sped her parting breath. 
 Her sad forebodings true were proved : — 
 Shame on the land her spirit loved ! 
 
€)^t |ea-3^irit. 
 
 I. 
 
 Thou stranger-bird of radiant plume, from o'er the 
 
 crested sea, 
 Whose kingdom was the boundless sky, home of the 
 
 bright and free ! 
 Whose canopy pavilion clouds of even's richest dye. 
 What scenes of beauty, glorious bird, have met thy 
 
 gazing eye ? 
 
 n. 
 O'er fairy isles of emerald hue hath been thy upward 
 
 flight, 
 Like gems upon the azure wave, first flashing on thy 
 
 sight, 
 But nearing soon their fragrant groves, thy wing 
 
 hath stooped awhile. 
 Glancing in morning's early ray, or evening's latest 
 
 smile. 
 
THE SEA-BIRD. 107 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou hast seen homes of loveliness, and stately 
 
 palace halls, 
 Where richly through the painted glass the light of 
 
 summer falls. 
 Thou hast seen mountain, vale, and stream, and many 
 
 a leafy glade. 
 Where dewy flowers like fairies stand, amid the quiet 
 
 shade. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But tell me, wanderer through the air, and o'er the 
 billows' swell. 
 
 Hast thou beheld a home so glad in which no sor- 
 rows dwell ? 
 
 But vainly do I question thee — for ah, too well I 
 know, 
 
 That oft amid the brightest scenes there lurks the 
 darkest woe. 
 
 V. 
 
 For where are they, the favoured ones, upon whose 
 laughing mirth. 
 
 Some grief hath never cast a gloom to prove their 
 mortal birth ? 
 
 And where are they who have not shed the unavail- 
 ing tear, 
 
 While gazing at the shrouded form, to love and me- 
 mory dear ? 
 
108 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alas ! there is no li5;ppy hour when all we love are 
 
 nigh,— 
 A form is absent from the group, for which we vainly 
 
 sigh. 
 A voice, whose music made us glad, is missing from 
 
 the strain, — 
 And oh, its tones of tenderness may greet us ne'er 
 
 again. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But there's a world, serenely bright, upon whose 
 
 glorious air. 
 The word farewell hath sounded not — with all its 
 
 deep despair. 
 But in its never-clouded light, and sweet, undying 
 
 song. 
 The promise of eternal joy is softly borne along. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And there — beside transparent streams, or 'neath 
 
 the waving shade, 
 By forests of immortal bloom, or bowers of beauty 
 
 made ; 
 Without a tear to dim the eye, or care to cloud the 
 
 brow. 
 The loved shall wander hand in hand who part in 
 
 sorrow now\ 
 
t IBrnk. 
 
 I. 
 
 They are gone in their beauty — swept oiF in their 
 
 pride, 
 The loved and the loving, who walked by our side ; 
 The silver-haired grandsire — the babe in its glee, 
 Together went down to the depths of the sea. 
 
 II. 
 
 The gentle-voiced mother — the bride of a day. 
 With the hearts that adored them, have vanished 
 
 away ; 
 In the darkness of night — from the calmness of sleep, 
 They woke to the rush of the merciless deep. 
 
 III. 
 The youth who at sunset looked out o'er the main. 
 And spoke of the morrow, shall look not again ; 
 And the rosy-cheeked girl, with her joy-lighted eyes, 
 Hath passed as a star from the midst of our skies. 
 
 10 
 
110 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The sister who loved us, the brother so brave, — 
 The friends of our bosom, no effort could save. 
 The waters closed o'er them, unheeding their prayer. 
 Unmindful alike of their hopes or despair. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ah, sad are the hearts where their images dwelt. 
 And lonely the homes where their presence was felt; 
 As sunlight o'ershadowed, or music gone by. 
 Are the dear ones we fancied too lovely to die. 
 
 VI. 
 
 We know not their graves — and we may not repair 
 
 To scatter pale roses or violets there. 
 
 The caverns of ocean no secrets disclose. 
 
 Or tell where the forms we have cherished, repose. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But calm are the waters — and proudly once more 
 Tall vessels speed on o'er the track as before ; 
 Yet hushed be the mirth of the crowd on the deck — 
 Be solemn — nor smile as ye pass o'er the wreck ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For ye have none lovelier, dearer than they ! 
 Their hearts were as fearless — their spirits as gay. 
 Like the warbling of birds was their musical glee, 
 But alas, it hath ceased in the roar of tlie sea. 
 
THE WRECK. Ill 
 
 IX. 
 
 We weep — but Jehovah shall chide not the tear, 
 Since Christ our Redeemer hath wept o'er the bier. 
 We mourn for the dead — for the weary ones left — 
 For the desolate orphan — the widow bereft. 
 
 X. 
 
 They are gone, and earth's glory seems faded and 
 
 sad — 
 They are gone — and its music no longer sounds- glad. 
 But lo ! there are added new forms to the band 
 Where spirits of beauty and happiness stand. 
 
 XI. 
 
 There are voices in heaven, that never before 
 Have chanted so sweetly the Name they adore. 
 They have vanished from earth, but we still our 
 
 regret. 
 In the hope of rejoining our lovely ones yet. 
 
€^t Iqing WlU 
 
 Weep not, beloved, that I pass before thee 
 On the bright pathway to eternal rest ; 
 
 That first my brow shall wear the crown of glory, 
 My song of praise be heard among the blest. 
 
 II. 
 
 But oh ! rejoice to think what days of gladness 
 Have lent their beauty to our earthly path ; 
 
 That no harsh thought or word 'to waken sadness, 
 May shade with gloom the picture Memory hath. 
 
 III. 
 
 Think of the happiness, so deep and tender, 
 
 That filled my heart while wandering by thy side ; 
 
 Think how thy faintest smile had power to render 
 The darkest moment one of love and pride. 
 
THE DYING WIFE. 113 
 
 IV. 
 
 Think, for I know 'twill wake a pleasant feeling, — 
 How ever kind thy words were wont to be ; 
 
 How mild the glance, thy faithful heart revealing. 
 How soft the cadence of thy voice to me. 
 
 V. 
 
 And now that this frail form in death grows colder, 
 A sweet, calm rapture fills the parting hour; 
 
 That thou art with me, though a sad beholder, 
 A witness of the dear Redeemer's power. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For oh, were not His arm my soul entwining. 
 How could I bear the pang of leaving thee ? 
 
 Did not His presence gild life's day declining. 
 What midnight darkness round my path would be. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But now I die, and yet my soul rejoices. 
 Knowing that I shall surely love thee still ; 
 
 Even from the melody of angel voices 
 
 That float around, and all my senses thrill. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For oh ! if they in all their towering splendour. 
 Enfold their glorious plumes round mortal forms, 
 
 How shall the spirit of a saint surrender 
 
 The joy of whispering peace amid life's storms. 
 10* 
 
114 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Ah yes, in danger ever hovering o'er thee, 
 
 My circling wings will shield thee night and day, 
 
 And when thy feet shall tread the path to glory, 
 My hand shall guide thee on the shining way. 
 
 X. 
 
 There, never more shall scene like this distress us ; 
 
 The Stream and Tree of Life we there shall see ; 
 And side by side, shall hear Jehovah bless us, 
 
 And sing His love through all eternity. 
 
iiies, 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO THE REV. T, H. STOCKTON, AND 
 SUGGESTED BY SOME REMARKS IN ONE OF HIS SERMONS. 
 
 Speed on, — oli ! well-beloved, speed o;i, 
 To bluer skies, to softer gales ; 
 
 While brightly leap the laughing waves 
 That whiten 'neath thy snowy sails. 
 
 II. 
 With canvass spread — with flag unfurled, 
 
 Where Truth and Love embracing meet. 
 Right onward be thy joyous course 
 
 In arrowy beauty, sure and fleet. 
 
 III. 
 From island-grove, from pearly strand, 
 
 Sweeter than Circean strains of yore. 
 Glad voices hail thy venturous bark, 
 
 And comrades join from every shore. 
 
116 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thee may no adverse winds delay, — 
 No treacherous rock, no stormy swell, 
 
 But heavenly pilots steer thy course 
 To realms where joys immortal dwell. 
 
 V. 
 
 Sweet be each breeze that fans thy brow — 
 Kind be each voice that greets thine ear ; 
 
 And oh ! to charm thy listening soul. 
 Be thy great Leader ever near. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Safe sails the bark He deigns to bless ! 
 
 Sure points the prow — fair wafts the wind ; 
 Behold the glorious port 's in view, — 
 
 Each cloudlike grief far, far behind. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thus, brother of my heart and soul. 
 
 Hath Hope, the charmer, whispered me ; — 
 
 And I her cheering strains have learned 
 To sing, with love's warm tears, for thee ! 
 
Xms. 
 
 I. 
 Will I come to thee, love ? Ay, as gladly and free, 
 As tlie bee to the blossom, the bird to the tree ; 
 As the breeze to the forest, the wave to the strand, 
 Or the tempest-tossed mariner, hast'ning to land. 
 
 II. 
 
 Will I come to thee now ? As the night for the day, 
 So fondly I languish, from thee, love, away. 
 And sweet are the words that recall me so soon. 
 As the gush of cool springs in the desert at noon ! 
 
CfiE IduI. 
 
 I. 
 
 Like a fairy harp ^olian is the wond'rous human 
 
 soul, 
 Swept by hands of viewless mins.trels — yielding to 
 
 each slight control. 
 
 II. 
 Like a lake that faithful mirrors clouds and sunshine 
 
 on its breast — 
 Lashed by storm-winds into billows — lulled by calm 
 
 to sweetest rest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Like a flower that blooms to beauty 'neath the sum- 
 mer's light and dew ; 
 
 Fading when the air grows frosty, darkening with a 
 sullen hue. 
 
THE SOUL. 119 
 
 ^ IV. 
 
 Such the human soul responsive, yielding to all out- 
 ward things, 
 
 Till, with sudden God-like grandeur, every power to 
 action springs. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then it standeth like a warrior, tall, and of majestic 
 
 pride. 
 Calling, with his silver trumpet, fellow-soldiers to 
 
 his side. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Like a minstrel, ever singing with a sweet, persua- 
 sive art. 
 
 Till his melody entrances, and takes captive every 
 heart. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Sometimes, like a veiled angel, goes it forth to charm 
 
 and bless ; 
 Sometimes, like a demon haughty, seeketh only to 
 
 oppress. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! thou human soul responsive, like the lake, the 
 
 harp, the flower. 
 Would that only heavenly causes o'er thy destiny 
 
 had power ! 
 
120 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Wondrous human soul, so mighty, like the warrior, 
 
 angel, bard, 
 Oh that thou wouldst battle only when the truth 
 
 requires thy guard ! 
 
C0 raq Mot^tr In Mtmm, 
 
 If in thy dwelling-place of glory, 
 
 Unseen by mortal eye, 
 Thou hearest thy weeping child implore thee. 
 
 Oh, sainted one ! draAV nigh. 
 Circle me now with thy immortal wings. 
 Bright with the splendour of all heavenly things ! 
 
 II. 
 From thy green bower of bliss, unfading, 
 
 Amid the ambrosial air, 
 Whose musical retreats are shading 
 
 Flowers ever fresh and fair. 
 Sweet mother, hasten at thy daughter's cry. 
 Viewless, yet present, let me feel thee nigh. 
 
 III. 
 Teach me to woo thee, blessed spirit ; 
 Vf hat language to employ ; 
 11 
 
122 POEMS. 
 
 Dearest, 'mid bright ones that inherit 
 
 Those homes of deathless joy; 
 Tell me if still within thy gentle breast 
 Feelings of earthly tenderness have rest ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 By all thy love with sorrow blending, 
 
 Sweet smiles, and sacred tears ; 
 By all thy whispered prayers, ascending 
 
 To Him wl^ knew thy fears ; 
 Once more, beloved one, with streaming eyes, 
 I call thee from the glory of the skies. 
 
 V. 
 
 By all the mild yet glad caressing, 
 That made my childhood bright ; 
 
 And by the still remembered blessing 
 Beside my couch at night ; 
 
 By all the hopes that lit those earnest eyes, 
 
 I call thy spirit back to human ties. 
 
 VI. 
 
 E'en by that hour, when feebly placing 
 
 Thy hand upon my head. 
 One trembling arm my form embracing. 
 
 Love's dying words were said ; 
 While, as to shield thee from the spoiler's dart, 
 I struggled closer to thy throbbing heart ! 
 
TO MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN. 123 
 
 VII. 
 
 By the mysterious music, waking 
 
 Thy spirit into light, — 
 By the unshadowed glory breaking 
 
 Upon thy raptured sight. 
 Prompting that latest murmur of thy voice, 
 Full of ecstatic bliss, " Rejoice, rejoice !" 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Alas, 'tis vain — this constant yearning 
 
 To look upon thy face ; 
 This strong desire for ever burning 
 
 To spring to thy embrace ! 
 I call thee — yet no answering tone I hear — 
 No sudden splendour tells me thou art near ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yet even as I speak, a vision 
 
 Grows clear to Fancy's eye ; 
 Shaming the fabled hues Elysian, 
 
 I see thy home on high. 
 And lo ! within it stands another form. 
 Just risen from the shadow of the storm. 
 
 She that first loved thee— vigils keeping 
 
 O'er thy sweet infant breath ; 
 She whose soft eyes were dim with weeping, 
 
 Beside thy bed of death. 
 
124 POEMS. 
 
 She too hath left us, fading from our sight, 
 With her meek smile and hair of silver white. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh, what to me earth's keenest sorrow, 
 
 If, with a faith divine, 
 My heart can consolation borrow 
 
 From hopes like hers and thine ! 
 Then shall I join thee with my latest breath. 
 And bliss that life denies me find in death. 
 
tantas. 
 
 Oh, why should the feelings of friendship be chilled, 
 By words without meaning — but uttered in jest ? 
 
 One such, 'mid a thousand by tenderness thrilled, 
 Should surely be lost in the sound of the rest ! 
 
 II. 
 'Tis not when the sky has been cloudless for weeks, 
 That beauty shines brightest in forests and bowers ; 
 But oh, what a charm he discovers who seeks 
 
 When the rainbow is bent o'er the scent-breathing 
 flowers ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Then, flying with joy from the shade of the tree. 
 
 How carols the bird thro' the sunshiny air ; 
 And his strain seems the sweeter and wilder with 
 glee. 
 That its notes have been hushed while the storm- 
 cloud was there. 
 
 11^ 
 
126 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then why shall not friends, like the bird and the 
 flower, 
 
 Forget that a cloud ever darkened their skies ? 
 For, wherefore turn back to the shade of an hour, 
 
 When days of enjoyment might gladden their eyes ? 
 
€^t igil Df %mi 
 
 I. 
 
 Calmly within its cradle bed 
 A gentle babe lay sleeping, 
 
 And silently beside it there 
 A sister watch was keeping. 
 
 II. 
 
 She gazed on it with tender pride, — 
 Its curls of amber brightness, 
 
 The morning's blush upon its cheek, 
 And its brow of pearly whiteness. 
 
 III. 
 
 She marked the line of azure light 
 Beneath the shadowing lashes, 
 
 And knew not if 'twas loveliest so, 
 Or lit with mirthful flashes. 
 
128 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 She was a fair and gentle girl, 
 Who watched the baby sleeping, 
 
 But oh, a brighter one than she, 
 A holier charge was keeping. 
 
 V. 
 
