aassJ2AJi-4_t Book_- lA=— JWv^.Auolcu JvL.piWo^cl. o— o THE BROKEN VOW. OTHER POEMS. AMANDA M. EDMOND speaJc no ill of poetry. For 'tis a holy thing, — Mes. Sig' BOSTON: GOULD, KENDALL & LINCOLN, 59 WASHINGTON STREET. 1845. O O o- -o &-, iSTfe Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1815, By JAMES EDMOND, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. g555"? al^ o- -o o- -o TO MY VENERABLE GRANDFATHER, DBA. ELUAH COREY, THESE POEMS AKE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED, BY HIS GKANDDATIGHTEK. o- o o o PREFACE. A POETICAL contribution offered to the pubKc, presupposes in the author the existence of the true spirit of song. A perusal of these Poems best can decide whether this be the case in the present mstance ; they are presented with the hope that, though faulty, they may win some expressions of favorable regard. Critical severity may find much to condemn ; but if the little good that remains should touch kindred chords of sympathy in any breast, and enkindle a taste for true poesy, I shaU feel that not vainly my hai-p has been Strang. From childhood I have cul- tivated a friendship with the Muses ; their society has beguiled me of many an hour of pain and weariness, and I have loved to express the feehngs of my heart in numbers of song. The sacred Poems inserted here I esteem above the others, and should they be the means, through the Divine blessing, of elevating the heart and directing the thoughts to the con- templation of pure and holy themes, sweet indeed will be the reward of THE AUTHOR. o o o o The spell of song is on me, and the lyre The heart's own music pours, but not to thee, O earthly Tame, shall the glad offering be, — Higher than this my spirit shall aspire, For O ! what art thou but a fleeting breath Bought by a weary life or early death ! Sweeter to me the thought, in after days. Cherished in loving hearts my name shall live, Than blazoned on thy rolls, a theme of praise 'Mong those who oft but hollow flattery give. Therefore these powers of mine thou shalt not claim, Tor I win lay them on a hoUer shrine. Whose sacred fires burn with celestial flame, — Father in heaven ! on thine, and only ihi'm ! o o o- ~o LIST OE PLATES. POKTKAIT OF THE AUTHOE, CUPIDS MOUEOTNG OVEE A BEOKEN LYEE, 71 ABBOTSFOED, 112. MOOISTLIGHT SCEKE, 150 MELEOSE ABBEY, 192 GEACE DAELING, 255 o- "O o o CONTENTS. RODOLPHO, OK THE BrOKEN YoW, 13 Spring, 39 Wandering Thoughts, 42 Sunset at Sea, 45 When is the Time to Die, 47 Bright Fancy, spread thy Pinions wide, 49 The three Dreams, 53 God giveth us this glorious World, 55 Music, 57 The Water Lily, 60 April, 61 TfiEY SHALL PERISH, BUT ThOU SHALT ENDURE, 64 These are they who came out of great Tribula- tion, 66 The Sunlight of Home, 69 Stanzas to the Memory op Margaret M. David- son, 71 Pray, Mariner, Pray, 76 The Grapes and the Stream, 78 Dark, gloomy Thoughts steal o'er my Soul, 80 Assurance, 82 To the Spirit of Song, 84 Lines written on revisiting a favorite Hill,- • • • 87 To A Dove, 90 6 o o- -o CONTENTS I WILL GiTE Myself unto Prater, 93 The Greenwood Depths, 95 A Tribute to mt Father, 97 What shall separate the Disciple of Christ from HIS Love ? 106 Grave of an Indian Chief, 108 Abbotsford, 112 Sing not to Me that Song again, 115 June, 118 The Ruins of Craigmillar Castle. Scotland, 121 Semper Eadem, 123 Nine o'clock, 125 To a Blighted Oak, 128 The World of the Real, 131 The Minstrel and the Warrior, 133 The Slave's Dream, 136 Prater at Sea during a Violent Storm, 143 Death of a Missionart, 145 Childhood's Sleep, 148 To the Moon, 150 I could not die remote from Home, 153 SuMus Anim^ — We are Spirits, 156 A WOUNDED Spirit, who can bear ? 158 Stanzas written on being prevented bt Illness from attending upon Public Worship, 160 To Miss E. A. W., 162 The Young Swiss Minstrel, 164 Friendship, 169 My Brother on the Sea, 170 First Affection, 172 Marriage Htmn, 176 Prayer for the Absent, 178 The Dead, 180 Stanzas, written on board the Steamer Britan- nia, June 12, 1844, 182 o- -o o o CONTENTS. Xi "We 'vb conquered America, 184 Illi, Cui Carmina Applicent, 187 Sonnet — The "Wind, 191 Melrose Abbey, 192 Lines written in a Lady's Album, 194 David's Lamentation for Saul and Jonathan, • • • • 196 The Painter and the Dead, 199 I AM PASSING BY WHERE THE "WiLD FlOWERS BLOOM, 203 The Departure of Summer, 206 Eembmber now thy Creator, 210 Christian Hope, 212 Christian Triumph, 215 To , 217 Death, 220 The Burial of Thomas Campbell, in "Westminster Abbey, 223 The Soul, 225 To MY Mother, 228 The Absent, ^ 231 The Angel's Visit, 234 Flowers in "Winter, 237 The Snow — Written during a Storm, 239 The Pirate to his Bark, 241 Washing Day, 244 The Slave Ship, 247 The Prophetic Bark, 249 Written on viewing the Portrait of Eev. J. P E, D. D., 251 The Cross op Christ, 253 Grace Darling, 255 A Nameless Grave, 260 Voice op the Autumn Wind, 262 The Moon, 264 Return to my Bosom, 265 Tempus Fugit, 267 6 6 o- CONTENTS -o Meeting or Friends, 269 Sonnet, 271 The Dkbam of the Dying Poet, 272 To THE Memory of a beloved Father, 274 Christ is left, 276 For here we have no continuing City, 278 The Setting Sun, 281 Loch Leven Castle, 283 Christ is precious, 285 I AM THE Lord that healeth Thee, 287 The Eighteous Dead, ■ 289 Music op the Sea, 290 Stanzas, 291 Lines written on leaving Europe, 292 M. S. L., 295 The Meadow Spring, 298 The Widow's Son restored, 300 The Reply op Euth to Naomi, 307 If a Man Die, shall he Live again, 310 Our Earthly House, 312 Ls^VOCATION, 315 Affliction Sanctified, 317 The Ajsgels, • 320 o- -o o o THE BROKEN VOW AND OTHER POEMS. EODOLPHO: OE, THE BROKEN VOW. PART I. RoDOLPHo "vvas a shepherd's son, He chmbed the mountain steep, When morning dawned, or day was done, To tend his father's sheep. To honor Rodolph's soul aspired, For wealth his spirit burned ; Of bleating flocks and toil he tired, A shepherd's life he spurned. He mused in many a secret grot The rugged cliffs supplied. And loathed and cursed his cruel lot. For fame and grandeur sighed. 2 , o o o o 14 POEMS. His father's form was bowed with age, His locks were thin and gray ; In toil no more could he engage, Or tread the mountain way. His feeble hands could slay no more The beasts that wildly run, — He sat beside his cottage door, And slumbered in the sua. The old man's wife was dead and gone, He laid her in the ground, And clasping vine aiid sheltering thorn He planted on her mound. His httle daughter Alphonsine Supplied her mother's j)lace ; A lovelier child than she, I ween. Did never cottage grace. His comfort e'er her sole desire, She sought no childish play ; Like some sweet angel round her sire. She hovered night and day. 'Twas on a cold and gloomy morn. The coldest of the year, "Wlaen Rodolph climbed at early dawn The mountain steep and drear. o o o o POEMS. 15 December's keen and cutting gale Blew harsh on hill and moor, December's rude and rattling hail Iced all the country o'er. Along the mountain fiercely cold The sturdy shepherd passed, And gave his bleating charge a fold To screen them from the blast. A spacious cave he chanced to see, And entered there to roam ; ' Hard is the life I lead,' said he, ' I scorn my humble home. ' O, had I gold, then would I live As men should live below ; I'd take the gift, should demons give, Or fiends the boon bestow. ' I curse the day that gave me birth, And made me thus a slave ; By all the saints, I wish the earth Would take the dust she gave.' Erect he raised his stalwart form, His hands extended wide ; His impious voice above the storm Arose, high heaven to chide. o- — — — -6 o- 16 POEMS. But, hark! he heard a sudden sound, Far in the cavern dim ; An old man left its depths profound, And swift drew nigh to him. No mortal face the old man bore, His was no mortal tone ; A signet on his brow he wore, Of race and world iniknown. A snowy beard fell down below, And hid his shrivelled Avaist ; His sable garments' mournful flow, A leathern girdle braced. The voice of that wild withered seer Was like a funeral knell. As thus on E-odolph's wondering ear Its thrilling music fell. ' Thy wish I long have knoAvn, rash boy ! It shall be granted now ; And filled shall be thy cup of joy, Wilt thou but take a vow. ' But, first, to give thee gold, thy sire His aged life must yield ! What else shall spring from thy desire, Shall shortly be revealed. o-^ 6 o _o POEMS. 