smm ^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ,.J^^ vV v-'^ aJI<^ Ar^^^ u' .tv^ /^ ^>' i^y' SONGS OF EARLY SPKING. SONGS OF EARLY SPRING. BY EOWLAND BROWK LONDON : \V. KENT & CO., 86, FLEET STREET. 1858. PRINTED BY DANIEL DUNSTEK, LYME REGIS, DORSET. TO HERBERT INGRAM, ESQ., M. P. AS A SMALL TOKEN", IK ADjnRATOX OF TIIS GENaUS, A^-D RESPECT FOR HIS CHARACTER, ^5esc 5ongs of Claris Spring ARE INSCRIBED F.T THE AUTHOR. A 2 PREFACE. Although a preface of several pages may appear an unnecessary formality in a volume of simple verse such as the present, yet I have considered that some explana- tion of the title given to it, is due to the reader, if not to myself, to prevent a chance of ambiguity, or miscon- ception of its contents. I hesitated some time before adopting the title of " Songs :" but conscious that such a name was one of less pretension than any other which could have been selected, it was admitted on the title- page. I did not, however, consider this sufficiently explicit, therefore the appellation of "Early Spring" was subsequently added, for a reason Avhich I am conscious will be obvious, after a perusal of its pages. I would have them considered in no imaginary light. They are simply the emanations of the sweet Spring- time of Life. Engaged in pursuits, which of necessity VIU PREFACE. 1 must consider the primary secular objects of my exis- tence, the daily duties of my avocation have monopolized the greatest portion of my time ; leaving me little leisure for those acquirements, which would have given a polish, which many may consider wanting, in these early com- positions. If such moments, however, have been few, they have been, doubtless, doubly sweet on that account ; constituting the principal luxuries of which 1 have sparingly partaken, and still sometimes enjoy, in the completion of a pleasant engagement, binding me for a few months longer to a Friend, to whose generous and disinterested kindness, and frequent encouragement, I am indebted for the gratification of so soon seeing my juvenile productions, rescued from an ephemeral existence" in the corners of newspapers and other publi- cations, assume their present form. When first I began to collect the fragments of which this volume is composed, I had not, even in my most ambitious reveries, conceived the presumptuous idea of the publication of a book ; and it was not until a liberal proposition concerning its publication had been made, that I entertained the venture for a moment. Still, I would not have it supposed that I wrote merely for selfish, or personal gratification, or indulged in the pleasure of verse, for the mere purpose of beguiling a leisure hour ; I have indeed been influenced by higher PREFACE. IK aspirations, and often wdien dropping into the " letter- box" a few verses, written for some favorite publication, Jiave experienced sensations difficult to define : at such times extracting encouragement from the declaration of the Poet of Ion : — " The weakest reed that trembles in the marsh, If Heaven select it for its instrument. May shed celestial music on the breeze ; " and when almost intimidated by a knowledge of how many and brilliant were the luminaries whose mighty thoughts were already garnered in the glorious repertory of Poesy ; I have derived sweet consolation from the delightful words of the Bard of Erin : — " it is only once in many ages a genius appears, whose words like those on the written mountain, last for ever : but stiU there are some, as dehghtful perhaps, though not so wonderful, who, if not stars over our head, are at least flowers along our path, and whose sweetness of the moment we ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon them for a brightness and dui'ability beyond their nature." And now, not wishing to exhaust the patience of my readers, I will leave to them without further prelude, the imperfections of the following pages. Probably my future poetical existence will be determined by their verdict, yet, I cannot conclude without expressing a desire some day to meet them under happier auspices. XU CONTENTS. PAGE THE SEA AND HIS BRIDE 52 IF WE LOVED EACH OTHEU . . . . . . .54 A HOME OF MY OWN 58 MY FAVORITE NAJIE ()0 THE WHITE CAMELLIA 02 THE VISIONARY ISLE (54 OUR HOUSEHOLD ANGEL 70 LOVE AND DEATH 74 A SIMILE 76 woman's love 77 the fallen 7!) marriage vows 81 MUSIC ' . . .84 LIFE 88 STANZAS 90 SONG 92 THE PAST 93 A FRAGMENT 94 ELLA's song TO TIME . • 97 THE LITTLE MOTHER 99 THE TALE OF THE DEEP 102 STARS AND DEWDKOPS 107 FRUITING 108 CUE sister's bridal 110 RAIN 113 THE eve OF death 115 FOR THE MOURNER 118 THE BLIND JLAN 119 .SONNET 120 SONNET 121 CONSOLATION 122 DISAPPOINTMENT 125 BUTH 127 CONTENTS. XUl A VOICL IX THE SUM.MKR SONNET JLEAVE US NOT YET THE WOEIiD's great ENEMY EAU DE VIE ST^VNZAS . A SIAN A PARADOX MONEY OK LOVE OCR ISLE OF BEAUTY HOME . THE FREE THE SIAJS FOR ME BE KIND . THE PLOUGH .VND THE PRESS WELCOME INDUSTRY VERSUS EMIGRATION THE TRUMPET CALL WORK FOR HEAVEN . THE SONG OF A GU.VRDIAN SPIRIT THE DAY OF REST . SABBATH BELLS THE DAYS OF THE ROSES THE LIFE .VNGEL , . THE CHRISTMAS CAROL CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS KOSES THE HOLLY TREE . THE GIPSY QUEEN- IN HEAVEN . . ' XAJIES OF THE BLESSED THE DESERTED HOME SPRING AND POETRY PAGE 129 132 133 136 139 142 144 146 140 151 1-54 155 159 161 163 165 167 170 172 174 176 177 179 180 184 185 187 189 191 195 198 200 207 BUNSTER, PRINTER, LYME. POEMS. ASPIRATIONS I WOULD scatter on Earth as I pass along A few simple flowers of favorite song ; A few thoughts of Love that will fragrance impart And wake Love's sweet music in many a heart ; In the Battle of Life I would have my voice heard, I would breathe for the wretched some hope-giving word. I would comfort the Poor in their conflicts of care. And chase from their hearths the dull shades of despair : For the Rich I would pour out such songs of dehght That their hearts hating wrong, should be bold for the Right, I would call on the titled those honors to claim, "Which belong to the noble not only in name, I would palsy the arm of the guilty with fear. 2 ASPIRATIONS. Aud the soul of the innocent sufferer cheer ; I would fill with delight the heart sad and distressed. And the weary console with a sweet song of rest, I would wake with a Paean of loudest acclaim. The hearts that are stricken by terror or shame ; And rouse with loud anthems the soul of the slave. And make the faint-hearted grow bold, strong, and brave. I would raise up the grovelling Mind from the dust. To reverence that which is holy and just. To scorn all of earth that the soul would debase, And shrink as from Death from the stains ©f disgrace ; O'er the waters of strife I would bear like the Dove, The Ohve branch home to hearts yearning for love, 1 would trumpet the triumphs achieved by the Mind ; I would open the eyes and the hearts of the bhnd. That aU might behold the proud banner unfurled Of Beauty, which waves o'er this wonderful world. And would lift up men's hearts in thanksgiving to God Who planteth sweet flowers on earth's tear-watered sod. I seek not the favors of Power or of Fame, Enough if kind hearts breathe one prayer o'er my name. Enough if one bosom I sooth in its pain, If one blessing alone from the bless' d I obtain. For oh ! for one kind thought it is worth our while To brave a harsh Critic, or Worldhng's cold smile. TO MARY. Thou dear One ! for thy sweet Love-smiles, these early flowers I bring, And oh ! to give thee joy I yearn some glorious Song to sing — A Hytnn that shoxild go np to Heaven and move God's Angels there. To hover round thy Home, and guard thy heart with tenderest care, Yes DarUng ! I for thee wo\dd strike the Poet's thrilling lyre. That Cherubim might hear this prayer — my soul's intense desire — That Health may e'er its Beauty lend, to thee we love so well, That thou may'st feel through life as now, Affection's potent spell, B 2 4 THE ANGEL OF LIGHT. That no rude blasts of fortune e'er may sear thy flowers of Joy, Nor blight of sin, nor poisoncftis care, thy bUssful smiles destroy. But that thy truly loving friends may with thy days increase, " And all thy ways be pleasantness, and all thy paths be Peace!" THE ANGEL OF LIGHT. She comes like an Angel of Light! Joy beams from her beautiful brow. And her step as she ghdes in delight. Falls softly as bloom from the bough ! Triumphant o'er Death and Decay, She springs like a flower from the tomb. And gilds with the brightness of day What has long been a valley of gloom ! She speaks to the spirits of men ; " I am come earth's dehghts to restore." Her voice wakes the desolate glen THE MISSEL-THRUSH. And it echoes with music once more ! Munificent heiress of wealth! She scatters the jewels and gold, That Winter with miserly hand Laid low in a sepulchre cold ! From trees joyous melodies fall, As winds over violets sigh. And birds at her voice of recall. Pour forth their sweet notes from on liigh ! Oh ! yes like an Angel of Light, Spring showers her joys from above. And wakes with a voice of dehght. Sweet hopes of the Summer we love ! THE MISSEL-THRUSH. The Missel-thrush sings from the mistletoe bough, Its melodies, clear and loud ; It shouts to the desolate earth its songs, To the winds and the drifting cloud : 6 THE MISSEL-THRUSH. " Ye may frowu, ye may frown. And the storm may come down. But the Sprmg will be here by and by ! " The snowdrop wakes up from its slumbers deep. As it heareth its musical strain, And raises its head from its cold, cold bed. And whispers — "We come again ! For though the winds blow. And fast falls the snow. The Spring will be here by and by !" Another too heareth its echoing voice. And that is the frozen stream. Which joyously leaps on its way again As it wakes from its wintry dream : " Oh ! oh ! sings this thrush, As the waters rush. The Spring wUl be here by and by ! " It lulls with a song the tempest high. Which buffets the leafless tree, Aud the rage of the wild wind passes away, TiU it dimples with kisses the Sea : " Oh ! oh ! sings this bii-d. Now my songs have been heard, In peace I can live, love, aud die ! " THE SONG OF THE WINDS. Onwards ! Onwards! Night aud Day, Through the World we weud ovir way. Journeying with ceaseless haste. O'er the hills aud watery waste ; Not a single blade of grass But has felt our footsteps pass. And the waves of Ocean leap. Starting at our shouts from sleep ! Like Man's Spirit, so are we. Viewless, wondrous, powerful, free ! Dost thou ask us where we go Rushing on through sleet or snow ? Question thou the pathless deep. Or the mountain's mighty steep. Or the cavern's rocky cell. Ferny grot, or flower- strewn dell, 8 THE SONG OF THE "WINDS^ Or tlie fountain's bright cascades. Or the forest's cloistral shades. Or the clouds of far-off skies. These will be their stern rephes — " Though we feel them breathe and blow. Though we hear them loud and low. Yet in vain we sigh to know Whence they come or where they go ! " Morning bright and twilight dim, Chaunt we an ^ohan hymn ; Through the corridors of Night Passing like a Phantom's flight ; Bearing 'neath the Moon's pale beams To the weary, heavenly dreams ; Or impelling o'er the foam Hearts that yearn for Love and Home : Breathing in the Ocean shells Music's sweet and potent spells. God alone restrains our speed Fleeter than the Arab's steed. For at morn in Eastern Isles We behold Aurora's smiles. But at eve our pinions rest On the mountains of the West ! In the morning of the year Ye our clarion voices hear. THE SONG OF THE WINDS. Like a warder stand we then, On the hill-tops o'er the glen ; And awake the slumbering streams. With the snowdrops from their dreams, Yes, invisibly we bring Back the children of the Spring, When the emerald meadows ring ! With a shout heart-gladdening ! Summer then with queenly tread. Smiles upon the violet bed, And we kiss the roses fair. Clustering in her braided hair. Yes, we cool her brow with air Wafted from the spice parterre, GUding through her jasmine grove, Where we hear sweet tales of Love, And where birds pour forth their lays Of incessant joy and praise. Whilst the dreaming Poet sings Melodies of hoher things ! But from Summer still we rove Into Autumn's withered grove, And aweary of the flowers. There reveal our matchless powers ; Oh ! the crimson, falhng leaf. Would reproach us with its grief. 10 THE SONG OF THE WINDS. But upon the World forlorn Laugh we with exultant scorn. Then in Winter cold and chill. Glide we o'er the purple hill, Striking dumb the prattling rill. And the torrents hear our voices. And the waUing Sea rejoices. Go ! if thou art faithless — see Trophies of our victory Scattered o'er the wreck-strewn coasts. Where we passed like rushing hosts ; And the criea of wild despair, FaUiug on thy startled ear, Signal proofs shall be to thee. That we roam unchained and free. And that none on earth can know. Whence we come, or where we go ! 11 APRIL RAIN. The bright, the beautiful April rain Comes from the bursting cloud again ; Each drop seems a pearl from bracelets bright That clasp the arma of the Spirits of light, The angels of Love, Who dwell above. And breathe on the v^orld the spring-breath of delight. Oh ! it comes, it comes, in eloquent showers. Tin earth, hke a bride, puts on her flowers. Till a garland as bright to the vaUey is given As the coronet grand on the brow of Heaven. Hark ! hark ! how it drips. As if fairy hps Joy kisses were pressing upon the green leaves. Oh ! it comes, it comes, the beautiful rain. To the winds and the flowers, who are friends again, 12 TO THE CUCKOO. Which seem hke young lovers, when quarrels are o'er, To love even fonder than ever before — Kissing proudly away The last tears that lay. Which dimm'd their sweet looks of unspeakable joy. Oh ! it comes and it melts like its sister the snow, Into daises and snowdrops, to cheer us belbw. Then, who can help loving the beautiful rain ? For it teaches us nothing leaves Heaven in vain, And loves to reveal. What happy hearts feel. All that's bright, blessed, and beautiful, comes from above. TO THE CUCKOO. Bird of the sunny Spring, Oh ! thou art heralding Moments that soon will bring Roses loved well. TO THE CUCKOO. 13 Violets and cowslips blow. Blue-bells and fern leaves grow. Where a short while ago, Icicles fell. Ah ! well thou know'st again, Past is cold Winter's reign, Flowrets in Nature's train. Rise from decay. Up from the sunny dells. Gladly thy music swells. Welcome as chiming bells. On God's blessed day. Glad are thy tidings, bird. Joyous thy strain is heard. Sweet as a kindly word. Breathed to the sad ; For when thy voice we hear, Summer we know is near. Earth's brightest forms appear, AH things are glad ! 14 on ! TO BE YOUNG. Oh ! to be young when the violets and daisies Rise in the meadows with looks fresh and fair. When anemonies white look up with sweet faces, Towards the green branches which wave in the air. When woods are made glad with a jubilant chorus. And joyously murmurs the unfettered rill. And the Iris of Spring is expanded high o'er us. And Beauty sits laugliing on mountain and hill ! Oh ! sweet are those days when the Spring flowers cheer us. To feel those emotions of Freedom which rise, When all whom we love on the earth are still near us Enlightening our paths with their joy-beaming eyes, * Tis sweet to feel breaking the buds of ambition. Resolving to do some magnanimous deed. To stand undismayed by tlie world's competition. Determined to enter Life's lists, and Succeed ! Oh ! sweet are oiur hopes ere the World has corrupted. The first warm affections that bloom in the Soid, BLUE AND WHITE VIOLETS. ID Ere fashion has Nature's fresh streams interrupted. Or prejudice risen bright thoughts to control; When rehgion is Love — ere the faintest suspicion Of guile or hypocrisy crosses the mind, When beaming with hopes of a glorious mission The eyes are to Life's stern realities blind '. And far more than this, oh ! how sweet is the feeling When Love leads the soul to her spiritual heights. And opens her mines of rich blessings, revealing Her treasures exhaustless, undreamt of delights ! Then oh ! though my brow old Time's icy hand paleth. Though Life must soon pass " like a tale that is told " Though strength must depart, and though memory faileth. Oh ! God keep my spirit from e'er growing old ! BLUE AND WHITE VIOLETS. Throw up the window, — let me feel the breeze, - For now I hear it with its viewless fingers Harping upon the branches of the trees, — And o'er my soul its mystic music lingers. 16 POETRY. It sings of violets, — oh ! the stirring lyric, Brings back the thought of Childhood's houi's again. When this world seemed an orchestra, whose Music Could not be broken by one jarring strain. For by blue eyes as blue as violets lowly, I first discovered Earth's most regal joy ! But by a brow as pale as violets snowy. Death sternly taught how he can Hope destroy ! POETRY. The Man who wears a frown upon his brow, Cherishing hatred, envy, and revenge, Perceives no beauty in the artkss child Whose brow is stainless as the driven snow Upon the mountain ; nor the dew-bent flower. Though lovely as the pale Spring violet ; He goeth forth and crushes in the dust, The fragrant flowerets, Purity and Love, Without a thought of Him whose kindly hand THE SWALLOW. 17 Implants them in the breast ! But Poesy invests the flowers with Good, And Love and Innocence with Godliness, It is the choicest music of the soul, Set to the spirit's most impressive words. The eloquent language welling from the heart, When holding sweet comuauuion with its God. THE SWALLOW. Thou'rt come again, oh ! bonnie bird! with joy we welcome thee. Who, borne on hope's exultant wings, hast crossed the billowy sea; But wherefore didst thou come to us from brighter lands than ours ? Say, was it love that made thee fly back to thy native bowers ? 18 THE SWALLOW. Thou comest from a sunny clime, where the soft zephyrs sigh. Wafts the sweet scent of orange flowers beneath a clouflless sky ; Wliere, like a brilliant shower of pearls, down many a grotto's side, With music sweet as sweetest song, the crystal waters glide. Who taught thee that those skies would change — the breezes chilling blow. The waters that in sunshine gleamed would frozen cease to flow ? Could not those scenes of joyous life prevail on thee to stay ? Who taught thee that though beautiful, the flowers would soon decay ? Sweet bird thou heard' st the voice of Him who all our lives sustain, 'Twas God who bade thee rest not there, but come to us again : Aad underneath the frowning skies, above the bubbling wave. With strength He nerved thy fluttering wings, He made thee bold and brave. THE SWALLOW. 19 And now, thy voyage is safely past, blest emblem of His care. Thou teacliest us of transient scenes and changes to beware ; Upheld by Truth on Life's dark sea, to brave the battling blast. If we would hope in Heaven to find a resting place at last. Then welcome home, oh ! bonnie bird ! with joy I welcome thee, Thy jom-ney o'er the pathless deep sweet hope has given to me : The world from which I fly, though bright, I feel im fading too. So teach me, God, to hear Thy voice, and like this bird be true ! c 2 20 MY NATIVE HILLS. Upon these grand, majestic hills, I dearly love to stand ; To see the biUows of the deep. Roll proudly to the land ; For as I stand upon their peaks. Above the ocean vast. Like fleets upon the mighty deep. Across my mind proud pageants sweep. Great visions of the Past ! I dream T see the straining eyes Of that assembled host. Who witnessed here the Armada's sails Bear down upon our coast. And when I think what anxious prayers. Were offered from these hills ; Or of that glad, triumphant shout. From those who here beheld the rout, My blood within me thrills ! MY NATIVE HILLS. 