 Softer than moonlight was the ray 
 Upon those features shining, 
 
 And radiant as the stars, a crown 
 That angel brow entwining. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And earthly eyes have never worn 
 Looks so intensely beaming ; 
 
 So soft with love, so bright with joy. 
 With heaven's own beauty gleaming. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Nor ever lips of mortal maid 
 Parted with smiles so tender. 
 
 Or ever mortal form been seen 
 So dazzling in its splendour. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Far-floating was her glorious hair — 
 Her hair of sunny brightness, — 
 
 And half unfolded were her wings 
 Of more than snowy whiteness. 
 
THE VIGIL OF LOVE. 129 
 
 IX. 
 
 Fair, blessed mother ! guarding still 
 
 Her infant's happy dreaming, 
 Unseen by others, round his couch 
 
 Her robes were ever streaming. 
 
 X. 
 
 But well the favoured sleeper knew, 
 
 And smiled at her caressing. 
 And listened to her spirit-tones, 
 
 That ever spoke in blessing. 
 
 XI. 
 
 At last about its little bed 
 
 Were sounds of bitter sorrow, 
 And throbbing hearts, that feared to think 
 
 Upon the weary morrow. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But lo, a more ecstatic smile 
 
 The angel watcher weareth, — 
 A lovelier glory than before 
 
 Upon her face appeareth. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A dimming of the half-shut eye, 
 
 A cry, half pain, half gladness, 
 A shudder o'er the lovely limbs, 
 
 And he hath done with sadness. 
 
130 POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A spirit towards the glorious gate 
 
 Of Paradise is wending ; 
 A cherub in her arms she bears, 
 
 To share her bliss ascending. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Its shrine of clay is decked with flowers,- 
 Tears down their leaves are stealing ; 
 
 But at the throne of God on high, 
 Mother and child are kneeling. 
 
t Wit ta \tx Ibjgmt luisbnnh. 
 
 In fancy I see thee ! I greet thee once more, 
 'Mid the scenes where we wandered together of yore. 
 The tones of thy voice, love, come back to my heart, 
 And I feel I am with thee, wherever thou art ! 
 
 II. 
 
 For how shall deep torrents or forests of pride. 
 Keep back the free spirit that bounds to thy side ? 
 There frowns not a mountain, there rolls not a sea. 
 And there bursts not a storm, that can keep me from 
 thee. 
 
 III. 
 In the silence of night, when the moon looketh down, 
 And casts on the waters her silvery crown. 
 When her light through thy casement all silently 
 
 streams, 
 We will wander together, beloved, in dreams. 
 
132 POEMS. 
 
 IV 
 
 Ah, when to thy home thou returnest again, 
 All joys shall bloom brighter, like flowers after rain ; 
 For ne'er hath its music to me seemed complete, 
 Since it ceased to re-echo the sound of thy feet. 
 
 V. 
 
 Pale sorrow, that severs the friendship of years. 
 Shall bind us more closely, in darkness and tears. 
 Hand clasped within hand, and heart beating to 
 
 heart, — 
 Death only, beloved, our spirits can part. 
 
tu\ Cliilb 
 
 I. 
 What fairy creature cometh here, 
 
 To charm my solitude ? 
 Straying, like sunshine through a cloud, 
 
 From out the shady wood ! 
 She holdeth wild-flowers in her dress,— 
 
 One foot hath lost its shoe ; 
 And o'er its whiteness can I trace 
 
 The veins of violet hue. 
 
 II. 
 "Like golden links on ivory," 
 
 Her curls of shining hair, 
 Parted from off her lovely brow, 
 
 Fall on her shoulders bare. 
 Her eyes are bluer than the wave. 
 
 Beneath the sky at even. 
 And sparkling with a starry light, 
 
 As doth the crystal heaven. 
 
 12 
 
134 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 Red as a ruby are her lips, 
 
 Her cheeks wear fainter hue, 
 And there are tears upon their bloom, 
 
 As on a rose the dew ! 
 Poor child, the bird may find its nest 
 
 Amid the sheltering tree. 
 And fearless on its sunny track, 
 
 Wings the unerring bee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But vainly still her weary eyes 
 
 Seek for her home once more ; 
 She only knows the grass is soft 
 
 Around her mother's door ; 
 And purple hyacinths make the air 
 
 Sweet as themselves to smell ; 
 But weeps whene'er I ask the name 
 
 Of her she loves so well. 
 
 V. 
 
 The bird-cage at the window hangs, 
 
 And there the whole day long. 
 She says her dear canary sits. 
 
 And charms her with his song. 
 And now with blended smiles and tears. 
 
 That beautify her woes. 
 She tells how, lovelier every day, 
 
 Her baby-brother grows I 
 
THE LOST CHILD. 135 
 
 VI. 
 
 She pauses in her eager tone, — 
 
 She hears the well-known voice 
 Of one whose slightest word hath power 
 
 To make her heart rejoice. 
 " Mother !" '' Mj child !" — the blossoms fall 
 
 Unheeded to the ground, 
 As springing joyous from my side, 
 
 Those loving arms are found. 
 
 VII. 
 She cannot chide thee, thoughtless one, 
 
 But vainly tries to speak. 
 As once again she feels thy breath 
 
 Warm on her tearful cheek. 
 But He who reads her heart, beholds 
 
 Her thanks to Him arise, 
 As incense from a sacred shrine, 
 
 Floats upward to the skies. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Sweet one ! farewell ! like vision bright 
 
 Thy presence was to me ; 
 And still, while life and thought remain, 
 
 Will I remember thee. 
 As first I saw thee with thy flowers — 
 
 Yet oh ! by far more fair. 
 Emerging from the greenwood shade 
 
 Into the sunny air ! 
 
t CDraing of Crailiglji 
 
 I. 
 
 Welcome, sweet hour of tender light, 
 Thou fairer sister of the Night ! 
 Come with thy soft and shadowy train, 
 To cheer our weary hearts again. 
 Let Memory, with her dewy eyes, 
 Still gazing back at childhood's skies. 
 And voice, whose pensive music tells 
 Of parted joys, and riven spells, 
 With all the eloquence of truth. 
 Transport us to the days of youth. 
 
 II. 
 There in the sunrise of the past. 
 Is many a fleeting shadow cast ; 
 And countless tones enchant our ears, 
 Whose echoes have been lost for years. 
 There once again the form we love, 
 Whose spirit hath found rest above, 
 With all its wonted life and charms 
 Entwines us with its gentle arms. 
 
THE COMING OF TWILIGHT. 137 
 
 What though with Memory, dim descried, 
 Pale Sorrow wander side by side ? 
 We know that God with keenest sight 
 Hath wisely ordered all things right. 
 
 III. 
 In all her loveliness arrayed, 
 Bright Fancy next shall lend her aid. 
 We cross with her the waters wide. 
 Unmindful of the changing tide. 
 Again the distant and the dear, 
 As when we saw them last, appear. 
 Once more each tender thought we share. 
 Or join them in the whispered prayer. 
 And onward, to their quiet home, 
 With Fancy for our guide, we roam ; 
 For earth hath not a single spot 
 Where Fancy's footsteps wander not ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 So, when with Memory we have cast 
 Our glances o'er the lovely past, 
 And summoned all of Fancy's power 
 To deck with joy the present hour ; 
 Smiling, we turn and clasp the hand 
 Of Hope, the brightest of the band. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh who shall paint the glorious dyes 
 That lighten up our future's skies ? 
 
 12^ 
 
138 POEMS. 
 
 For, in their pure, unclouded blue, 
 All heaven is opened to our view. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ah, Memory's charms are but of earth, 
 And point to joys of mortal birth ; 
 But Hope soars upward, — far away, 
 Beyond the gloom of earthly day. 
 Nor pauseth in her flight to rest, 
 Till in the regions of the blest. 
 She walks with angels side by side, 
 And Spirits of the Sanctified. 
 She bathes her wings in living light ; 
 Her garments are of shining white. 
 She stoopeth o'er the flowery brink 
 Of cool, transparent streams to drink ; 
 Or resteth 'neath the odorous shade. 
 By music-haunted forests made. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The eve grows dark, — so, day by day, 
 The light of life shall fade away. 
 Ah, happy if its twilight hour 
 Can gather joy from Memory's power. 
 If Hope and Faith draw kindly nigh. 
 With visions of a brighter sky, 
 And bid us calmly sink to rest 
 Upon the dear Redeemer's breast. 
 
t Hetiirn 
 
 I. 
 The world looks on me coldly, 
 
 My summer friends are fled, 
 And I come to thee, my mother. 
 
 To soothe my aching head ! 
 Once more on thy dear bosom 
 
 My weary eyes I close, 
 And sigh for the peaceful visions 
 
 Of childhood's sweet repose. 
 
 II. 
 My cheek hath lost its redness. 
 
 And my lip its joyous smile ; 
 Yet still for thee, my mother. 
 
 This heart beats warm the while. 
 Ay, pass thy gentle fingers 
 
 Amid my curls once more. 
 Though they have lost the brightness 
 
 My boyhood's beauty wore ! 
 
140 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 I know the form is trembling 
 
 That was so tall and strong ; 
 And mj voice has lost its fulness 
 
 That was so praised in song. 
 Yet weep not, best beloved, 
 
 This air will brace my frame, 
 And the voice regain its music. 
 
 That only speaks thy name. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet worse than all, my mother, 
 * These eyes have looked on sin, 
 And at the bowers of pleasure 
 
 My feet have entered in. 
 Then she I loved so wildly, 
 
 Whose smile for me was light, 
 Forsook me in my anguish. 
 
 And left a starless night. 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet thou — Heaven bless thee, mother ! 
 
 For all those pitying tears. 
 And for thy sweet caressing. 
 
 That banishes my fears. 
 Thy love was mine in gladness. 
 
 And oh, how well I knew 
 If I turned to thee in sorrow, 
 
 I'd find it still as true. 
 
THE RETURN. 141 
 
 VI. 
 
 I thought to bring thee riches, 
 
 To make thy home more bright ; 
 And grieve that I should only 
 
 Bring darkness and a blight. 
 Yet, when these balmy breezes 
 
 Give back my strength once more, 
 I'll toil for thee, my mother. 
 
 And thy wants shall all be o'er. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A smile lit up the features 
 
 That were so wan and fair. 
 And a sudden gleam of sunlight 
 
 Fell on the shining hair. 
 The aching head so weary 
 
 Had found a better rest ; 
 And his last thoughts were those of love. 
 
 Upon his mother's breast. 
 
t (Bnstnn %x\h 
 
 (an illustration.) 
 
 I. 
 
 Soft falls the light o'er Rajasthan, 
 
 While she, who is its loveliest daughter, 
 Still in her bridal gems arrayed, 
 
 Sits gazing out upon the water. 
 Her eye and lip wear light and smile— 
 
 The light of love — the smile of pleasure — 
 As expectation visions sweet 
 
 The coming of her bosom's treasure. 
 Ah ! fairest one, it needeth not 
 
 Those pearls and gems thy charms adorning, 
 To make thee brighter in his eyes 
 
 To whom thou art the star of morning. 
 The cygnet's music so divine, 
 "Were not as sweet to him as thine, — 
 While still for him thy charms unclose. 
 As to the bulbul doth the rose. 
 
THE EASTERN BRIDE. 143 
 
 II. 
 
 What though thy rounded cheek refuse 
 The ruby's glow, the lily's hues ? — 
 As stars are fairest seen at night, 
 So eyes like thine of flashing light 
 Beam not beneath a brow more white; 
 And rarely 'neath a northern heaven 
 Is such an ardent spirit given. 
 As that which glorifies thy face. 
 And lends thy form its stately grace. 
 Child of a chief — a warrior's bride, — 
 Of both the joy — of both the pride — 
 What shade of woe, or thought of fear. 
 Should find one instant's dwelling near ? 
 
 III. 
 The sky hath many a rainbow hue. 
 
 The wave hath many a picture fair ; 
 And music, like a spirit's voice. 
 
 Comes floating o'er the fragrant air ! 
 But she, bright dreamer ! heedeth not 
 
 The loveliness of earth or heaven, 
 And vainly to the zephyr's wing 
 
 The lotus hath its perfume given. 
 For oh ! the glory of her skies 
 Shines on her from her chieftain's eyes. 
 While at the murmur of his voice 
 Her thoughts, like echoes sweet, rejoice. 
 For him to live — with him to die — 
 She asks no brighter destiny ! 
 
144 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The stars are out, the moonbeams glide 
 
 Like pearls upon the silver tide, — 
 The bulbul warbles to the rose, 
 
 As one by one her leaves disclose. 
 Yet none of these, in this sweet hour. 
 To wake that radiant smile hath power ; 
 Words utter not her joy and pride. 
 As springs her lover to her side ! 
 
^UhWB of 9^tauti|. 
 
 I. 
 
 They come with sudden brightness, 
 They startle thought's repose ; 
 
 They thrill our inmost being, 
 As their radiant charms disclose. 
 
 II. 
 
 Sometimes fair angel faces 
 A moment bless our sight. 
 
 With gaze of softened splendour, 
 And brows of shining light ! 
 
 III. 
 
 As though a veil were parted, 
 The lovely ones look in ; 
 
 And with their white arms beckon 
 Our hearts from earth and sin. 
 13 
 
146 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And often mortal beauty, 
 With shadowy violet eyes 
 
 And lips of rosebud sweetness. 
 To our spirit's call replies. 
 
 We see them but an instant, 
 Yet the vision is as clear 
 
 As e'er on painter's canvass 
 The pictured forms appear. 
 
 VI. 
 Our souls drink in the music 
 
 Of an all-ethereal strain ; 
 And we mourn that other voices 
 
 Must meet our ear again. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Sometimes a lovely valley 
 In the soft sunset warms, 
 
 Like a fair child reposing 
 In its fond mother's arms 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Or snowy-wreathed mountains 
 In the pale moonlight rise ; 
 
 Wearing the stars for diadem 
 To our entranced eyes. 
 
VISIONS OF BEAUTY. 147 
 
 IX. 
 
 An azure sky is bending 
 
 O'er a placid river's breast ; 
 Where golden clouds are mirrored, 
 
 Like spirit-barks at rest. 
 
 X. 
 
 Out gleams a lofty palace, 
 
 'Mid tall, ancestral trees, 
 And now, o'er moss-roofed cottage. 
 
 Goes by the singing breeze. 
 
 xr. 
 Sometimes a stately monarch 
 
 To Fancy's sceptre bends ; 
 Or by a shining fountain 
 
 Fair childhood's shout ascends. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Nay more. Heaven's portals open, 
 
 Its amber streets appear. 
 And songs of angel-dwellers 
 
 Thrill on the ravished ear. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh, mind ! how grand and noble 
 
 Thy universal glance ! 
 E'en suns and stars are gleaming 
 
 Amid thy thought's expanse. 
 
148 POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A regal child, though exiled ; 
 
 Thy plumes shall never rest, 
 Till in quivering rapture folded 
 
 On thy Sire's eternal breast ! 
 
tut in iDrrura 
 
 When thou shalt see a face of patient sadness, 
 
 Or hear a sigh, unmarked by all save thee ; 
 When thine own heart hath half forgotten gladness^ 
 Remember me ! 
 
 II. 
 For oh, I would not like a cloud be shading 
 
 The glorious radiance of a sunny way ; 
 Or like a blighted flower, 'mid those unfading. 
 Tell of decay ! 
 
