Mlfe ----- 3>.t' : *-".': v ^ _* * ^Sl^^^t ^^u^ wf^Z ^^ ^ ^ ^" THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ENGLISH READING ROOM Q ^Jr~ n**^ l * *^^r f 5? y^^W.C^'' BALLADS FOR THE TIMES, GERALDItfE, HACTENUS, A THOUSAND LINES, OTHER POEMS. BY MARTIN FARQUHAR CUPPER, D.C.L., F.R.S., AUTHOR OF "PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPUY," ETC., ETC. NEW YORK AND AUBURN: MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN. Nw York: 2ft Prk Bow Auburn: 107 Oenesee-at 1856. CONTENTS. BALLADS FOR THE TIMES: TO THE UNION Page 13 THE ANGLO-SAXON RACE 16 THE FAMILY GATHERING 16 ENGLAND'S WELCOME TO THE WORLD IT A 1IYMN FOR ALL NATIONS 19 A WORD FOR THE OREGON MISSION 2* OCR VOYAGE . . 21 THE OLD AND THE NEW 22 A WORD OX ARRIVAL 28 NEW ZEALAND 23 CANTERBURY PILGRIMS 23 BONNET 28 THE CANTERBURY SEAL 26 BRITAIN TO COLUMBIA , .... 27 DIEU, ET MON DROIT 29 THE GREAT EXHIBITION, 1851 30 THE POET'S MISSION 81 GOD BLESS TIIE QUEEN 34 THE MOON AND MOONSHINE 85 NOBODY FEELS OR CARES" 86 THE "CLAMEUR DE HARO" 86 MONT OROUEIL : JERSEY 88 COMB AS YOU ARE 40 MONT ST. MICHEL 41 BT. HELIER'S HERMITAGE, JERSEY .43 ST. PAUL'S, OF ST. HELENA 43 PKEIi 44 (ill) IV CONTENTS. WORDSWORTH 4* CAMBRIDGE 40 PRESIDENT TAYLOR 46 K A.I A II BROOKE 47 AFRICA'S SELF-BLOCKADK 48 LOW SPIRITS 48 FORTITUDE ... . . 49 "HOW MUCH WORSE IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN!" 60 A NIGHT-SAIL IN THE RACE OF ALDERNEY 61 GENIUS AND FRIENDS 62 THE MANCHESTER ATHENAEUM 63 THE KINGSTON CORONATION STONE 64 A STAVE OF SYMPATHY 66 ENCOURAGEMENT 5 A MISSIONARY BALLAD 67 THE LAUREL CROWN .68 HOME 60 RICH AND POOR 62 THE SABBATH 06 "THE LAMP UPON THE RAILWAY ENGINE" 67 LABOUR 69 THE NEW HOME 71 CALUMNY .... 76 MERCY TO ANIMALS 76 THE DOG'S PETITION 79 "ENGLAND'S HEART!" 80 MY OWN PLACE , . . 81 "WHAT IS A POET?" .83 ENTY 86 WELCOME! 86 BALM 87 SELFISHNESS 89 SELF-POSSESSION 90 SLANDER. . 91 SONNET ' 93 THE GOLDEN MEAN 93 TIME 94 "GOD PRESERVE THE QUEEN!" 95 A BALLAD FOR THE PRINCE ALFRED 97 A NATIONAL ANTHEM FOR LIBERIA IN AFRICA 9g THE LIBERIAN BEACON ... CONTENTS. V THE LIBERIAN CHURCH 101 A NATIONAL PRAYEK AGAINST THE CHOLERA 101 COURAGE! 103 A HYMN AND A CHANT 104 HARVEST HYMN FOR 1849 ,107 A HARVEST HYMN FOR 1850 109 HOP-PICKING 110 A SHORT REPLY Ill CHARITY Ill THE MAN ABOUT TOWN 113 A PRAYER FOR THE LAND 114 PRAISE! . 118 "LIBERTY EQUALITY FRATERNITY 1" 118 MARTIN LUTHER 118 SOHOI 124 REVISITING CHARTERHOUSE 126 THE SISTERS 12T ENERGY 128 "NON ANGLI SED ANGELI" 132 COUNTRY LIFE 134 FONS PARNASSI 137 ST. MARTHA'S 138 APPEAL, 1840 148 REBUILT, 1849 148 RECONSECRATED MAY 15, 1850 148 SONNET, FOR ST. ANN'S, ALDERNEY 160 A CONSECRATION 160 A THOUSAND LINES, Ac.: SLOTH 162 ACTIVITY 163 ADVENTURE 164 THE SONG OF SIXTEEN 166 FORTY 167 T1IK SONG OF SEVENTY 168 NATURE'S XOBLEMAX 180 NEVER GIVE UP! 161 THE SUN 162 THE MOON 162 THE STARS . 168 Vi CONTENTS. OUR KINGDOM T 1 FORGIVE AND FORGET 164 MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS" 165 TARRING CHURCH, 1844 175 THE SAME 175 THE SAME PLACE AND DAY 176 SONNET, ON A BIRTH 176 DUTY 177 COUNSEL 177 HOME 178 BYEGONES 179 RULE, BRITANNIA! 179 THE EMIGRANT SHIP 181 TIIE ASSURANCE OF HORACE 183 THE ASSURANCE OF OVID 184 POST-LETTERS 184 ADVICE 187 THANKS 187 SOCIETY 188 THE REAL AND THE IDEAL 188 ORIGINAL PROLOGUE . 189 EPILOGUE . 180 HACTENUS, &c.: THE NEW YEAR 190 ALL'S FOR THE BEST! 191 THE RIDDLE READ 192 OLD HAUNTS 194 THE BATTLE OF ROLEIA 194 RETROSPECT 197 PEACE AND QUIETNESS 199 THE EARLY GALLOP 200 ASCOT : JUNE 3, 1847 201 LIFE 201 WATERLOO 202 "ARE YOU A GREAT READER?" 209 THE VERDICT .209 GUERNSEY .210 ALL'S RIGHT _ 211 THE COMPLAINT OF AN ANCIENT BRITON 211 WISDOM 213 CONTENTS. VU THE HEART'S HUSBAND 214 PROPHETS 215 WHEAT-CORN AND CHAFF 215 THE TRUE EPICURE 216 THE HAPPY MAN .218 HERALDIC 217 THRENOS 218 THE DEAD .... 220 THE THANKS OF PARLIAMENT TO WELLINGTON AND HIS ARMY . 223 TO AJCERICA 228 PAIN 228 THE TOOTHACHE 228 NO SURRENDER! 