17 ' Say, art thou willing he should die ? Few years has he to live ; Think of thy wants gold will supply, Of bliss that gold will give.' Rodolpho listened as he spoke, And shuddered deep awhile ; But, O ! at last there o'er him broke A fiend-assenting smile. The tempter saw his words prevail, And boldly answered, ' Now Of endless wealth thou shalt not fail, And this shall be thy vow : — ' That from a drainless golden mine, But once each rolling day, A portion thou shalt take as thine. And bear it thence away. * But, should' St thou twice the cofiers seek, Twice on the self-same day, I will upon thee vengeance wreak, This forfeit thou shalt pay. ' Thy Alphonsine, a maiden fair. The fairest 'neath the heaven, Thy sister, thou shalt thither bear. And she to me be given. 6— = O o 9 18 POEMS. ' But should'st thou thrice a portion take, Ere Sol shall westward roU, Thee, goblins shall their victim make, And fiends torment thy soul. ' Or, should'st thou e'er to men reveal The secret thou shalt bear, My king's fierce judgments thou shalt feel In endless, dread despair.' Again that smile of strange delight, Eodolpho's face defiled. As lightning, mid the gloom of night, Plays round a mountain wild. The fiend prevailed ; Rodolpho cried, ' May'st thou bear witness now. May heaven and earth attest beside, I stvear to keep the voiv ! ' If false, heaven's wrath shall o'er me roU, My frame in vengeance blast, And demons shall my perjured soul To endless torments cast.' Tlie old man drew a massive key From out his sable vest, And gave the youth ; ' Enough,' said he, ' Be of thy wish possessed.' 6 — o o ^ o POEMS. 19 He spake, and, lo ! the arches damp, Within that gloomy cave, Were ht -with many a massive lamp, That awful radiance gave. A lock upon the rugged side Of one low arch reposed, The key appUed, a door flew wide. And shining gold disclosed. The youth to seize the prize began, And viewed his portion o'er, Then turned to thank the aged man. But saw his face no more. • And soon he sought his father's cot, Still musing on the gold ; The father's fate the cliild forgot, But quickly was it told. His sire, upon the cottage floor, A lifeless body lay ; A livid hue his features "wore. Cold was his breatUess clay. And Alphonsine, his darling child. Chafed tenderly his brow ; Then Rodolph shook, his eye was wild. He thought upon the vow ! 6 O o o 20 POEMS. ' He Avill not wake ! ' the weeping girl Exclaimed, in deep despair; She kissed liis Hps, her auburn curls Swept o'er his hoary hair. ' I went for water to the spring, And swift my footsteps sped, But when I came the cup to bring My father he was dead ! ' The child ne'er ceased to moan and weep Till grief e'en sank to rest, And she had •wept herself to sleep Upon her father's breast. Rodolpho shuddered at the sight, But 'mid the evening gloom, Far on the dusky mountain's height, He sought his sire a tomb. And staggering 'neath the weight, he bore His awful burden there ; The dull eyes of the dead man wore A stern, reproachful glare. "With trembling steps he left the spot. And vainly sought repose ; His father's image left him not Till morning light arose. o o o o POEMS. 21 And Alphonsine's sweet, plaintive tones, The artless words she said, Fell on his ear like funeral moans, Or voices from the dead. And days rolled by of changeless gloom, To Rodolph and his gold, Till spring returned with vernal bloom. Her beauties to unfold. Though much he from the cavern took, To more his soul aspired ; He once the coffers rudely shook, And all they held, desired. At last, tivice on the self-same day. The cave he boldly sought ; A second portion bore away, And to his cottage brought. ' Were Alphonsine but gone,' said he, * I, weary of the charge, Then would my longing feet be free To roam the world at large.' To conscience' voice he gave no heed. And storms swept o'er the heaven As he performed the hellish deed, Just ere the fall of even. O 6 o o 22 POEMS. But when that deed was done, there came Remorse, with bitter sighs, A hving fire preyed on his frame, A fire that never dies. He knew he must the forfeit pay ; So, when the morning broke, Sweet AJphonsine he led away. From peaceful slumbers woke. ' What seek we on the mountain side ? My brother,' said the child ; The brother stern no word replied, His look was dark and wild. But on she spake in childish glee, As Rodolph SAviftly led His sister 'neath a stately tree, "Where he had laid the dead. ' What seek we here at early dawn ? The wild deer speeds his flight, The grapes are green, the mountain thorn Bears yet no berries bright. ' I '11 twine a wreath of flowers around Thy brow, of lily dye ; ' But Rodolph threw him on the ground. The chUd, amazed, stood by. o -6 O : O POEMS. 23 And while sweet flowers she trembhng laid Amid his raven hair, Emerging from the forest shade, An old man hastened there. ' I claim the forfeit, lo ! ' he said, * The child is now mine own.' Then with her vanished, and the dead And E-odolph were alone. He felt he bore that dead man's ban. New blood his hands imbmed. And homeward wildly Rodolph ran As though some fiend pursued. And soon he sold his cot and sheep. And left his mountain home, And sought to lull remorse to sleep Amid the pomp of Rome. He built a palace proud and high Of sculptured marble there ; And all was his that wealth could buy, Of worth or beauty rare. And costly garments Rodolph wore, And richest spices burned ; But ever from his palace door, The poor, he cursing, spurned. 6 6 O ■ o 24 POEMS. He gently cheered no sufferer sad, He warmed no pilgrim cold ; No mourning heart was e'er made glad By kindness, or by gold. No fervent prayer to heaven arose For blessings on his head ; But feared by friends, and scorned by foes, A gloomy life he led. 'Twas midnight; o'er the city hung The lamp that lights the earth: 'Twas midnight; through the city rung The voice of festal mirth. St. Peter's bell was pealing loud From out its massive dome. And trod its aisles a gorgeous crowd, 'Twas carnival at Rome. In marble niches torches blazed, And flashed a thousand fires ; And minstrels swelling pa3ans raised. And swept their sounding lyres. And palace doors were opened wide, And o'er each banquet board. Sweet fragrance, like an airy tide. The burning censers poured. O O o o POEMS. 