 III. 
 Not when all round thee shall be fresh and glowing. 
 
 Light in the sky, and odour in the air, 
 I would not thou a thought on me bestowing, 
 Shouldst wish me there. 
 13* 
 
150 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But when thou hearest a lonely wild-bird singing, 
 
 Deep in some forest's shadow, mournfully, 
 Or seest a pale bud in a desert springing, 
 Remember me ! 
 
t |5iuting IDoak. 
 
 I. 
 It was a morn in summer time, 
 
 And sweet, from far-off trees, 
 Like a fair young spirit wandering. 
 
 Came by tlie gentle breeze : 
 The flowers, bright summer's fairy ones. 
 
 Flung incense all around, 
 And the blue river glided by 
 
 As with a laughing sound. 
 
 II. 
 All told of life, and hope, and love, 
 
 All, save our hearts, were gay ; 
 Our hearts, that sickened when we heard 
 
 Even children at their play ! 
 A bird upon our window sill 
 
 Warbled its sweetest strain, — 
 We could not bear its joyous tones. 
 
 And sent it forth again ! 
 
152 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 But she, herself a fairer flower 
 
 Than all that bloomed around, — 
 Our loveliest and our dearest one, 
 
 Whose voice was music's sound, — 
 Whose smile was like a ray of light 
 
 Upon a rose of May, 
 Whose winning words of tenderness 
 
 Had cheered our darkest day, — 
 
 IV. 
 With the soft cadence of her voice. 
 
 Her words that brought delight, — 
 The beauty of her angel smile. 
 
 Was passing from our sight. 
 For ah ! the bloom upon her cheek 
 
 Was not the rose of May, 
 But one whose very brightness proved 
 
 The emblem of decay. 
 
 V. 
 
 We would have nursed her tenderly, 
 
 With looks and words of love. 
 Nor left her till she took her flight 
 
 For a better world above. 
 But ah, too close the city's breath. 
 
 Too bright its heated glare. 
 For the meek blossom in our midst 
 
 Who pined for purer air. 
 
THE PARTING LOOK. 
 VI. 
 
 ^nd we, — how hard it was to bear 
 
 The sufferings of our fate, — 
 We might not leave our humble home 
 
 To watch her failing state. 
 For toil was ours, from morn till night 
 
 E'en for our loved one's sake, 
 For her few fleeting hours of life 
 
 A gentler lot to make. 
 
 VII. 
 
 At length the parting hour had come ; 
 
 And oh, the bitter woe. 
 As one by one we clasped her form 
 
 For the last time below. 
 A crimson glow^ w^as on her cheek. 
 
 But calm her earnest eyes. 
 For not a tear obscured the light 
 
 They borrowed from the skies. 
 
 VIII. 
 For each a soothing word she had, 
 
 A sister's smile of love, 
 The hope of meeting all again 
 
 In the bright world above. 
 She gained the door, but slowly turned 
 
 As with a spirit's gaze, 
 Shining within her memory. 
 
 The home of early days. 
 
 153 
 
154 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 On each pale face, with yearning love, 
 
 She fixed her parting look ; 
 On all the flowers she used to tend, 
 
 On each familiar book. 
 Then silently she sought again 
 
 Her mother's guarding hand, 
 And so they parted from our sight. 
 
 Those dearest of our band. 
 
 X. 
 
 When next we saw that lovely face. 
 
 Those eyes were closed in d^ath. 
 Though still the smiling lips appeared 
 
 Parting with gentle breath ; 
 But wherefore dwell upon the scene ? 
 
 She loved us to the last ; 
 And waits us in her bower of bliss. 
 
 When life with us is past ! 
 
€^t %U^ mm. 
 
 I. 
 
 See him luxurious, 
 
 In costly attire, 
 Crowned with all honours 
 
 E'en he can desire. 
 Haughty in bearing 
 
 To the lowly and poor. 
 Smilingly welcoming 
 
 Rank to his door. 
 
 II. 
 See where his daughters. 
 
 In velvet and gold, 
 Sparkling with jewels, 
 
 Their mirrors behold. 
 Look at his sons. 
 
 As they tread in his path, 
 
156 POEMS. 
 
 With glances of pride 
 On the meek at their side, 
 Nor dream that they glide 
 Over hillows of wrath. 
 
 III. 
 Enter his mansion, 
 
 Where pleasure-crowned hours 
 Float to him lightly 
 
 As doivn unto flowers. 
 Gaze on its walls, 
 
 With their life-seeming forms, 
 Where even the Saviour, 
 
 Pale Victor o'er storms, 
 The "poor and afflicted" 
 By pride is depicted 
 
 In regal attiring. 
 O'er crystal waves standing. 
 With sceptre commanding 
 
 The tempest 's admiring. 
 
 IV. 
 
 See him, with face 
 
 Where benevolence reigns. 
 Publicly grieving 
 
 O'er poverty's pains ! 
 Lo where the walls 
 
 Of a palace arise, 
 Vaunting his charity 
 
 E'en to the skies ! 
 
THE RICH MAN. 157 
 
 Though for each pillar 
 
 The sums that he gave, 
 Had rescued the starving 
 
 And ransomed the slave ! 
 View but its splendour, 
 
 Its classical air ; 
 And joy that thj city 
 
 Hath sculptures so rare ! 
 
 V. 
 
 True, from his door, 
 
 With a scanty-robed form, 
 WidoAved and weeping, 
 
 Exposed to the storm, — 
 His childhood's companion, 
 
 Whose sunny-hued hair. 
 Once blent with his locks 
 
 By the bedside at prayer, — 
 Whose hand their pale mother 
 
 Had laid in his own, 
 And joyed that though dying. 
 
 She left her not lone, — 
 Even her, with her dear one. 
 
 He banished with jeers. 
 Though her only upbraiding 
 
 Was silence and tears. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For what but presumption 
 And folly could lead, 
 14 
 
158 POEMS. 
 
 The famished and wretched 
 To him in their need ? 
 
 If they might not in gladness 
 New pleasures disclose, 
 
 'Twere the least they could do 
 Not to mar his repose. 
 
 VII. 
 Ah, wild was the howl 
 
 Of the tempest that night, 
 But the child and the mother 
 
 Escaped from its might. 
 The dawn of the day 
 
 Saw the outcast at rest, 
 Her waxen arms folding 
 
 Her babe to her breast. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 View him, with one hand 
 
 Lavishing gold. 
 E'en while the other, 
 
 Sad to behold, — 
 The widow's hard earnings. 
 Of shillings and farthings. 
 
 Is seen to enfold. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Ah ! does no thought 
 In the silence of night, 
 
THE RICH MAN. 159 
 
 Make his cheek blanch 
 
 With a powerless affright ? 
 No dread of that world, 
 
 Where with Dives-like groan, 
 His prayer shall be uttered 
 
 In vain to the Throne ! 
 When his far-piercing eye 
 
 From that gloomy abode, 
 Shall gaze on the grandeur 
 
 And bliss of the good ! 
 
 X. 
 
 When even the seraph, 
 
 Whose nature is love. 
 Must wing in far distance 
 
 His sorrows above ! 
 There radiant in beauty 
 
 E'en she shall appear, — 
 But too wise for compassion. 
 
 Too glad for a tear ! 
 
€^t %tBhu\uii 
 
 " The Lord shall comfort Zion."— Isa. 51 : 3. 
 
 " No man can read the hook of Isaiah intelligently, and not perceive that it 
 is hurdened with the glorious theme of the future exaltation of Israel. That 
 very fifty-third chapter, often as we quote it as all fulfilled, and with a merely 
 general reference, what is it but the penitential song of Israel restored?"^ — 
 Rev. Dr. Tyng. 
 
 I SAW in wondrous vision, in Faith's serenest light, 
 The glory of the latter days unveiled to my sight. 
 A scene of golden splendour uprose before my eyes, 
 Of palaced streets and shining domes 'neath Oriental 
 skies. 
 
 II. 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! who has not heard thy fame, 
 And felt his inmost bosom thrill, at mention of thy 
 
 name ? 
 Who has not mourned thy fallen pride, thine exiled, 
 
 royal race. 
 And burned to hurl the oppressor down, so impious 
 
 and base ? 
 
THE RESTORATION. 161 
 
 III. 
 
 But in the mystic vision all glorious once more, 
 Gleamed olive-grove, and pendant fruit, luxuriant 
 
 as of yore ; 
 And, numbered with earth's vanished things, each 
 
 Moslem trace had fled, 
 While, more resplendent than of old, the Temple 
 
 reared its head. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My heart grew wild with ecstasy, my soul was all on 
 
 flame. 
 As, passing through the open courts, with rapid steps 
 
 I came 
 To where an altar gleaming shone, in mystic light 
 
 arrayed. 
 Where sculptured art, with triumph rare, two angel 
 
 forms displayed. 
 
 V. 
 I asked not what the names they bore, nor paused 
 
 in my advance ; 
 I knew that one was Mercy's form — her soft and 
 
 pitying glance ; 
 The other Faith, majestic, tall, with brow and hand 
 
 upraised 
 To where, in glory's fairest light, a Cross effulgent 
 
 blazed ! 
 
 14* 
 
162 POEMS. 
 
 vr. 
 In mute surprise and breathless, I gazed around me 
 
 then, 
 On countless throngs of worshippers, fair maids and 
 
 noble men ; 
 And every form the impress wore of Israel's royal 
 
 race, 
 Dark-beaming eyes, and raven locks, and lips of 
 
 classic grace ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But soon, like trumpet's silver note, a single voice 
 
 arose. 
 And ne'er shall I forget the sound till life and being 
 
 close ; 
 ''The Lord our Righteousness!" the words that 
 
 swelled triumphant by, 
 '* The Cross, our glorious hope on earth, our passport 
 
 to the sky. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 '' The earth confessed His presence — the mount in 
 
 sunder rent — 
 The grave proclaimed Him victor in praises eloquent. 
 But we hid our faces from Him — His call we did 
 
 despise — 
 He wore no grace or comeliness unto our blinded 
 
 eyes." 
 
THE RESTORATION. 163 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then, like the voice of waters, or thunders borne 
 along. 
 
 With organ-peal and harp-notes blent, replied the 
 mighty throng : 
 
 " He for our sins was stricken — our griefs He sor- 
 rowing bore. 
 
 Resigned His holy form to death that Ave might die 
 
 X. 
 
 Again the priestly voice : — " Like sheep that go 
 
 astray, 
 We wandered from the olden path, and chose a 
 
 broader way ; 
 But He, with patient footsteps, amid our scorn and 
 
 jeers. 
 Bent 'neath the burden of our sins through all His 
 
 spotless years. 
 
 XI. 
 
 "E'en judgment was denied Him — a prison was too 
 
 bright — 
 A home on earth for Him who fills the universe with 
 
 light ; 
 Oppressed and sore afflicted — yet no complaint was 
 
 heard. 
 As a Lamb before the altar, so He uttered not a 
 
 word. 
 
164 POEMS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 '' In the darkness of the grave with the wicked was 
 
 He laid ; 
 And a prayer for the transgressors was the Latest 
 
 that He made ; 
 A gloom as if of midnight enclosed the solemn scene, 
 And we joyed that God-forsaken His last sad hour 
 
 had been." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Again the thunder-tones did exultingly reply : 
 
 *' He was mighty to redeem, with ' His sword upon 
 His thigh.' 
 
 And with a conqueror's tread, He shook Death's 
 dark domain, 
 
 And the pale king of terrors gave up his martyr- 
 slain." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The sound of rushing pinions on swiftest errand bent — 
 The warbling of sweet voices that thrilled the firma- 
 ment ! 
 The chant of Alleluias — the praises of the Lamb, 
 And the olden cloud of glory within the Temple 
 came. 
 
/iilst d^iu 
 
 I. 
 I KNEW a maiden, in her first bright youth, 
 
 Whose love was sought by many, yet in vain. 
 Till one of nobler intellect drew nigh, 
 
 And thrilled her heart with song's enchanting 
 strain. 
 
 II. 
 
 Stately his form, and courteous were his words. 
 And when his graceful head to her he bowed. 
 
 While his dark lustrous gaze was on her bent. 
 She was the envied of the fair and proud. 
 
 III. 
 
 She was a gentle girl, scarce more than child ; 
 
 All golden fell her curls in artless play ; 
 And her large eyes, so beautifully blue. 
 
 Looked shyly round with soft, beseeching ray 
 
166 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 She had a mind above the common mould, 
 
 Full of high thoughts and soaring hopes elate ; 
 
 Which made the friends who knew and loved her 
 best. 
 Watch, with a trembling fear, her coming fate. 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet, half unconscious of her being's powers, 
 
 Deep blushes dyed her cheek whene'er she spoke, 
 
 And her sweet voice, melodious as a lute. 
 Upon the ear in murmured music broke. 
 
 VI. 
 
 '' She loved and was beloved," her heart was full 
 Of deep, confiding tenderness and truth ; 
 
 Yet e'en her lover knew not half her charms. 
 So veiled by maidenly reserve and youth. 
 
 VII. 
 When all her soul his eloquence entranced, 
 
 'Twas her own genius lent its richest glow ; 
 And thoughts, half uttered, found within her breast 
 
 A glorious fulness and harmonious flow. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I said her lover was of noble mien. 
 
 And knew with subtle charm to win her ear ; 
 
 But they who from his boyhood watched his course. 
 Deemed him of wayward mood, and insincere. 
 
THE FALSE ONE. 167 
 
 IX. 
 
 But months had passed since first, with passionate 
 gaze, 
 
 His eye had rested on her youthful form. 
 And still all fervently his vows were paid ; 
 
 And earth seemed, Eden-like, without a storm. 
 
 X. 
 
 At length, one eve, amid a festal scene, 
 
 A bright Italian beauty won his eye, 
 With raven tresses o'er her cheek's warm glow, 
 
 And glance that darted love resistlessly. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Her voice, of wondrous melody and power. 
 Rose like an angel's, richly eloquent ; 
 
 And when she sang her most bewitching strains. 
 Softly on him her 'wildering gaze she bent. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Caressingly, she leaned upon his arm. 
 
 And spoke of his betrothed with gentle praise. 
 
 Then wondered if, within our northern clime. 
 Love's soul was flame as 'neath Italia's rays ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And still, with all her soft approving words. 
 Were mingled sighs, as from a heart oppressed. 
 
 Till 'neath the glory of that summer moon, 
 
 A maddening tumult thrilled the listener's breast. 
 
168 POEMS. 
 
 XIV. 
 And from the pure and guileless-hearted one 
 
 Of his first choice, his blinded fancy roved, 
 And, bowing humbly at another shrine, 
 
 Recreant to honour as to love he proved. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then, magical and swift, to woman sprung 
 
 That fair and timid girl^his promised bride ! — 
 
 And if in solitude her grief found vent. 
 
 None knew 'twas mastered by such glorious pride. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And if the rose upon her polished cheek 
 Grew paler in its hue, her dazzling eyes 
 
 Looked forth all queenly on the wondering throng ; 
 While witlings cowered beneath her keen replies. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Yet was she ever noble ; — warm and true, 
 
 Her soul the charms of friendship still controlled. 
 
 And many a poor and drooping one she cheered, 
 Joy of the young, and blessing of the old ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The false one wedded his Italian love. 
 
 And found, too late, how artful were her wiles ; — 
 His wealth the object of her smothered sighs. 
 
 His lofty rank the Avinner of her smiles. 
 
THE FALSE ONE. 169 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Haughty and vain, of most impetuous will, 
 Her constant strife embittered all his days, 
 
 Until with vain regret his eyes were turned 
 On his first choice, with a despairing gaze. 
 