229 NEVER MIND I 230 THE CROMLECH DU TUS, GUERNSEY 231 MY CHILDREN. 1845 233 A DEBT OF LOVE. 1838 235 TO LITTLE ELLIN. 1837 235 ON THE BIRTH OF LITTLE MARY. 1838 238 MARGARET. 1840 236 TO LITTLE SELWYN. 1842 237 ON LITTLE WILLIAM. 1844 237 HENRY DE B. T. 1846 238 THE SEVENTH : WALTER F. T. 1848 238 ERRATA, AN AUTHOR'S COMPLAINT 239 VENUS 239 "THE WARM YOUNG HEART" . . . 241 TO CIDLI, ASLEEP 241 ALFRED 242 THE DAY OF A THOUSAND YEARS I 246 THE ALFRED MEDALS 246 SOCRATES TO LYSIAS 248 THE MEMORIAL WINDOW 248 A CALL TO POOR SEMPSTRESSES 261 A CALL TO THE RICH . . 262 OUR THANKSGIVING HYMN 253 ACCEPTABLE THANKS! 254 TO A YOUNG POET 266 TO THE POET OF MEMORY 256 A BONG . 267 Viii CONTENTS. CHEER UP! 257 "TOGETHER" 268 FRIENDS 209 M. T 209 HORACE'S PHILOSOPHY 200 "THE LAST TIME" 261 GERALDINE 263 SOME 'EAULY POEMS : IMAGINATION 292 THE SONG OF AN ALPINE ELF 296 DREAMS 298 INFANT CHRIST, WITH FLOWERS 299 PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE 301 A SHORT GOSPEL - ... 301 ON A BULBOUS ROOT S02 CRUELTY 308 MONSIEUR D>ALVERON 809 WISDOM'S WISH 311 THE MOTHER'S LAMENT 313 TRUST 314 THE STAMMERER'S COMPLAINT 315 BENEVOLENCE 318 A CABINET OF FOSSILS 322 FIVE PSALMS 824 THE MOURNER COMFORTED 829 THE SOULS OF BRUTES 832 THE CHAMOIS HUNTER 837 REPROOF 340 THE AFRICAN DESERT 340 THE SUTTEES 347 CONTRASTED SONNETS: CHEERFULNESS MALICE S53 NATURE 354 ART 355 THE HAPPY HOME 855 THE WRETCHED HOME 856 THEORY PRACTICE 857 KICHES POVERTY .868 CONTENTS. IX LIGHT DAKKNESS 359 POETRY PliOSE 360 FRIENDSHIP, CONSTRAINED ENMITY, COMPELLED 361 PHILANTHROPIC MISANTHROPIC 362 COUNTRY TOWN 363 WORLDLY AND WEALTHY WISE AND WORTHY 364 LIBERALITY MEANNESS 365 ANCIENT MODERN 366 BPIRIT MATTER 867 LIFK DEATH 888 ELLEN GRAY 369 CHARITY 374 TO MY BOOK, "PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY" 376 TO THE SAME 376 WEDDING GIFTS 377 CHILDREN 378 THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY 380 A GREENHOUSE 381 A GLIMPSE OF PARADISE 381 TO THE SOVEREIGN 382 THE CORONATION 382 THE ABBEY 383 UNION 383 DAYS GONE BY. 1830 384 THE CRISIS. 1829 385 LAMENT. 1837 386 DOWN WITH FOREIGN PRIESTCRAFT. 1851 386 THE CATHEDRAL MIND 387 POLITICS IN 1839 388 TO A PREMIER 388 PROTESTING TRUTH 889 THE UNHOLY ALLIANCE 390 EXPEDIENCY. 1839 390 GOOD SHEPHERDS 891 AMERICAN BALLADS: TO BROTHER JONATHAN 392 "YE THIRTY NOBLE NATIONS" 396 JOHN'S REJOINDER . 400 X CONTENTS. A STAVE FOR THE SOUTH 404 YET ONCE AGAIN 407 ROCKS AHEAD! 411 A STAVE t 413 NIAGARA 416 OUR DAY 415 THE MISSIONARY JUBILEE HYMN 416 GRATITUDE 418 ZEUS FAB .419 NOTE BY THE PUBLISHERS. [The followir g sketch of Mr. Tapper's literary career, is from the pen of William Anderson, Author of " Landscape Lyrics ; " and has never been printed in this country. It appeared originally in the " Church of England Journal," No. LIX. May 12, 1847.] MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER, M.A., F.R.S. THE name of Martin Farquhar Tupper has become popularly known, not only in this country, but in America, and on the Continent, as that of an author of great original genius, a highly cultivated intellect, extensive scholarship, and very superior poetio powers. He is the eldest son of the late eminent surgeon, Martin Tupper, Esq. F.R.S., who, after a prosperous and successful practice, of five and thirty years, died suddenly in his sleep, of angina pectoris, on the 8th December, 1844, at Southill Park, the residence of the Earl of Limerick, only a few hours after that nobleman had himself expired in his arms. The subject of the present sketch was born in London, in 1810. The family from which he is descended, an ancient and honourable one, belongs originally to Germany. In consequence of the persecution of the protestanta by Charles V., they left Hesse Cassel, in 1551, and settled in Guernsey. They have never been below the rank of gentlemen, and the circumstances of the author of "Proverbial Philosophy" are affluent. With him literature is not a profession, but a recrea- tion, and he has done high honour to it. He received the first part of his education at the Charter House, and afterwards went to Christ Church, Oxford, where he took the (riii) XIV MARTIN F. T UPPER. degrees of B.A. and M.A.