21 Aiid then I think what bonfires blazed Along each purple height. When England's little fleet returned. From that unequal fight ! — And oh ! whenever Britain doubts, This story, men should tell ; To show how God can interpose. To rescue from the mightiest foes. The land we love so well. The thought too that brave Raleigh climbed, Each proud majestic steep. Makes o'er my young ambitious soul A glad sensation creep ; For words his royal mistress breathed. Ring like a hero's call — ** Man, nerve thy heart with thoughts sublime. But yet essay thou not to climb If thou'rt afraid to fall ! " And from these hills with pride I gaze, Upon my native town, And think how once its fostered sons Acquu'ed a world's renown : How they obtained a martyr's crown In Cromwell's glorious age. 22 MY NATIVE HILLS. Preferring Death to Slavery, — Their names, aa stars of Liberty Illume historic page ! For there bold Blake, the seaman's pride. Beheld the foe retreat ; And as I hnger o'er that thought. My pulses wildly beat : I think too of its Heroines brave. Whom hunger could not fame. Who undismayed amidst War's wrecks. Forgot the weakness of their sex. Nor flinched at steel nor flame ! Oh ! God be praised, for England's sake. Times are not now as then. For Britain's present darhng Queen, Makes royalists of men. For oh ! had then her sceptre shone. No Patriot had eomplained, A Hampden's voice had never risen, A Cromwell's arm had never striven; Had our Victoria reigned! But with a tear, from these old hilk The spot I single outj MY NATIVE HILLS. 23 Where Monmouth's hapless followers stood And gave tlie fatal shout — But yet that spot is hallowed ground, For there De Foe hath trod, And there for England's chartered laws. Twelve Martyrs in fair Freedom's cause. Gave up their souls to God ! And should a tjTant e'er oppress, Methinks around these hills Would yet spring up a gallant band, With iron nerves and wills ! Yes, there are still heroic hearts Who when the foe-man comes, Aye, fearless of an adverse fate. Will nobly keep inviolate, Their Altars and their Homes ! And gazing on that spot so dear, I think of mightier men ! Of Pitt, who roamed these hills, long era He held the Patriot's pen ! And thanks to Hogarth's art divine. In fancy I can trace — That smile of speechless eloquence. Of pity and benevolence Which beamed on Coram's face! 24 MY NATIVE HILLS. For oh ! this was that brave man's home ; And whilst I bless his name, I think too of a kindred soul Whose deeds shall live in Fame : Of noble Blackmore who has gained Far nobler wealth than gold ! For many a §in-crushed Magdalene, By his persuasive love has been Brought back to Virtue's fold. Then wonder not that on these hiUs I deatly love to stand. For when I breathe those hallowed names, I feel my soul expand. My heart burns with intense desire. On earth to bless Mankind, That when God shall my soid receive. My hfe shall hke a meteor leave A trail of hght behind ! 25 TO THE SKY-LARK. Beautiful minstrel, soaring in tlie clouds. Pour forth again the \\itchery of song ! For whilst I hear thee, heavenward bounds my soul. And bathed in streams of melodv, I feel Steal over me the spells of poesy. Go up, oh ! singing bird — thy path of Ught Is such my Thoughts should be, from Earth's iark scenes Borne up on wings of Love, to higher spheres ! Oh ! from thy voice sweet bird I learn a lesson beautifully given. Though thou art bounding to the realms of hght — ^^^lilst poised above the world terrestrial. The glorious amphitheatre of hills. The mighty waters of the pathless deep, — Still with a look of love thine eyes behold A bright oasis in the wilderness. 26 TO THE EKYLARK. A cherished spot, a treasure to thy heart, Hallowed with all thy tenderest sympathies, Where like sweet flowers thy first affections sprung. Oh ! bird, would that my thoughts were pure as thine. Filled only with the love of Heaven and Home ! Unsulhed by the passions dark and wild, Which like tornadoes sweep my sinful soul. Still soar thou sweet invisible ! Oh ! how I love to hear thy echoing voice. And as mine eyes behold the crimson clouds. Which now conceal thee, as I heavenward gaze, I dream the gates of Paradise enclose Thy fragile form, and that thy notes of joy Fall through the sunht groves of worlds of bhss ! Rise, joyous bird, my soul would follow thee — Thou who art striving, like a Poet's soul To give sweet utterance to his burning hopes. Till like the streamlets, bursting from the hills. The world receives the fragrance of his thoughts I Go up, then bird ! till at the gates of Heaven Thou catch the echo of the music there, " Harpings of many harps," as sweet and low, As wavelets of a Summer moonlit sea. Uttering sweet murmurs on a strand of pearls. But oh ! thou sweet Invisible, tliy voic« TO THE SKYLARK. 27 Awakens in my soul, a reverie sweet Of a bright spirit who at morn like thee, Sprung up with joy upon exultant wings ; Who 'midst the harpiugs of celestial worlds. Burst from the weak, frail casket of the soul. Oh ! life in her was like a crystal spring. Fresh, beautiful, in virgin purity ! Smiles were her gay companions — Joy and Lov« The glorious Angels that beset her path ! But hke thee Bird, that spirit soared to Heaven, And oft, I dream her bright, blue, lovely eyes Gaze fondly down upon this tear dew'd earth. And single out oue spot : a quiet nook Cradled amongst the hills, her earthly home. And when the western zephyrs fan the leaves. Whose gentle rustlings fall upon mine ears, I dream that forms of Angels slowly pass. Mysteriously, invisibly to man. Through the deep shadows of the solemn woods : And like thee bird, concealed in aerial mounts. Yet thy sweet notes wake bliss within my heart ! So do I dream I hear her well known voice : It wakes the solemn stillness of my soul. With the sweet stories of a resting world ; I hear it now — hush ! — hear the holy voice — It speaks of fountains of translucent springs. Whose crystal waters purify the soul, 28 TO THE SKYLARK. And wash the stains that mar Humanity; Reviving God's blest image in oui- forms As in the grand primeval days of earth : Of glory death can ne'er annihilate. Of Love that dies not on a couch of tears. Of roses thornless, fadeless, beautiful. And of sweet music floating in bright spheres Eloquent, thrilling as pure poetry ! It speaks of mountains glory-wreathed, whereon The King of Heaven is throned, amidst those stars Which sink beneath the horizon of the world. And shine for ever in the spheres of God ! Still speak blest voice ! speak ever to my soul When Earth displays her fascinating wiles, And dark temptations hover round my path ! Whisper thy truths of hohness and love ; And drown the guilty passions that arise With thy sweet streams of melody, which lift My spirit from its tentment of clay. 29 FLOWERS. I. This world though called a wilderness, oh ! yes 'tis full of flowers. There are a thousand things to love in Nature's glorious bowers ; On mountain and on hill-side, in valley and in glen, A thousand lovely things spring up to cheer the hearts of men. To find these floral treasures, no, I have not far to roam. They blossom countless as the stars around my happy home. Beneath the smile of mighty kings, in proud patrician halls ; Or near the cotter's lowly hearth, they smile on mouldering walls. 30 FLOWERS And if we read aright the lines traced on their petals gay. We never more shall cast a flower with carelessness awav: But praises from our lips will rise like incense up to God, For having planted such sweet things on earth's tear- watered sod. And oh ! so beautiful are they for such a world as ours. That all we love on earth the best, our hearts have named its flowers ; Love, Peace, and Purity, — which pour their sweetness on the gale. Like the blessed Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the Vale. Yea, He who sends from Paradise the sunshine and the showers. Would have you love the Beautiful, and cultivate the flowers : Go, let them round your hearts and homes, in sweet profusion grow. For from their fragrant chalices the richest nectar* flow. flotpers. 31 Oh ! love them as companions, thou wilt not lonely be. They'll whisper with their fragrant lips, the sweetest thoughts to thee ; They'U steal thy senses from the earth, thy thoughts from themes of pain. And thou wilt feel with grateful heart, they bloom not here in vain. FLOWERS. II. I THANK thee darling Sister, for having brought mc flowers. To smile as sweet companions in my solitary hours ; Wheu my lamp is flickering feebly, and night is hush'd and still, They lead my thoughts awhile astray to the valley and the hill. I think of that glad, careless time my sunny childhood's days. When we together plucked the flowers that blossomed in our ways. 32 FLOWERS. When primroses and violetSj fern leaves, and snowdrops white, Inspired our hearts with love and joy, and innocent dehglit. But now the sunny hours of youth like dreams have passed away, I look around for flowers that will not fade as soon as they ; And I behold those blossoms sweet, so dear to thee and me, The sweet, wild, simple flow'rets of the fields of Poesy. Yes Sister, oft when angels ghde around thee whilst asleep. Then roaming in my Fairy -land I joyous vigils keep. And then of brilliant gems of thought I find a floral throng. Left here to breathe their perfumes forth by some dear child of Song ! Thank Heaven for Flowers of every hue — I love, I love them well. From the grandest flower of Eastern Isles, to the bonnie, wee, blue bell, To them as to a Poet's thought, a mystic spell is given, FLOWERS. S3 They seem a link in that bright chain -wliich draws us nearer Heaven! Then Mary, darhng Sister, still fill my Vase for me, I love amongst the nesthug leaves, each fragrant bloom to see. Their perfumes steal my thoughts away from mourning o'er past hours. And I think how kind of God it was to bless the Earth with flowers. 34 A VOICE IN THE SPRING. BRIGHTLY the suiibeams are sHiiing! 1 hear thee, my beautiful Spring — The swallow comes over the mountains And woodlands with melodies ring ; The hawthorn assumes bridal costume. Apparelled as Brides e'er should be. Whilst the birds shower their sweet wedding favors. In musical songs from the tree : With such brightness around and above me. How joyous existence would be. If I only had some one to love me. To make Life a Summer for me. Love, what is Summer without thee ? The roses smile sweetly in vain. And we heed not the eloquent voices. That whisper in woodland and plain ; A VOICE IN THE SPRING. 35 This beautiful Earth seem? less lovely, We feel as from Paradise driven, But touch' d with the joy of its magical wand. We ascend to the portals of Heaven ! yes, with this Angel above me. How joyous existence would be, I only want some one to love me. To make Life a Summer for m.e. I have Sisters whose smiles of affection Beam on me v/herever I roam. And Mother whose sweet word of welcome, Endeareth Love's fairy-ring, Home ; Yet often my spirit feels lonely, And often has yearningly sigh'd. For one who woidd love me as fondly As Bridegroom his beautiful Bride. then with these bright skies above me ! How joyous existence would be, O would I could find one to love me To make Life a Summer for me ! D 2 36 FIRST LOVE. Little, merry-hearted Ella, Ever very dear must be. Memory of that bhssful moment When I first caught glimpse of thee. Childish fancies, sweet, ethereal, Clothed her with divinest grace ; And the sun-rise of my being Was the Lovie-smile on her face ! First I saw this little Sybil Where the sounds of dancing feet. Mingled with the hum of voices And with music soft and sweet ! . But ah ! little did I dream, that When she lightly pass'd me by. Her sweet Love-smile, to ray Spirit's, Yearning, was a blest reply ! FIRST LOVE. 37 the thought of that first meeting, It is Memory's pearl of pearls. Now as then, I dream I see her. With her lightly dancing curls ; Which were then so smoothly parted, 'Cross her brow with so much care. That methougkt angelic fingers Press' d them, leaving glory there ! O her eyes with mirth and mischief Beam'd then with exultant light — Sweet too were her dimpled roses. Blossoms of the heart's delight ! But how little did I dream then Of this Uttle Sybil's power. She who makes me date Life's morning, From the sweetness of that hour. Yet ah ! well do I remember When I asked my God to give, Something more, to make Earth dearer, Something worth the toil to hve ! Like an Angel in a vision I beheld sweet Ella's form ; ight'ning hke a radiant rainbow O'er the dark frowns of a storm. 38 FIRST LOVE. And a voice so softly whispered That I thought it from above. As of some bright Angel, speaking- " Go, teach Ella how to love ! " Little, merry-hearted darling. She has learnt the lesson well This her beaming eye betrayeth Better far than lips can tell ! Like the young Spring, changed to Summer, Ella smiles, and happy flowers At the sound of her heart-music Bloom around Earth's once sad bowers ! God ! I thank Thee, for that moment When I first saw Ella, mine. For her omnipresent beauty Turns Life's Water into Wine ! 39 THE FLOWER OF THE WEST. SWEET little EUa is dearer to me, Than all the bright blossoms that smile on Life's tree, Vea, so beautiful is she above all the rest, That Love has baptized her, "the Flower of the West." Her brow is as lovely as snowdrop of Spring, And her step falls as lightly as bird on the wing ; And blue as forget-me-nots Love-thoughts have blest. Are the Joy-beaming eyes of " the Flower of the West." We have beautiful roses in valley and dale, Which scent with their sweetness the soft Summer gale. But fairer than roses by dewdrops carest. Is each maidenly blush of " the Flower of the West." Hear her voice trUhng hghtly some exquisite song, And you wiU forget that to Earth you belong ; And dream you have stray' d to the realms of the Blest, Such a soul-thriUing voice has " the Flower of the West." 40 THE FLOWER OF THE WEST. There is not a mourner who loves not her voice. For her words make the aged and weary rejoice; Her smiles fall like sunbeams on all hearts distrest. And every soul blesses " the Flower of the West." ! long may this blossom its fragrance impart. And smihugly twine closer still round my heart ! For Spirits unseen, seem with joy to invest With a glorious halo, "the Flower of the West." ! when Life is over and Death shaU draw near. May a bi'ight band of Angels to Ella appear ; And when in God's garden she blossoms, His guest. May my Soul like the Dew on this sweet Rose-bud rest ! 41 A LYRIC OF LOVE. Speak not an unkind word, — in vain Ye seek our souls to sever, For hearts which once have loved, — love on For ever and for ever ! And when the storms of life come down Still closer chng together. And ! Love leads my spirit up, To heights where Joy reposes. And Earth beneath, once dark and drear. Blooms like a bower of roses ! Then think ye for an idle word. My hps could ever grieve her ? The world may sneer, and friends may frown, And with cold hearts receive her ; But though I gained a world of wealth. No ! I could not deceive her, — For ! Love leads my spirit up, To heights where Joy reposes. And now the Earth once dark and drear. Blooms like a bower of roses ! 42 A LYRIC OF LOVE. I care not why, some heave a sigh, — They know her not who doubt her. Ah ! what to me are envious words, Or falsehoods breathed about her ! For well I know this World to me Would nothing be without her ! For ! Love leads my spirit up. To heights where Joy reposes. And now the World once dark and drear. Blooms like a bower of roses ! 43 I BOAST NO RICHES, DARLING ! I BOAST no riches, darling ; Broad lands or gilded hall. No flattering, fawning menials. Around me, mocking fall. But yet I dare to love thee. And joy that I am free. To make myself more worthy The love I ask of thee. I do not seek thy hand. Love, Until thy heart 1 win ; What is the jewelled casket. To the priceless pearl within? And with the proud Patrician I nurse this vow in pride ; No heart shall e'er feel humbled, By being called my Bride ! But though I revel not. Love, In wealth of Corn and Wine, 44 I BOAST NO RICHES, DARLING ! Yet from my heart springs up, Love, Life's luxury divine. And oil ! I yearn to feel now The touch of Love's soft hand ; As Israel in the desert Yearned for the Promised Laud. And as the brimming River Pours its life into the Sea, So all my Soul's devotion. Shall be poured out for thee ! I scorn with flattering language. Or faithless tongue to woo. But by my hands' exertions, I'll prove my heart is true. 45 NIGHT AND MORNING. Lady ! there are hours of pleasure. When the heart is steep' d in bHss, When the worldhng's darhng treasure, Sinks as in a deep abyss. • When our spirits freely wander In an ideal happy sphere. And our minds refuse to ponder On realities found here — When reflections cease to weary, And fond lips breathe honeyed words Unpremeditated music, ^ Sweet as songs of summer birds. But however sad this truth be, Lady ! I in sooth must tell thee. Fancies breathed by candle-light In the witching hours of uiglit. Will not bear the morrow's lixht ! 'o You may love those words, which gaily Fall in Freedom's joyful hour, 46 NIGHT AND MORNING. Though tlieir utterance, fatal may be As the poison of a flower, Yet remember, when the sunbeams Mock the last night's banquet room, Dreary, desolate and dark seems All that wore a sunny bloom. For what pleases by the taper, Like the rose-tints of Romance, Wears, alas ! an altered feature 'Neath Aurora's eagle glance. Then however sad the truth be. Lady ! I, in sooth must tell thee, Colours gay by candle-light, Wither with the morning-light. In the sweet voluptuous feeling. Wakened by the spells of song. When there is sweet music pealing. There perchance may be no wrong, But, beheve me, on the morrow When Reahty awakes. And the Future, threatening sorrow. On th' unblinded vision breaks — Words, last night the lips would freely, Eloquently answer, — then Silently, unheard, unmur mured. Flow back to the heart again. GUARDIAN ANGELS. 