25 And nobles proud, and stately lords, The marble pavements strodej And knights with pennons, plumes, and swords, On fleetest chargers rode. But Rodolph, on a thorny bed, In fitful to s sings lay ; The moon her lustre o'er him shed, Till night seemed bright as day. He seemed to see his father's face. And lines of woe were there ; To feel his sister's cold embrace. And meet her glassy glare. The moonlight on their garments fell, The light breeze made them wave ; He shuddered, for he knew too well Their robes were of the grave ! He quailed — reproachful words he seemed To hear the phantoms say ; Then woke to find that he had dreamed. The vision passed away. And now he sought to take the life, The hated life he bore. And madly grasped the glittering knife He at his girdle wore. 3 O O p o 26 POEMS. He shrank, he dropped the steel ; his soul Was racked by pangs of guilt, And keen remorse, that spurned control, For blood already spilt. That day, as he of gold possessed. Was coming from the cave. In rage his dagger pierced the breast Of Gondoline, a slave ! He knew that she had watched his path Where none beside were nigh ; So madly, in vindictive wrath, He bade the menial die. Her life-blood jfiowing from the wound, His silken vest had stained ; He flung it wildly on the ground, And e'en the sight disdained. For in a torch's flame he burned, The garb defiled with blood ; Then from the loathsome ashes turned, And sought a sparkling flood — Of water, that in beauty flowed From out a marble fount, That rose beliind his proud abode, Upon a mossy mount. 6 o o o POEMS. 27 He bathed him in the cooHng stream, Then sought his palace halls, And woke each dying torch's gleam, That studded o'er the walls. He bade his servants swiftly spread With feasts the tables o'er ; And costly wines, both white and red, In golden goblets pour. He bade his minstrels sweetly sing, And tune anew the lyres ; Till every sounding arch should ring With music from their wires. He bade his doors be opened wide. And lit with brilliant flame ; Until, to feast at Rodolph's side, A train illustrious came. The feast went on, the night waned fast, The banquet's song was loud ; The treacherous wine had darkly cast O'er Rodolph's brain a cloud. His raging fears it deeply drowned, And lulled remorse to sleep, Until his shattered reason found Its secrets hard to keep. 6 o o o 28 POEMS. He boasted of his boundless gold, The costly gems he wore, The slaves his mighty arm controlled, His barks the ocean bore. Pleased with the praises of his power, The wondering listeners gave, Alas I in an ill-fated hour He told them of the cave I He told the secret of his wealth ; That, when the world was stilled. He sought a distant mount by stealth, And all his coffers filled. He ridiculed the aged man, "Who there the gift had given ; And ridiculed the vow he made. And swore to keep by heaven ! He ceased : the maddening wuie-cloud broke And left liis troubled brain ; He knew the words so raslily spoke, And mourned those words in vain. A chill, hke ice, crept o'er his frame, Pale grew his crimson brow ; And fear with all her horrors came. For he had broke his voiv ! O O o o POEMS. 29 A voice rolled through the palace halls, In deep and thunder tones, And rattled proud and bannered walls, Like heaps of mouldered bones. A voice, and a fearful form drew nigh, Of an awful, solemn bearing; And a massive pall of the darkest dye, Were its mail-clad shoulders wearing. 'Twas an aged man, and a mighty lance In his hands he flourished proudly ; And Rodolph quailed at his searching glance. As these words he uttered loudly : — ' Die, traitor, die ! thou hast broke thy vow, And thou canst recall it never ; Die, traitor, die ! I have won thee now, And thou shalt be mine forever ! ' Deep horror sat on the death-pale face Of each noble guest that heard him ; And they all rose up from their wonted place But their host, for a spell deterred him. The song was hushed on the minstrel's tongue. The harp from the weak hand glided, As the clang of the phantom's armor rung. And his laugh their fears derided. 3* o o o o 30 POEMS, And they all rushed out at the opened door, And the costly feast was wasted ; The wine-cups rolled on the marble floor, And their contents flowed untasted. The fiend and his victim alone were left. For his voice the last had banished; And the marble pavement "was widely cleft. And they both together vanished. When morning dawned, not a trace was found Of the palace burned and sundered ; Men gathering, gazed on the smoking ground, And they crossed themselves and wondered. There was none o'er Rodolph's fate to weep : He had passed, with every token Of riches, once as the boundless deep, For the vow, the vow was broken ! O O o o POEMS. 31 PART II KODOLPHO: OE, THE BROKEN VOW. RoDOLPHo and the awful fiend Sank down to ghostly regions ; And waiting for him, there he saw Ten thousand spectre legions. And they brought him, shouting fierce and loud In their wild infernal tones. To their king, whose banner was a shroud, And whose palace human bones ! And Deatheldorf was the monarch's name, And his realm was goblin Vale ; And a minister prime had that monarch same, Whose title was Shuddergale. The king sat high on a blood-red throne, With a strange and dazzUng crown ; His sceptre proud, was a snow-white bone. And he waved it with a frown. ' Thou wretch ! ' he cried, ' who hast dared to break A vow, with my courtier made, For this shaU my fiercest judgments burst, In their fury on thy head I O — O o o 32 POEMS. ' O ! thou shalt be torn by torments keen, And my eyes thy pangs shall see ; Yon brain-fed birds that are feasting seen, Shall fatten, perchance, on thee ! ' He spake, and he bade his servants bear The youth to a barren plain ; And to fetter the trembling captive there. With a strong and heavy chain. They carried him then to an open field, And they made him fast, and cried, ' Till the gates of yon tomb be all unsealed, Thou shalt in this spot abide.' E.odolpho looked, and a tomb beheld. Four portals around it hung, And at each a fearful goblin yelled. And a key at his girdle swung. He stood alone by the awful spot. For the monarch's train withdrew. And he longed for morn, bu.t he saw it not. For the night still darker grew. At last a noise at the tomb he heard. Of a massive key turned round ; And a door, addressed by a magic word, Flew wide, with a jarring sound. 6 o o o POEMS. 33 And he saw a funeral train pass out, With a sable hearse before ; The hearse was drawn by a gobUn stout, And a coffin dark it bore. Their forms were lit by a torch's flame, And the foul air was its food ; And they hastened on till at last they came To the spot where Rodolph stood. He looked for tears and for mournful groans, But no tears the goblins shed, For they laughed in wild and savage tones, As exulting o'er the dead. The glare of the flambeau borne before, Flashed over the cofiin dim. And he saw that the lid his own name bore. That it waited but for him. Ptodolpho swooned ; when to hfe he woke, No trace of the train he found ; He looked at the tomb, at a fresh word spoke, Lo I another gate swung round. And a dark red stream flowed gently forth, And it widened as it ran ; It part went south, and it part went north. Spread out hke an opened fan. O O o o 34 POEMS. Ere long it covered the whole plain o'er, And it wetted Rodolph too ; The tiny waves on its breast it bore Soon to mighty billows grew. And he was bound to an iron stake, In the midst of the awful field ; His fetters he wildly sought to break. But in vain, for they would not yield. The stream soon grew to a river wide. And it rose to Rodolph's chin, And he strove to scream, but Ms accents died In the fearful water's din. And he saw to him coming a goblin fleet, And its sails were white as snow ; And loudly rattled each straining sheet, As the wind swept to and fro. The barks of the goblins, black and red, On the foaming "w^aves danced light ; They sailed round the fainting Rodolph's head. And yelled in their demon might. They held out ropes as to save him, oft, But when these he strove to grasp, They snatched them back with a mocking laugh. At their victim's fruitless clasp. O 6 o o POEMS. 