 XX. 
 
 How like a being of another world ! 
 
 Her form majestic and her stately grace ; 
 While her clear tones, a music most serene. 
 
 Told the sweet thoughts that in her heart had 
 place. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And oft with anguish deep and uncontrolled, 
 He fled her presence in the lighted hall ; 
 
 And 'neath the darkest shadow of the trees, 
 With wild remorse upon her name would call. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 His bride she greeted with a tranquil smile. 
 Yet stooped not to her from her starry sphere ; 
 
 Her lofty soul, that scorned deceit or guile, 
 Soared far above in air more bright and clear. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But once again his heart was free to choose, — 
 For Death befriended him and loosed his ties ; 
 
 And now he revelled in a fancied bliss, 
 
 And dreamed he saw a brighter dawn arise. 
 15 
 
170 POEMS. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 'Twas on the evening of a summer's day, 
 He sought the lady in her rosy bower, 
 
 And after slight discourse on passing things, 
 Essayed again a tale of love to pour. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 One moment on his face, with mute surprise, 
 She gazed, as knowing not his meaning quite ; 
 
 Then rose, and bending low her graceful head 
 In sole reply, she glided from his sight. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And years passed by, yet adding charm to charm. 
 And ne'er from friendship's claims her heart did 
 rove, 
 
 Till one all worthy of the priceless boon 
 Awoke her being to a second love. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 A love with pure esteem securely blent — 
 
 The choice of her matured and conscious powers ; 
 
 And folded in his arms, she blessed the fate 
 That lured the false one of her girlish hours. 
 
^nnr Xili). 
 
 I. 
 
 The laughter of gay-hearted children, 
 
 At play 'mid the blossoming bowers, 
 Like sunbeams they dance in their beauty, 
 
 A frolic bo-peep with the flowers. 
 There's Annie, with brow like the dawning. 
 
 And cheek like the heart of a rose. 
 With eyes like the violets, open. 
 
 And lids like twin-pearls when they close. 
 
 II. 
 There's Herbert, fair shouldered, but stately, 
 
 With glance like the eagle's, in pride ; 
 With merry shout, half in defiance. 
 
 And sword buckled on at his side. 
 Then there's little pet Rosa, a darling. 
 
 Who nestles in hearts like a dove ! 
 With the bloom of three summers around her ; 
 
 Just made for caresses and love. 
 
172 POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 Their father laughs with them, and gazes 
 
 With pride that a father but knows, 
 When his sons spring in vigour around him, 
 
 His fairy girls bloom like the rose. 
 But where is the gentle-voiced mother ? 
 
 Ah, let us go softly and see. 
 Come, stand by this vine-wreathdd casement, 
 
 And gaze 'neath its shadows with me. 
 
 IV. 
 Tread lightly ; for here, like an angel, 
 
 She watcheth by night and by day, 
 While her musical murmurs tell sadly. 
 
 Poor Lily is fading away. 
 Sweet Lily ! — love-guarded, but mournful — 
 
 Deformity's blight, from her birth, 
 Hath clung like a fetter around her. 
 
 And saddened the glories of earth. 
 
 V. 
 
 Would you witness the smile of that mother 
 
 Its radiance most heavenly wear. 
 Gaze not when her beautiful children 
 
 Bring blossoms to twine 'mid her hair. 
 Although she hath smiles of true fondness 
 
 For the bright ones we left in the bowers ; 
 The glad ones who glow with the sunbeams. 
 
 And bloom with the dew-laden flowers. 
 
POOR LILY. 173 
 
 VI. 
 
 But they are so rich in aiFection, — 
 
 All nature to charm them outspread ; 
 Not even a stranger goes by them, 
 
 But blesses each graceful young head. 
 While for Lily, poor Lily, one fountain 
 
 Of silvery brightness alone, 
 Doth shed its soft brilliance beside her, 
 
 And cheer her to know it's her own. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The smile most angelic 's for Lily, — 
 
 Yes, only for Lily it beams ! 
 And the tones of her voice that are sweetest. 
 
 Lull Lily to angel-like dreams. 
 Her eye hath a love-glance for Annie, 
 
 A sparkle for Herbert and Rose ; 
 But oh, what a world of sweet meanings 
 
 For the poor stricken Lily it knows ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 She hath talked to her dear one of heaven. 
 
 And Jesus and Seraphim bright. 
 Of its ever-glad songs, and its river. 
 
 O'er whose margin she'll roam like the light. 
 But Lily at first listened sadly. 
 
 Reluctant to leave her sweet nest : 
 " Can heaven for me be quite happy. 
 
 Away from thy sheltering breast ?" 
 15* 
 
174 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Yet day after day, the fond mother 
 
 Who seeth her gentle one fade, 
 Hath drawn for her, brighter and brighter, 
 
 Fair pictures in glory arrayed. 
 Till now, with her head softly pillowed, 
 
 Sweet Lily can hear with delight, 
 Of the hour when her griefs shall fall from her. 
 
 And Paradise gleam on her sight. 
 
 X. 
 
 And Lily will soon, like a vision. 
 
 Have passed from our shadowy day ; 
 Like a melody, lovely but mournful. 
 
 That floats on the breezes away. 
 Her father, with eye slightly saddened. 
 
 Will murmur, "Poor Lily's at peace!" 
 And friends will look grave for an instant. 
 
 Then add, "'Tis a happy release." 
 
 XI. 
 
 But never again shall the mother 
 
 Walk forth in her beauty's fair pride, — 
 I know she will droop from the moment 
 
 Sweet Lily doth fall from her side. 
 She may linger for years with her bright ones. 
 
 Ever loving in word and in smile ; 
 But her heart's dearest hopes and communings 
 
 Will be with lost Lily the while ! 
 
Xunatt, 
 
 I. 
 The voice of song was on the air — the sunny morn- 
 ing air, 
 And oh, how joyously it rose above the landscape 
 
 fair. 
 You might have thought on that sweet day, the 
 
 fairy of the flowers 
 Had taught their fragrant lips the charm of music's 
 magic powers ! 
 
 But 'twas the voice of Leonore, 
 
 The loveliest of our flock. 
 Standing upon the wave-kissed shore. 
 Beside yon mossy rock. 
 
 II. 
 There w^as a form in robe of white, on marble terrace 
 
 seen. 
 Her glorious eyes of southern light were raised to 
 
 Night's pale queen ; 
 
176 POEMS. 
 
 Some proud enchantress did she seem, communing 
 
 silent there 
 With viewless spirits of the stars, called from their 
 dwellings fair. 
 
 But 'twas the form of Leonore ! 
 
 The loveliest of our band ; 
 All peerless as in days of yore, 
 But in a distant land. 
 
 III. 
 There came a vessel o'er the deep — our hearts with 
 
 joy grew wild ; 
 Not that the princely trod her deck, or fortune's 
 
 favoured child ; 
 Not that with silks and jewels rare her secret depths 
 
 were lined. 
 Or that the brave from battle-field returned with 
 laurels twined. 
 
 Ah no ! 'twas fairest Leonore, 
 
 The loveliest of our band ; 
 Still radiant in her beauty's power. 
 Came back to mother-land. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Hail, gallant bark !" — She touched the shore — a 
 music strain arose. 
 
 Now swelling like a tempest-tone — now soft as lute- 
 note's close ; 
 
LEONORE. 177 
 
 Now floating, like a joyous call, o'er wave and val- 
 ley's bloom, — 
 Now mournfully, like eartli-born woe, it breathed 
 despair and gloom. 
 
 It seemed to murmur, Leonore ! 
 
 For when she left our band. 
 She sought to cheer the parting hour 
 With tones from the music-land. 
 
 V. 
 
 And ah, that well-remembered strain ! — it was the 
 
 very last 
 That died upon her rosy lips, while tears fell warm 
 
 and fast ! 
 Now beamed our eyes with pleasure bright, " Our 
 
 Leonore's own song !" 
 When suddenly a mournful group came through the 
 parting throng ! 
 
 With measured steps, a funeral train ! 
 
 A sable pall they bore ; 
 And the form it veiled from the gazer's eye 
 Was the form of Leonore ! 
 
€^t ^xlHl 
 
 I. 
 " Thou hast won her to thyself, — my fan- and lovely 
 
 flower, 
 That hath blossomed like a lily within her natal 
 
 bower ; 
 She hath lain upon my bosom, she seemed rooted in 
 
 my heart, — 
 Ah how, without repining, can I see her thus depart ? 
 
 II. 
 "The summer flowers are faded, the sweet south 
 
 winds are gone ; 
 And the howling blasts of winter are hurrying swiftly 
 
 on, 
 But the summer of the heart may still be fresh and 
 
 fair, 
 And, I charge thee, keep my darling amid its genial 
 
 air !" 
 
THE BRIDAL. 179 
 
 III. 
 
 'Twas thus the tender mother, with sweet but falter- 
 ing voice, 
 
 Gave up her cherished treasure to the guardian of 
 her choice : — 
 
 But ere her trembling murmurs had into silence 
 died, 
 
 Came other loving voices, of melody and pride ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Thou art taking from our midst our singing-bird 
 
 awaj ; 
 Who charmed for us the weary hours of many a 
 
 clouded day. 
 But now her nest she leaveth, a shy but loving bride. 
 To fold her gentle wings all day contented by thy 
 
 side. 
 
 " Fair be the skies above ye — the earth beneath be 
 
 bright — 
 And favouring breezes waft ye on to scenes of new 
 
 delight ; 
 Our home, beloved sister, will miss thy presence gay ; 
 But we'll smile when we remember thou'rt happy, 
 
 though away !" 
 
^ihm. 
 
 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER HUSBAND's DEATH. 
 
 I. 
 
 There was a voice I dearly loved to hear, 
 That used to speak in accents sweet and low ; 
 
 There was a glance that banished every fear, 
 And blessed me with its light, a year ago ! 
 
 II. 
 There was a heart that beat for me alone, 
 
 With a pulsation never faint or slow ; 
 There was a soul that claimed me for its own, 
 
 And shrined my image, but a year ago. 
 
 III. 
 There was a form that rarely left my side ; 
 
 Apart from me it seemed but grief to know ; 
 I was its life, its glory, and its pride. 
 
 Its all of hope and joy, a year ago. 
 
THE WIDOW. 181 
 
 I 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then, all around a brightness seemed to wear, 
 That since I cannot find where'er I go ; 
 
 The very skies seem not one-half so fair, 
 So clearly brilliant as a year ago. 
 
 Then Hope with sweetest music charmed my ear, 
 While Faith, enraptured, heard her accents flow, 
 
 And Fancy filled the very atmosphere 
 With forms of beauty, but a year ago. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But now, though spring with buds of promise come, 
 And summer gives their leaves a richer glow, — 
 
 Blossom or flower, they will not seem to bloom 
 With the same freshness as a year ago ! 
 
 16 
 
(Immn, 
 
 In her infant beauty bright, 
 Free from sin and sorrow's blight, 
 Hasting from a world of pain. 
 From a life whose joys are vain. 
 She hath closed her weary eyes. 
 On our sad and clouded skies. 
 
 II. 
 
 On her mother's tender breast 
 She shall sink no more to rest ; 
 Or, awaking with the day 
 From her childish slumbers gay. 
 Bid that mother's heart rejoice 
 With the music of her voice. 
 
 III. 
 Lo ! with summer's flowers she came, 
 And departed with the same ; 
 
EMMA. 183 
 
 Passing from our world of strife 
 With one winter in her life ; 
 Upward now her spirit springs, 
 With no shadow on its wings. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nightly kneeling by her bed, 
 Prayers and thanks were softly said ; 
 Prayers to shield from future harm, 
 Thanks for each unfolding charm ; 
 Listen calmly, while I show 
 How those prayers are answered now. 
 
 God, who " doeth all things well," 
 Took her with himself to dwell. 
 Safe from sin — from sorrow free, — 
 Blest for all eternity. 
 Say, if brightest dreams of bliss. 
 Could have visioned more than this ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Taken from her parents' side, 
 She hath angels now to guide ; 
 Pure and gentle forms above. 
 In a clime where all is love, 
 Gently lead her by the hand 
 Through the bright, ambrosial land. 
 
184 POEMS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Well ye know, in bygone hours, 
 All her wondering love of flowers ! 
 How her coral lips would smile 
 With a meaning free from guile. 
 Clasping them with eager care. 
 In her fingers small and fair. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Would ye call her from the skies, 
 Where their beauty never dies ? 
 From the land where Sharon's rose 
 In immortal freshness grows ? 
 Where no clouds or sudden showers 
 Dim the brightness of the bowers ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 From the soft, angelic notes 
 Trembling on each breeze that floats ? 
 Ah ! methinks I see her now, 
 Glory on her infant brow. 
 Listening, with a sweet surprise,* 
 To the music of the skies ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Happy spirit ! angel bright ! — 
 Radiant in thy new delight ! 
 Young immortal ! shall there be 
 Sorrow in our hearts for thee ? 
 
EMMA. 185 
 
 Shall we lift a mourning voice 
 While angelic ones rejoice ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Saviour ! ever kind and wise, 
 Who hast worn our mortal guise ; 
 Thou, who on thy sacred breast 
 Suffered infant forms to rest — 
 Round our dear one, like a dove. 
 Fold thy wings of holiest love. 
 
 XII. 
 Oh, forgive the starting tear 
 Falling on her early bier. 
 Thou, in mercy, canst impart 
 To each mourner's sorrowing heart 
 Joy, that to a life of pain 
 Emma shall not wake again. 
 
 16* 
 
^art from €)^n ^n-ki], font 
 
 I. 
 
 I PART from thee to-day, love, 
 
 But I'll meet thee on the morrow. 
 And this heart with joy be thrilling 
 
 That 's breaking now with sorrow. 
 When this night of grief is ended. 
 
 Then the morning shall restore thee, 
 In the beauty of new being, 
 
 In the fadeless robe of glory. 
 
 II. 
 I part from thee to-day, love. 
 
 In our lowly earthly dwelling ; 
 But I'll be with thee to-morrow. 
 
 Where the Fount of Life is welling. 
 I part from thee, beloved, 
 
 With tears thy pale cheek steeping ; 
 But when we meet to-morrow. 
 
 We shall forget our weeping. 
 
I PART FROM THEE TO-DAY, LOVE. 187 
 III. 
 
 I part from thee to-day, love, 
 
 With sorrowing ones around me ; 
 But I shall stand to-morrow 
 
 With the angels who surround thee. 
 Ah yes, we part to-day, love, 
 
 But when we meet to-morrow, 
 We shall part no more for ever — 
 
 We shall cease from sin and sorrow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Speed on, then, hours of sadness, 
 
 And welcome, night and gloom ! 
 For ye haste to bring the morrow, 
 
 When eternal joys shall bloom. 
 I'll wait with calm confiding. 
 
 Till the glorious dawn I see. 
 That shall restore my loved one. 
 
 In all her charms to me. 
 
[f I mn m Ungtl, nit] MmuBl 
 
 I. 
 
 If I were an angel, my dearest, 
 
 And thou wert the ward of my love, 
 For blessings the richest and rarest. 
 
 The universe round would I rove. 
 From the bower that's the sweetest and brightest 
 
 I'd hasten, on wings ever fleet, 
 And bear to thee, dearest, its blossoms. 
 
 To scatter in showers at thy feet. 
 