* He subsequently entered at Lin- coln's Inn, and in due time was called to the bar, but never practised as a barrister. At the age of twenty-six, he married, and has a fine young family of sons and daughters. Mr. Tupper's first publication was a little work issued in 1832, entitled "Sacra Poesis," which we have not had the good fortune to see. The first series of "Proverbial Philosophy, a Book of Thoughts and Arguments Originally treated," was published in December, 1837, and the second series in 1842. This work at once excited attention, and called forth the most favourable criti- cisms. It was hailed as the production of one who, while he thought and reasoned like a true sage, wrote and illustrated like a true poet. The pages of " Proverbial Philosophy " are full of instruction and wisdom, and breathe throughout the finest spirit of genuine poetry. Well does the writer of this sketch remember the pleasure with which he first read that remarkable production. He was then connected editorially with the Metropolitan Con- servative Journal, in which paper the first series was reviewed at length at the time of its appearance. In that review, the volume was described as " a work abounding in rich thoughts and delicate fancies, in sound philosophy, and high moral resolutions, and which may be read over and over again, by the young philo- sopher, or poetical dreamer, with equal profit and delight." And, as if writing prophetically of the proud and enviable position to which Mr. Tupper was yet to attain in literature, the reviewer triumphantly asked, " Have we now not done enough to show that a poet of power and promise, a poet and philosopher both, is amongst us to delight and instruct to elevate and guide? Do we err in saying that a fresh leaf is added to the laurel crown of poetry?" The praises of the other reviewers were no less enthusiastic, and no less just. " There is more novelty in the sentiments," said the Monthly Review, "a greater sweep of subjects, and a finer sense * Since the date of this sketch (1847), Mr. Tupper has had conferred upon him the degree of D. C. L. of the University of Oxford. AMERICAS PUBLISHERS. MARTIN F. T UPPER. XV of moral beauty displayed by Mr. Tapper, than we remember to have seen in any work of its class, excepting of course the Pro- verbs of Solomon. We also discover in his Philosophy the stores of extensive reading, and the indisputable proofs of habitual and devout reflection, as well as the workings of an elegant mind." The work met with unprecedented success; and six large editions of it have been sold.* The author was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in consequence of it. He had already shown him- self to be, in Shakspeare's phrase, "a Fellow of Infinite Wit," and, we may add, of Wisdom too. The King of Prussia, in token of his majesty's high approbation of "Proverbial Philosophy," sent him the gold medal for science and literature. The work became very popular in the United States. In New York alone, we are informed, ten thousand copies were sold during last year, and the work is known to be published in several other American cities. Its reputation is also great in the British colonies. Mr. Tupper's next work was " Geraldine, a sequel to Cole- ridge's Christabel, with other poems," published in 1838; of which an opinion has been already expressed in this paper, see No. 53, of Church of England Journal. The ideal plan of the Christabel has been well brought out by Mr. Tupper, in his Sequel ; and it is no small praise to him to say, that the wild and original spirit that pervades it, is every way akin to the sublime and beautiful inspiration of the great but unfinished poem of Coleridge itself. The minor poems contained in the volume are singularly pleasing and graceful, and abound