35 At last they weary, the sport forsook, And their horrid cries they stilled ; But they turned on E-odolph a parting look, And his very soul it chilled. The crimson billows ceased to bound, And the tide kept growing low, Till Rodolph gazed on the solid ground, Still wet by its recent flow. To the tomb he turned, and another gate On its bony hinge swung wide. And stood at the threshold a spectre great, And two crowns were by his side. Two forms came forth from the tomb's dark door, That in robes of white were clad ; And victor palms in their hands they bore, And beautiful wings they had. The sable shadows of midnight rolled Like the mists of morn away, ■ And the sun looked down with an eye of gold. From the sky of a cloudless day. Sweet flowers sprung up of the fairest hue. And the barren field was green ; And the wondering Rodolph his father knew, And his sister, Alphonsine. 6 6 o o 36 POEMS. A seal on the brow of his father lay, That shone like the morning snn, He bore no traces of pale decay, For his earthly race was run. His sister's lips with a smile were wreathed, The smile that the angels wear. And the odors of beautiful flowers she breathed, Entwined in her golden hair. He strove to speak, but he strove in vain. And the crowns he saw them take, And upward soar from the goblin plain, And a joyful song awake. Then clouds swept over the sky serene, And the hea\'y thunder roared. And over the plain, no longer green. Was a fearful tempest poured. It ceased, and the fourth, the last great gate Of the tomb was opened Avide, And Deatheldorf, in a car of state, Rode out in liis kingly pride. And a train of gobUns next outrushed, Whose hideous yells rose liigh. Some, under the wheels of the car were crushed. But they lived, for they could not die. 6 O o o POEMS. 37 The monarch spake, in an awful tone, To his minister, Shuddergale, And. proudly flourished his sceptre bone, In his huge right hand so pale. A fearful trumpet the minister blew. And its blasts the plain did shake ; And the goblin legions nearer drew, As their king to Rodolph spake. ' Thou wretch ! thou hast felt our heavy ire. And thou tremble st at it now, But a judgment far than these more dire. Shall come for thy broken voio ! ' Thy sister fair, thou didst sell for gold. From our dark abode has gone ; Her sinless spirit we could not hold By the fetters thou hast worn. ' Thine aged sire was a holy man, And her lot, he too hath shared, But thou art writhing beneath his ban, To an endless torment spared. ' The good in a world of bliss rejoice, When their earthly bonds are riven. But he who yields to the tempter's voice, To the tempter's %orath is given.' 4 o o o- -o 38 A sign lie made, and the earth oped wide, And a deep abyss disclosed, And adown its depths the liquid tide Of a fiery lake reposed. And the goblins hurled Rodolpho in, And the greedy flames flashed high, While they drowned in a wild, exulting din, The sound of his piercing cry. 'Twas a liideous fire, and its awful rage Deep waters could smother, never; It burned its victims from age to age, And 'tis said it burns forever ! And now must I hush my wondrous tale, And I know it by this token ; The star in the brightening east is pale, For the spell of night is broken. IF o- -o o o POEMS. 39 SPRING. A SONG for thy return, O Spring, — Wliat shall the miTsic be ? For every bird hath one, whose wing Sweeps through the blue air, free. His harp the poet cannot wake To such melodious strain As that Avhose notes the silence break. Of field, and hill, and plain, A tribute for thy scented breeze, That sweep eth to and fro. And shaketh from the old fruit trees The blossoms white as snow ; And scatters them far o'er the grass, The soft, green grass and bright, Where feet of merry children pass. With laugh of wild delight. o o o^ 40 ~o They hunt the bkie-eyed violet, In shady forest nook, And snatch the golden cowslip, wet With water from the brook. They are as happy in their glee As birds ujion the wing ; Sweet is the song they sing for thee, For thy return, O Spring ! 1 A tribute to thy fragrant flowers, The beautiful, the gay. Who slept the long, cold winter hours Beneath the ground away. They cared not for the icy rain, The bleak wind and the snow ; They kne^w that thou would'st come again, With days of sunny glow. They knew that thou would'st call them uj), From 'neath the lowly sod. And bid each ope its tiny cup Wide, for the praise of God : His praise, who bathes them in his dew, Who pencils every leaf. And gives to each its radiant hue. And season, long or brief. o- -O o o POEMS. 41 O Spring ! thiice welcome all thy gifts So "wondrous, fan, and sweet ; The trees, the flowers, the grass, that lifts Its spires beneath our feet. Thou bringest to our memory That brighter "world on high, Whose blossoms ope eternally, Wlaose beauties never die. And, as for thy return, sweet Spring ! From winter's dreary tomb, Now nature wakes, thy praise to sing, And with new life to bloom ; So may our dust, which soon shaU lie With ashes, kindred born, Arise, and hail with joyful cry The resurrection morn. o -— O o- -o 42 WANDERING THOUGHTS. Come home my thoughts, O wherefore, idly straying. Wander ye thus at evening's hallowed time ; Still, still upon earth's meaner shores delaying, Wliile pure devotion plumes for flight sublime, And spirit voices on the soft, still air, Whisper to mortals summons sweet to prayer. Tlie golden sun's departing beams are wreathing Forest, and plain, and cot, and stately tower ; And the cool night wind sweepeth, gently breathing, And the bright dew lies on the folded flower ; Return my thoughts, O, wherefore idly roam. Come to the shrine, the cross, — come home, come home ! o- -o o o POEMS. 43 This is the hour for sacred, sweet communion With the pure spirits of a purer sphere ; Now hath the soul with heaven a nearer union, Breaking the fetters that w^ould chain it here ; Soarmg on Faith's own pinions far away Up to the regions of eternal day. Come from the bowers of worldly hopes and pleasures, Ere the bright bow that spans their sky be fled, Come from the absent, memory fondly treasures ; Come from the silent mansions of the dead. Tarry no more in mournful reverence now, Wliere the destroyer's seal mars beauty's brow. Cease to brood longer o'er affection slighted, In this cold world it must be often so ; Love will be wasted, scorned, and unrequited. And its bright waters darkened as they flow, Till purer realms to truer hearts give birth. Seldom thy gifts, O sad, mysterious earth ! Come from the lore of days long since departed, A holier book is oped for ye to scan, And themes more glorious far than ever darted Thro' the thick darkness shrouding erring man ; The Book of books ! cluster ye thoughts of mine Around each page and hail it as a shrine. O O o- o 44 POEMS Come from the land of Fancy, ever glowing With the soft radiance of ideal things, A fairer world whence richer rays are flowing. Hues far more beauteous o'er your pinions flings ; Catch the bright glories as they pass ye by, Like the fleet splendors of the sunset sky. Haste, O my thoughts, ere in your freshness wasted. What earth, first served, resigns, heaven may but claim, Ere the dull spirit leave the cup untasted, Proffered to rouse to life her sluggish frame ; Return, return, O cease to idly roam, Come to the slxrine, the cross, — come home ! come home! O- -O o o POEMS. 45 SUNSET AT SEA. How glorious, when like a crown Upon the western wave, The golden sun goes calmly down Into his ocean grave. But ere he hides his flaming head Beneath the foaming crest, A broad deep glare of burning red He flings across her breast. Then o'er his place of burial ride, In majesty sublime, The giant waves, that have defied For ages, change and time. Now night spreads wide her ebon wings, Adorned with starry gems, More radiant far than eastern kings' Most brilliant diadems. 