47 Yes, however sad this truth be, Lady ! I in sooth must tell thee, Thoughts which dazzle with their light, In the mystic hours of night. Will not bear the morrow's light. GUARDIAN ANGELS. My heart's guest-angel softly sighed " Would that I were a spirit blest, One of that glorious band, which glide Around thee in the hours of rest. That I might ever roam with thee Life's dark, tempestuous, treacherous sea. Might o'er thy couch in sickness bend, And all thy wants with care attend. Oh ! Heaven's first joy is surely this — That Spu'its from the land above. May pour sweet thoughts, and dreams of bliss, In hearts on Earth they fondly love I " 48 THE SUMMER OF LOVE. NO, Summer-time is not over! The chill wintry breezes may sigh, The buds on the mvrtle-bough wither And Swallows may far away fly ! Let the winds chaunt their prophecy solemn, And flowers from the Summer' groves flee, For my Nightingale singeth as sweetly In Winter, as Summer to me ! Earth's loveliest roses still blossom, And make my heart's home, hallow'd ground ; And the bird nesthng close to my bosom, Makes Summer reign all the year round. Some mourn in the Autumn, and sorrow O'er roses that fall from Life's tree. But though clouds may hang over the morrow — God, spare such a Winter to me ! -39 HIS AND MINE. Let ber be bis in tbe bours of pride, of pomp and reveby ; Let ber be bis in courtly crowds of young frivolity, Amidst tbe blaze of tbe banquet Ugbts, in tbe bours of dance and song ; I love ber not for tbe admiring gaze of a gay and tbougbtless tbroug. Let ber be Ms wben exultant scorn, sball beam from ber eyes of blue ; Let ber be bis wben ber warm cbeek glows witb a strange, unnatural bue ; Let ber be bis wben tbouicbtless words, from tbougbt- less Ups may fall ; Let ber be bis wben Folly's lamps are aligbt in Vanity Hall. E 50 HIS AND MINE. Let her be his, yea let him caress with pride her jewell'd hand ; Let her be his when she proudly walks with what the world calls grand ; Let her be his when the senseless crowd around her bend the knee ; Let her be his, for 'midst such scenes, she awakes no love in me. Let her be his for the transient hours such joys can charm the heart : But, let her be mine when the dreams of night for the smiles of morn depart. Let her be mine vrhen her heart grows faint, and weaiy of hoUow mirth. When her spirit thirsts for a loftier scene, and nobler joys of earth. Let her be mine when mocking hands no fading garlands wreathe ; Let her be mine, when the scattered throng no flattering incense breathe ; Let her be mine when the thoughts of night are passed for the deeds of day ; Let her be mine when the lips take heed of the tale the heart would sav. HIS AND MINE. 51 Let her be mine in that holy place, to set Love's siguet ring; Let her be mine in the blissfal hour when the joy-bells merrily ring ; Let her be mine when the spirit feels it cannot happier be Than to rest in the home she has made in my heart, and to live and to die with me. Let her be mine in the silent hour, when the Angels hover by ; Let her be mine when none are near, to hear the bosom's sigh ; Let her be mine when the light of Heaven shall rest on her placid brow ; Let her be mine when God records her trusting spirit's vow. Let her be mine in the battle of Life with smiles love-deeds to crown ; Lot her be mine in the trying time when false friends on me frown ; Let her be mine in the hour of death, to hear mv last fond prayer : And let her be mine in the worlds of light, to love and to bless me there. E 2 52 THE SEA AND HIS ERIDE. The salt sea tore in Lis passionate pride A beautiful flower from bis breast, A flower lie had vowed should be his Bride, And by him be loved the best. Eut he flung it in passion and pride away. And 'twas borne to the shore by the white, salt spray Where there a neglected thing it lay. But the flower though it pined on the the dreary shore. Said — "surely the tempest will soon subside. And I shall return to his arms once more, Oh ! yes I shall yet be his Bride ;" But the storm-wind ceas'd, and the western breeze Wafted from emerald fields and trees, A mantle of green to the Summer seas ! THE SEA AND HIS BRIDE. 53 Ah ! gaily the waves danced up in the light With a heartless murmur of pride, And the Sea-flower heard the sono-s of deli2;ht Of the ebb and the flowing tide — It heard with sweet hopes the wavelets flow. But fainted to see them faithless, go. And it died, a Death of Promethean woe ! For alas ! the Sea was as false as fair. And the flower as true as could be ; For the Nymphs say, this was its dying Prayer — " Could I kiss but the hem of the Sea, The hem of the robe of the tiniest wave, Oh ! then would my sickening heart grow brave, And with murmurs of joy, I should sink in the grave." But the proud Sea scorn'd this last request, And the love that could not decay, Till the Wind came swiftly out of the west And wafted the Flower away ! But the Sea when he found the fair one fled. On the pebbles and shells his salt tears shed. And he mourn'd with a waihno- crv for the dead. 'o And the Sea to the strand returns never more Without a wail of pain. 54 IF WE LOVED EACH OTHER. But vainly he cries to the desolate shore " Give ! Give me my Bride again ! " In vain do the waves a dirge intone. Ah I in vain do they still for the dead make moan. For the Lost to a truer heart has flown ! IF WE LOVED EACH OTHER. As a Winter-weary Spirit for the sunny Spring-time yearns. So thirsting for the bhss of Love through all my being burns. For like a lovely Isis veiled, is Earth ere Love comes down, To clothe it wTith its raiment bright, and crown it with its crown. But if the ice-bound streams of Truth and Kindness were set free, And each one loved his Brother, how happy Earth would be. IF WE LOVED EACH OTHER. 55 How trifling would our daily tasks and sternest toils become. If joyous beams from loving eyes illumined every home. And what a stream of luxury would ripple round each heart. If every soul on E.irth would strive some kindness to impart ; For ! the more I Love, I feel the more my God loves me. Then if we loved each other, how happy we should be! For glorious is this world of ours — look on the grand old hills, Hear ye through flower-strewn meadows ring the music- gushing rills. And on the shore, or in the woods, what pleasant sounds are heard. The music of the wandering wind, and warbhngs of the bird, And see Night's starry canopy stretch' d over Earth and Sea, Then if we loved each other, how happy we should be! Too long, too long, a crown of thorns has pressed Earth's bleeding brow, 56 IF WE LOVED EACH OTHER. ' Too long o'er Love's Elysian fields has passed Hate's niiglity plough, God ! let the muffled Music, from. Love's orchestra be heard. And by its sweet and still small voice let every soul be stirred. Let there be Light — the hght of Love come down from Heaven and Thee, And make us love each other more, that we may happy be! Brothers, why stand ye idle, shall a Saviour call in vain ? Begin to work for Love to-day — if Love ye would obtain, Why wait ye tiU the Night departs, for ere the dawning morrow. Some sad and heavy laden heart, may flooded be with sorrow. Then lift thy hand to wipe the tear, for this is Christ's decree. Except we love each other here, we cannot happy be. If by some wondrous alchemy each unkind thought and deed. Were turned into a kindly word and breathed to hearts in need. IF WE LOVED EACH OTHER. 57 how the mists would roll away which God's grand world obscure ! How would our eyes be opened to the beautiful and pure. How still would rest the waters then of Life's tumultuous Sea, Yes ! if we loved each other, how happy we should be I 58 A HOME OF MY OWN. Oh I long for a Home of my own ! Aweary of strangers and strife, I yearn for the blessings of Peace, And sigh for the Sabbath of Life. My spirit hath drunk from Life's bitterest cup. And it thirsts for its stinted wine, When it heareth the sigh of my Darling's heart, As her sweet eyes look Love into mine. Oh I long for a Home of my own ! As a bark on the billowy sea. When the storm or the tempest comes down To a haven of refuge would flee. I would fly like a bird to its darling nest. Far away from the city of strife. From the echoing sounds of the tramphng feet Of foes in the battle of Life ! A HOME OF MY OV,S. 59 Oh I long for a Home of my own ! I yearn for a downy nest. To pillow the Doye, I would take to my heart. Wherein we might live, loye, and rest ! I thank thee dear God I for this yision of bliss, ^Yhich Ughteus the darkness around — Whilst climbing the steeps of the world, 'tis for this That I trust with Success to be crown'd. Oh Love should its sceptre sway ! Kind hearts should find sweet welcome there. And the yoices of Pleasure and Peace, Should banish the demon Despair ! And the mightiest monarch of Earth, who sits In state on his royal throne. Would not be so happy, as we should be. Bless' d with Love, in a Home of our own ! 60 MY FAVORITE NAME. There is a sweetly, simple name. Which hath a mystic spell, Unknown to Fortune or to Fame, Yet Memory guards it well. 'Tis graven deep in letters bright. Upon that secret scroll, Where none but Love's blest names are traced- The tablet of the Soul ! I never feel it on my hps In hours of toil or pain, But thoughts of Peace, like violets smile When bless' d wdth April rain, And oh ! enshrined with jealous care. This Talisman within — Has kept me in Temptation's hour From many a snare of sin. MY FAVORITE NAME. 61 Blest is the heart, to whom a name So favored has been given. As hers, which first, on bending knee ! I breathe in Prayer to Heaven. For oh ! this is the star of Tlioughts, Which sheds a light divine — This name so very dear, will soon Be garlanded with mine. 62 THE WHITE CAMELLIA. In the festal hall in a Parian Vase with fern and ever- green. Upon the dark Camellia leaves one snowy bud was seen. Like a young Dove weary, resting upon the leafy bough. White as an Angel's spotless wing, or a roarbled Naiad's brow. Not in the sunny gardens of an oriental clime. Nor with exotics rich and rare the gems of Summer time. But thanks to royal Josephine, transplanted from afar, Amidst a scene of light and love, shone this fair floral star. Not 'neath the potent influence of King Aurora's hght. Nor kiss'd by Summer winds that waft the silver dews of Night ; THE WHITE CAMELLIA. 63 No birds of gorgeous plumage sang beneath its fragile stem. No fountain wept its blissful tears, its shining leaves to gem. Ah ! no — yet in that banquet hall far from its native Isle, It bloom' d beneath the witchery of Beauty's sunniest smile. And though no bird within its bower, poured forth the spells of song. Yet round it rose the voices sweet of a glad and joyful throng. And though no scented zephyrs there exhaled a fragrant sigh, Yet perfumed was its atmosphere as groves of Araby, The air was laden with the notes of Music soft and clear, ^Yhich whilst unfolding leaf by leaf this floweret seem'd to hear. Yea, as a loving heart expands beneath a dear one's eye. Or when some well-known voice is heard, or step glides lightly by. So as with secret consciousness of Beauty's mystic power. As with exulting heart for Joy, it bloom'd a perfect flower ! 64 THE VISIONARY ISLE. " I LOVE, said gentle Emily, to watcli The glorious sequtd of a Summer day — The miglity Sun expiring in the West Upon its sapphire bed." She gazed with joy From the low casement, with the silken fringe Of her soft eye upraised, whilst her sweet mouth, Gave, as a rosebud gives its sweetness up. The fragrance of her heart's poetic thoughts. " I watched the sun one evening sink to rest Even as now upon a couch of clouds. And whilst the dewy hush of tranquU Eve Stole o'er the face of Nature, there was spread A world of grandeur in the empyreal heights, — • I saw ^ts mighty mountains, cliffs and hills. Embattled towers, and lofty palaces, Gardens and sunnv vales — but 'midst tall trees, — Surrounded by a waveless Sea of hght, THE VISIONARY ISLE. 65 An island called " the Beautiful " arose, Which seemed to float on billows of sweet souuds As through our myrtles crept the evening wind. "A bright, resplendent Palace glitter d through The waving boughs. Columns of Jasper, cast An orient tint across the marble walls. Its lofty cupola of burnished gold, Tinted a lake of amethystine hue. Fringed with the sweetest smiles of laughing flowers ; And grandly rose above a circHng grove Of citron, orange, and acacia trees, AMiere fountains dropp'd a coronal of gems Upon the lilies slumbering on the stream. 'Twas Evening there, and with the cooHng sounds Of falling water, through the foliage Of trees, low bending with ripe, luscious fruits. Came a soft murmur, as from sleeping birds Warbling sweet music in dehcious dreams ! " Oh ! this thought I, must be fair Flora's realm. The regal Palace of that youthful Queen Who strews the Earth with Flowers, — and as I look'd Methought I saw her in a radiant court Cushioned on crimson velvet. Eound her throne Nature suspended glorious tapestry. Her couch was made 'neath beautiful festoons — 66 THE VISIONARY ISLE. Magnolias white, and blue Wistarias, Roses, pale Jasmine, and pink Eglantine Were gathered in a great triumphal arch Around the fairy grotto of this Queen. Her footstool seemed a Rainbow, all the hues Of Heaven's own Iris smiled in glory there ; Geraniums bloom' d like brilliant butterflies : And, as submissive to theu' haughty smiles The crimson Fuschias lowly bent their heads : Whilst mingling with this aristocracy, Like Excellence in unpretending guise. Luxuriant buds of lilac HeUotrope Embalmed the rehcs of departing day. " Entranced in thought, I saw the Fairy rise — The faultless symmetry of her fair form Became more visible — In wildest Dreams, Those wondrous epic Poems of the Night, I ne'er have seen a shape so full of grace. Ethereally beautiful ! A look Of speechless tenderness beamed o'er her face As she inhaled the perfumes of the Flowers ; A smile so eloquent, that the sweet thoughts Which filled with Music her ecstatic soul I thus interpreted. " Oh ! my fair cliildren, I have loved you well. But what though I beheld and pitied you THE VISIONARY ISLE. 67 When sullen Winter flung an ermine robe Over tlie silent earth? Your cherish'd smiles Cancel the debts of unpaid gratitude. Learn then, Man ! a lesson from the Flowers, — Those fragrant, voiceless monitors will cheer Thy sorrowing hour, if thou wilt tend with care And love and foster them — Then how much more Should'st thou look up with thankfulness to Ilim, Who through the Winter of thy Heart, regards. And loves, and pities thee ? Oh ! I have oft Wonderiugly thought, do Flowers possess no souls Spirits immortal, indestructible ? For where is life so exquisitely wrought As in their fragrant forms ? Are they then made To live, to suffer, benefit and fade. Without a hope of immortality ? Oh no ! I cannot deem their destiny Is of the Earth alone ! For what is Man ? A proud, degenerate mass of breathing clay — That he alone should claim the joys of Heaven. May not the spirits of the gentle flowers After a life of sinless purity. Pass from the fleeting world invisibly. And glorified in Heaven's pure atmosphere. Exhale the sweets pervading Paradise ? " "But wliUst considering the Fairy's thoughts. The vision changed ; the rolling mass of clouds F 2 68 THE VISIONARY ISLE. Of orange hue, in silence passed away : But e'er they blended with the favorite blue Of the soft sky — a voice from Earth I heard Pour forth this simple lyric of the heart. " Oh ! often I hear the glad bells ringing out A sweet and a joyful strain, And voices of Love in the green valleys shout *' Two heai-ts arc made happy again ! " And eyes beam with Love's indescribable light. And cheeks like roses of Summer glow. And hopes and prayers for days of delight, From hearts in showers of kind words flow. And I wonder when I to some heart shall be dear And be loved as all others seem loved to be ; If ever a voice will my spirit so cheer That will make some one dearer than aU else to me ! I feel there's a Power whose invisible hand, Rich blessings profusely showers, And hearts at the touch of his magical wand Are fill'd like a vase with flowers. I know that though free 'mongst Earth's blossoms to rove. There is one whose sweet Ups are best loved by the bee ; And the bird poureth forth the sweet language of Love, Near its nest on the boughs of its favorite tree ; And I long for the hour when I too shall be dear And love as all others seem loving to be, And to hear that sweet voice which my spii-it must hear, Ere one will be dearer than all else to me ! " "Oh ! Earth, Earth, Earth, that thrilUng voice of Love Awoke a sweeter yearning in my soul THE VISIONARY ISLE. 69 Than even the Fairy's Palace ! Words arc vain To express the joy that rippled round my heart! For when the Moon walked up the star-paved sky, And poured a stream of splendour o'er the Sea, I thought God's Spirit moved upon the Deep, And from the shore came up a holy voice Bi'eatliing approving words, — Oh the full joy ! The exquisite delights of that blest eve, Were witnessed only by His guardian band. And by the sUent stars, and those sweet flowers. The lovely roses clustering o'er me now I " OUR HOUSEHOLD ANGEL. Within our happy Home there beams The sweetly smiling face Of one who hke a sunbeam, casts A halo o'er the place. Her words, and works, and motives, speak A soul so free from guile. And there's such sweetness in her voice And Love-light in her smile, That I have thought she hovers there That we may feel and know. That Angels, as in Heaven above Glide i-ouud us here below : Angels that are to be, who here Awhile are only given Some sacred mission to fulfil, E^'r they go home to Heaven ! OUR HOUSEHOLD ANGEL. 71 Gister Maria — 'tis of lier That I am singing now. She who 80 oft her hand has laid In Love upon my brow. For 0, whene'er my heart is sad With a love-thrilhng voice, She strives to charm my griefs to rest. And make my soiil rejoice. So careful for another's joy. Yet careless of her own. It seems as if to work for Heaven She dwelt on Earth alone ! And oh ! a secret power she wields. For touch'd by her soft hand, The veriest trifles of our Home, With matcliless grace expand. No household duty does she scorn, She thinks no task too hard, When she can gain as recompence A Love-smile fci reward. So meekly, yet go willingly Her blessings she imparts, As if unconscious of the flowers She sprinkles in oiur hearts ! And oh ! no sufferer abroad In vain would ask, her aid. 72 OUR HOUSEHOLD ANGEL. For strong in Hope, and pure in Faith, She never feels afraid. The arrow that at noontide flies, Or terrors of the night. Are powerless to dismay her soul. Strong in its sacred might. And if to ease one heart of Pain, No other halm were found. Oh ! she would be an Eleanor, To soothe the poisoned wound ! And wheresoe'er her spirit moves. Its light dispelleth gloom ; And softly falls her footsteps, in The weary sufferer' s room ! How silently she moves about. Yea, like all blessed things. Even as her sisters, who from Heaven Descend with noiseless wings. How softly she the pillow smooths ! As with instinctive hand, Wants unexpress'd with power divine. She seems to understand. Great Parent, Thou who lootest down With smiles upon the blest, OUR HOUSEHOLD ANGEL. 73 ="> Long spare this darling one to us. Home's best beloved guest — bless her still with Love and strength. Her mission to fulfil. Devoted to her holy work Accordant with Thy ■wiU. And oh ! accept our spirit's praise, Thou, who in Love hast given. This darUng Angel, who has made Our Home a little Heaven ! 