 II. 
 I'd lead thee to shades the serenest. 
 
 Cool fountains, and silvery streams ; 
 And my wings a soft radiance flinging, 
 
 Should lighten in joy through thy dreams. 
 If a foe to thy peace I discovered, 
 
 My presence immortal should be 
 A shield o'er thy bosom, my dear one, 
 
 To keep thine opposer from thee. 
 
IF I WERE AN ANGEL, MY DEAREST. 189 
 III. 
 
 Each morning to gladness awaking, 
 
 Thou shouldst deem it a rapture to live, 
 And the glory of noon should behold thee 
 
 With joys that no mortal could give. 
 The eve, with her star-crowned beauty, 
 
 Should lull thee to tender repose ; 
 Whilst I by thy pillow, beloved. 
 
 Would fan thee with breath like the rose. 
 
 IV. 
 But alas, since I'm merely a mortal. 
 
 And erring as mortals will be, 
 No gift can I bring that will image 
 
 My heart's deep devotion to thee. 
 If sorrow assail, I can only 
 
 Stand closer beside thee the while ; 
 But the grief I am powerless to banish, 
 
 Shall own the soft light of my smile. 
 
f Cjiink Df ^tt 
 
 I. 
 When morning comes with rosy blush, 
 
 And night's cold shadows flee, 
 Sweet is my theme for silent thought. 
 
 For then I muse on thee. 
 
 II. 
 Noon, too, with all its noise and glare, 
 
 Still finds my mind as free ; 
 I care not for its busy toil. 
 
 Whilst I can think on thee. 
 
 III. 
 Eve, hushed and glorious, — star-illumed. 
 
 Comes with new joy to me. 
 For then alone I love to sit, 
 
 Dearest, and think of thee. 
 
I THINK OF THEE. 191 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus, morning, noon, and silent night. 
 
 My faithful memory 
 Still turns with ever fresh delight, 
 
 To happiness and thee ! 
 
^n (Blhn. 
 
 A VISION OF THE SAINTED. 
 
 I. 
 
 'Tis a vision of heaven ! that glorious abode 
 Made bright by the presence and smiles of our God ; 
 "That land of far distance," methinks I behold, 
 With its gateway of pearl and its pavements of gold. 
 
 II. 
 With its River of Life flowing radiantly on, 
 That mystical river, in grandeur alone ! 
 That river unequalled the universe round. 
 Where the glory-veiled Throne of Jehovah is found. 
 
 III. 
 What mortal shall picture the splendour that laves 
 All trees and all flowerets that bend o'er those waves ? 
 What hues shall the pencil be dipped in to trace 
 The forms that glide o'er it transcendent in grace ? 
 
TO ELLEN. 193 
 
 IV. 
 
 No bark lightly moored 'neath the shade of the trees 
 Feels the swell of the wave or the touch of the breeze ; 
 But buoyantly on, as o'er silvery street, 
 Move glorified spirits, all joyous and fleet. 
 
 V. 
 
 There towering in grandeur, or kneeling uncrowned, 
 With wing-veildd brows, are the Cherubim found ; 
 Archangels and seraphs, a matchless array, 
 Whose joy of all joys is their God to obey. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then the Throne ! — But let Fancy, adoring, forbear ; 
 'Tis the light unapproachable — flaming, yet fair ; 
 Whence the '' Father of Lights," and the " Ancient 
 
 of Days," 
 The splendours and bliss of His empire surveys. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But list to the harpings from palace and bowers ! 
 'Tis the song of the angels who measure the hours. 
 All heaven gleams brighter — look, dearest, with me, 
 And tell me what fair ones are those whom we see ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For now 'tis the hour for fresh praises to rise, 
 In waves of sweet sound, to the far azure skies ; 
 Those skies unillumined by sun or by moon. 
 Yet bright with the glow of eternity's noon. 
 
 17 
 
194 POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And see, from all homes, from the streams, from the 
 
 bowers, 
 With star-circled brows, or pure chaplets of flowers, 
 The loved ones of earth in their gladness appear. 
 And close to the Throne and its splendours draw near. 
 
 X. 
 
 Is it fancy, dear Ellen ? — methinks that the light 
 Rests with tenderer gleam on their garments of white. 
 That a rose-scented freshness is borne on the breeze 
 That is winging its way from the blossoming trees. 
 
 XI. 
 
 They are there, thine own dear ones, — the joy of the 
 
 blest 
 Hath but deepened the love in each sisterly breast ; 
 And the brighter, the elder, in heavenly grace, 
 I know by the meaning that beams o'er her face. 
 
 XII. 
 
 For lo, how she smiles at the joyous surprise 
 Of the newly-arrived, to whose far-seeing eyes 
 The glories of heaven unclouded appear. 
 While its anthems of gladness enrapture her ear. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Would you think, were it not by sad memory disclosed. 
 That a shadow of pain or of grief had reposed 
 
TO ELLEN. 195 
 
 One moment on brows so resplendently fair, 
 
 And decked with such crowns as in heaven they wear ? 
 
 J}: * * * * 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Dear Ellen, the dream and its visions are o'er. 
 The forms of the sainted have vanished once more ; 
 But joyous the heart of the dreamer will be, 
 If her vision has whispered of gladness to thee ! 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 t llurahtr of %\h. 
 
 I S^W a fair young mother, with her child, 
 A cherub boy, close folded to her breast. 
 Who seemed to know how sweet his place of rest. 
 
 And still, as glance met glance, each gayly smiled. 
 
 She, with a quaint old melody beguiled 
 
 The listening hours, until, so fondly pressed. 
 And by her softest fingers oft caressed. 
 
 The infant closed his eyes in slumber mild ; 
 
 But still the pleasant thoughts of waking hours 
 Lingered on dimpled cheek and rosy mouth, 
 And like the zephyr of the perfumed south, 
 
 From orange groves or bright magnolia bowers. 
 
 Came the sweet, regular breathing on the face 
 
 Of her who leaned above in artless grace ! 
 
lumhn 0f Itatji, 
 
 Like form of polished ivory he lay, 
 
 When next I gazed upon the infant bright ; 
 His curls, a crown of paly, golden light, 
 
 Circled his head, no more to wave in play. 
 
 His lifeless hands, a pure transparent white, 
 Like two fair lilies froze by wintry day. 
 Or pearls just washed ashore by ocean spray. 
 
 Were meekly clasped for death's undreaming night. 
 
 Did breathing ever part those chiselled lips. 
 Whose tender smile seems graven there by art ? 
 Or laughing orbs their sunny radiance dart, 
 
 Whose beauty now the ivory lids eclipse ? 
 
 No blush — no warmth — no breath — no pillowing 
 breast ; — 
 
 Lay the cold blossom in the earth to rest. 
 17* 
 
pnng. 
 
 Sometimes, sweet Spring, — thou promise of the 
 
 year ! — 
 A mournful fate does thine to me appear. 
 Thou comest when clouds are dark, and winds are 
 
 bleak, 
 And Winter's breath falls cold upon thy cheek ; 
 Then, when the sky bends bluest o'er the scene, 
 And the bright, picturing waves are most serene, — 
 When the young flowers their sweetest charms dis- 
 close, 
 Like lovely children fresh from their repose — 
 When the soft airs, caressing, woo thy stay, 
 And on thy brow is wreathed the rose of May, — 
 How like a Peri from the shining gate 
 Of Paradise, thou turnest desolate ! 
 Gone is the garland from thy golden hair, 
 And Summer reigns o'er all the landscape fair ! 
 
unxiBt in liimmer. 
 
 Now from the gentle dawn's unfolding gate, 
 The angel Glory looks with half-oped wings, 
 That throw a quivering radiance, ere he springs 
 
 Upon his golden car, and rides elate 
 
 Up the blue pathway of the cloudless sky ! 
 See how the plumy trees, in majesty. 
 
 Wave a glad welcome — hear the wind's sweet song 
 
 Blend with the trillings of the feathered throng. 
 
 Now the streams lighten in the glowing ray ; 
 Out gleams the emerald of the grassy meads — 
 The gentle flowers upraise their dew-gemmed heads, 
 
 While insects blithe their gauzy wings display ; ^. ♦ 
 How like a new creation thus each morn, 
 'Neath the sun's smile is radiant Beauty born. 
 
JEoDnliglii 
 
 Now from the azure portals of the East 
 
 Comes the fair Moon, to charm the gloom of night. 
 Comes like a bride forth from the marriage feast, 
 
 To make all glances like her own look bright. 
 As sanded silver, strewn beneath her feet, 
 
 The air grows luminous, — and every star 
 Veils its bright brow, as up the radiant street 
 
 Serene she goeth to her couch afar. 
 In the blue North, a single snowy car 
 
 Silent hath paused, — its winged steeds held back, 
 While angel beings glad beholders are. 
 
 But high and higher yet, her shining track 
 To the bright zenith leads — till down the West 
 She wends her starry way. Night's peerless Queen 
 confest. 
 
RELIGIOUS POEMS, 
 
 tints to an Snfibd. 
 
 I. 
 
 Go to the house of death, 
 Where the fair babe its flower-like day hath ended, 
 
 And its sweet, fragrant breath. 
 Where perfumes as of rose and violet blended. 
 Is stilled within the red but icy lips. 
 While the blue eyes are veiled in sullen death's eclipse, 
 
 II. 
 
 Spea^ to the sorrowing one. 
 Who, with her tremulous and loving fingers, 
 
 Whose darling task is done, 
 Twineth once more each silken tress, where lingers 
 A gleam like sunshine over threads of gold. 
 And dearer to her eyes than Indian wealth untold. 
 
202 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tell her, that mother, reft 
 Of earth's sole joy, in his young beauty blighted, 
 
 That the bright babe hath left 
 No spirit-gleam upon her path benighted, 
 No trace of being upon life's broad track. 
 For what was earth alone to earth is rendered back. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let fall before her gaze 
 A dark impenetrable veil, that never 
 
 Can love or hope upraise. 
 To view the fair one she hath lost for ever ; 
 Then smile with kindly pity on the grief 
 That knows not where to look for solace or relief. 
 
 V. 
 Tell her that she but dreamed. 
 When, her sad heart to cheer, bright shapes of glory 
 
 Floating around her seemed, 
 And chanting voices told the blissful story. 
 Of climes beyond the dark mysterious grave. 
 Where Love with Joy shall dwell beside life's golden 
 wave. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tell her, the pure white flower 
 She layeth trusting 'neath the waving willow. 
 
 As in a sacred bower, 
 Shall never waken from its lowly pillow ; 
 
LINES TO AN INFIDEL. 203 
 
 That 'tis an idle thought, of ignorance born, 
 That prates of trumpet-call or resurrection morn. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then if she heed thy words, 
 And love's sole hope beneath thy touch lies broken, 
 
 Bring from thj treasure-hoards 
 One single gem of other bliss a token ; 
 Point to one star amid the gloom o'erhead. 
 To light her lonely path whence heavenly bloom hath 
 fled. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Take all, yes, every joy 
 That Hope immortal unto Faith is bringing ; 
 
 With a cold sneer destroy 
 Each aspiration that is upward springing ; 
 And if she turn to thee for other bliss, 
 Thou, poor in th' eternal world, art bankrupt, too, in 
 
 this. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then to thy home once more 
 Retire ; and if thou canst, with heartfelt gladness 
 
 Live all the triumph o'er. 
 Think of the mourner in her gloom and sadness ; 
 Then boast the wisdom of thy cruel art. 
 Strong to destroy all bliss, but powerless to impart. 
 
204 llELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Yes ! if she heed thy sneers ! 
 But 'tis a slanderous thought, for God beholding 
 
 Shall dry her falling tears, 
 And the fair gates of Paradise unfolding, 
 Sweet songs of triumph shall with harpings blend, 
 And God's own voice proclaim himself the mourner's 
 
 friend. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Promises starry bright, 
 Lit up by Deity's own hand, shall cluster, 
 
 And glorify the night 
 With rays immortal in their sacred lustre ; 
 With His word clasped upon her faithful heart. 
 She'll smile beside the dead, and bid her foe depart. 
 
€^t Wtltmt. 
 
 I. 
 
 From our world of gloom and strife, 
 
 Lo ! a saint hath passed away ; 
 Wakened from his mortal life 
 
 By an angel's triumph-lay. 
 Beamed upon his raptured sight, 
 
 Glory, like a boundless flood ; 
 On its thrilling tide of light 
 
 Guardian bands of spirits stood. 
 
 II. 
 Fair, with floating tresses crowned. 
 
 With irradiate, glancing wings. 
 Forms of beauty gathered round. 
 
 Lovelier than earth's brightest things ; 
 Lambent glory on each brow. 
 
 Holy love in every eye. 
 Surely hope's fruition now 
 
 Charms the Christian's destiny. 
 18 
 
206 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Welcome, brother, to our band !" 
 
 Thus the angelic minstrels say ; 
 " Exile from thy Father's land, 
 
 To his palace haste away. 
 Mortal garments laid aside, 
 
 Robes of righteousness put on. 
 Now thy upward course we guide 
 
 To the raptures faith hath won." 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Elder spirits, ye are fair ; 
 
 Holy kindness wins my love ; 
 And my soul exults to share 
 
 All your bliss in climes above. 
 Yet, oh speedy be our flight 
 
 To the central palace high. 
 That the Lord of life and light 
 
 May entrance my ravished eye. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Lead to Him who died for me. 
 
 And my bliss shall be complete ; 
 King of angels ! can it be 
 
 I shall worship at thy feet ? 
 By the glory-veiled throne 
 
 Shall my harp its triumph raise ? 
 Yes, even me His love doth own ; 
 
 Jesus I Jesus ! thine the praise !" 
 
tnrm raaa Inub anh 
 /Earful. 
 
 I. 
 
 The storm was loud and fearful, 
 
 The sky wore midnight gloom, 
 Save when the lightning's flashes 
 
 Did fitfully illume. 
 The lake its surging billows 
 
 Was wildly tossing high, 
 And its turbid, roaring waters. 
 
 To the tempest made reply. 
 
 II. 
 'Twas a sad and gloomy scene, 
 
 And the trees all darkly there 
 Waved wide their sighing branches 
 
 Upon the murky air. 
 Ah ! thus, thought I, despairing. 
 
 The storms of woe and wrath. 
 
208 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 O'ershadow, in my spirit's world, 
 The dark and cheerless path. 
 
 III. 
 But I sought the lake once more, 
 
 When sunlit breezes blew, 
 And gazed in silent rapture, 
 
 On its pure and sparkling hue. 
 No gloom was on its waters, 
 
 But the beauty of the sky, 
 As on a faithful mirror. 
 
 Was all that met the eye. 
 
 IV. 
 Soft zephyrs, wafting fragrance. 
 
 Were floating sweetly round ; 
 And in the forest's shadow 
 
 Did joyous songs resound. 
 Ah, then, with thrill of gladness, 
 
 Came clearly to my mind 
 These words, as if a spirit 
 
 The meaning sweet designed. 
 
 V. 
 
 Thus can the light of glory. 
 Within my darkened soul. 
 
 Make all the turbid streams 
 In pearly brightness roll. 
 
THE STORM WAS LOUD AND FEARFUL. 209 
 
 When nought but stormy passions, 
 
 Like sullen winds, are heard, 
 The Saviour's smile can waken 
 
 Love's soft and thankful word. 
 
 VI. 
 
 So will I not despair, 
 
 Though yet in sorrow's thrall ; 
 As if no sunny beauty 
 
 Upon my path may fall. 
 As the tempest from the lake, 
 
 So the shadows from my soul 
 May vanish at His bidding. 
 