6 6 o- 46 -O POEMS O, sunset on the land is fair, When darker shadows fall, And far away we see him bear The Hght that gladdens all ; When evening zephyrs gently sweep With fragrance of the rose, And weary nature sinks to sleep In undisturbed repose. But 't is a nobler, grander scene, The ocean world displays, When in a grave of liquid green He hides his golden rays ; Where never slumbering waters roll In tireless fury by, Wliose wrath he only can control Who formed the sea and sky. Go, ride where feet have never trod, O'er w^ildest paths and free, And worship nature's glorious Grod At sunset on the sea ! O -o o o POEMS. 47 WHEN IS THE TIME TO DIE? I ASKED a glad and happy child, Whose hands were filled with flowers, Whose silvery laugh rang free and wild, Among the vine-wreathed bowers. I crossed her sunny path, and cried, ' When is the time to die ? ' ' Not yet ! not yet ! ' the child repUed, And swiftly bounded by. I asked a maiden, back she flung The tresses of her hair ; A whispered name was on her tongue, Whose memory hovered there. A flush passed o'er her lily brow, I caught her spirit's sigh ; ' Not now,' she cried, ' O no, not now I Youth is no time to die.' I asked a mother, as she prest Her first-born in her arms. As gently on her tender breast She hushed her babe's alarms. o 6 o- 48 -o In quivering tones her answer came, Her eyes were dim with tears, ' My horj his mother's Hfe must claim. For many, many years I ' I questioned one in manhood's prime. Of proud and fearless air, His bro'w was furrowed not by time. Or dimmed by woe and care. In angry accents he replied, — And gleamed with scorn liis eye, ' Talk not to me of death,' he cried, ' For only age should die.' I questioned Age ; for him, the tomb Had long been all prepared. But death, who withers youth and bloom, Tliis man of years had spared. Once more his nature's dying fire Flashed high, as thus he cried, ' Life, only life is my desire ! ' Then gasped, and groaned, and died. I asked a Christian — ' answer thou When is the hour of death ; ' A holy calm was on his brow. And peaceful was his breath ; And sweetly o'er his features stole A smile, a light divine ; He spake the language of his soul, ' My Master's time is ^nine ! ' o~ 'O o o POEMS. 49 BRIGHT FANCY, SPREiD THY PINIONS WIDE. Bright Fancy, spread thy pinions wide, And let me soar ■with thee. While fall the shades of eventide. That darken land and sea ! O, bear me to the muses' seat, If such may there appear. Where roll, in numbers wildly sweet, Songs lost to mortal ear. Say, is that seat on Ida's mount, Where fadeless sunbeams glow. Or where Castaha's silver fount And sparkling waters flow ? Where minstrels drank, in days of old, The song-inspiring waves, That came o'er sands of shining gold, Deep in the mountain caves. O — O o- 50 o POEMS Or, in Acadia's myrtle groves, Whose leaves are never sere ; Where Pan, perchance, still idly roves, And charms the shepherd's ear — Where Bacchus noisy revel held, Crowned with the vine-leaves bright ; And dancing satyrs wildly yelled. And broke the peaceful night ; When deigned great Jove his tlirone to leave. And liigh Olympic's bowers, And haughty Juno stooped to weave A wreath of earthly flowers. Or is their seat beneath the deep. Among its coral caves, Where sea-gods mighty tridents keep To lash rebellious waves ? Where Neptune decks his palace o'er With gems of brilliant hue. And pearls along the polished floor, Lie thick as drops of dew; Where insects build their tiny cells, Rough billows never tear, Wliere sea-nymphs wind their rosy shells, Or braid their silken hair ; o- -o Q . _ O POEMS. 51 I Or wet witli tears of pity warm, In some deep gloomy cave, The shipwrecked sailor's lifeless form, And grant him there a grave ; Or gather sea-flowers pale and cold, To wreathe his temples o'er, Then bear his icy corse to mould Upon the pebbly shore. Or is their seat on ocean's breast. Where sea-birds swiftly skim, When in the distant clouded west. The lamp of day burns dim ; — Or Triton, in his car of gold, By shining dolj^hins drawn. The waves upon their bosom hold, To greet the blushing morn ? Or on the wild and sea-girt strand. Among the lofty rocks. Where howls the breeze that sweeps to land, Whose sound the water mocks ? Or 'mong the silver stars, that light The pensive gloom of even, And shed a lustre mildly bright "Upon the darkened heaven. o — — o o- 52 POEMS -o The fairest of the starry band — Is that the muses' seat ; "Where land reechoes back to land Then* numbers wildly sweet ? "Wliere gentler breezes sweep along, And on their pinions bear The softest, purest notes of song — It must — it must be there. O, spread thy wings, bright Fancy ! wide, And let me soar with thee, "While fall the shades of eventide, That darken land and sea ! o- -o o o POEMS. 53 THE THREE DREAMS. 'T WAS night, and on a battle-field A tented host were lying, A warrior slumbered on his shield, His banner o'er him flying. He dreamed he won a wreath of fame, That round his brows he bound it ; — Death with the strife at mornmg came — The warrior never found it. A young girl slept within her bower, A smile her red Hps parted. Bright visions of some by-gone hour, Swift o'er her dreaming darted. Love's cup of bliss fond fancy grasped — Could aught destroy it ? — never ! She woke to find the chahce dashed, The treasure gone forever ! 5* o o o- -o 54 "Weary and worn a pilgrim lay- Where greenwood shades were blending, His soul in heavenly dreams away The angel sleep was sending. Hours passed, and saw that pilgrim wake To catch the real gloamings Of worlds that on the vision break, Not in earth's holiest dreamings. o- -o o o POEMS. 65 GOD GIVETH US THIS GIORIOUS WORLD. God giveth us tliis glorious world, Its sunbeams and its sliowers, Its trees with vernal beauty crowned, And brightly blooming flowers. Tlie swelling plains, where waves the grass Like billows of the sea, As summer breezes o'er it pass, On pinions soft and free. He giveth us the welcome day. The golden sun, whose beams Break thi-ough the dusky shades of night Like hope's celestial gleams — And peaceful eve, whose crown outvies The richest diadems. For heaven's own jewels glitter there. Ten thousand, thousand gems. God giveth us the countless streams, "Whose silver waters flow Through flowery field and verdant plain, With music sweet and low ; — -O o- 56 POEMS -o The mount, tliat to the lofty skies Its towering head uplifts ! — Above, below, and everywhere, Are our Creator's gifts. He giveth us a heart to love All that he here hath made, But asks that at his sluine alone Our homage should be paid. Yet, O, the base ingratitude Of man's rebellious soul. He stoops to be the slave of sin, Yields to her vile control. Strange, that the goodness God displays. In his creative powers. Should fail so oft to rouse to life The gratitude of ours. Strange, that on earth's inferior things, As grovelling as the sod, Man wastes the freshness of a mind, Immortal as its God. O, when shall that blest season come, Whose radiance shall illume, And call the spirit, wrapped in night, Forth from its hving tomb ? Wlien praise to God from every tongue, And anthems, shall ascend. Till seraph choirs with earth's redeemed, The sounding chorus blend. o- -o o o POEMS. 