74 LOVE AND DEATH. A TRUSTING Maiden young and fair, Rose with a sigh from her vesper prayer ; Loud was the voice of the mighty Sea ! Mournfully fell her secret tear, She said, with the tremulous voice cf Fear, " Oh will he never come back to me ? " Must I for ever feel this pain ? Must I for ever hope in vain ? Stem was the voice of the wailing Sea ! Still must the raging tempest blow ? Still must my Home be the Home of woe ? Oh will he never come back to me ? LOVE AND DEATH. /O " He said, " e'er the roses of Summer died He would come and make me his darling Bride ; " Wild was the voice of the stormy Sea ! He said, ' I will take my Dove to a nest In a beautiful land of the far-off West : ' " Oh wUl he never come back to me ?" " Angels of Bliss, from the star-worlds, come ! Wliy are the minist'ring Spirits dumb ? Whv do I hear but the waUing Sea ? The days of Summer are past away — The flowers he gave me, aU decay — Oh will he never come back to me ? " " Go ! said a stUl small voice that Night, " Go, at the dawn of the Morrow's hght, Down to the shore of the surging sea" — The night- wind shriek'd round the maiden's bed The Death-watch tick'd, but the maiden said, " He will come. He will come again to me!" She turn'd ou her pillow, but could not sleep. She heard the wail of the gurgling deep. The ceaseless dirge of the rolling sea ! She rose e'er the hght of Morn had risen. And she said, as she look'd in Love to Heaven, "Thank God, he is coming again to me ! " 76 A SIMILE. The Fishermen came with the dawning hght. The J saw on the shore a chilling sight — A winding sheet was the salt, white, wave : The maiden at last was made a Bride, For she sleeps in peace at her lover's side, But their bridal bed is the cold, dark grave ! A SIMILE. Fanc"v ! Empress of the Heart, Thou dost a thousand joys impart. In dreams of Love, thou bringest near The dearest of the absent dear : And I behold with all its grace The sweet looks of that bUssful face, "Whose smiles have been in life to me, As moon-beams to a troubled sea ; And though unnumbered objects move, 1 see alone her smile of love : Even as a child who looks afar. And singles out the brightest star. WOMANS' LOVE. 11 And dreams with innocent deliglit. The orb that gives the brightest Hght, Must be its Heart's Star, Death has given Unto the shining hosts of Heaven. WOMANS' LOVE. The love of woman is a sacred joy, — Accurs'd is he who shall its trust betray ; Who would create, then faithlessly destroy — Inspke with trust, then sweep support away. God ! thy fiercest vengeance rest on such. Who with cold hearts deceptively have smiled. Then changed Love's Eden, with relentless touch Into a ruin desolate and wild. Man, with unyielding strength and neiTe endowed. May brave the changes of a woman's heart ; Again may mingle with the trifling crowd. And in the world's activity take part. 78 WOMANS' LOVE. But Woman, she who passionately dung With fond devotion to a changing tiling ; BcguUed by falsehood's base, envenomed tongue — Who shall describe the tortures of its sting ? Call ye this conquest ? IVIark the bitter tears Wrung from despairing sorrow on her cheek ; Behold her heart, unchanged through changing years, Conceahng woe of which no hp may speak ! Woman ! whose sacred destiny is this — Life's thorny pillow with her love to smooth, To be Man's guardian-spirit, share his bliss. And with her gentle hand his sufferings soothe. Who then shall dare destroy with ruthless hand. This gift of God, this holy human tie : And damp the fire he passionately fann'd, To fill with tears devotion's sacred eye ? The loudest thunders o'er his fate shall roll — Accusing conscience will be heard at last — And through the chambers of his guilty soid. Shall glide reproachful spectres of the Past ! 79 THE FALLEN. God ! we feel the wildest woe The hand of Fate can minister, To read a fallen character. And all its fearful shadows know. To dream an Angel has been kiss'd. And then behold the fancies gay Which clothed Life's idol, pass away. And vanish hke a Summer mist. To find our fondest visions riven, That what we dream' d a mystery. Is still of cold mortahty. No truant from the realms of Heaven ! 1 said with proud and trusting thought. Not if a Seraph came from Heaven Would I beheve her stained with leaven ; My heart so faithful had been taught. 80 THE FALLEN. But when unhallowed thoughts of shame, "Where whispered in the glare of day. And with a flippant tongue, the gay And thoughtless, lightly breathed her name — I felt a sad sensation creep Over my spirit, heart, and brain. And as a sufferer wakes in pain, I prayed in agony for sleep — For sleep, yea such whose silent bed A solace to the weary brings. That bridge from Earth to Heavenly things ; Where dreamless rests the pillowed head. God save thee frail one — I must own I cannot help but pity thee. And all who are from Purity And Virtue's eminence cast down. Enough the grief their shame to bear. Be ours the spirit to forgive. To bid an erring Sister live. Remembering such in earnest prayer. 81 MARRIAGE VOWS. Voices of Joy make musical the hours Of the bright dawn, and merry voices say " Bring roses for the bridal — scatter flowers Upon the young Bride's path — and let her way Through life be glad and happy as to-day." The week-day stillness of the house of Prayer Is broken, for the sounds of falling feet Wake echoes in the aisles, whilst in the air Spirits with solemn utterance repeat — " To-day two souls before God's altar meet ! " They meet, oh ! solemn thought — for deem thou not A trifling thing such meetings e'er can be. It is no passing pleasure, soon forgot, But the bright dawn of a new destiny, A Day whose evetide is Eternity. G 82 MARRIAGE VOWS. For here no trifling pledges men may make. But bonds enduring — linking soul to soiil. Until God shall the solemn contract break — Till Death shall break at last the " golden bowl," And shrivel up the vow-recording scroll. Oh ! woe to him who lightly breathes the word Which binds two souls irrevocably fast : Each promise made, is by Jehovah heard. Who knows our Future well, as we the Past ; And wills what flowers or thorns shall in our paths be cast. And He reads every heart, while lips are breathing These holy vows ! breathe them not then lightly ! Think not a blooming garland thou art wreathing Made only for a moment to dehght thee. Lest the Avenging One in retribution smite thee ! For ah ! the polished brow may soon be wrinkled. The voice now musical may feebly speak. The path of Life may not with flowers be sprinkled, The bloom of Beauty withers from the cheek. The step now firm, may totter ; limbs grow weak. Suffering may blanch the fascinating creature. Sorrow may make the beaming eye grow dim. And Time may alter e'en the loveliest feature. MARRIAGE VOWS. 83 That now caressingly is turned to liim, And fill the heart now glad, with sorrow to the brim. Ah ! should Life's adverse billows overtake thee, Its stormy sea make wrecks of joy and pride, Wlien false friends in misfortune shall forsake thee. Wilt thou, Bridegroom ! look upon thy Bride And love her e'en as now, more than all Earth beside ? If Gold allure thee to the sacred altar, Or Beauty lead thee mocking by the hand. Well may thy lips in doubt and terror falter — Oh ! breathe thou no false vow — but understand Well thine own heart, e'er thus with God you stand. Think of the years these vows bind ye together. Bind ye " to love, to honor, and obey," In health and sickness to console each other. Pledged to love ever, fondly as to-day ! Can Wealth or Beauty bid true blessings stay ? Oh ! think another's weal or woe, depenJeth Upon thy motives, whilst these vows thou'rt seaUug ; Be ye then sure, the prayer of Truth ascendeth. And that thy soul, no thoughts of guile concealing, May ask its God to bless, each secret feehng ! G 2 84 MUSIC. Oh ! I love Music, 'tis a potent balm To soothe the passionate longings of the soul. Which can the troubled sea of feeling calm, And when I hear its voice, Joy scorns the World's control ! Yea, when I hear it with its sister, Song, Often I feel the joy-tear in mine eye. And from my heart ascends a countless throng Of mighty hopes, and aspirations high ! Solemnly slow, impressive or consoling, I love to hear it flood God's sacred aisles; The voluntary from the Organ rolhng. Or the sweet hymns which Angels hear with smiles. MUSIC. 85 Each dulcet note is like a fresh Rose, cast Upon my path — I feel its incense rise. And strive to hold the ethereal flowret fast, Wliich in sweet echoes, undulating, dies. Ah ! echoes even as rose-leaves gently falling Which leave rich scents, impregnate the charm' d air With melody — or seem as Angels calUng Blest answers to the spirit's earnest prayer, God when He made the world so beautiful, Bright skies, fair flowers, and the majestic Sea, Knew that this world, though vast and wonderful With all its grandeur, would not perfect be. Until He gave to Earth its soul of sound. Go forth, and hear the mighty waves of Ocean Pour forth their grand Te Deum, — they resound With Music waking spiritual emotion. Yes, God created Music ! He whose voice Controls the whirlwind ; the Mighty ! the For Ever I Who bade the Morn and Evening to rejoice. And the bright stars of Night to sing together. And to the Flowers He gave a voice — how know we That fragrance is not Music ? so refined. 86 MUSIC. So soft, so gentle, that the Angels only, Can hear the sound, unknown to mortal mind. Oh ! there is Music in all things we love, In the sweet laugh of unaffected glee, In the kind word which like the gentle Dove Beareth the ohve-branch across Life's troubled sea. Sweet is the aeolian music of the Night, The Summer wind invisible, which lingers. Around the myrtle trees, and rose-buds bright. And harps upon the boughs with unseen fingers. The voice of birds, sweet minstrels of the wild-wood. The hum of bees, yea all to me brings back, A thousand dreams and fancies of dear childhood — Of Friends who smUe not now upon my track. Blessed be God, that when the groves of Eden Lost their primeval grandeur, and Earth's flowers Were set with thorns ; He did not take from Men, The heavenly solace — Music's softening powers. He knew without it drear, this World would be. And gazing down the corridor of ages To the great portals of Eternity ! He saw the tears that stain' d the Future's pages. MUSIC. 87 He knew how many a time, the spirit weary Would be refresh' d, the eye of sorrow brighten — The powers that it possessed to cheer the dreary — He knew how many a bosom's care 'twould lighten. He knew how many a cheek with suffering paUid, Would feel a flush of pleasure at its voice, How many a sinking spirit would be rallied. How many a mourning one it would rejoice ! And He endowed it with stiU holier powers. To waken in the heart, pure thoughts of bliss. To steal the soul from love of withering flowers. And bear our thoughts to regions far from this — To realms where discord can disturb us, never ! Where no rude voices break the spells of song. But where unwearied, we shall hear for ever. The sacred harpings of an Angel throng ! 88 LIFE. Tread softly ! — nearer draw to her, The fair, the lovely slumberer ; How beautiful beneath our gaze The gentle breath of being plays ! Oh ! Life thou art a mystery Worthy of a Divinity ! The busy hand of Man, may raise Proud Colosseums, Palaces, And with his lofty intellect, Become the ingenious Architect Of structures vast and wonderful : The mighty and the beautiful — With skilful hand, may aptly mould The waxen flower — or pave with gold, His proudest temples, fairest shrines. Wrought in a thousand rich designs ; LIFE Or from the shapeless marble, hev Of life a lovely imitation. Yet though so beautifixl to view It lacks the secret of creation : For Man with all his boasted power Could not give Ufe for one brief hour. Unto the lowliest thing which crawls Upon the Captive's dungeon waUs — Life is the wondrous work alone, Of Him who calls great worlds His own. And though He, Man may delegate Earth's minor wonders to create — Life stands from intellect aside — Disdaining Man's inherent pride. Drawing a great and wondrous line. Between the Human and Divine ! 90 STANZAS. No, there was nothing in her soul To slake the burning thirst of mine, She gave me thorns for smiling flowers. And water when I asked for wine. And when I sued for Music sweet, A strain of discord smote mine ears. And oh ! to every prayer for joy, My heart was given a cause for tears. We felt we dared not trust to Time To join our Spirits as in one ; We felt -we held no common hope. Or thought, or joy in unison. STANZAS. 91 And so we parted, friends at least — Each prayerful for tlie others weal. For better is an hour's regret. Than years of bitter grief to feel. No, there was nothing in her soul To slake the burning thirst of mine. She gave me thorns for smiling flowers And water when I asked for wine ! ir soriG. Flowers and joys for me ! Bright and glorious weather Smiles, give to me. And Summer-time for ever : Songs of sweetest Music, By the birds or streams. Or the joyous Poet Revelling in his dreams : Ah ! with happy voices Let my portion be, All that here rejoices Come be friends with me ! Flowers and joys for me ! Happy smiling faces, Where no grief or care Leaves its joyless traces ; THE PAST. S3 Give me hope and sunshine, Spirits glad and free, Bright eyes fondly beaming, Full of Love for me ! Then, when Summer closes. And ere joys decay. Painless as the roses I would pass away ! THE PAST. Alas, I feel that years have fled, since I beheld this place, Why is this spot so still ? — Where is each fond familiar face ? I should not know, but yonder hills with unchanged grandeur rise. And they, they only, answer me, by pointing to the skies. 94 A FRAGMENT. Sweet was tlie prelude to that Summer night. When cradled in our httle hark, we sped Homewards o'er waters beautiful and bright As Heavens etherial curtain overhead. We heard the ocean wild-birds loudly scream Their last " good night " rxove their rocky nest, And saw the King of Glory's farewell beam Tinge with a sapphire tint the fading west. And in that silent hour Time even seemed to rest ! But when the stars upon the azure skies Walked forth — (those lovely watchers of the night) O'er a majestic hill we saw arise, A thin pale cloud, which gather'd like a bhglit Over those bright, celestial golden flowers. A TRAGMENT. 95 Night's lovely nurslings ! lo, they seem'd to fade. Even as blossoms from our Summer bowers A few did only penetrate the shade. The rest fled fast away as if at clouds dismay'd. We marked the Seaman with his practised eye. Scan the dark omen rising into view. We heard the wind pour forth a louder sigh The Sea assumed a garb of sable hue. The deep which long had slept, as clear as glass Was ruffled, and seemed writhing as in pain, When the night-wind did o'er its waters pass, Wliistling a sharp and melancholy strain, As if it sought companionship in vain ! Fresher and fresher blew the blast, till we Were hurried o'er the foaming brine like chaff. And heavier grew the heavings of the Sea, While its white waves seemed mockingly to laugh. And near the Seaman, clung the trembhng form. Of his young Bride, as if in him were power. To lull to rest the spirit of the storm. And stay the terror of that evil hour — The rose forsook her cheek as from a frozen flower. But there was one — brave in that dread suspense. When Hope was battling Fear — oh ! ne'er shall I 96 A FRAGMENT Forget the sweetness of her countenance — Bright was the searching glance of her blue eye ; A look which bade the Seaman's fears depart — And as she gazed upon the blackened deep The voice of Faith rose softly from her heart, " There is an eye which never falls asleep. His watchful eye is on us. Wherefore weep ? " Oh ! Love pervaded all her thoughts, and when We deem'd the waves concealed our watery grave. And when we thought the Seaman's efforts vain. Love made the heart and trusting spirit brave. Oh ! Sovereign Power ! well thou canst rob the storm Of half the terrors that it doth possess ; And whilst so near me bent that lovely form, Methought, 'tis sweeter far with Love's caress To die, than live unloved in Life's lone wilderness ! Death ! ah ! I shrank not from his cold embrace. Better to perish — if our destiny No deeds to do, to benefit our race. But live, and only live, at last to die ! For what were sweeter than a joy like this. With Earth's best loved in company to go ; With the bright hope of everlasting bliss. Where there are no more parting scenes of woe. No billowy seas, or tears, no stormy winds to blow ? 97 ELLA'S SONG TO TIME. Time tliou cliangest all things — the beautiful and bright Plead vainly for thy favors, in darkness and in hght ; Thou changest -with thy potent hand the most enchanting place, Leaving thy dreaded signature on every lovely face : The roses of the Beautiful before thy speUs decay. Her tresses lose their wonted light, her sweet smiles pass away : The wrecks of strength which thou hast made, lo ! everywhere I see. Yet though thou art so terrible, one boon I crave of thee — H 68 Ella's song to time. I ask tliee not to spare the form of Youth's idolatry, To check thy mastery o'er the Mind, thy powers o'er Memory, I do not pray thee to restrain, in Life's ambrosial bowers, The power with which thou steal' st away the lightly dancing flowers. Oh ! no, I ask not such of thee — this boon I crave alone — That thou wouldst spare the Love that in my heart has made a throne. Oh ! spare that fount of hope and joy, the sorrow of decay, And thou may'st blanch my glowing cheek, and turn my tresses grey. 99 THE LITTLE MOTHER. " Come take us to our Mother's room," Two infant orphans said, " We have not wished her yet * good night ' take us not to bed." The tears fell from their sister's cheek, She led them past the door. And whispered with a mournful voice — " Dear Mother is no more." " Where is she, then ? Oh ! tell us where Our ]\Iother dear is gone ? She surely loved us all too well To leave us here alone." " She's gone to Heaven," the maiden said, " She watches from the sky ; And you shall go, if you are good. And see her by and bye." H 2 100 THE LITTLE MOTHER. " ! who will be our Mother now ? " Each little mourner cried ; " I'd rather than our Mother dear — God took all else beside." She kiss'd their little quivering lips. She kiss'd each earnest brow, And whispered with a gentle voice — " I'll be your Mother now ! " Oh ! sacred was the sniile of love. That flushed her palhd face ; It seem'd as if the Mother's soid Took then the Sister's place. "Dear httle Mother," both replied, " We'll love you and obey. And pray that God will never more Let us a wrong word say. " And we will thank Him in our prayer. For having kindly given A darling Mother on the earth. As well as one in Heaven ! " That night she wrought a Mother's part, She wiped their tears away ; And led them to their little room. Their evening prayers to say. THE LITTLE MOTHER. 101 And whilst she watch'd beside the bed And kiss'd them when asleep ; She heard a voice as if from Heaven — " Be faithful — do not weep ! " And often when 'gainst household cares. Her heart had vainly striven ; Tliis thought her failing strength renew'd, " Mother looks down from Heaven ! " God give the httle Mother strength Her heavy lot to bear ; Angels, smile on her with delight. And tend her with your care. 102 THE TALE OF THE DEEP. 