 Who all things doth control ! 
 
 18^ 
 
mt Hiig^t iant %ktn. 
 
 We might have been ! Oh words of deepest sorrow, 
 When uttered in the realms of endless gloom ; 
 
 Where no sweet hope, with promise of to-morrow, 
 Comes with its bird-like song, or flowery bloom. 
 
 II. 
 We might have been beside cool streams reclining. 
 
 That gain new glorj from our raiment white ! 
 And these pale brows, where dark despair sits pining, 
 
 Cast a far radiance 'neath their crowns of light. 
 
 III. 
 We might have been with those, the loved and che- 
 rished, 
 Whose presence made our earthly homes so fair ; 
 Whose happy spirits, when their shrines had perished, 
 Spread their glad wings at once for purer air. 
 
WE MIGHT HAVE BEEN. 211 
 
 IV. 
 
 We might have been there where our gentle mothers 
 And bright-haired sisters walk — a lovely band ! 
 
 Where even the voices of our infant brothers 
 Float on each zephyr of the blessed land. 
 
 V. 
 
 We might have been there with the great and holy 
 Patriarchs and prophets of each age and clime, 
 
 Who, soaring up from thrones, or dwellings lowly. 
 Priests, kings, and conquerors reign in pomp sub- 
 lime. 
 
 VI. 
 
 We might have been ! — Oh God forbid that ever 
 Writer or reader with such woe shall thrill ! 
 
 Nay, let us upward press with strong endeavour, 
 And so life's glorious destiny fulfil. 
 
€^t ^mhlms 
 
 I. 
 
 ■What are the emblems bj the Saviour chosen 
 To show his willingness to save and bless ? 
 
 How doth He, of the love that fills His bosom, 
 Stoop to find words its fulness to express ? 
 
 Listen, oh mourner ! and with joy look up — 
 
 Drink the bright bounty from the sparkling cup. 
 
 II. 
 
 Water — fresh, limpid water ! — ever springing, 
 
 Which he that thirsts may freely come and drink ; 
 
 And where the tiniest insect, joyous winging. 
 May sport in careless freedom on its brink. 
 
 This is ONE emblem of the lavish grace 
 
 That will the lowliest in its arms embrace. 
 
 III. 
 The wind ! — the viewless wind, — the earth careering ; 
 Now chanting richly in some forest-shade, 
 
THE EMBLEMS. 213 
 
 Now lifting with sweet care the wild-flower peering 
 
 Above the moss within the dewy glade. 
 Behold another, and with songs rejoice 
 That still thou hearest its clear and ringing voice. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The sun ! — who pours his all-exhaustless glory 
 Freely o'er palace walls or cottage eaves ; 
 
 O'er the lone desert — o'er the mountain hoary, 
 On the sad ruin that the ivy wreathes ! 
 
 This is the grandest type His wisdom chose 
 
 Of his own beaming o'er our world of woes. 
 
 V. 
 
 Drink of the stream — sweet calmness shall come o'er 
 thee ; 
 
 Uplift thy brow to the caressing wind ; 
 Turn to the radiant orb, the source of glory, 
 
 And nightly shadows thou no more shalt find. 
 Free as the wave, the wind, the light of day. 
 Thy Saviour's smiles upon thy path shall play ! 
 
€^t 3MbU. 
 
 The Book of books ! with reverent step draw nigh, 
 
 And gaze, and wonder at man's destiny. 
 
 Unfold its leaves, each sacred page illumed 
 
 By flaming Deity, yet not consumed. 
 
 Then close the eyes of sense, let Faith declare 
 
 The visioned scenes of glory mirrored there. 
 
 Lo ! the first scene ; — and faint thy ravished ear 
 The music of Eternity shall hear ! 
 
 Silence and darkness then, at God's command. 
 Sang and grew luminous. The barren land. 
 Verdant with mossy lawns, 'neath giant trees, 
 Blushed into bud and blossom ! The dark seas, 
 Turbid and foul with slime, grew pearly fair. 
 As a child's brow amid its golden hair. 
 There Eden on the circle of the earth. 
 Gleamed like a diamond of celestial worth. 
 As even beneath the shadows of its bowers 
 A strange, star-glory lit its palest flowers. 
 
THE BIBLE. 215 
 
 There Song, enchanted with the echoed strains, 
 Walked all night long upon the dewy plains ; 
 There Fragrance floated o'er the breathing blooms, 
 And blue-eyed Rapture closed her snowy plumes. 
 
 But lo ! a form majestic, moulded well 
 
 With blended grace and power, with eye whose spell 
 
 Charmed to submission all the inferior train, 
 
 Yet calm returned an angel's glance again ; 
 
 Lips prompt to speak or smile, — or grave, or kind, 
 
 And ample brow, for godlike thought designed. 
 
 See by his side the silken-tressed Eve ! 
 
 Young Beauty's self before she learned to grieve. 
 
 With upraised eyes of soft and starry light. 
 
 Fix on his face her sweet, admiring sight. 
 
 " He for God only, she for God in him." 
 
 He, like the sun, with radiance never dim. 
 
 Basked in the unclouded splendour of the Throne ; 
 
 She, moon-like, in his rays reflected shone. 
 
 Ah, short-lived glory — fading as we gaze. 
 
 And lost in guilt, and grief, and death's amaze. 
 
 The scene grows dark. Nought but a wailing sound 
 Of woe immortal thrills the night profound. 
 The surge of waves — the tossings to and fro 
 Of white arms, in the deep's remorseless flow. 
 Yet hark ! all silvery but distinctly clear, 
 A distant note of triumph greets the ear. 
 And nigher still its trancing sweetness floats. 
 Like the serenest fall of angel notes. 
 
216 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh, loved of God ! In vain the deep arose, 
 And throned on every wave thy countless foes ! 
 A crystal pathway o'er the billows gleamed, — 
 Through parting clouds, celestial glory beamed. 
 The storm retired, and on its sable shade 
 The glorious Arch of Promise was displayed. 
 Like joy in tears the glittering landscape shone, 
 And Spring once more "unbound her flowery zone." 
 
 Age after age its thronged procession sends — 
 They crowd the path, yet ask not where it ends. 
 While ever and anon, above their mirth, 
 The Voice Eternal warns of nobler birth. 
 All garlanded, and flushed, with pleasure warm, 
 They pause a moment, but resist the charm. 
 To sound of flute and timbrel on they glide. 
 And launch all reckless on the whelming tide. 
 
 There, wrapped in clouds, infolding radiance rare, 
 With mystic emblems, dim-descried but fair — 
 Glimpses of Him, the Eternal Sire, are caught, — 
 Yet e'en such glimpses dazzle all our thought ! 
 Prone in the dust our guilty heads we lay. 
 And veil our faces from the searching ray. 
 
t /nrailii €m\t. 
 
 I. 
 There is a land of beauty, 
 
 'Neath warm and violet skies, 
 And ever to its cloudless dome 
 
 Melodious sounds arise ; 
 A never-ending song of love. 
 
 On saintly voices swelling ; 
 The song of those who passed in joy 
 
 Away from our earthly dwelling. 
 
 II. 
 There, countless throngs, in gladness, 
 
 In snow-white robes arrayed. 
 With emerald palms of victory. 
 
 And crowns upon the head, 
 Await the grand, triumphal day. 
 
 When The Crucified, in splendour, 
 Shall marshal his armies in the skies, 
 
 And claim the world's surrender. 
 19 
 
218 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 There, beautiful and gracious, 
 
 A form of earth I see ! 
 And think it not a wondrous thing. 
 
 That form is known to me. 
 For the face that won our infant gaze 
 
 Will yet seem bending o'er us ; 
 Though the grave hath closed o'er the mortal frame. 
 
 And hushed the lips' sweet chorus. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There are three, in youth immortal. 
 
 That walk beside her there ; 
 And their robes seem made of woven light, 
 
 They are so dazzling fair. 
 I know not what their names may be,-^ 
 
 But my heart hath a sister's feeling ; 
 Though I saw them not in their mortal guise. 
 
 But only in faith's revealing. 
 
 V. 
 
 There is a narrow pathway, 
 
 And it is not made of flowers. 
 That leadeth up to that happy home, 
 
 With its never-fading bowers. 
 A path that 's sometimes rough and dark, — 
 
 But oh, amazing story. 
 We see from thence the beckoning hands 
 
 Of those gone on to glory. 
 
THE FAMILY CIRCLE. 219 
 
 VI. 
 
 And on that mystic pathway 
 
 A well-known group appears ; 
 And foremost, with a firm, quick step, 
 
 A man of threescore years. 
 His brow hath many a line of care, 
 
 His heart hath known deep sorrow. 
 But his large, dark eyes have a chastened light, 
 
 When he speaks of the bright to-morrow ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Pass on, oh, well-beloved ! 
 
 A few more days of grief. 
 And the cares that cluster round thee 
 
 Shall fall as the autumn leaf. 
 Then by her side, in glory's garb, 
 
 With voice no more to falter, 
 Thou shalt feel the clasp of her saintly hand, 
 
 As once by an earthly altar. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But next, with step more feeble, 
 
 A younger form I see ; 
 With pallid cheek, and pain-dimmed eye. 
 
 And frail as frail can be. 
 Though his step be slow, yet we often think 
 
 That first at the Golden Portal 
 His slender form shall enter in, 
 
 And wear the crown immortal. 
 
220 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 There are yet two more appearing ; 
 
 And one, with a soft, dark eye, 
 With cheerful smile, and steady faith, 
 
 And a song of joy, goes by. 
 There are earthly voices that call her back. 
 
 And scenes of tempting brightness. 
 But she closeth her ear to their siren strains. 
 
 And walks in her spirit's lightness. 
 
 X. 
 
 These are all linked together 
 
 By a sweet, mysterious tie ; 
 The four in heaven and three on earth 
 
 Have a self-same destiny. 
 For them, the '' Lamb that once was slain" 
 
 Shall lead to living waters, — 
 They on the " King in his beauty" shall gaze, 
 
 And be owned his sons and daughters. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Ye who have found his favour, 
 
 Shall your prayers for me be mute ? 
 Or will they rise on the quiet air, 
 
 Like breathings from a flute ? 
 Ye who have filled my heart on earth 
 
 With a sweet and changeless love. 
 Pray that I still in your midst may be. 
 
 In the blissful climes above ! 
 
C[iri3t ItiUing \^t €tm^tB\ 
 
 I. 
 
 Midnight and tempest. A single bark 
 
 On an Asian sea, in that hour so dark ! 
 
 A fragile bark, with a scanty band 
 
 Of the humble ones of their favoured land ; 
 
 Gathering all close, with a silent grief, 
 
 Bound the sacred form of their sleeping Chief. 
 
 II. 
 Prone on the waters, with giant length. 
 There coiled the demon-king in his strength ; 
 While the surging waves of his home of fire, 
 Far-distant, trembled with fierce desire ; 
 And the faded brows of his subject-train 
 Glowed with, new light at his boastings vain. 
 
 III. 
 Ah, well for that mortal band, I ween, 
 Such sights were hid from their glances keen ; 
 
 19* 
 
222 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 For every wave with its foaming crest 
 Was lashed to the rage of a demon's breast, 
 And a thousand eyes of flashing hate 
 Were fixed on that bark so desolate. 
 
 IV. 
 Their Leader slept. O'er his soft, dark eyes. 
 There came a vision of Paradise ! 
 The deep, rich chant of its thrilling air, — 
 The deathless bloom of its verdure fair, — 
 The notes of harpers, the songs of praise. 
 The wing-veiled cherubim won his gaze ! 
 His feet on the crystal stream did glide. 
 With its rose-like freshness and balmy tide. 
 And on through the golden street he passed. 
 Till the central throne was won at last ! 
 
 V. 
 
 " Master, we perish !" 
 
 Ah, contrast dark ! 
 He wakes to the groans of the straining bark ; 
 To the anguished cry of despairing love, — 
 To the billows beneath, and the clouds above. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Saviour rose. From his graceful form 
 There swayed not a fold of his robe to the storm ; 
 One glance around on the fearful scene, 
 Ere His voice was heard in its tones serene, — 
 
CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. 223 
 
 Then onward o'er billow to woodland and hill 
 Floated its melody : ^' Peace ! Be still !" 
 
 VII. 
 Hast thou seen, in magic glass, 
 Many a pictured vision pass ? 
 Now a mountain crowned with snows — 
 Now a southern daylight's close ? 
 Such the wondrous change that fell 
 Instant o'er each billowy swell, — 
 With a murmur soft and sweet 
 Gliding to its Sovereign's feet ! 
 Then, like silver thrones on high, 
 Kadiantly the clouds went by, * 
 
 And the sweet, repentant air 
 Kissed, with sighs, his forehead fair ! 
 
t fxdftnh Mmh. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ah, wherefore should we suffer such sinful thoughts 
 
 * to rise, 
 And seek by words of sullen sound to rend affection's 
 
 ties ? 
 We know that friendship's fulness in each warm 
 
 bosom glows, 
 Then why should each the other grieve, and make 
 
 fictitious woes ? 
 
 II. 
 Come, take my proffered hand, let a kindly smile 
 
 reply, 
 And while we mourn the past, will a brighter dawn 
 
 descry. 
 Each one hath wronged the other, though in each 
 
 breast the while 
 A tender love was welling up, all free from taint or 
 
 guile ! 
 
THE PROFFEKED HAND. 225 
 
 III. 
 
 Before the Throne of Mercy then glad will we re- 
 pair, 
 
 And, owning first our wilfulness, unite in earnest 
 prayer 
 
 That never more a shadow, as from a demon's wing, 
 
 May throw a gloom across our path, or darken love's 
 pure spring ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Few are the hours allotted to the longest life below ; 
 Let us make them bright with beauty before they 
 
 upward go, — 
 So take my proffered hand, and a heart that's warm 
 
 and true. 
 And smiling through our tears, let us friendship's 
 
 vows renew ! 
 
I ttBsnn frnm Matatr 
 
 I. 
 Hast thou heard in shady forest, 
 
 How the birds in chorus sing ? 
 Each its offering of devotion 
 
 Bringing to the heavenly King. 
 Though the mocking-bird doth ravish 
 
 All the wild wood with his strain, 
 Yet the humblest of the minstrels 
 
 Hasteth to reply again. 
 
 II. 
 
 He, what God on him bestoweth 
 
 Of the mystic power of song, 
 Useth as his nature teacheth. 
 
 Winging joyously along. 
 Nor repineth that another 
 
 Witcheth e'en the very air. 
 While few listen to his chirping, 
 
 Or pronounce his plumage fair. 
 
A LESSON FROM NATURE. 227 
 
 III. 
 'Tis a lesson for thy learning, 
 
 Brother mortal, in life's ways ; 
 What thy Lord to thee hath given 
 
 Use contented in his praise. 
 Though a harp of heavenly sounding 
 
 On thy friend hath been bestowed, 
 And a lyre of humblest merit 
 
 In thy hands is placed by God, — 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sound it, brother, to his glory ! 
 
 Till its faintly ringing tone 
 Shall ascend into his presence, 
 
 And He will his servant own. 
 Bring thine offering, though 'tis lowly, 
 
 Breathing but thy Saviour's name ; 
 'Twill be faithfully recorded 
 
 In the volume of the Lamb ! 
 

 There came a little child, with sunny hair, 
 All fearless to the brink of death's dark river, 
 
 And with a sweet confiding in the care 
 
 Of Him who is of life the joy and giver, — 
 
 And as upon the waves she left our sight 
 
 We heard her say, "My Saviour makes them bright." 
 