57 MUSIC. ' He was dying. They bent over him, and he whispered, " I hear the sound of music, 't is distant, but, O how sweet ! " ' Music ! what was it? the S'welhng note Of a psean loud and high, Whose echoes back on the light breeze float, As a martial train sweeps by ? Not this, not this was the sound so clear, So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear. Music ! what was it ? the solemn sound Of an exile's funeral hymn, As a sable train to the burial-ground Moves on through the forest dim ? Not tliis, not this was the sound so clear. So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear. Music ! what was it ? a banquet's song, Where the red wine sparkles bright, And the joys of festal mirth prolong The feasts of the shadowy night ? Not this, not this was the sound so clear. So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear, O O o- -o 58 Music ! what was it ? a bridal lay, Oft chanted 'mid smiles and tears, As the blushing maiden they lead away From the home of her early years ? Not this, not this was the sound so clear, So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear. Music ! what was it ? the trump that sings Of the fadeless Avreaths of fame. Whose tone to the panting spirit brings The news of a deathless name ? Not tliis, not this was the sound so clear, So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear. Music ! what was it? the hunter's horn In the echoing valley wound, Wliose loud notes startle the timid fawn In the greenwood's depths profound ? Not this, not this was the sound so clear, So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear. Music ! what was it ? the Sabbath bell, On the morning zephyrs borne. That seems to bring with its sacred swell Relief to the hearts that mourn ? Not this, not this was the sound so clear, So sweet, that broke on a mortal's ear. o- -o o o POEMS. 59 'Twas the sound a dying Christian heard, Wlio stood on the shore of Time, There broke on his ear, one thriUing "word, One note of a song sublime. Then quickly he dropped his cumbrous clay. And soared to the angel choir, And sang, while mounting the shining way, With a seraph's holy fixe. Feeble and faint, and of transient worth. Are the lays the world has given ; O, there is nought on the wide, wide earth Like the joyful songs of heaven ; Nought hke the music, so soft and sweet, Of ransomed souls at the Saviour's feet I O o o- -o 60 THE WATER LILY O, THE white water-lily that blooms on the wave ! The sweetest and purest that nature e'er gave, It Ufts its pale brow from the breast of the stream, And its golden eye kindles at morning's first beam, When temp est- clouds gather and break in the sky, And the dark tide quivers and wildly sweeps by. It smiles on the waters, the fierce winds that blow, For the lily is anchored, fast anchored below. O, would that my bark on life's tremulous sea Might sleep on the billows, sweet lily ! like thee. Unscathed by the rage of the tide and the storm. Whose fury ne'er shatters thy beautiful form. Firmly anchored below, I could smile at the strife That troubles the skies and the waters of life ; Like the pride of the streamlet, exultingly brave The shock of the tempest, the wrath of the wave. O- -o o- — ■ — — — — o POEMS. 61 APRIL. The April days ! the April days ! They are the days for me, And this the breeze that round me plays So pure, so soft, and free. Now life o'er nature's death prevails, Aiid, 'neath its magic sway. She flings aside her shroud, and hails Her resurrection day. The earth, that icy winter chilled, A living spirit warms ; And e'en the realms of air are filled With life in varied forms. O ! other months to me are dear, Glad May and sunny June, When nature's music greets the ear In more harmonious tune. 6 o — o o o 62 POEMS. But yet the brooklet's merry song, The wild bhd's from the bough, Will never sound the summer long, As they are sounding noiv ; — And flowers in soil more verdant nurst, That coming months may bring, Will never charm me like the Jirst That wreathe the brow of spring. The April skies ! the April skies ! How beautiful are they. When swift-winged clouds this moment rise, And pass the next away ; — When here her curtain darkness holds O'er heaven's pure azure sea. And there, from out its gloomy folds, The sunlight flashes free. 'T is sweet to see the shadows fly; But yet I think it strange That / should love an April sky, Who am averse to change : But nature hath her charms in this That o'er regret prevail. For ere we mourn the scene we miss, A brighter one we hail. o o o ■ o POEMS. 63 But, O the showers ! the April showers, The pearly drops that fall So freely on this world of ours, I love the best of all. Each hill puts on a vernal crown, And forest, vale, and plain ; For spring's most radiant gifts come down With April's gentle rain. The Sun, so glorious and so bright, That 'mid the drops appears. Is like religion's cheering light, Through sorrow's falling tears : — And earth, that drinks heaven's bounteous cup. And blooms in every place. Is hke the drooping heart waked up To life, 'neath showers of grace. O, spring ! who givest April days So very dear to me, Among the poet's sweetest lays Is ever one for thee. And ye, who seek the green hih's brow, Or tread the valley's sod. At nature's shrine adoring now, O worship there her God ! o ^— o o _o 64 POEMS. TBEY SHAH PERISH, BUT THOU SHALT ENDURE.' The sun shall perish ; the golden sun, "Who rideth forth like a conquering one, Flinging his beams from the arching sky. As he proudly sweeps through the realms on high ; But the day shall come, when the sun no more His glorious rays on the earth shall pour, For men to a greater light shall bow. The sun shall perish, but O, not thou. The moon shall perish ; the soft, sweet moon. The radiant queen of the midnight noon ; A gloomy veil shall her brightness shroud. And pass not off as a fleeting cloud, Of a darker hue and a wilder form Than the sable pall of the angry storm. Hiding the light that she gives us now. The moon shall perish, but O, not thou. The stars shall perish ; the countless stars, That traverse the sky in their silvery cars ; From the fii-st that burns when the sun goes down. To the last that lingers in night's bright crown ; O O o . o p o E SI s . 65 They all shall fade as they fade at morn, When the red east tells that the day is born ; They all shall pass from the heaven's blue brow, The stars shall perish, but O, not thou. The sea shall perish ; the deep, wide sea, With its waves careering wild and free ; She scorns the wrath of the storms of air, She gilds her foam with the lightning's glare ; But the day of a mightier storm draws nigh, Whose scorching fire shall her caverns dry ; Each drop that lies in her proud depths now, Ay, all shall perish, but O, not thou. The land shall perish ; the mighty land, The towering mount, and the desert sand, The fertile plain and the fruitful field ; The flowers that blossom, the trees that yield ; And stateliest temples and towers shaU. fall. And the wild moss creep o'er their ruined wall, Cities and thrones old time shall bow. All that is mortal, but O, not thou. Roll on, ye years, in your swiftness roll. He lives, whose breath is a mortal's soul; He lives enthroned in his might sublime. The Lord Jehovah, unchanged by time. O, great Creator of earth and skies, 'Tis on thy mercy our hope relies, Worms of the dust at thy feet we bow — Heaven, earth may perish, but O, not thou. O O o- -o 66 THESE ME TM WHO CAME OUT OP GREAT TRIBULATION. Revelation 7 ; 13, 14. Who are these in robes of white, Round the great Eternal's throne ? On their brows a seal of light, Chanting With celestial tone ; * Glory, glory to the Lamb ! Blessing to the King of kings, Honor to the great I Am ! ' Every tongue with rapture sings. These are they who once below, Perished in the martyr's tlame ; Bade their blood for Jesus flow, Dying, triumphed in his name. These are they whose lives were crowned With religion's holy zeal. On the torturing rack who found Peace their murderers could not feel. o- -o o ■ o POEMS. 