'TwAS to a wild, but fairy-like recess Whose Architect was Nature, half-conceal' d In a luxuriant wilderness of leaves. That on one Summer eve, my friend and I Repaired, to hear the sounds symphonious Of the bright stream that rippled through its shades As it passed on, as if with eager haste For the embrace of the blue, waveless sea. Nor wonder that we loved its music clear, For e'en the mosses crept as with delight Round the unresting brook, and from the sod On either side sprang ferns, whose feathery leaves. Were wafted in the perpetual breath of God. Sweet were the echoes of this falling stream. And sweet the western music of the wind And of the bird that sang its vesper hymn : Sweet too were perfumes of the half-faint flowers Reviving 'neath the dewdrops' gentle kiss ; THE TALE OF THE DEEP. 103 But sweeter far in sucli a time and place It was to hear the hps of one belov'd. Pour forth the eloquent Poetry of the heart. Long did we loiter in this leafy glade, But whUst emerging from the green recess, A scene of proud magnificence entranced Our souls, — for far across the sea. The Queen of Night pour'd forth a silv'ry stream : The sky displayed its starry rosary. And the tall trees, and tow'ring chalk-white cliffs. And wild clematis clambermg up the heights. And ferns, aweary of incessant dance, Seem'd crystaUized — ^We both in silent joy, Gaz'd on the bhssful scene — Our lips moved not And all was hushed as in a gentle sleep. Save the deep sea, which with a voice subdued Seem'd wooing the crystal streamlet to its heart. "Oh ! how I love the sea" my fair friend sigh'd, " But tell me true — Is this the same great deep Which in the wintry nights when wild winds blow, Springs like a hungry lion to the shore. With gleaming teeth, and vengeful, foaming lips, Utt'ring a wild, heart-mocking, deafening roar, Bearing away the lonely Fisher's boat, Moor'd on the pebbly beach : — And as the King of the Forest rends his prey. 104 THE TALE OF THE DEEP. Crushes the works of Mau, like fragile toys — Scattering the splintered wrecks upon the strand, Like bones to bleach beneath the frowning sky ? She ceased — but from the mighty crags beneath — We thought, we heard the still voice of the Deep, Pronounce in solemn tones this strange reply — " Gaze, Gaze upon me when ye may At dead of Night, or break of Day, When quiet as a Summer sky My wavelets kiss the briny sand — Or when like mountains, rolling high, I strive to inundate the land. " Still ye will love me — but with love Like that ye feel for One above : For when my * stUl small voice ' ye hear Your heart will bound with hfe and glee : But bravest souls shall quail with fear. When vengeful storms sweep over me. *' Ah ! vainly often on mine ear Falls the loud shriek of deep despair. And earthly Parents or their Child Cradled upon my waves, asleep, Are wakened by my biUows wild. To see the terrors of the deep. THK TALE OF THE DEEP. 105 " A watery mound is every wave, Swelling above a mortal's grave : And down, down in my mighty depths, A countless host sleeps silently, 'Midst petrifying barks, which once In stately pride pass'd over me. " And I take too with ruthless hand, The pride and glory of the land. For Earth's most regal treasure, paves The grottos hidden in the deep. And in my wealthy coral caves, I there my priceless jewels keep. " Ye would not think to gaze on me, I hold so vast a treasury — But Men shall see, with wondering souls, "When thundering through immensity — Jehovah's mighty mandate rolls — " Restore thy dead, Sea ! " "These are the reasons, then ye see I an surnamed a mystery — Sometimes serene, so still I lie. That ye may tliink I am asleep. And would not deem my waters blue Concealed the terrors of the Deep. 106 THE TALE OF THE DEEP. " But gaze in that tempestuous hour. When I array myself in power — Then ve shall hear mine awful voice Pervading all with solemn glory, And ye shall be convinced my waves Rehearse a melancholy story ! ** One voice alone do they obey, 'Tis His, whose mighty hand can stay Worlds at His bidding — who could shake, Even as dew-drops from a flower. Vast Worlds from yonder starry sphere, Kor lose one atom of His power ! " 107 ( STARS AND DEV7DR0PS. A FRAGMEKT. How beautiful is Night— how grand With all her Stars, which silently So fondly from the better land Look down upon Life's troubled Sea, Like beacons from a friendly shore. Thrice welcom'd by the mariner, Who feels with bounding heart — once more That there must be a haven near. Across the lawn the breeze of Night, Wafts perfume from the jasmine white. The Nightingale's sweet spirit, thrills The wood with wondrous melodies, And 'neath the moon, the rippling rills, Sing softly to the alder trees — Whilst on the bosom of the Rose, 108 PARTING. Trembles in crystalline repose — A brilliant shining hemisphere, (Bright as a young Bride's joyous tear,) In which from Fairy-land at Night — The Elfin tribe, comes down to kiss The flowers ; which tremulous with delight Smile as with love in silent bliss. PARTING. The fondest friends, the truest friends. The hand of Time will sever. Hearts that through many a changing scene Have trusted in each other. It is then' destiny to part — All things we love are fleeting. And partings seem to be Man's lot That he may think of meeting PARTING. 109 Where absence cannot pain the heart And friend meets friend, no more to part. The fondest friends, the truest friends Must part ; but oh! it is a joy, To feel there is a world, whose bliss The parting scene cannot aUoy. So let us then with Faith undimm'd Look forward to those realms of hght Where clouds of sorrow are unknown, To mar that land, as they do this. Let Hope our Present then iUume — A bright World Ues beyond the Tomb. no OUR SISTER'S BRIDAL. Oh! the world seems full of promise, and the Earth smiles on us all, Joys and sunshine, hope and blessings in Summer showers fall ; A day of bhss is dawning — God bless its rosy hght, May it be a glorious advent to millenial delight. But yet I feel not glad to-day as others by my side. To see thee, gentle Sister, appareU'd as a bride ; For so long, so well, I've loved thee, that I know not how to part With thee, thou darling Angel of my happy home and heart ! Our Mother's eyes beam gladness — they reprove my sadness now. She loves to look, sweet Sister, on thy free and careless brow; OUR sister's bridal. Ill And though she feels our home •will have indeed a vacant place. She thinks of thee and happiness, and a smile steals o'er her face ; She knows her darling jewel wall in Love's bright ring be set ; And stays with blessings on her hps, her loving heart's regret. But though sweet Sister on my cheek I even feel a tear, do not, do not think my hopes or wishes less sincere I By aU the joys through thee we know — by all the love I feel. With deep devotion in my heart, for thee to-day I kneel ; Oh ! may each hope that now is felt — each prayer of those we love. Be heard with smiles by Him who looks from the land of hsht above. ^o^ I know earth's roses must have thorns — the lovehest day, its night. But may you love as fondly then, as when all is calm and bright ; 112 OUR sister's bridal. Should friends forsake, or should the sky of Hope be overcast, God grant %vith love together you may smile upon the blast. And though the bloom of Health may fade, yet then, as in its prime ; Oh ! may ye prove that Love can reign triumphant over Time. Thou knowest Sister that I love, all that is loved by thee. That every favorite of thine must be very dear to me ; But I joy to think there is not one in whom I would confide. More than in him who to his heart now takes thee as his bride ; God bless him for his love for thee, his truth to me and mine. And may the cup of Life for him be fiU'd with richest wine. May he know no doubts, no dangers, no sorrow and no gloom, And may guardian Angels tend ye both, from the altar to the tomb. ir3 RAIN. Thank Heaven! the rain is coming down again. For which the lovely flowers and budding trees Have thirsted long, and sought till now in vain. Languidly swaying in the passmg breeze : But now the wind blows softly from the west. Our supphcations have to God arisen ; Our prayers, with gracious answers, have been blest — The gentle rain is coming down from Heaven. »'■ With imavailing grief we mourn'd to see Fruits that sustain' d us, falling to decay. Perishing in the blossom on the tree, And thirsting flowers which withered in our way. With heart oppress' d, a mourning Poet said, "The young Spring, friend, will lose her maiden pride, 114 RAIN. Man's boasted strength is powerless to aid The drooping blossoms dying by bis side. " Thus in that Rain, beheld we Providence, And not alone as then — for I have known. The clouds of sorrow hang in darkness dense Over a heart which felt it was alone. Men would not soothe the sorrows it contain' d : It yearn'd for sympathy's most genial rain. But sad and desolate it long remain' d, Asking the friendship of this world in vain. Prayer then unlock'd the tomb of Memory, And secrets that the spirit would not dare Reveal to men, deeds of dark mystery, Well'd forth hke streams from mountains, in a prayer : The poisonous breathings of neglect and scorn. Had withered all the phantasies of youth, Till on that night, dawn'd promises of morn. The first impression of the joys of Truth — Then fell the Uving rain-drops from above — And as the shower refreshes earthly bloom, Hope, pour'd from realms of happiness above, Gave hght where all was sombre as the tomb. THE EVE OF DEATH. 115 Oh ! now the wind blows softly from the west. Thank God, his prayers have not in vain arisen, And whilst with blessings all his days are blest, He feels they comeHke gracious Rain from Heaven. THE EVE OF DEATH. Mother, open wide the window ; though I've often gazed before, Yet I feel that I should like to look upon the Earth once more, And to hear the rippling ocean, and behold the azure sky, Wliilst the evening sun is setting— for the last time ere I die. 1 2 116 THE EVE OF DEATH. Mother, yonder I am tracing in the quiet, tranquil skies. Forms of Angels bright and glorious, who look down with loving eyes. And methinks I hear sweet whispers, telUng me I soon must go To a radiant world above me, so unUke our world below — Where the flowers are everlasting, and the skies are ever fair. And incessant songs are floating in the sweetly perfumed air. Ah ! the echo of that music in my dreams I oft have heard. Sweeter than the fountain's ripple, or the warblings of a bird. See, the harvest moon is rising ; gleaners homeward wend their way, For the Night with mufiled music lulls to sleep the parting Day, And the butterfly is sleeping hghtly on the dewy rose. And the birds which sang so sweetly, on the fragrant boughs repose. THE EVE OJT DEATH. 117 Birds mil wake again to-morrow and the young lark from the cloud. With a heart with joy o'erflowing will pour forth its lays aloud. But oh ! higher than Earth's minstrel — I shall sing a joyful h\Tnn In that fadeless realm of glory, evening shades can never dim. Mother, many a time at midnight in the distant skies afar, I have seen sweet gentle glances, beaming from each golden star — While the moon was brightly shining, hke a Queen en- throned above, 'Midst the stars which seem'd like Angels moving round the throne of Love. And I thought I heard sweet voices singing praises with delight, And saw snules as now seem beaming from the clouds of blue and white ; Listen ! for I now hear voices — shall I tell you what they say ? Oh ! they call, they call unto me, " Sister spirit, come away." 118 FOR THE MOURNER. So my mother, I am going, going to that countless throng, And to join with those sweet voices in a never-ceasing song, Do not weep, for I am going to a world of rest and bliss — Farewell, mother ! let me dying, feel thy warm and loving kiss. FOR THE MOURNER. Angels of God pour out a balm Upon the mourner's heart. Let the wild waves of strife be calm. Rest to her soul impart ! Pour sleep upon her tear-wet lids Let thoughts of grief depart ! Watch through the midnight of her soul. Soothe now the pillowed head : let the stream of Lethe roll Over the quiet dead ! Unfold your wings, ye cherubims Around our Sister's bed. THE BLIND MAN. 119 Come to her from the griefless spheres. Now in the hush of night, Kiss from her cheek the sorrowing tears. Which long have dimm'd her sight ! Answer God ! her fervent prayer — Let there be light ! THE BLIND MAN. Oft I have seen him on the Sabbath day. Kneel with devotion in the aisle to pray, And 'twas a solemn sight indeed, to see The old man in God's temple bend the knee— His grey locks faLUng sadly o'er his brow, Furrowed by Care and Time's relentless plough. He loved to hear his Pastor's voice declare — Eyes blind on Earth in Heaven receive their sight. And listening to the wondrous miracle Of Bartimeus with intense delight, Though sightless, yet he seem'd almost to gaze Upon his Saviour, who the afflicted heal'd ; And a bright smile his pale, wan cheek illumed. As if the Future was to him imseal'd, And hidden hght to us, to him had been reveal' d. 120 SONNET. A FATHER. ! WHO can feel unconscious of the worth Of a fond loving Parent on the earth. The miniature of Him who reigns above ? And who in reckless pride of heart shall dare Eepeat in scorn those syllables of love Which Angels joy to hear, in praise or prayer ? 1 feel " our Father" to my Father here Is such as Heaven, to this terrestrial sphere — Yet to my earthly Parent, do I owe. Far more than tongue may tell, or heart can know- For all the weary hours, with hand and brain In which he toiled for me with patient pain ! Oh ! where is such affection undefiled. As the fond Parent's for his darhng child ? 121 SONNET. A MOTHER. " Father who art in Heaven" — liow often rise These words in invocation to the skies — Yet there are kindred words, almost as dear. Mother and Home — how swiftly through the ear They pass into the heart, awaking there Perchance some simple hymn, or words of prayer Taught long, long years ago — words that have risen And saved the child from the grim Tempter's snare, With their sweet breathings of the bhs3 of Heaven ! Oh ! my own Mother's smile, and gentle word, Even when absent, I have seen and heard As in a dream ; to which such spells are given. That I can never own a feUow-worker, Brother, Whose Ups can lightly breathe the sacred name of Mother ! 122 CONSOLATION. We spake of Sisters, of the influence They hold within our spirits, and our homes. How pure was their aflection ; and how sweet A thing it was to have them ever near Gliding like nfiinist'ring spirits in our paths. A tear-drop dimm'd his eye, but ere it fell. He dashed it from its fount, and sadly said — " I had a little Sister once But she has long been dead. For many a year the primroses Have blossom'd o'er her head. A child, I thought it was unkind Of God to take away The sweet companion of my life With whom i loved to play. CONSOLATION. 1 They took me to the silent room Wherein my sister laid. Though clad in death's habiliments I did not feel afraid So sweet a smile was on her lip And whilst her eyes were closed* I thought that this could not be death, So sleep-like, so composed. Death was within my happy heart, A secret yet unborn, I knew not he could take the rose To leave a crown of thorn ; I wept because my Father wept. But could not understand. When first he told me she was gone To the good and happy land. But now long years have pass'd away Alas I should not weep. That Death so early clos'd the eyes Of her I loved in sleep ; But rather joy that Angels bore Upon white wings away. The first love of my infant heart. To realms of endless day. r»o 124 CONSOLATION. For all ! I wonder God in love. Calls not more home to rest, Ere sin's contaminating touch Can mar the destin'd blest ; And when I mark the sufferer's forsi Glide like a spectre by, When I behold the pallid cheek And hear the mourner sigh — I look from up this vale of tears. To regions bright and fair. And watch the clouds hke Angels p:.ss In forms of glory there ; And feel a thrill of deepest joy. That one I loved so well. Should thus have pass'd so soon from E.oith In Paradise to dwell. " 125 DISAPPOINTMENT. Pity the hapless butterfly Which with the first, warm, sunny ray That flashes 'cross a wintry sky. Unfolds its pinions light and gay. And bounding on exidtaut wing To greet the joyous smiles of Spring, And thinks to breathe the Roses breath. Finds Earth alone the abode of Death — The flocks stand shivering in the field ; The flowers it lored, in snow concealed. Whilst with a cold, sepulchral tone, The wild winds up the valley moan ; And ah ! instead of Love and Joy, Instead of Spring with welcome hand. Death comes its visions to destroy. For Winter reigneth o'er the land ! And when his bleak and mocking smiles. 126 DISAPPOINTMENT. Dispel at last, its bright illusion, Deceived by his insidious wiles. It dies the victim of Delusion ! And pity thou the life deceived. In all it hoped for, or believed — Which like a bird towards the light. Bounds with a cry of wild delight. And dreams in peace and joy to rest. Again upon its favorite tree. To be by Love and Pleasure bless' d ; Unfettered by captivity — But as it meets the dazzling glass. Essaying from its prison to pass, Down from the adamantine walls, With bleeding, breaking heart it falls ! 127 RUTH. A. FABA.FBBASE. Entreat me not to leave thee, for oh ! I cannot tell. The bitter sorrow I should feel to breathe the word Farewell ! Oh, DO I will not leave thee, whate'er thy fate may be, "Whither thou goest I will go, — my home shall be with thee. Thou sayest that the stranger's land is beautiful and fair. That Heaven hath poured its richest streams of joy and gladness there ; But oh ! the lovehest spot of earth would seem a dreary place. If I could never hear thy voice, or see thy smihng face. 128 RUTH. Oh! no I cannot leave thee, be bright or drear thy lot, I could not make a home on earth, where Mother, thou wert not ; The fairest flowers would lose their charms, the sun- niest lands their light, !i thou couldst not be near, to share their pleasure or delight. Oh ! there may be a wealthier home, with brighter skies above, — But what is wealth but poverty without the joy of Love? Then ask me not to leave thee, I'd rather share with thee The sorrows and the woes of want, than we should parted be. Though blessings might fall round me — think you that I could rest ? My thoughts would ever fly to thee, by kindly hearts unbless'd, And who would soothe thy weary heart, or comfort thee in pain ? Oh no ! I could not leave thee — then ask mc not again. A VOICE IN THE SUMMER. 129 I'll dwell with tbee, my Mother, thy land shall he mine own, Thy friends shall be mij friends, Mother ; thy God ?«y God alone ; And whatsoever may betide, from thee I will not roam, Till God shall send his Angel, Death, to take my spirit home. A VOICE IN THE SUMMER. I LOVE all things lovely, and fain would forget That on Earth exist sorrow, pain, sin, and regret ; A Summer all sunshine — the calm of life's sea — Oh ! all, all things lovely are best loved by me. I look up to Heaven with heart full of dehght To see the bright clouds pass like Angels in flight ; But think not whilst gazing upon them, that they In a few passing moments will vanish away. K 130 A VOICE IN THE SUMMER. I love the blue waves of the wonderful deep. When the storms are by Summer lull'd softly to sleep ; But think not whilst watching the slumbering wave That it soon may engulph the proud bark of the brave. I love the sweet roses that smile on us now From the hght leafy spray of the beautiful bough. And pity the man, who beholding them smile, Talks only of earth's imperfections the while. Oh ! I love the bright blossoms ; their exquisite grac« — What matters to me a ivee leaf out of place ? When they seem from their hearts to pour all that they can To stimulate love in the cold heart of man ? And I love the wild birds which happy and gay. Enjoy all that's bright, heeding nought of decay And do not understand, whilst their melodies float, What connoisseurs mean by " defects in a note. " I pity the vain, ay, the sinful conceit Of those who make bitter, what God has made tweet.' Who, ignorant even of what they condemn, Would tarnish the worth of the loveliest gem. A VOICE IN THE SUMMER. 