 II. 
 Next came a youth, with bearing most serene, 
 
 Nor turned a single backward look of sadness ; 
 But as he left each gay and flowery scene. 
 
 Smiling declared, " My soul is filled with gladness ; 
 What earth deems bright, for ever I resign. 
 Joyful but this to know, that Christ is mine !" 
 
 III. 
 
 An aged mourner, trembling, tottered by. 
 And paused a moment by the swelling river, 
 
CHRISTIANS BY THE RIVER OF DEATH. 229 
 
 Then glided on, beneath the shadowy sky, 
 
 Singing " Christ Jesus is my strength for ever. 
 Upon his arm my feeble soul I lean, — 
 My glance meets his, without a cloud between." 
 
 IV. 
 
 And scarce her last triumphant note had died. 
 Ere hastened on a man of wealth and learning. 
 
 Who cast at once his bright renown aside, 
 
 These only words unto his friends returning ; — 
 
 " Christ for my wisdom thankfully I own. 
 
 And as a little child I seek his throne." 
 
 V. 
 
 Then saw I this — that whether guileless child. 
 Or youth, or age, or genius, won salvation. 
 
 Each, self -renouncing came ; on each God smiled — 
 Each found the love of Christ rich compensation 
 
 For loss of friends, earth's pleasures, and renown, — 
 
 Each entered Heaven, and "by His side sat down!" 
 
 20 
 
Cjiridian, htfj i^t Wnxlh 
 
 I. 
 
 Christian, doth the world look joyous ? 
 
 Is there sunshine on thy way ? 
 Friends and fortune gaily smiling, 
 
 Like a cloudless summer day ? 
 Doth the voice of Jesus charm thee. 
 
 And His love delight thy heart ? 
 Dost thou sing " 'Mid all my pleasures, 
 
 Thou, oh Christ, the glory art?" 
 
 II. 
 Dost thou deem thy soul enjoy eth 
 
 All the bliss it can below ? 
 On this path so fair and flowery, 
 
 'Neath these skies' serenest glow ? 
 Ah, thou knowest not the wonder 
 
 Only by experience taught. 
 That there is a higher rapture 
 
 Than hath thrilled thy happiest thought ! 
 
DOTH THE WOKLD LOOK JOYOUS? 231 
 III. 
 
 Let thy friends and fortune fail thee, — 
 
 Let thy health and strength decay, 
 And a night of darkest shadows 
 
 Bend above thy lowly way ! 
 Ah, 'tis then, thy soul to gladden, 
 
 Jesus by thy side will walk, 
 And with tones of sweet compassion. 
 
 Of immortal pleasures talk. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He will smile with love more tender 
 
 Than thou ever knewest before. 
 And will point to scenes of glory. 
 
 On the far, eternal shore. 
 Then, the gates of bliss flung open. 
 
 Thou with breathless joy shalt hear, 
 How the ransomed of thy kindred 
 
 Call thee to their blessed sphere. 
 
 God, the Sire, from living waters. 
 
 Will thy cup of bliss o'erflow. 
 And the Holy Spirit's breathings 
 
 Like rich breezes come and go. 
 Promises, like stars of beauty, 
 
 From the blessed Word will shine, 
 Brighter 'mid the gloom of darkness, 
 
 With a splendour all divine. 
 
mmvs tut for C[}ilkm. 
 
 He walked the world His power had made, 
 In veiling form of mortal guise ; 
 
 No frown upon His ample brow, 
 No wrath to shade His loving eyes. 
 
 And, all unseen, where'er He trod. 
 
 Attendant angels owned their God. 
 
 II. 
 Who were his mortal followers ? 
 
 The poor, the outcast sons of men, 
 With hardened hands embrowned by toil, 
 
 And hearts as dark as wild-wood den ; 
 Or, if the rich deigned to behold, 
 'Twas still but vice in silk and gold. 
 
 III. 
 He, who was Love without a frown, 
 And Light without a single shade. 
 
THE saviour's LOVE FOR CHILDREN. 233 
 
 Looked grieving round on all the throng, 
 Their Sovereign — jet by none obeyed. 
 Hearts filled with envy, malice, pride. 
 Were all His tender gaze descried. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Pale, sorrowing women trembling came. 
 And owned, with tears, their guilty life. 
 
 The holiest duties unperformed. 
 
 Of daughter, mother, friend, and wife. 
 
 He promised joy to sorrow's child, 
 
 And garments pure and undefiled. 
 
 But who are these, that to His brow 
 Their fearless eyes of light upraise ? 
 
 And laugh, with quick-won love, to meet 
 The radiance of His beaming gaze ? 
 
 No guilt to make them shrink with dread, 
 
 Before the Judge of quick and dead ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 See, how their little eager feet 
 
 Come bounding on in joyous haste; 
 
 Their tiny fingers in the palm 
 
 Of God's own hand confiding placed. 
 
 Their ringlets fair, like wavy gold, 
 
 Close resting on his mantle's fold. 
 20* 
 
234 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh, what a scene for angels' view ! 
 
 Almighty purity and power, 
 Placing unconscious innocence 
 
 On His broad bosom, as a flower ; 
 And, smiling on its rosy bloom, 
 Bending to meet its breath's perfume. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 There are, who coldly pause and doubt 
 An infant's entrance to the skies ! 
 
 But while the Saviour lives and reigns, 
 No fear should dim the Christian's eyes, 
 
 Lest He who loved the form of earth, 
 
 May deem the soul of lower worth. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Nay I rather with triumphant songs 
 
 We'll speed them on their upward flight ; 
 
 And if the gates of glory close 
 Too swiftly on our mortal sight. 
 
 Yet faith shall see, with joy sublime, 
 
 Their welcome to the heavenly clime ! 
 
€^t %t\ttUh CommunifiMit 
 
 'TwAS Sabbath morn in the fresh spring-time, 
 And a hoi J calm from d. brighter clime 
 Was wafted down o'er a world of crime. 
 
 II. 
 
 Rich was the light in the azure sky, 
 And it seemed to my fancy's raptured eye 
 The Angel of Peace soared silently by. 
 
 III. 
 I entered the courts of the King of kings, 
 And my soul uprose as on thrilling wings, 
 Above the gloom of perishing things. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And there was the Lord's own table spread. 
 The feast of the Living, who once was dead ! 
 And I heard His worshippers' coming tread. 
 
236 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 V. 
 
 There came to the mystic Supper there, 
 An ag^d man, with silvery hair. 
 And a brow all furrowed o'er by care. 
 
 VI. 
 Dim were the eyes that on hopes or fears 
 Had smiled with joy, or been wet with tears. 
 In the silent lapse of fourscore years. 
 
 VII. 
 One feeble hand on the railing laid. 
 Meekly he bowed his weary head. 
 While the words of prayer and praise were said. 
 
 VIII. 
 But there came, with a hurried gesture there, 
 A dark-browed man, with a solemn air, 
 And led him back from that place of prayer. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And then, in words of a kindly tone. 
 He whispered soft to the old man lone. 
 That the feast was not for a stranger one. 
 
 X. 
 
 He knew not, he said, but the faith was strong. 
 That had cheered that agdd one so long. 
 With its joyous trust and its triumph-song, — 
 
THE REJECTED COMMUNICANT. 237 
 
 XI. 
 
 But the table spread in tliat holy place, 
 Was but for the favoured ones of grace, 
 The chosen few of our doomed race ! 
 
 XII. 
 Quivered the lip of the old man then, — 
 But he smiled, and answered not again ; 
 Though his brow grew troubled as if with pain. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Was it only a dream of my Fancy's eye ? 
 Methought a radiant Form drew nigh. 
 And pausing, stood that old man by. 
 
 XIV. 
 Meekness and love in his soft eyes shone ! 
 Yet strange was the garb of that heavenly one ; 
 Girt as a servant, He stood alone. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then, while the silvery chalice went round. 
 With the words of prayer and rapture's sound, 
 'Mid the favoured group at the table found, 
 
 XVI. 
 The old man drank of the sparkling cup. 
 By the hand of his blessed Lord held up. 
 And the Holy One came with him to sup ! 
 
t %tautnl\\ %\ntu 
 
 • There is a river the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God."— Ps. 46. 
 
 I. 
 
 There is a beauteous River 
 
 In the city of our God, 
 With margins of perpetual green, 
 
 By angel footsteps trod. 
 It beareth faint resemblance 
 
 To the rivers of the earth ; 
 For the lovely things around it 
 
 Alike have heavenly birth. 
 
 II. 
 No stars upon its bosom 
 
 Reflect the gems of night, — 
 No showery clouds are mirrored 
 
 Upon its surface bright. 
 No lightning makes its waters 
 
 Like liquid fire to shine, 
 
THE HEAVENLY EIVER. 239 
 
 Nor darkness veils its beauties, 
 In the -glorious day's decline. 
 
 III. 
 All joyous, but serenely. 
 
 Doth the crystal River glide, 
 Whose visitants are seraphs 
 
 And spirits sanctified. 
 No shadows o'er it hover. 
 
 But of song-enchanted trees, 
 That wave with sweet rejoicing 
 
 To the music-loving breeze. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No faded leaf or blossom 
 
 All mournful floateth by ; 
 Each radiant flower that laveth 
 
 Hath bloom that ne'er shall die ; 
 And when, for ransomed children 
 
 Come hither from the earth, 
 Immortal wreaths are gathered, 
 
 New buds have instant birth. 
 
 v. 
 Oh, fair and crystal River ! 
 
 Far dearer things than they 
 Have been mirrored on thy bosom, 
 
 For many a glorious day : 
 
240 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 My mother's robe of lightness, 
 In many an airy fold ! 
 
 Her face of saintly beauty, 
 Her victor-crown of gold. 
 
 VI. 
 Form after form I cherished, 
 
 Methinks I now can trace, 
 Come thronging to thy margin. 
 
 With high, celestial grace. 
 Oh River ! lovely River, 
 
 In the city of our God ! 
 Shall I, amid thy palace-homes. 
 
 E'er make my blest abode ? 
 
^ngd'jg Earning. 
 
 I. 
 
 Rejoice, oh mother ! keep thy darling one, — 
 The Lord of life and glory gives her back ; 
 
 Thy prayers have won her, though the golden gates 
 Were open flung, to light the upward track. 
 
 II. 
 Yet listen, ere we take our homeward flight : 
 
 Learn what her glad existence now had been, 
 If, swiftly borne upon our gentle wings. 
 
 She had escaped all thought of grief or sin. 
 
 III. 
 Fair stands her bower of softest shade serene, 
 
 And decked by angel hands 'neath fadeless trees, 
 And bright her airy harp, which answereth low 
 To the glad singing of the heavenly breeze. 
 21 
 
242 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fair flowers, that have no semhlance upon earth, 
 Like silver censers, fling sweet incense there ; 
 
 While, close in view, the flowing stream of life 
 Pours its majestic anthem on the air. 
 
 Its banks, that never bore a faded flower. 
 
 Are ever by the angels visited ; 
 And saintly dwellers, with their snowy robes, 
 
 Walk its pure waters with elastic tread. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet more, — thy lovely one ere now had been 
 Clasped to the bosom of the King of kings ; 
 
 And seen the glorious brow, before whose light 
 The proudest cherub veils with radiant wings. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet she is thine ! oh earthly guardian, keep 
 The treasure longer lent, with wisest love ; 
 
 Nor teach her young, meek heart to fix its hopes 
 On aught but joys divine that bloom above. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Wouldst have her mourn, that to thine arms again 
 Thy Saviour gave her, at thine earnest prayer ? 
 
 Or shade the brow that might in bliss have shone. 
 With the poor, dying wreaths that earth deems 
 fair? 
 
THE angel's warning. 243 
 
 IX. 
 
 Nay, she is thine to nurture up for God, — 
 Thy Saviour will require it at that day ; 
 
 The pure, sweet flower He deemed so meet for heaven 
 Must not be blighted by its longer stay. 
 
%ms. 
 
 "I see that to be where Jesus is, is Heaven ! The place where is of little 
 importance."— Memoir of John Wakren Howell. 
 
 I. 
 
 I BOW not, Saviour, at thy shrine, 
 
 To plead for earthly wealth or power ; 
 
 Were all their fleeting glories mine, 
 My soul would scorn the ignoble dower. 
 
 What were a moment's wealth to me 
 
 Whose lifetime is eternity ? 
 
 II. 
 I ask thee not for ease from Pain ; 
 
 A welcome guest at thy command. 
 Ah, let her not depart again, 
 
 If at thy word she takes her stand. 
 An instant's gloom upon the sky, 
 Whose limit is immensity. 
 
LINES. 245 
 
 III. 
 
 Even earthly love, so sweet to own, 
 Yet may not fill the expanding mind. 
 
 Its bloom is bright, but swiftly flown 
 As down upon the fleeting wind. 
 
 The soul that shall for ever live 
 
 Yearneth for more than time can give. 
 
 IV. 
 
 This, oh Redeemer, be my cry, — 
 
 Blest elder brother of our race. 
 Come from thy throne of light on high, 
 
 Unveil to me thy glorious face. 
 In dungeon dark, or palace fair, 
 Alike 'tis Heaven, if Thou art there ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The darkest cloud before thy smile, 
 
 Grows warm and rosy as the day. 
 Or all earth's grandeur fades the while. 
 
 If thou thy lovelier charms display. 
 Without thee. Heaven were robed in gloom. 
 And with thee, glory fills the tomb ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 But oh, how fearfully the soul 
 
 Gazeth beyond the shores of time ! 
 Hearing th' eternal surges roll. 
 
 Majestic in their roar sublime, — 
 
 21* 
 
246 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 And all unaided braves the tide, 
 Without thy presence by his side. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Eternity ! — How thrills the soul 
 That knows a happy destiny ! 
 
 Age after age, he saith, shall roll, 
 Yet I shall with my Saviour be ; 
 
 Shall see his face — shall hear his voice, 
 
 And in his tender smile rejoice ! 
 
I Ipirit'B ^aptarE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Fresh through the casement, the breath of bloom, 
 
 Came on the air of a quiet room ; 
 
 And the setting sun threw a pleasant ray 
 
 O'er the couch where the dying Christian lay. 
 
 Brightly serene was the pallid face, 
 
 Death had no power o'er its saintly grace. 
 
 For the spirit that looked through the closing eye. 
 
 Had caught its light from another sky. 
 
 And still did the tones of his failing voice. 
 
 But whisper the single word — Rejoice ! 
 
 Till, when the Angel of Death had set 
 
 His seal upon all that was mortal yet. 
 
 His spirit-wings, that were plumbed for flight. 
 
 Unfolded at once in the world of light. 
 
 Then with the welcoming angels there, 
 
 His song of rejoicing rung out on the air. 
 
248 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Away ! away ! through the boundless blue, 
 To the home where my blessed Saviour dwells. 
 
 Earth, with thy sorrows and gloom, adieu ! 
 
 Death and the grave, I have broken your spells ! 
 
 III. 
 Light of eternity ! Glory of space ! 
 
 Morn upon earth was as midnight to ye. 
 Gentle as love is your smile on my face, — 
 
 Sweeter than spring is your freshness to me. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Angels, rejoice ! — Let us shout, as we fly. 
 Songs of thanksgiving to God and the Son. 
 
 Hark ! there are voices responding on high. 
 Welcome, they say, to the rest thou hast won. 
 
 V. 
 