67 These are they who cheerful dwelt In the desert and the cave, "Where the love of God they felt, Where they drank salvation's wave. These are they who bore the cross Meekly, and with willing feet, Counting all but heaven as dross, Deeming death for Jesus, sweet. Oft their faith the brightest showed, 'Mid the world's increasing gloom, And their path with glory glowed As they journeyed to the tomb. Heavenly hopes devotion fired. Tuned to rapture every tongue ; Heavenly zeal their souls inspired, Fear and doubt aside were flung. Tlius they sojourned here, till death Set them from affliction free ; Ever, to their latest breath. Mighty God, adoring thee. Now around thy throne they dwell, Ne'er to suffer want and pain ; Hark ! their songs triumphant, swell. Worthy is the Lamb to reign. o ^ o o- -o 68 Thou dost lead these faithful ones Tlu'ough thy vast celestial realms, "Where beat down no scorching suns, Where no raging storm o'erwhelms. "Where eternal beauty reigns, And purest crystal waters bound, Sweetly flow o'er swelling plains With immortal verdure crowned. There the wicked vex no more. And the weary are at rest ; Persecution's reign is o'er, Love and peace fill every breast. Lo ! they are the conquerors now. Once the victims of the sword, And their haughty murderers bow To the strong arm of the Lord. Thou dost wipe away the tears Gently from the mourner's eyes. For the blight of pain and years Give the bloom that never dies. God of mercy ! may we so Share the blessings of thy love. As thou art our all below, Be our all in heaven above ! o- -o o o POEMS. 69 THE SUNLIGHT OE HOME. How beautiful I liow beautiful ! The sunlight of our homes, Ere death, with pinion wild and dark, To dim its radiance comes ; Ere fade the flowers affection twines, And one by one depart The rays of that sweet star, that shines The brightest on the heart. Wliene'er the wanderer turns his feet To seek his native glen, It flashes forth a welcome sweet To those he loves again. It cheered him oft when far away In other climes alone, From palace proud or humble cot, But ah, 'twas not his own. He heard the merry laugh ring out Oft as he passed them by. And saw upon the happy hearth The red fire blazing high; O O o o 70 POEMS. It woke a yearning in his breast, Until he ceased to roam, And then it quickened every step That brought him nearer home. Thanks be to God who gave it us, He is a God of love ; For O, he made it like to that Which gilds the home above. It is so pure and glorious, And lighteth up the heart With such a joy they scarce can bear, Who love it, to depart. ' T is beautiful ! 't is beautiful ! This sunlight calm and bright. Ere death's dark pinions o'er it sweep Like shadows of the night. But oft there comes a cloud, to dim The radiance of its bliss ; O ! is there one that ever wept, Who hath not wept for this ? But though so often sorrowful Our dwellings are below, The purer, brighter homes of heaven Above, are never so. There, loved ones meet and part no more. And sing the same sweet hymns ; The dark and fearful wing of death That sunlight never dims. I o— — — O Tkare's grie£ among the sons of sorrg Thej nrtoura a fallen, i^em.. F- 71. o o POEMS. 71 STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF MARGARET M. DAVIDSON. Fling o'er the lyre a faded wreath, And bid the voice of song Be mournful as the winds that sweep The autumn leaves along. There 's darkness where the silver waves Of sweet Castalia flow, A harp is on the willows hung, A minstrel's grave below. There 's grief among the sons of song, They mourn a fallen gem ; And, O, a peerless one is lost From song's bright diadem ; For where, O where, was light so pure. So radiantly divine ; And where, O where, ^vas loveliness, Departed one, like thine ? 6 o o o 72 POEMS. Thou wert so dear, so beautiful, So very young, to die ; So angel like, I would have thought That death had passed thee by, And with his icy hand, forborne To hush thy early lay, And cast upon thy sunny brow A shadow of decay. There is a wail upon the breeze, And on the soft, sweet air, A gathering round thy marble bed, As if to see thee there. There is a yearning for thy smile, A longing for thy strain, A list'ning for thy bounding step, Though list'ning is in vain. For thou hadst learned around our hearts So closely to entwine. That now that thou art gone, it seems As they had gone with thine. But, O, we ask thee not again To tread life's path of thorns, 'Tis selfish sorrow prompts the wish. Which true aiFection scorns. There was too much of heaven in thee For earth to keep thee long, And breathings of that blessed world Have sanctified thy song, O O o ■ o POEMS. 73 And wreathed around thy memory here, A hallowed fame and pure, Which, like the burning stars above, Shall evermore endure. Thy numbers fell upon our ears Like notes of starry bird, The Aveary traveller oft beneath Some shadowy grove hath heard; The music of a stranger dove, Awhile that gladdened earth, Then spread its radiant wings, and sought The land that gave it birth. While others toil till hoary age. To win an honored name, A few brief years have won for thee A glorious meed of fame ; But, O, what is the poet's fame ? 'T is oft a fleeting breath; And purchased by a weary life, Or by an early death. He wins the favors of the world For sorrow to consume. And binds his brow with laurel wreaths, To wear them in the tomb ; With visions beautiful and bright As Eden, floating by. Or shrouded in the shades of grief. He lays him down to die. O— 1 — o o — — — o 74 POEMS. His heart is like the harp he sweeps ; If joy his bosom thrill, Where'er his lot is cast, it beats To joyous music still ; If sadness o'er his spirit steal, 'Tis mingled with his strain, And mournful numbers breath aloud That spirit's secret pain. His is a too ambitious soul Of honor and renown. And all too keenly sensitive To disappointment's frown. But he who strung his spirit's chords, Their wondrous fineness gave, Too brittle from the harsh world's jar For mortal hand to save. The bard hath oft a longing here For higher, nobler bliss, A pining for a purer world, A weariness of this. 'Twas thus with thee, O gentle one, And now thou art away, Where ' songs of other lands are heard, And other waters play.' A voice was calling thee to join A holier minstrel tlirong ; A kindred spirit led the way That oft inspired thy song. o o o o POEMS. 75 Thy seraph sister welcomed thee To yon celestial choir, And taught thy trembling hand to sweep, Like hers, a golden lyre. And now thy dust so beautiful In earth's green bosom lies, Thy memory in these hearts of ours, "While thou art in the skies. Thy memory ! O, a deathless one, And glorious here is tliine, For love and fame shall ever seek And hail it as a shrine. Farewell ! for us sweet hope shall rear Her altar on thy tomb, And burning there celestial fires Shall scatter all its gloom ; Farewell I for I can sing no more. No more to me is given, The harp is far too earthly here To sweep for thee in heaven I O O o ■ o 76 POEMS. PRAY, MARINER, PRAY. When the proud ship scuds thro' the ghtteringfoam Of the billows that break on the shores of home, And the lands most dear in the distance He, Dim through the tears of the straining eye. As borne o'er the breast of the deep away, The loved thou leavest, pray, mariner, pray. When the Sabbath morn on the waters breaks. And their distant roar as an anthem wakes, What though the courts of the house of prayer, Thou canst not tread ^vith a hallowed air, On the ocean's breast on the sacred day. To the ocean's God, pray, mariner, pray. When the storm is loud, and the night is dark. And the strong waves dashing against thy bark. Sweep helm and stern in their wild career, And waiting graves in their track appear, On her deck, all wet with the scattered spray, Kneehng in terror, pray, mariner, pray. When the storm is o'er and the night is past. And the spell of peace on the deep is cast, And the morning sun with his flaming eye o o o o POEMS. 