131 I pity tlie soul that all Beauty dissects, Whose eyes are hke microscopes — seeking defects, ^\ll0se lips never utter unqualified praise. Though the loveliest things of the earth meet then- gaze ! But I honour the heart that, confiding and true, Strives always to have life's bright objects in view ; Who speaks of a brother, in charity kind. And seeks not his faults or his failings to find ! 132 SONNET. I-ITTLE CHII-DKEU. I DO not wonder our Redeemer smiled On little Children, and in accents mild Bade His disciples to " Forbid them not But suffer them to come " to Him ; for oh ! 'Tis sweet to turn from faces marr'd with woe. Or those that bear old Time's relentless blot. And gaze upon their countenances fair. Smiling in innocent mirth, or earnest prayer. Even as the Egyptian Princess, with a smile Gave to its nurse the infant of the Nile — So God, Earth's " little ones " to us has given, To nurse for Him, to nurture, yea for Heaven, And He will pay us from His mint above, And coin us words of joy, and smiles of fihal love. 133 LEAVE US NOT YET. I BEAUTIFUL Summer-time, leave us not yet — The world will thy glory and brightness regret ; We love you as fondly as ever — oh, then, WTiy now do you pass from the valley and glen ? Why leave you the flowers of the forest to wither ? Why bid you the days of cold Winter come hither ? Why make you the birds flee away from the grove ? Why teach you the heart the mutations of love ? I stay, do not leave us, we love you as well As when Spring with her violet-breath, bade you farewell. " ! beautifid Summer-time leave us not yet : " Thus pray'd a fair maiden her pale cheeks still wet ; 134 LEAVE TJS NOT YET. " I liave tasted of all the enchantments you bring, I've seen your flowers blossom, I've heard your birds sing; But something ye brought me far dearer than this — Ye woke in ray heart its first visions of bliss ; For 'neath your bright roses a sweet voice I heard, Belov'd more than music of streamlet or bird : O ! then, joyous Summer-time, leave us not yet. But stay, that he may not his promise forget. " " Stay, beautiful Summer-time, still with us stay. Was the prayer that I too heard an aged man say : " Thou mak'st my heart glad with thy beautiful flowers, AVliich spring up like fairies round earth's smiling bowers ; And thy musical birds free from envy and strife Wake memories sweet of the morning of life ; And I then half forget my bereavements and pain. And think that my childhood is come back again. But Winter will change all these dreams with his breath And remind me alone of the season of death ; So, beautiful Summer-time, joy of my heart ! ! still stay and bless us ! oh ! do not depart. " But Summer rebuked with sad voice all these prayers. And answered, " Now others have need of my cares." LEAVE LS NOT YET. 135 She flew o'er the mountain from woodland and dell. And the cold winds relentlessly chaunted Farewell. And Winter came forth with a ten'ible frown. And hurl'd the creations of Summer-time down. But whilst the broad meadows were whitened with snow And we heard the north wind o'er the wild billows blow. The Summer was smiUng in far distant lands, Dispensing to others earth's joys from her hands. And thus, though Man will not humanity spare, But steal from another the joys all should share ; Though to make himself happy he cares not who fall, God scatters his blessings ahke amongst all. TT 13G THE WORLD'S GREAT ENEMY. There's a demon forth ! there's a demon forth ! He roameth a conqueror free. He is loosed from the realms of dark Dc^oair, And a maniac's laugh, laughs he. He dwells in ten thousand fearful breasts. He mocketh the haggard eye. And Want and Disease are his 1)osom friends. Debt, SoiTow and Misery. He gocth forth with a treacherous smile, And his blood-stained banner we see ; His hands the fairest scenes defile, But followers many has he. I see him go forth in the dark, dark night. He goes with a flashing eye ; And mocks with a fiend's impure delight, The God of the Heavens on high ! THE WOULd's great ENEMY. 137^ He enters the doors of the happiest hom3s. But the children flee in dismay. And the young wife weeps a burning tear, "Which in vain she wipes away. But he mocketh the grief of the guileless heart. And curses her innocent form ; . And the home that is touched by his fearfalhaad, Becomes Uke a wreck in the storm. There's a demon forth ! there's a demon forth! His blood from the goblet flows. And lips that love the accursed draught. His spirit within them glows. I have seen him betroth the fau'est Bride, I have heard his bridal prayer. But have mark'd how he paled her roseate cheek, And furrowed her brow with care ! At the happiest homes, at the purest hearts. Are his bolts of vengeance hurl'd ; And he prides himself on his fiendish darts, The curse of this sinful world ! There's a demon forth ! there's a demon forth ! He comes with a tempting wile, V\^ith a witchmg look, and a cursed touch And a false, perfidious smile. 138 THE world's great enemy. From his lips breaks forth a shower of oaths. The fruits of the dissolute bowl — And the curse of God is on his brow ; And a leprosy clings to his soul. Beware, Beware of this demon form. And liis foul polluted band, For misery, shame, and vile disgrace. Are link'd with him hand in hand. There's a demon forth ! there's a demon forth ! Sound loud the alarum bell — Eaise the hue and cry, let the traitor die. Toll over his grave a knell. When men shall this fettering hand destroy, Oh ! how many a heart will be glad ! The nations will give a shout of joy — And happiness gladden the sad ; Children will smile with childhood's smile, And strong ■wiU become the weak. An d the bloom of Youth will return again To many a withering cheek ! 139 EAU DE VIE. There is a stream, whicli Men may make, polluted and accurs'd. From which they strive to satisfy the spirit's parching thirst ; They mock with scornful lips, the kind Physician always near. And seek a cordial from the world their sufferings to cheer ; They make a deadly poison, though bright it seems to be. And labelled with a tempter's craft, the " Genuine Eau de Vie." But oh ! how soon the treacherous draught reveals its fatal powers ; See ! how it withers in the soul, the augel's sweetest flowers. 140 EAU DE VIE. Love, peace, and purity, and joy, oh ! see ho^ they depart. To leave to a consuming fire the poor deluded heart. How many a young wife's burning tear it makes in vain to flow. How many a mother's breaking heart is made its curse to know. How many a bright and happy home tliis poison has defiled. And oh ! how many a trusting one its influence beguiled. Beware, then, brothers, of a name, that gilds a counterfeit. For many a sweet, is bitter cali'd, and many a bitter sweet. But still, I hear the thirsting cry, " ! give, give us to drink," Stay, weary, fainting brother, stay, pause on Destruc- tion's brink, "Where'er there is a counterfeit there must be sometliin? real. Go, strive to grasp reality, to Heaven for help appeal. Yes, yes, thei'e is "a well of life," which none shall seek in vain, " And they, who of its waters drink, shall never thirst again." EAU DE VIE. 141 Think of that sweet, delicious draught I — what ! thirst on earth no more ? Shall all our longings after love, and earthly gain be o'er ? And though with many a sorrow dark our spirits are opprest, Is there a cordial that can soothe our griefs and cares to rest ? Yes, there shall be no thirst for thee — but sweet serene repose ! And what ye thought " a wilderness, shall blossom like the rose." No scorching rays of passion's sun, no cold or blighting breeze, No bitter frosts of hate or scorn, the sacred fount shall freeze. For there shall be a well witliin, unmoved by eartlily strife, Refreshing every heart with thoughts of everlasting life! 142 STANZAS. WRITTKX FOR AK KARLT CLOSmG ASSOCIATION. Shut up your shops ! — let not Mammon persuade you To barter for Gold all the blessings of life ; Shut up your Shops !— let not Mercy upbraid you ! Why mar you God's glad world with unending strife? Whilst iron wheels of grim Labor are turning, Hopes from sad hearts, like bright sparks flee away ; Oh ! what crush' d souls are for liberty yearning, Long after sunset, and day after day. Shut up your Shops ! — hear the sweet invitation The birds of the woods and the sweet flow 'rets give ; List to the music that bursts from creation, '• Love one another," and '• Live and let Live " STANZAS. 143 Love is not crushing tlie soul's aspiration, Life is not is not given for serfdom to Gold I To grind down the spirit in mental starvation, Making young hearts prematurely grow old. Shut up your Shops ! — let glad Nature's sweet teachings Sink deep in your hearts ; whilst Humanity's call Wakes vou from slumber to hear the beseeching s Of innocent victinis who round you may fall ! Wipe out this stain ! oh ! impede now no longer The progress of Intellect, Knowledge, and Truth ; Let aU that's Beautiful daily grow stronger. Nurture, not blight, the fair blossoms of Youth. Shut up your Shops ! — that the sower of Knowledge . May scatter the seed of improvement 'mongst all ; Shake off the World and its King's fatal bondage ; Lift up your hands and your hearts from theii* thrall. Shut up your Shops ! — ere dense darkness prevailetlu Turn ye from Warehouse, and Counter, and Till ; But open your hearts, e'er the day of grace faileth, And propagate blessings of Peace and Good-will. 144 A IIAN. I LOVE to see a Man whose acts The title well may claim ; Whose lips despise not common sense, And on whose brow Intelligence Inscribes its glorious name ! Bright eyes that flash indignantly, Disdaining flattery's dower ; With form erect, life's blasts to brave, Too proud to yield himself a slave To passion's baneful power. A mind with useful Knowledge stored In Truth and Virtue strong ; With smiles of love upon his cheek. And lips that know not how to speak A falsehood or a wrong ! A MAN. 145 A soul that feels its destiny Is not alone for Earth ; Who counts not birth or ancestry, But patents liis nobility By deeds of highest worth ! No cringing suppliant for gain Beneath a tjTant's rod ; But with an independent heart, Resolves to nobly act the part Design'd for him by God. This is the man I love to see. Deserving honour, fame ; The heir of immortality, "Who elevates Humanity, And glorifies its name ! 146 A PARADOX, The Men who in the Battle day. On the red turf in Hastings' fray, Wrought the most foul destruction ; Successful pirates on the sea Sworn foes to Saxon Liberty, The feudal bandit Norman horde. Who scourged our land with fire and sword— Of course were all born Gentle-men ! Yes, they who plundered, burnt and sold, A freeman's heritage and gold. And filled our land with slaughter, Who wrung the life-blood from their slaves. And press' d with iron heels their graves ; Who made the honest, wrongs endure. Whose love of luxury starved the Poor — Of course, they all were Gentle-men ! A PARADOX. 147 And he who with a haughty brow. Looks back upon that conquest now, Then o'er his gold and acres ! To whom descend the spoil and name, No matter what his deeds of shame — IIow many a woman's heart he breaks, How much dishonest gain he takes — Of course he is a Gentle-xudia J Thev who make war on honest men, "Wielding the diplomatic pen, With selfish ends and motives ; Who starve the labourers on their lands And bind in fetters useful hands, Who laws for slavery espouse. Pressing the thorns round human brows, Of course they all are Gentk-men I lie who a stumbhug-block would lav In Intellect's and Vii'tue's way, Frustrating lowly Genius, Who would make priceless souls his tools. And close our dear Land's thousand schools. And in the twihght of his college, Would hoard the golden fruits of Knowledge, Of course, he is a Gentle-man ! L 2 148 A PARADOX. The liypocrite who weaves a snare, And proudly takes the highest chair. To patronize deception : Pampering the Banker, whose dehght May be to rob the Widow's mite. The Levite in his selfish pride, Who passes on the other side — Of course, must be a Gentle-man ! Out ! Out ! upon sucli mockery. Arise voice of Liberty — Expose the hateful farce ! God's law^s for all men are the same. He counts as dross, wealth, poAver, and narne- Nor let us deem the mental blind, The hateful, scornful, or unkind, A Noble, or a Gentleman ! But he who loves to work for Good Who does not boast ancestral blood. Or coats of arms or castles ! Who scattering joys where'er he roams. Provides Earth's orphan children homes. And condescends in truth to feel An interest in the general weal, lie is the GoD-stamp'd Gentleman ! 149 MONEY OR LOVE? This Life is compared to a difficult Game, And true is the simile made. And power, position, wealth, honour and fame. Are prizes for which it is played. W'e all of us stand in the lists, and must all For something or other compete — "VVe must run in the race, we must stand or must fall, We must either proceed, or retreat. Come then e'er the Game ye in earnest begin. Ere defiant ye throw down the glove. Make up in your mind the reward you would win WiU ye play now for Money or Love ? For the first ye must delve in the dust of the Earth, For spirits which Mammon controls. Must live where there is of Affection a dearth, And sacrifice bodies and souls ! If you win, you will think you have influence great. For the Fool it appears to make wise. 150 MONEY OR LOVE. Who witli it may purchase," pvoud names and estate. And obsequies grand when he dies ; But then all the joys of an overfilled purse, Toil'd so hard for, by night and by day. May only secure at Life's sequel — a curse — " For naked must all pass away ! " Then consider ye well ei*e the Game ye begin. Ere defiant ye throw down the glove, The guerdon ye are most desirous to win. Will ye play now, for Money or Love ? Ijove ! — what Music there is in that one little word. The richest reward in this life. From hearts of the noble and honest 'tis heard, Like a sweet Angel's voice in the strife ! Not low in the dust^ must ye grovel to find. The joys that this blessing imparts. But boldly aspiring with faith in the mind, To Heaven it will lift up your hearts. And though it may pomp, pride and purple deprive. Though it e'en may to indigence doom. It will bless you in Life, even Death 'twill siu'vive. And garnish with sweet flowers the tomb ! Come consider then well, ere the game ye begin Ere defiant ye throw down the glove ! The guerdon which ye are in earnest to win. Will ye play now, for Money or Love ? l.Vl OUR ISLE OF BEAUTY. A BLESSING on our native land And all tliat's good within it, The true of heart, the strong of hand. The brave and lofty spirit. Ah I thousands are deserving prayers On ocean and on dry land ; Who stand unmoved by coward fears And love their native Island — And if all hearts like theirs would be, Resolv'd to do their dutv. Oh ! mighty England then would be. Indeed an Isle of Beauty. It has no lack of fertile soil, Nor bold strong hands to plough them, Work cheerily, then. Sons of toil, For ve with wealth endow them ! 152 OUR ISLE OF BEAUTY. let not Men in Future years, When speaking of our nation. With scornful words, in rage or tears, Regard our generation ! But let each soul be resolute, Reverins; Truth and Dutv, And England shall exalted be The peerless Isle of Beauty ! What flowers are there so sweet and fair. As England's virgin roses ? What Homes are there which can compare With those our Isle encloses ? But still a warning word we need. Though England's sons and daughters. Are taught from Childhood to be free. E'en by her winds and waters ! Then let Creation's voice be heard — It urges us to Duty! And like a star amidst the waves, Shall shine our Isle of Beauty ! ! let us bow no knee to Gold, Which petrifies affection. And let our motives and our works Lose nothing by detection ! OUR ISLE OF BEAUTY. 153 And be onv Parliament of men, Nobility of Nature, — Men, who will worship nought but God, Nor cringe to King nor creature ! And let Excelsior be the word. To nerve our arms in Duty, And peerless then amidst her Peers, Shall stand our Isle of Beauty '• But curs'd be he, with soul so base, Who loves not Britain's stoiy. Who would bv wilful act disgrace. Or stain his Country's glory ! For could we live and see its Fame Sink neath Time's rolling ocean. Whilst the same God looks down from Heaven, Who bless' d our sire's devotion ? No, rather Death, ten thousand times Than flinch from Truth or Duty, Than see the land we love so well, Robb'd of its crown of Beauty I 164 HOME. Think you a few bare, bleak and barren walls. Which Time or Fortune changes or invades AYe recognize and cherish as our Home ? Is yonder hoary sanctum, tow'ring o'er The sleeping Town, in truth the very church ? Hear ye the answer of the King of Hosts ! — "Where two or three are gathered, there am I, " Ye are my temples, I will dwell therein :" And even so our own dear cherish' d Home Is where assemble the revered and true. O'er which Love, like the Deity presides ! Man's Hate may strip the walls of all their worth, The sweet adornments which have made them dear- But even its barbed arrows shall grow blunt, Ere they the loving heart may violate ! Malionant devils like the an2;rv storm May beat against the \\indow^s and the doors. But shall we let them in ? no, God forbid. For why should they with fiendish spleen, disturb The hallow'd peace of this our earthly Heaven ? 155 THE FREE. I HEARD a song of Liberty, Break fortli from mountain and from plain And Echo from the mighty sea, Flung back the strain again I Ah ! loudly did the host proclaim, " Ours is the nation of the Free, And aU in tliis bless' d isle may claim The sacred boon of Liberty. " Yes — spirit-stirring words like these. Were wafted by the evening breeze. Into the bosom of the deep, Pass'd the grand Emperor of the sky. The sons of toil had faU'n asleep. As we communed — rav soul and I, 156 THE FBEE. 