 Brighter and brighter the glory appears. 
 Louder and richer the music of bliss. 
 
 Never before were such sounds in my ears, — 
 Never before saw I vision like this. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sudden he paused — and with mute surprise, 
 Gazed on the portals of Paradise. 
 And, knowing all grief was for ever o'er, 
 Entered his home — to depart no more. 
 
(f)ak mih \^t BiUara. 
 
 I. 
 
 Black came the clouds, like a demon-throng, 
 
 On the sounding wings of the stormy blast ; 
 And oyer the earth, as they sped along, 
 
 A shadow like gathering night they cast. 
 Proud stood the king of the forest there, 
 
 Answering with scorn to the tempest's might. 
 " And shall I bend with a coward's prayer, 
 
 Or bow my head with a slave's affright ? 
 
 II. 
 " I have stood unmoved by the thunder's roar. 
 
 In the lightning's glory bathed my brow ; 
 And smiled, for a thousand years and more, 
 
 On the summer's gale and the winter's snow." 
 And the Oak each leafy branch spread wide. 
 
 While his spirit thrilled with a high disdain. 
 And the trumpet tone of the storm replied, 
 
 As he hastened on o'er the distant plain. 
 
250 RELIGIOUS POEMS. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then did the swaying Willow 
 
 Her graceful branches wave, 
 And lift her voice imploring, 
 
 To Him who loves to save. 
 " King of Glory ! hear me — 
 
 So weak am I and frail. 
 That I know Thy presence only 
 
 Can shield me from the gale. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " It was Thy sunlight robed me 
 
 In tender beauty fair ! 
 Thine was the stream that laved me, 
 
 Thine the caressing air. 
 Oh, think of all the blessings 
 
 Thou hast strewn about my path. 
 And fold Thy wings above me. 
 
 As I bow to the tempest's wrath." 
 
 It hath come ! — it hath passed ! — and the Oak lies 
 prone, — 
 
 Low on the earth in his giant length. 
 He had braved the shock in his pride alone. 
 
 And it laughed to scorn his puny strength. 
 
THE OAK AND THE WILLOW. 251 
 
 VI. 
 
 But in the pure, soft sunset, 
 
 Like love that smiles thro' tears, 
 
 The Willow, in her meekness, 
 Was spared for brighter years ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 don edition of Mr. Murray, and made complete by the addition 
 of more than fifty pages of poems heretofore unpublished in 
 England. Among these there are a number that have never ap- 
 peared in any American edition ; and the publishers believe they 
 are warranted in saying that this is the most complete edition of 
 Lord Byron'' s Poetical Works ever published in the United States. 
 
 1 
 
Milton, Youngj Gray, Beattie, and CoUins's 
 
 POETICAL WORKS. 
 
 Complete in One Volume, Octavo. 
 WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO ; WITH SEVEN BEAFTIFUL 
 ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid engraved 
 likeness of Mrs. Hemans, on steel, and contains all the Poems in 
 the last London and American editions. With a Critical Preface 
 by Mr. Thatcher, of Boston. 
 
 PROSE AND POETICAL WORKS. 
 Complete in One Volume, Octavo. 
 
 Including two hundred and fifty Letters, and sundry Poems of 
 Cowper, never before published in this country ; and of Thom- 
 son a new and interesting Memoir, and upwards of twenty 
 new Poems, for the first time printed from his own Manu- 
 scripts, taken from a late Edition of the Aldine Poets, now 
 publishing in London. 
 
 The distinguished Professor Silliman, speaking of this edition, 
 observes: "I am as much gratified by the elegance and fine 
 taste of your edition, as by the noble tribute of genius and moral 
 excellence which these delightful authors have left for all future 
 generations ; and Cowper, especially, is not less conspicuous as 
 a true Christian, moralist and teacher, than as a poet of great 
 power and exquisite taste." 
 
 The Diamond Edition of Shakspeare. 
 
 (complete IX ONE VOLUME.) 
 
 INCLUDING A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 UNIFORM WITH BYRON AND MOORE. 
 
 The above works can be had in several varieties of binding. 
 
 2 
 
GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE. 
 
 In two volumes, octavo. 
 BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH 385 PLATES. 
 
 CONTAINING A HISTORY OF THE EARTH, ANIMALS, BIRDS, AND FISHES; FORMING THE 
 MOST COMPLETE NATURAL HISTORY EVER PUBLISHED. 
 
 This is a work that should be in the library of every family, 
 having been written by one of the most talented authors in the 
 English language. 
 
 " Goldsmith can never be made obsolete while delicate genius, 
 exquisite feeling, fine invention, the most harmonious metre, and 
 the happiest diction, are at all valued." 
 
 THE POWER AND PROGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 THE UNITED STATES; 
 
 ITS POWER AND PROGRESS. 
 
 BY GUILLAUME TELL POUSSIN, 
 
 Late Minister of the Republic of France to the United States. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN, FROM THE THIRD PARIS EDITION. 
 
 Translated from the French by Edmond L. Du Barry, M. D., 
 
 SUKGEON U. S. NAVY, 
 
 IN ONE LARGE OCTAVO VOLUME. 
 
 SCHOOLCRAFT'S GREAT NATIONAL WORK ON THE INDIAN TRIBES 
 OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 WITH BEAUTIFUL AND ACCURATE COLOUEED ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Historical and Statistical Information 
 
 RESPECTING THE 
 
 HISTORY, CONDITION, AND PROSPECTS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 INDIAN TRIBES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNITED STATES. 
 
 Collected and prepared under the direction of the Bureau of 
 Indian Affairs, per Act of March 3, 1847. 
 
 BY HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT, LL.D. 
 
 Illustrated by S. Eastman, Capt. U. S. A. 
 
 PUDLTSHED BY AL'THORITT OF CONGRESS. 
 
THE AMERICAN GARDENER'S 
 
 ADAPTED TO THE CLIMATE AND SEASONS OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 Containing a complete account of all the work necessary to be 
 done in the Kitchen Garden, Fruit Garden, Orchard, Vineyard, 
 Nursery, Pleasure-Ground, Flower Garden, Green-house, Hot- 
 house, and Forcing Frames, for every month in the year ; with 
 ample Practical Directions for performing the same. 
 BY BERNARD M'MAHON. 
 Tenth Edition, greatly improved. In one volume, octavo. 
 
 ROGERS, CAMPBELL, MONTGOMERY, LAMB. 
 AND KIRKE WHITE. 
 
 Complete in One Volume, Octavo. 
 WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 The beauty, correctness, and convenience of this favourite edi- 
 tion of these standard authors are so well known, that it is 
 scarcely necessary to add a word in its favour. It is only ne- 
 cessary to say, that the publishers have now issued an illus- 
 trated edition, which greatly enhances its former value. The 
 engravings are excellent and well selected. It is the best 
 library edition extant. 
 
 CRABBE, HEBER, AND POLLOK'3 
 
 Complete in One Volume, Octavo. 
 WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language 
 with reference to these valuable editions : — 
 
 " Mr. Editor: — I wish, without any idea of puffing, to say a 
 word or two upon the 'Library of English Poets,' that is now 
 published by Lippincott, Grambo & Co. It is certainly, taking 
 into consideration the elegant manner in which it is printed, 
 and the reasonable price at which it is afforded to purchasers, 
 the best edition of the modern British Poets that has ever been 
 published in this country. The publishers are doing a great 
 service by their publication, and their volumes are almost in as 
 great demand as the fashionable novels of the day ; and they 
 deserve to be so ; for they are certainly printed in a style superior 
 to that in which we have before had the works of the English 
 Poets." 
 
 4 
 
A COMPLETE 
 
 DiftiDnnri] of |c50ttical diluntntions : 
 
 COMPRISING THE MOST EXCELLENT AND APPROPRIATE 
 
 PASSAGES IN THE OLD BRITISH POETS; WITH CHOICE 
 
 AND COPIOUS SELECTIONS FROM THE BEST 
 
 MODERN BRITISH AND AMERICAN 
 
 POETS. 
 
 EDITED BY SAKAH JOSEPHA HALE. 
 
 " As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, 
 So poets live upon the living light 
 Of Nature and of Beauty." 
 
 Bailey's Festus. 
 
 Beautifully illustrated with Engravings. In one super royal 
 octavo volume, in various bindings. 
 
 The Diamond Edition of Byron, 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF LORD BYRON. 
 
 m^m a ^netci) of Ijfs Sffe. 
 
 Complete in one neat duodecimo volume, with steel plates. 
 
 The type of this edition is so perfect, and it is printed with so 
 much care, on fine white paper, that it can be read with as much 
 ease as most of the larger editions. This work is to be had in 
 plain and superb binding, making a beautiful volume for a gift. 
 
 The Diamond Edition of Moore. 
 
 (corresponding with BYRON.) 
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS MOORE. 
 
 Complete in one Volume. 
 
 This work is published uniform with Byron, from the last 
 London edition, and is the most complete printed in the country. 
 
 5 
 
THE FARMER'S AND PLANTER'S ENCYCLOPEDIA. 
 
 The Farmer's and Planter's Encyclopaedia 
 of Rural AfFairs. 
 
 BY CUTHBERT W. JOHNSON. 
 
 ADAPTED TO THE UNITED STATES BY GOUVERNEUR EMERSON. 
 Illustrated by seventeen beautiful Engravings of Cattle, Horses, 
 Sheep, the varieties of Wheat, Barley, Oats, Grasses, the 
 Weeds of Agriculture, &c. ; besides numerous en- 
 gravings on wood of the most important im- 
 plements of Agi'iculture, &c. 
 This standard work contains the latest and best information 
 upon all subjects connected with farming, and appertaining to 
 the country ; treating of the great crops of grain, hay, cotton, 
 hemp, tobacco, rice, sugar, &c., &c. ; of horses and mules; of 
 cattle, with minute particulars relating to cheese and butter- 
 making ; of fowls, including a description of capon-making, 
 with drawings of the instruments employed ; of bees, and the 
 Russian and other systems of managing bees and constructing 
 hives. Long articles on the uses and preparation of bones, 
 lime, guano, and all sorts of animal, mineral, and vegetable 
 substances employed as manures. Descriptions of the most ap- 
 proved ploughs, harrows, threshers, and every other agricultural 
 machine and implement ; of fruit and shade trees, forest trees, 
 and shrubs ; of weeds, and all kinds of flies, and destructive 
 worms and insects, and the best means of getting rid of them ; 
 together with a thousand other matters relating to rural life, 
 about which information is so constantly desired by all residents 
 of the country. 
 
 IN ONE LAEGE OCTAVO VOLUME. 
 
 ^ 
 
 A DICTIONARY OF SELECT AND POPULAR QUOTATIONS, 
 
 WniCH ARE IN DAILY USE. 
 
 TAKEN FROM THE LATIN, FRENCH. GREEK, SPANISH, AND ITALIAN 
 
 LANGUAGES. 
 
 Together with a copious Collection of Law Maxims and Law 
 
 Terms, translated into English, with Illustrations, 
 
 Historical and Idiomatic. 
 
 NEW AMERICAN EDITION, CORRECTED, WITH ADDITIONS. 
 
 One volume, 12mo. 
 
 This volume comprises a copious collection of legal and other 
 
 terms which are in common use, with English translations and 
 
 historical illustrations ; and we should judge its author had 
 
 surely been to a great " Feast of Languages," and stole all the 
 
 6 
 
scraps. A work of this character should have an extensive 
 sale, as it entirely obviates a serious difficulty in which most 
 readers are involved by the frequent occurrence of Latin, Greek, 
 and French passages, which we suppose are introduced by au- 
 thors for a mere show of learning — a difficulty very perplexing 
 to readers in general. This "Dictionary of Quotations," con- 
 cerning which too much cannot be said in its favour, eflFectually 
 removes the difficulty, and gives the reader an advantage over 
 the author ; for we believe a majority are themselves ignorant 
 of the meaning of the terms they employ. Very few truly 
 learned authors will insult their readers by introducing Latin 
 or French quotations in their writings, when " plain English" 
 will do as well ; but we will not enlarge on this point. 
 
 If the book is useful to those unacquainted with other langua- 
 ges, it is no less valuable to the classically educated as a book 
 of reference, and answers all the purposes of a Lexicon — indeed, 
 on many accounts, it is better. It saves the trouble of tumbling 
 over the larger volumes, to which every one, and especially those 
 engaged in the legal profession, are very often subjected. It 
 should have a place in every library in the country. 
 
 SAY'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. 
 
 A TREATISE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY; 
 Or, The Production^ Distribution, and Consumption of Wcaltli, 
 
 FIFTH AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES, 
 
 BY C. C. BIDDLE, ESQ. 
 In one volume, octavo. 
 
 It would be beneficial to our country if all those who are as- 
 piring to office were required by their constituents to be familiar 
 with the pages of Say. 
 
 The distinguished biographer of the author, in noticing this 
 work, observes: "Happily for science, he commenced that study 
 which forms the basis of his admirable treatise on Political Eco- 
 nomy, a work which not only improved under his hand with every 
 successive edition, but has been translated into most of the Eu- 
 ropean languages." 
 
 The Editor of the North American Review, speaking of Say, 
 observes, that "he is the most popular, and perhaps the most 
 able writer on Political Economy, since the times of Smith." 
 
 7 
 
WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR: 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS, ENGRAVED BY GILBERT 
 AND GIHON, FROM DESIGNS BY DARLEY. 
 
 One volume, octavo ; cloth gilt. 
 To commend or to criticise Sterne's Works, in this age of the 
 world, would be all " wasteful and extravagant excess." Uncle 
 Toby — Corporal Trim — the Widow — Le Fevre — Poor Maria — the 
 Captive — even the Dead Ass, — this is all we have to say of 
 Sterne ; and in the memory of these characters, histories, and 
 sketches, a thousand follies, and worse than follies, are forgotten. 
 The volume is a very handsome one. 
 
 i'i LigTMiE 
 
 DISCOURSES TO YOUNG MEN, 
 
 Illustrated by Numerous High'y Interesting Anecdotes. 
 BY WILLIAM DODD, LL.D. 
 
 CHAPLAIN IN ORDINARY TO HIS MAJESTY GEORGE THE THIRD. 
 FIRST AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 One volume, 18mo. 
 
 THE IRIS: 
 
 AN ORIGINAL SOUVENIR. 
 
 WITH CONTRIBUTIONS FROM THE FIRST WRITERS 
 IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 [E[n)[]TrLl© mV PB(2)f?a DS)[KJK1 ©. [Kl^f^i/o 
 
 With Splendid Illuminations and Steel Engravings. Bound in 
 
 Turkey Morocco and rich Papier Mache Binding. 
 
 In one volume, octavo. 
 
 Its contents are entirely oi'iginal. Among the contributors 
 
 are names well known in the republic of letters ; such as Mr. 
 
 Boker, Mr. Stoddard, Prof. Moifat, Edith May, Mrs, Sigourney, 
 
 Caroline May, Mrs. Kinney, Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Pease, Mrs. Swift, 
 
 Mr. Van Bibber, Rev. Charles T. Brooks, Mrs. Dorr, Erastus W. 
 
 Ellsworth, Miss E. W. Barnes, Mrs. Williams, Mary Young, Dr. 
 
 Gardette, Alice Carey, Phoebe Carey, Augusta Browne, Hamilton 
 
 Browne, Caroline Eustis, Margaret Junkin, Maria J. B. Browne, 
 
 Miss Starr, Mrs. Brotherson, Kate Campbell, &c. 
 
 8 
 
 H 13 89 
 
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