77 Flings golden beams from the cloudless sky, And the good ship speeds on her watery way, Gratefully bending, pray, mariner, pray. When the angel death with his icy dart. The life-blood chills in a messmate's heart, And he coldly sinks to his unknown grave. The dark, deep depths of the ocean wave. As thou lookest down on his shrouded clay, Passing forever, pray, mariner, pray. When the tempter comes with his fatal snares. And the foaming cup that his hand prepares, Seek not his joys, for they bring but woe ; Quench not thy thirst in the sparkling flow Of his poisonous draught, O dash it away. For strength to resist him, pray, mariner, pray. When the Spirit of God, in its own sweet tone. Whispers of bliss to thy heart unknown. That the cross of Christ, with its glories bright, Can gild the shades of thy soul's dark night, Yield up thy all to his sacred sway. Mourning thy follies, pray, mariner, pray. Would' st thou moor thy bark in a port of peace, When the last wild tempest of life shall cease. With a shout and a song triumphant land On the heavenly Eden's glittering strand ? Here must thou seek, on thy perilous way, A passport to glory ; pray, mariner, pray. 6 ~ 6 o o 78 POEMS. THE GRAPES AND THE STREAM. O'er a stream a vine was bending "With its purple burden low, "While its shadowy leaves Avere blending AVith the silvery water's flow; This, the haughty grapes addressing, Murmured words of scorn and pride. Deeming scarce to man a blessing, Fresh and. pure the lowly tide. ' Puny stream ! that idly flowest On, to hide in yonder sea, Lost forever where thou goest. Lightly mortals think of thee ; We, in golden goblets flashing. Deck the monarch's banquet board, Thou, adown yon wild rocks dasliing, To oblivion art restored. ' Oft we moisten lips of beauty, Drown in gladness sorrow's tear, Nerve the soul to might and duty, Banish every coward fear. i o o o POEMS. 79 Man, of IIS, with rapture speaketh, Yonder cometh, still the same, Puny stream ! not thee he seeketh, 'Tis to bear us hence to fame.' Answered thus the stream, replying To the children of the vine, * Pain and death concealed are lying, Neath your gift, deceitful wine. Ye have slain a countless number, Hosts no mortal tongue can tell, Wakened from a dreamless slumber To the bitterness of hell ! ' In the monarch's glittering chalice Ye may pour your crimson flood, 'Tis no tongue of idle malice Whispers you like human blood ; That, on health and strength presuming, Ye, whose sweets tempt mortals so, Young and old alike are dooming. To the deepest depths of woe. On their heads who bliss shall borrow From the charms that in you blend, Heavy w^ith eternal sorrow, Shall the curse of God descend. While earth's wiser sons and daughters Here who quaff me from the sod, Rise to drink celestial waters. Flowing from the throne of God ! ' o— O o -o 80 DARK, GLOOMY THOUGHTS STEAL O'ER MY SOUL. Dark, gloomy thoughts steal o'er my soul, And hope's bright visions fly, Thoughts like the stormy clouds, that roll Across a sunny sky. No peaceful waves are sweeping o'er My bosom's troubled sea, But there a thousand waters pour Tumultuous, wild, and free. The aims so late with zeal pursued. Their gilded charms have lost ; These, once with sweet delight I viewed, But now have learned their cost. o- My soul hath turned away from hun Who all her peace hath given, My lamp of faith is burning dim, That lights my path to heaven. -o o o POEMS. 81 The Saviour's face no longer wears The gracious smiles it wore ; The Saviour's cross no longer bears The glories once it bore, ! I have loved thee, earth ! too weU, Thy frail and fleeting toys, But now I break thy sinful spell. And grasp immortal joys. 1 may not from thy bonds be free, But unto me is given To feed my soul with less of thee, And more, far more, of heaven. O that my soul could thither glide. And upward freely soar ; Could spread her earth-dimmed pinions wide, And bend them down no more ! O, that she now might quench her thirst, Where heavenly waters rise, Where purer, sweeter fountains burst. Eternal, in the skies. Immortal minds must ever feed Upon immortal fruits. And those are death's, are death's indeed, That grow from earthly roots ! O -o o ^o 82 POEMS. ASSURANCE. That I am thine, dear Jesus, thine, The sweet assurance give ; Submissive to thy will divine, Henceforth on earth I hve. O, let me feel that I am bought By thy redeeming blood, That thou hast my salvation wrought, And made my peace with God ! O, let me see that I may claim Some portion of thy love, Till burns my heart with sacred flame, Enkindled from above. Grant that my feet may never stray In folly from thy side. Instruct me in the heavenly way To where the blest abide. 6 O o ■ o POEMS. 83 My thoughts that ching in days gone by To earth's dehisive dreams, Now heavenward, upward e'er shall fly, And feast on nobler themes, A purer bhss than earth affords. My longing soul shall fill. Obedient to thy sacred words, And set to do thy will. United evermore to thee, On thee my hope relies, Thy glory all my aim shall be, Till summoned to the skies. O, banish every doubt and fear. To heaven thy cross I bear ; Thine, joyful in assurance here Of dweUing with thee there ! O o o o 84 POEMS. TO THE SPIRIT OP SONG. O! WHERE art thou sti-aying, sweet spirit of song? Bend hither thy beautiful wings ; And the strains of my harp shall thy praises prolong As I waken its slumbering strmgs. Say, where hast thou roamed since I summoned thee last From the realms of thy w^andering free, The radiant spell of thy presence to cast. O'er the path of a mortal like me ? Hast thou mused on the shore of the tremulous deep, In the lap of the rosy-lipped shell, Wlien the foam sparkled bright on the waters asleep, As they rose in their stillness and fell, — Or the storm-god swept in the wild- wind's car, O'er the breast of the quivering main, As she echoed the roar of the thunder far In the glare of the lightning's chain ? O O o ■ o POEMS. 85 Hast thou entered the reahns of the spiritless dead, To mourn in their sohtude drear ? Sad tears for their early departure to shed, Sweet spirit, to thee who were dear ; Who welcomed thee once as I welcome thee now To bring from the harp sweeter tone, Ere the laurel leaf withered on youth's sunny brow. And the lyre hung deserted and lone ? Thou wilt grieve not for these, O spirit of song, Though the lips that invoked thee are cold, And the shroud round then dust hath been mantled so long. Undisturbed in its marble-like fold. They welcome thee now in a purer abode, From their earthly enthralments set free. And their hearts, that once here with thy purity glowed, Hold nearer communion with thee. Hast thou followed the footsteps of beautiful spring. With life the still earth to endow ? For meadow, and forest, and valley loud ring With strains of glad melody now. o o o- -o 86 I hear thee ! I hear thee ! when evenhag's soft breeze Or morning's cool zephyrs sweep by, Thou 'rt 'mong the green boughs of the shadowy trees, Or where the bright flowerets He. No voices are echoed through nature's wide realms Of majesty, gladness, or glee ; When the peaceful sky smiles, or the tempest o'erwhelms. That are caught not, O spirit, from thee. Bend hither, bend hither thy radiant wings, And give to the harp a sweet tone, O ! fan with thy pinions its slumbering strings, Till the music it pours is thine own. o- -o o o POEMS. 87 LINES WRITTEN ON REVISITING A FAVORITE HILL, A YEAB FROM SEPTEMBER, 18—. _ A YEAR, ago ! a year ago, Old hill, I climbed thy brow. But bearing not the heart of woe That beats within me now ! The blossoms of my summer bowers Lie withered 'neath my tread ; I