'Twas then a still small voice arose, "Which o'er my soul sweet music shed. Music which my whole being stirr'd. For this the unseen spirit said — " To-morrow I will shew to thee Earth's captives, and the ransom'd free ! " I slept until the dawn of Day, Then woke, and on the mountain stood. And saw Earth's laborers pass away, As if by phantom hosts pursued. Some whilst the Day its wings unfurl' d. Passed from the city's gates alone — Each heart appeared a separate world, With joys or sorrows of its own ! Again the still voice spake to me — This day thou shalt behold the Free ! I journey' d through the City's street. And followed one whom I had heard. With loudest voice at eve repeat The grand, the talismanic word ! He stood within the crowded mart, A maelstrom in Life's troubled sea — Where was the empire of the heart '! Where shone the day-star Liberty ? Where was the high, the lofty soul That scorn'd a groveUing world's control ? THE FREE. 15/ What saw I iu those eager eyes. Upraised with supphcatiug glance ? Cut dreams of El Dorado rise. From souls that staked their all, on Chance ! "Who blind to ways of peace and love, Now, fast, fast bound by Mammon's spell Turn'd from the light of Life above. And round a golden image fell ! And yet these hearts which cringe and crave, Repudiate the name of Slave. Another form then pass'd me by, I followed, and beheld his shrine, I marked his wild and blood-shot eye. He was a votary to Wine ! A burning thirst his soul consumed, A phantom hand had seized his heart. And by relentless Habit, doom'd, Who could his chains of terror start ? Yet still his Slavery he denied. And boasting of his Freedom, died. Still borne adown Life's bounding stream Another countless host I saw, Surround their King who reigns supreme Whose will decreed, whose words were law ! Poor slaves at Fashion's chariot wheel. Adopting follies for their creeds ; 158 THE FRKE They knelt, and abjectly still Icueel, Incapable of glorious deeds — • And yet the fool of Fashion raves " No, Britons never shall be slaves ! " I sickened at the empty sound. And turning then toward the Sea, I cried in agony, aloud, Alas ! Earth, where are thy Free ? But like the voice we hear in prayer, That comes from Heavenly lips we know, I heard a voice in accents clear. Commanding me, again to go — "Thou'st seen the slaves, but now to thee, I'll show the sons of Liberty. " Again I stood amidst the throng, And saw a form that stood erect. The fearless foe of pride and wrong. Unprejudiced by creed or sect. He stood the champion of the weak. Disdain' d the tyrant and his rod. Friend to the Right, he scorn' d to seek Strength from another than his God : And thus the spirit said to me — "Go, do thou likewise — and be Fixe ! " 159 THE MAN FOR ME. God bless the brave, earnest and true lionest heart. Who labors in love to work nobly his part. Who when help is required stands forth in the van. With will to do works that are worthy a Man, Who with merit and sense — unambitious for Fame Asks only a blessing in love on his name. Who in truth and in virtuous principles strong. Would trample beneath him fraud, error, and wrong. Too lofty in purpose to cringe, and too great. To feel scorn for the poor and the low in estate. Respectful to those to whom power is assign'd, And to those who look up to him, faithful and kind, Whose creed is to love, and to "live and let Hve," With a soul that can never refuse to forgive — Who with heart and hand willing, not too proud to labor, 1(J0 THE MAN FOR ME. Is true to liis God, to liimself, and bis neighbour, Ob ! be is tlie man for me ! But a weak, Avayward spirit, unjust and unkind, Wbo knows not tbe joy of a straigbt-forward mind. Who scornful and envious, selfish, conceited, And cares not a wit whom he cheats or is cheated, A drone in tbe hive, with a surfeit of honey, A mind that seeks nothing but grovelhng for money, Wlio proud of his person, bis purse, or estate. Drives tbe beggar away with harsh words from bis gate, Allowing Life's most precious moments to pass. In idle soUloquy over the glass ; A fair-weather fop, deck'd in tinsel awhile, Who seeks to deceive with a hypocrite's smile, Wbo hates to hear Innocence happily sing, Or the anvils of Industry joyously ring : Who suffering loss, in the chances of life, Attributes the blame to a brother or wife — Out, out ! with such fellows, scout ! scout ! all tbe clan, ilow dare they usurp tbe proud title of Man ? 161 BE KIND. Be kind — but let your kindness, From worthy motives spring, Do not in mental blindness Be flattering everything — Love not Men's estimation So often vainly given. But seek for compensation. The smile of one in Heaven ! Be kind but not for favor Do ye a christian deed ; Not for a lordly neighbour Because his smiles you need ! Not to the man above you. In this sad world deem'd great, Because you'd have him love you, To leave you his estate ! M 162 BE KIND. I plead for those arouud you, Who have no means to buy ; The thousands that surround you, Wlio heavy-laden, cry : Nor only for your Brothers Joint-heirs to wealth above. For there God are others. Most worthy of our love ! He who its soul of sweetness. Has given to the flower. And made the brute in meekness. Bend to a reasoning power — Smiles on the man who feeleth The blood leap to his brain, Wlien the dumb beast appealeth For human love in vain ! Be kind, but let your kindness From worthy motives spring. Do not in mental bhndness. Be fondling everything ! But whilst Love lights your features Let this your life-rule be— Be kind, to all God's creatures As He is kind to thee. 163 THE PLOUGH AND THE PRESS. " I AM King of the soil," said tlie good old Plough, "And all my supremacy must allow, For the high and the low, every day, every hour. With joy in their hearts feel my Life-giving power. From the proudest of Earth I may gratitude claim. And my blessings are far more substantial than Fame, For what would the warrior do in the strife. If I ceased to secure him the ' strong staff of Life V And how could a feast e'en for monarchs be spread, If I ceased to provide him provisions of bread, — And where will men find a more true-hearted friend ? For I give, though I neither beg, borrow, nor lend ; The proudest patrician, or lowhest born, Smile on me — they dare not regard me with sco rn ; I am loved by the children of men I employ, I give life and health, peace, contentment and joy. Then who of all Monarchs of which Poets sing Has such claims as the Plough to be crown' d as their King !" M 2 164 THE PLOUGH AND THE PRESS. But tlie Press with a dignified voice replied, " Good Plough thou art potent, this none has denied. Thou art prized, thou art blest, and esteem' d by mankind. As honest, industrious, la\ish and kind. But though King of the soU, yet the power that I wield. Surpasses your own in a loftier field ! O'er the JVl^nd I claim prestige, the Poet and Sage, Feel the star-beams which fall from my thought-studded page, I preserve from the touch of the finger of Time, The words of the mighty ! the great ! the subhme | And thrill with my sUence, more spirits than those From whose hps the proud torrent of Eloquence flows. The fame-wreath round Poet and Hero I twine. And even a mightier mission is mine. For oh ! to the Press, the Creator has given, The power to impart the glad tidings of Heaven, And wherever I go, like a meteor of night. In my track trails a banner of gloi'ious hght — Ye speak of a banquet, but all ! from me roU, The sweet fruits of Knowledge — the wine of the soul, Then who of all Monarchs of which Poets sing, Has such claims as the Press to be crown' d as their King! ICI WELCOME, O WHAT is most dear to the wayworn and weary Wlio long o'er Life's rough, thorny pathway must roam ? What hope burns the brightest when all round is dreary AVhich leads the faint heart to the portals of Home ? Say, is it pleasure in proud ostentation — Magnificence ruling in purple and pride — Where state smileth not with Love's sweet condescen- sion, And the truth of the heart is to language denied ? no ! aU the glitter of pomp and of splendour — Can never such joy, or true pleasure impart, As the smile of the friend whom we love to remember — And kind words of welcome which flow from the heart ! Oh ! what though my Home may be humble and lowly, No tapestried walls, no luxiuious fare, 166 WELCOME. I would not exchange it for halls of the wealthy. Unless the same music of welcome rose there — For oh ! rather give me the lowliest dwelling Where joy-beams of welcome profusely may fall, With friends to surround me whose bosoms are swelUng^ With Love which pervadeth their actions, their all ! For ! in the warmth of the heart there is pleasure, Which pride and pomposity cannot controul, And each word of welcome I hold as a treasure — That floweth spontaneously forth from the soul ! Oh ! welcome is sweet, 'tis not offered in passion, But rises from hearts of the true and the kind. Disdaining each vain, hypocritical fashion — Revealing the motives pervading the Mind. Oh ! I scorn, I despise every niggardly offer. Held tremblingly forth, with but fear in each thought. But give me, give me the welcome-warm proffer — With kindness, and true generosity fraught. For gifts which are not with pure motives imparted, I cast but as valueless tokens away. But love the sweet words of the true and kind-hearted. Who say what they mean, and mean all that they say J 167 INDUSTRY versus EMIGRATION. Dost thou scorn the joys of Labor, Fearful lest a prouder neighbour. Deems that Labor, hands defile Dost thou deem it a disgrace Dost thou turn away thy face From the idle worldling's smile ? crush all such sinful feelius:. Bless' d and happy is the man. Who, when Duty is appealing, Doeth all the good he can ! Onwards ! Heavenwards ! cease repining, Heed not treacherous tongues that say, " Britons labor hard but vainly. Lauds of wealth are far away ! " Brothers, this is subtle poison, Listen not to falsehoods breath' d. They who dare our lands to slander Are deceiving or deceiv'd ! 168 INDUSTRY V. EMIGRATIOX. Wealth and Fame and Beauty, follow. But ah ! Labor walks before — Waste not then your life in sorrow. Strive, and thou shalt not be poor ! my Brothers, yea I glory. In a Briton's noble name, 'Tis a tahsman of honor Word baptized indeed by Fame ! Let us cling then to our Country'-, Fortune may withhold her smile. But a light, than gold more glorious. Hallows this our native Isle ! my spirit burns within me. When I think of distant lands. And of those still loved and loving. Stretching forth in vain their hands. False deceptive, lights betray'd them, Won by Falsehood's caUous smUe, Let them be to us examples — Ere the Serpent us beguile ! Do not to Deception listen — Stand ye firmly, lest ye fall Gold may not profusely glisten — Bread and Work there are for aU ! INDUSTRY V. EMIGRATION. 169 Let the love of Home and Country, Nerve each willing hand and heart, What ! were energies intended — But in slumber to depart 1 Let's be manful — cease repining — And with bold, strong fronts appear ; Not in difficulty pining, Not with trembling, or with fear. Discontent is rife with terror, Let it not delude the soul. Trample 'neath you weeds of Erroi', But let Truth your deeds control. God gave each of us our station — Home and kindred, friends and Nation, Gave them — not that we shoidd leave them, Gave them — not that we shoiild grieve them. Gave us lands of regal Beauty, To fulfil a sacred duty ! then Brothers let's fulfil it. For the most heart-rending pain Is to feel in Death's stern moments. We have lived, and died in vain ! 170 THE TRUMPET CALL. Lead vis Conqueror, on to battle, Sliall we stand like soulless cattle Idly browsing by the streams ? Sliall we stand like weeping willows, Whilst the wreck is on the billows, Tlioughtless, faltering, dreaming dreams ? Treedom's cause demands a hero. Shall we bow beneath a Nero, Shall we suffer Right to fall 'Neath a tyrant's chariot kneehng. Who would be so dead to feeling As to mock at Honour's call ? THE TRUMPET CALL. IJl Who would Truth and Freedom barter? ^^lio disgrace a Britaiu's charter With a word or work untrue ? let still our Country's story Be a page illumed with gloiy, Let us dare, and we shall do ! Let the fires of Love be lighted. Let the oppress'd, the wrong'd be righted, Let us hurl Injustice down ; In the cause of Truth enlisting. Let us every wrong resisting Bear the cross, and wear the crown ! 172 WORK FOR HEAVEN. MY brothers! sigli no longer — ^V^lerefore pause to dream or weep ? Weeping will not make you stronger — Dreams your souls in bondage keep. Come, the world is full of Beauty, Idly dream not time away, Nobly tread the path of duty. Work, my brothers, while 'tis day ! Stay not, indolently waiting. Life is action — brief is Time ; Whilst irresolute — debating — You are tampering with crime. 'Tis not only pulpit-preaching That we daily, hourly need. But the highest art of teaching Is to do a kindly deed. WORK FOR HEAVEN. 1/3 Think not only, busy neighbour With the press, pen, loom, or plough, Thou art called upon to labour. There are other duties now. There are tears to wipe from faces. There are hearts to soothe with care. Souls, to teach the Christian graces. Untaught lips to murmur prayer ! Do not idly pause to quarrel. Should the proud your labours claim ; God will best award the laurel — Love is worth far more than Fame ! Nor let this, dear brothers pain ye ; That no recompense is given ; Think not ye are labouring vainly — All are paid who work for Heaven. 174 THE SONG OF A GUARDIAN SPIRIT. Once I sigh'd in childish sorrow, "Father have 1 strength to bear. Life's long struggle without sinking underneath its load of Care," For I heard the din of Battle rolling from the fields of strife. And I knew the competition in the fearful lists of Life, But e'en as I sigh'd, a sweet voice, sweetly singing, answered me, "Young man, in the book 'tis written, 'as thy day thy strength shall be.' " " I behold Earth's patient toilers, in the dark, dark mines below. Those who but for me would often faint, despairnig in their woe, THE SONG OF A GUARDIAN SPIRIT. 1/5 And I see tliem sad, half fearful that the ' cruise of oil ' will fail. And their grim foes Want and Hunger, will at last o'er them prevail. But I breathe to them the promise, I am sent to breathe to thee, " There is one who never sleepcth — as thy day, thy strength shall be ! " " I behold Earth's train of mourners, those who tears of sorrow shed. For the loss of one whose strong hands, long procured them daily bread, And when Sister Hope forsakes them, in their dark homes I steal in. Whispering of the God- fed lillies that can neither toil nor spin. Yea I breathe to them that promise, I am sent to breathe to thee, In the hour of sin and danger — " as thy day thy strength shall be." Cease then, cease from dull repinings, poor man, rich man, young or old. And in earnest struggling Heavenwards, in the cause of Love be bold : 176 THE DAY OF UEST. Let tlie song this Angel slngeth, singetli ever unto tliee Keep thy heart from doubts unsullied, and thy spirit pure and free, Nurse the sweet song in thy bosom — it will hft thy hopes above. And if faithful thou wilt find then, Life is strewn with flowers of Love. THE DAY OF REST. How beautiful the Sabbath dawns, a quiet stillness fills the air. No sounds of discord now disturb the spirit's whispered prayer. For God has hush'd Earth's week-day din, that we may hear his word. And that " his still small voice " of Love, might by our souls be heard ! SABBATH BELLS. 177 blessed day ! hallowed Isle, amidst Life's stormy sea, How many a weary troubled heart, witli gladness welcomes thee, For ah ! tliou art an emblem of that Heaven of endless rest. In which the patient toiler thirsts to be a joyful guest. SABBATH BELLS. Welcojue preludes chime the sweet bells To Earth's day of rest, Goo-given : whene'er I hear their music Nearer seems my soul to Heaven. Speaking to the heart's affections, They from God's blest house of prayer Seem to sprinkle benedictions Sweet as incense in the air. N 178 SABBATH BELLS. Yea, I love to liear tlieir voices Break the stillness of the morn ; For my weary heart rejoices When the Sabbath day is born. Called from Earth by their sweet pealings, Then with hope my bosom swells ; Better thoughts rise — purer feehngs, With the music of those bells. For when lull'd as by Immortals Earth as if in sweet sleep hes. Breaking as from Heaven's own portals. Floats their music from the skies. Holy Angels' invitations Seem to fall from lands above — " Come and drink the pure libations Given by Christ in realms in love." 179 THE DAYS OF THE ROSES. 'o» The days of the roses are over, The flowers have vanished away. And the cold Autumn breezes are sighing Sad requiems over decay. The fountain still flows, but its music Has lost all its magical powers, And silent and still is the greenwood, For bii'ds sing no more to the flowei's. But sweet is the thought, when bleak Winter Is past, with its shadows and gloom, The flowers will revive in the valleys. And rise from their snow-cover' d tomb : So it cheereth our hearts when we sorrow. And mourn for loved friends gone before ; To hope in that glorious morrow When roses can wither no more. n2 ISO THE LIFE ANGEL. Old Roy, the village veteran. Was sitting at his ease. Once more within his cottage-home, I lis cliildren round his knees ; The fire was glowing warm and bright — For 'twas a cold December night. He was beloved by old and young, As all brave men should be. And proudly he would tell the tales Of England's chivalry. Of many a great and famous fray When France and England won the day I " Now Father," said the little ones, " Tell us a tale to-night ; Of how the Russians storm'd the camp. When England won the fight. THE LIFE ANGEL. 181 And liow you came to get the scar. Upon your forehead in the war ! " This was the favorite theme of Roy The story loved the best ; And with a look of pride, he stroked The medal on his breast : And then began again to teU The tale his listeners loved so well. " It was the dead of night," said he, " The snow lay on the ground ; But noiselessly as crept the foe, W^e heard a warning sound : Our camp in solemn silence lay, Each heart expectant of the fray. " At length the signal beacon blazed — Like lions on the foe. Sprang up the British hero-hearts. And dealt the deadly blow ; And wildly rose the thrilling cry Of ' England ! God and Victory !' " So shrouded was the crescent moon We scarce knew friend from foe — So dark was all, we did not see The blood-stain' d, trampled snow. 182 THE LIFE ANGEL. But when the dread sortie was o'er. Two hundred slept to wake no more ! " Now early in that fatal fray A sword-point pierced me deep : I fell—still all that I endured Seems Uke a dream in sleep ; But though unconscious of a pain, Yet I was counted with the slain. " At length I woke as from a trance — The place was strange to me ; I heard the dying round me groan, And cries of agony : But like an Angel o'er my bed. Bent low a sweet and saintly head. " I thought it was God's Angel come To take my soul to Him, And rais'd my hand above mine eyes. But all was dark and dim — Save o'er that sweet angelic face There beam'd a smile of heavenly grace ! " She placed a cordial to my lips, And soothed my burning brow. Then whisper'd softly in mine ear, 'You'll soon be better now.* THE LIFE ANGEL. 183 These words so made my soul rejoice, I thought it was an Angel's voice ! " " Was it an Angel, Father dear ? " Each earnest listener said ; ' Was it an Angel, Father dear That hovered round your bed ? " " Yes, sweet ones, yes, of mortal birth. It was God's Angel of the Earth ! " 'Twas she who, with the hohest thoughts And purity of heart, Left her own home and native land. To do the better part : And if she had not come to me, You now would Orphan children be." Oh ! lovely was the grateful look Of those who heard this tale ; And from each heart this prayer uprose — "God bless Miss Nightingale ! " To which old Roy responded then. With solemn earnestness, " Amen ! " 184 THE CHRISTMAS CAROL. Startled from slumber, how impressive seemeth Tlie strain of music breaking Niglit's deep stillness ! But one brief moment ere the sound of voices Rose in the air, all was sublimely silent. Save the low whispering of the weird-like night-wind ; And on the stair the horloge marking slowly The moments as they fell like drops of water. Into Time's rolhng river ! Startled from slumber — oh ! how solemn seemeth The swelling chorus. Hark ! Hark ! the herald voices Sing, "Glory to God, and Peace on Eai'th be given." And as the strain from Earth ascends, symphonious, A sweet, soft echo to my spirit speaketh ; I think of that deep slumber fast approaching, That dreamless, peaceful sleep, which men call Death ; And wonder if so sweetly will rise music CHRISTMAS. 185 Upon that waking, as upon this night ? Oh, raptiu'ous hope ! oh, bright anticipation ! All Heaven wiU ring with glad reverberations — Angels will then pour out sweet songs of welcome. And wake the souls made perfect, whilst they reud In twain the veil conceahng Paradise ! And with a glad, triumphant shout of praise. Then shall we tread the starry floors of Heaven ! CHRISTMAS. Well may we welcome Christmas with song and chime of bells. For round the hearts of all on earth he casts liis mystic speUs ; He opens with the magic key of kindness every heart. And smiles to see the memory of sorrows past depart ; He comes with mirth and laughter, with carol and with glee, And the gladdest time of all the year is Christmas-time to me. 186 CHRISTMAS. I love to hear kind voices ! I love to see bright eyes ! I love to hear from joyous bells the gladsome paeans rise : • And when the snow is on the ground, and biting winds blow cold. To sit beside the glad fireside, where social tales are told; To feel the blessed influence of Love and Friendship's reign, When those that long have parted been unite with joy again. Oh yes ! I do love Christmas, for nothing seems too high. And nothing seems too lowly for the love-glance of liis eve : A true republican is he, the friend of equal right. Who advocates fraternity, and propagates delight : And for the aged and the poor, how earnestly he pleads. Whilst every moment of his life is fraught with kindly deeds. Come hang then up the mistletoe ( true olive-branch), that Peace May bless our paths with pleasantness, and give our joys increase ; CHRISTMAS ROSES. 187 And let us too like Christmas, come the suffering ■world to cheer, To help the poor disconsolate, to wipe the mourner's tear ; Yes, let us each one make a vow to do whate'er we can To solace in adversity the sufferings of man. CHRISTMAS ROSES. Oh ! the Spring has its roses— sweet primroses, Which snide on the sterile brake ; And the days grow hghter, warmer, and brighter. For theirs and their sisters' sake — Their sisters the violets purple and white. On whose birthdays the wild birds sing songs of deUs;ht ! -"o^ And Summer has roses — regal roses. And proud are their crimson smiles. And sweet is the flush of each fragrant blush Of these Brides of the flowers of oiu- Isles ; ]88 CHRISTMAS ROSES And the fountains leap up with exultant bliss, As they dimple the streams with a perfumed kiss ! But Winter has roses — ah ! darhug roses ! Which bloom 'neath the mistletoe tree ; And of aU the flowers, of Earth's bright bowers. Oh ! they are most dear to me ! For these roses, in bhss whisper musical words, Far dearer than murmurs of fountains or bu'ds ! 189 THE HOLLY-TREE. Woodman, spare tlie liolly-tree, the crimson Christ- mas tree. Its waving boughs and berries red are very dear to me ; For when the frost, with ruthless haste, strikes dumb the prattUng rill. And the wind beneath the cold star-lio-ht chants re- quiems loud and shrill ; When fades the flower in grove and bower, how cheer- less Earth would be. Save for the robin in the boughs of the dear old Christmas tree. 1 love it for its constancy, this old familiar thing. For close as ivy to the oak, sweet memories round it cling. How often have we seen its boughs when household hearths grow bright — When, though the Earth is drear without, within, ah ! all is lis;ht ! 190 THE HOLLY TREE. Oh! then if merry hearts are dear, and laughing eyes, to thee, "Touch not! touch not! a single bough " of the brave old Christmas tree ! I love its crimson drops, which seem to fall from crowns of thorn ; I love them too, because they bloom when earth is most forlorn. Sweet type of Him who came in love, to save a wintry world. Whose glorious banner vre would see in every land un- furl'd, Then, haUow'd by such sacred thoughts, if thou wouldst blessed be, Woodman, spare the beautiful, the dear old Christmas tree! 191 THE GIPSY QUEEN. To tlie dell called Fairywillow, oh ! have you ever been ? It is the Summer grotto of the little Gipsy-queen, Who calls the flowers her sisters, and like the joyous birds. Has learnt to set sweet music to her heart's melodious words. From dwelling 'midst the roses, her cheeks have caught their hght. And her laugh makes e'en the fern-leaves to tremble with delight — But I'll teU you now the stoiy, how I learnt to know so well The bonny little Gipsy-queen of Fairywillow dell. 192 THE GIPSY aUEEN. 'Twas on one Summer evening her voice first charm' d mine ear. Like music on the rippling sea it echoed sweet and clear : From up the neighbouring valley from the trees it seem'd to pass, ^Yhen, peeping through the green leaves, reclining on the grass I saw the Syren round her hat twine fern with roses sweet. Clusters of which lay scattered on the wild flowers at her feet ; And as she bound each blushing rose with wild clema- tis white, I saw her smile with all the bliss of innocent delight. I had often dreamt of angels, but never knew till then, A smile so sweet as hers on earth could charm the souls of men. I stood entranced in wonder, — but now no more un- seen, For the eyes were fixed upon me of the little Gipsy queen. And, like an Improvisatrice, as sweet as song could be. She poured out in dehcious sounds these joyous words for me, " Come to my ferny grotto, if your fortune you would know. THE GIPSY QUEEN. 193 Come to my grotto, where tlie moss and loveliest lichens grow ; For I can read the future from the stars that nightly beam, And I will tell your fortune, if you'll tell your last night's dream." Oh I my soul inhaled the music, and I followed to the dell. For my dream was one that I had long'd a hundred times to tell. And I feared no incantation, such bright lips could repeat, For I knew that none but angels would hear a voice so sweet ; And when I stood beneath the trees, in the love-beams of her eyes, I felt at first as if I breath' d the air of Paradise, And when she took my hand in hers, o'er my whole being stole A secret joy which made me feel that I possessed a soul. For when she took my hand in hers, (so soft so delicate,) Her eyes reveal'd my fortune, and her sweet lips seal'd my fate. She told me that my future should be all summer hours, o 194 THE GIPSY QUEEN. Tliat in my path, on every side, should bloom the fairest flowers ; Fond friends to smile, kind hearts to love, that not a cloud should mar Life's little joys, o'er which should watch, one never weary star ; Oh ! sweet, sweet was this story, of love, of joy supreme ! And whilst she stood beside me, it did not seem a dream. Ah ! need I tell the secret how many times since then, I've heard her rich voice waking the echoes of the glen. And have found the fairest roses that bloom on earth smile there. Breathing dehcious perfume on the ever-pleasant air ! That no water falls so sweetly, no birds sing half so well, As those that warble in the boughs of Fairy-willow deU! 195 IN HEAVEN. I CANNOT forget her, though Death has us parted, Her footsteps I feel round my sphit still glide ; And from dreams, yea, I often wake glad and hght- hearted. As if on my bosom she slept as my Bride. Forget her — Oh no ! fairy Spring and her flowers Wake memories sweet of the morning of Love, For ah ! long ago in her beautiful bowers. This Earth seem'd as fair as the bright world above. StiH green are the banks of the murmuring river, So oft by my Love in the glad Summer cross' d Its musical waters sing sweetly as ever. For oh ! they know not the bright soul Earth has lost ! o 2 196 IN HEAVEN. I love to look into its waters, which brightly And faithfully mirror the clouds of the sky, ^Vhich seem like the mantles of Angels, who Hghtly Float on, in an ocean of glory on high ! And as I bend over the stream near the willows, I feel as if walking again with the blest. And my soul borne above Life's tumultuous billows. Is fed with bright thoughts of the regions of rest. God, Thou alone know'st how well I still love her. Thou, who in Thy mercy, my spirit hast given Those thrills of deep joy, when my footsteps pass over The daisies once press' d by that Angel in Heaven ! 1 thank Thee, though long left alone, yet not lonely I daily pass on through this beautiful world, From the glimpse of that Heaven by my life-Angel shown me. In. faith I behold what will soon be unfurl'd. each spot that she loved ere she pass'd up to Heaven I visit, for still her bright spirit moves there ; And oft in the still, sacred twilight of even, I hear her sweet voice breathing answers to prayer ! Sweet once was her voice — but ah! sweeter and clearer. That voice of rich Music now comes unto nic ; IN HEAVEN. 197 And I feel whilst enraptured in spirit, I hear her. As near to God's Angels as here I can be ! And when round the roses the night-wind is sighing, I feel o'er my being a tide of bliss roll — For those sounds seem like flutt'rings of wings home- ward flying, Which bear up to Heaven the desires of my soul I Oh ! what though Death's hand has relentlessly blighted Those hopes which gave love in my bosom its birth : Yet souls link'd below are for ever united — In Heaven we but reap what is sown upon Earth ! I feel, though my Love has pass'd Eden's bright portals Though crowns of a seraph her fair brow entwine ; Nor glories of Heaven, nor love of Immortals, Can ever estrange her pure spiiit from mine. 'Tis her voice which has given this blissful assurance, It speaks 'midst the din of the battle of Life ; It cheereth me on, up the hills of Endurance, And fills me with courage, and faith in the strife ! She smiles when she sees I am looking above me, On skies which conceal her bright home of delight. 198 THE NAMES OF THE BLESSED. And when there seems none on the Earth left to love me. She sings — " I will lead you from darkness to light." God ! though 'twere sweet to have some dear one near me. With whom I might share all the joys Earth has given : Yet holier hopes are the blessings which cheer me — 'Tis sweeter to have a Love-Angel in Heaven ! THE NAMES OF THE BLESSED. The flowers were wet, but not with rain. But with the grief-tears wept in vain Over the grave of Leoline, By him who long had weeping been. But ere he turn'd, with heart opprest From that still, solemn place of rest. He Heavenwards gazed as if to trace THE NAMES OF THE BLESSED. 199 The features of some -vanisli'd face ; And o'er Ms countenance a change Pass'd in a moment, sweet, yet strange, As if some miracle had been Wrought bv a -wondrous hand unseen ; For oh ! this sweet, consoling thought His soul had in its faintness caught — " I see, I see thy name above. Lost Leoline ! bright soul of Love ! I read it now, as thus I look Upon God's star-iUumin'd book, I gaze, until the mystic line In bright distinctness I define : Nor can I wonder there to see That name which is so dear to me. For in that volume, grandly fair. The names of all the Blest are there. " ***** And many a night, when long, long years Had passed away — with silent tears. Whilst he his weary watch did keep, This Sailor, traversing the Deep, Would turn; with eai'nest, hopeful eyes To read that name upon the skies Of her who dwelt in Paradise ! 200 THE DESERTED HOME. How lonely and how desolate our once dear Home now stands ; Fass'd from a loving Father's, to a faithless stranger's hands, \s by a stern magician's spell, the beautiful and gay, VVliich made it once a Heaven on Earth has all been swept away I g- There's not a relic 'neath its roof which does not brin*. to mind Some cherished scene of by-gone years, which there has been enshrined. And as the rifled vase retains the scents of vanished flowers. So hallowed is this vacant place by joys of brighter hours. Come, let us enter at its door — God, what memories start. THE DESERTED HOME. 201 what a burning shoal of thoughts, come cx'owdiag round mv heart ; For here how many a kiss of love has on my brow been prest. How many a word of welcome sweet has made this threshold blest. Still stands the dear old parlour, (though through its half clos'd door. The loving, and belov'd by me, will now pass never more, But though my Father's chair is gone, and the pictures from the wail,) 1 love it, as Men love the dust of a dear one 'neath the pall! I love it, for this spot to me indeed was hallo w'd ground. Though many a superstitious tongue pronounced the place spell-bound, Ah ! yes 'twas haunted — Spirits I have known to wander here. But spirits only fit for Heaven, the loved, the doubly dear ! Now they are gone — yet fear thou not the dark funereal gloom : My heart knows well the history of each deserted room. 202 THE DESERTED HOME. Ascend with me — now stay, for 0, I love to breathe this air, For hence for me a thousand times has risen a Mother's prayer, A Mother's prayer — what holy thoughts the very words give birth. Oh ! who can tell their influence in Heaven or on Earth; Ah! none who through her God-bless'd love, have felt the joys of Home, Will wonder how a Mother's tears once saved imperial Kome. And next this room, slept two sweet flowers that scarce can live apart. Two gentle spirits given by Heaven to bless my Home and Heart, Tread lightly on the sacred floor, for Guardian Angels' feet Have press'd it oft, whilst hovering here to watch their slumbers sweet! And still pass on — ah! tis with joy I lead you through this door, Here ye behold the little world which I so long reign' d o'er. The place where first from my young heart sprang forth unbidden rhyme. THE DESERTED HOME. 203 And where I dreamt ambitiously Parnassian heights to dimb ! Oh ! twas -with bitterness of soul, I bade it a Farewell — 'Tis well its walls are dumb, or else what secrets could they tell. For many a time Fve paced this floor, in proud exultant glee. Or with a sorrow at my heart have wept on bended knee ! But come, let us again descend — even the creaking stairs Complaining, seem half-conscious of the change of two brief years, And hsten ! how disconsolate, the hollow winds make moan. Like spirits waihng o'er the spells which over all seem thrown ! And let us through the garden walk — though leafless now its bowers, Yet many a Summer here has bloom' d the daintiest of flowers. For its roses sweet a Sister's hand once lovingly did twine. And a Brother's strong and manly arm here pruned the clustering vine. 204 THE DESERTED HOME. All ! there are thoughts wliich constitute a rosary strangely fair. Which Memory hangs about my heart, for every pearl, a prayer — Yet brightest on that silver cord, are those which bring to me Remembrance of that darling one which oft in dreams I see : In dreams, yea oft, but never have I seen as see I now, (Whilst traversing tliis well-known place ) her pale and placid brow. Ah ! you may look in vain, but in the misty air I trace As if from Spirit-land it peer' d— her sweet etherial face. That countenance on which once beam'd the gentlest smiles of love. Such as I feel her Sisters wear in the holy-land above. And though my world has changed since then, still stands she by my side. As beautiful as when I breath' d to her the name of Brid e! As beautiful I for oh how bright were the blushes of her cheek ! MantUng with roseate delight as she heard my fond heart speak. Ah ! that was Spring, when o'er my life, her spirit fragrance threw. THE DESERTED HOME. 205 And her eyes like twin blue violets o'er brimm'd with Love's rich dew. But yet though in this Garden, grew Earth's lovehest of flowers, Its walks have consecrated been by sorrows bitterest showers, Though here I've felt the purest joys that human heart can know, Yet have I too drain' d here the cup of Life's most bitter woe. For here beneath God's golden stars, which beam'd upon our brows. Was seal'd our hearts first happiness, in pure and fervent vows. And here it was that last we met, in agony and tears To close the sweet, the fond romance of Life's serenest years ! We wept, but as in scorn, the wind, as now wav'd yon old tree. Earth Seem'd too cold, too passionless, to share my grief with me ; But whilst we wept, a meteor fell from yon star- spangled sky, Which seem'd a splendid tear of fire from a pitying Angel's eye. 206 THE DESERTED HOME. 'Tis over — many a change has past, since that wild night of woe. The fountain now is shattered, whose bright streams were wont to flow. The flowers of love bloom there no more, and the music of the bird In the bower beneath the Acacia trees, will never more be heard ! Thou who hearest all the words chat from the Ups depart. Forgive, Forget, the sinful thoughts once harboured in my heart. The curse invoked upon the head of him who dared invade The bright terrestrial Paradise, which Thou in love hadst made. Blow, blow ye winds, your bitter breath is not so fraught with bhght. As treacherous Man's, who with a smile would poison Earth's delight ! Chant, Chant winds a requiem, for whilst your dirges roll, A voice prophetic through the gloom, thus speake th to my soul — " Spirit of Earth, behold the change which o'er thy home has past, SPRING AND POETRY. 20/ Changed as a bower of roses swept by Winter's chilling blast ; Yet vacant as this Home will be thy World some future day; When all who makes it dear to thee are pass'd to Heaven away. "Thus learn how fleeting are the scenes of Earthly joy and love, Dark contrast, to those mansions bright, no time can change above. Let not then Earth's poor, painted dust, bhnd now thine earnest eyes. But seek for an inheritance, a Home beyond the skies ! " SPRING AND POETRY. O WELCOME thou beautiful maiden. Rich heiress to treasures untold. Who com'st to a wintry world, laden With Nature's bright silver and gold. 208 SPRING AND POETRY. Most dear is thy sweet touch of brightness. To all the loved children of song, Thou type of that mystical mistress. To whom their rich spirits belong ! Spring and Poetry — are they not sisters 1 For lo ! what a tide of delight, Both wake as with audible whispers, They glide soft as Angels by night. Bright spirits I still breathe upon me — That I like a wild bird may sing — That a bloom of fresh beautiful Poems, ]\Iay from my young spirit soon spring. For I would sing Men a lyric Of Love, of such soul-thrilHng powers, That hearts sad and cold, by my music. Should bloom like the Summer with flowers Such flowers as were planted in Eden E'er sin stained Humanity's breast ; Such flowers as the Angels in Heaven, Still plant in the hearts of the Blest ! In the Press. BY THE AUTHOR OF "SOXGS OF EARLY SPRIXG." 5cconli C?t)ttion. BEAITIES OF LYME REGIS, THE GREAT LAXD-SLIP, ETC., ELEGANTLY ILLUSTRATED. PRICE is. Qd. LOXDOX ;— LOXGMAX, &. CO. LYME REGIS;— D. DUXSTER, PL1BLISHER. DUNSTKR, PRINTER, LYME. JANUARY, 1858. W. KENT & CO.'S (late DAVID BOGUE'b) ANNUAL CATALOGUE. NEW ILLUSTRATED WORKS. The Loves of tha Poets ; or, Portraits of Ideal Beauty : being a series of original SteelEiigravings, drawn by tlie most eminent Artists, and engraved by Mote, with Illustrative Text by Tesxv- soN, WoEDS-woRTH, ctc. DoDiy 4to, richly ornamented, 21s. plain ; 423. coloured. The Miller's Daughter. By Alfred Tenxyson. 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