in touches of real beauty and genuine feeling. Besides " Ellen Grey," already quoted in these columns, the pieces entitled " The Alpine Elf; " "Children;" "A Cabinet of Fossils;" "The African Desert;" and some of the Sonnets, are our favourites, although all are good. In 1839, he published, " A modern Pyramid ; to Commemorate a Septuagint of Worthies;" designed to furnish illustrations and * The tenth edition (of 6000 copies) is now selling in London ; and in America nearly 200,000 have been sold. AMERICAN PUBLISHERS. XVI MARTIN P. TUPPER descriptions of character of seventy of the most remarkable per- sonages of sacred and profane history, ancient and modern. Among them are some of the patriarchs, some of the ancient sages of the East, some of the most noted men of Greece and Rome, chiefly philosophers and authors, some of the Apostles, and some of the most remarkable personages of the middle ages, and down- wards, in the stream of time, to the present century. Prom the nature of the work, and its limits not admitting of more than seventy names, there are, of course, many omissions; but each of " the Worthies " introduced is the subject of a sonnet, and brief biographical sketch. The work exhibits all the peculiar qualities of Mr. Tupper's genius and style ; high poetic feeling, fine taste, great fertility of imagination, and boldness of opinion and speculation; with profound practical thought, extensive and varied learning, a general knowledge of mankind and history, and great command of language. In this volume, too, the author appears to great advantage, as a zealous defender of the Faith, as held and taught by the Church of England. In 1840, Mr. Tupper produced a pleasant volume of odds and ends, called, " An Author's Mind." Among the contents are pieces entitled, " The Author's Mind, a ramble ; " " Nero, a tragedy;" "Opium, a history;" " Psycotherion, an argument;" "Heathenism, an Apology;" "Woman, a subject;" "Toilomas- trix, a title ; " " Appendix, an after-thought; " " Home, an Epic ; " &c. Some poems of remarkable beauty are also introduced, with great effect, among the other pieces which compose this agreeable collection of "gaieties and gravities." Mr. Tupper's next work, a rural novel, entitled " The Crock of Gold," designed to illustrate the commandment "Thou shalt not kill," as well as to show the curse and hardening effect of avarice, was published in 1844. It is a simple tale, very beautifully told; but nevertheless full of an extraordinary interest and attrac- tion ; one of those books indeed, which by its wit and pathos, its deep insight into human passions, and its powerful delineations MARTIN F. TUPPER. XVU of virtue and crime, enchain the attention of the reader till he has finished its perusal, and leave behind a strong but wholesome and salutary impression on the mind. The plot purports to be the history of a poor labourer and his family, who from a life of peaceful and contented drudgery, became discontented and repining, and were gradually involved* in sore trials and serious troubles. The principal characters of the story are honest Roger Acton, the luckless finder of " the Crock of Gold," his pure and simple-hearted daughter Grace, her lover Jonathan, Simon Jennings the murderer, his aunt Bridget Quarles, and Ben Burke, the poacher. The murder of Bridget by Jennings, is very graphically described; and the chapter headed " Next Morning," being that following the murder scene, is one of the finest pieces of writing in modern literature. The "Crock of Gold" is very popular in America; and 'it has been repeatedly dramatized and acted with success. In this coun- try it has been extensively read. The same year (1844) Mr. Tupper published two other works of fiction, in one volume each ; namely, " Heart. A social novel; " and "The Twins. A Domestic Novel." The main design of these works appears to have been, upon something better than a mere sketchy foundation in each, to introduce some exciting scenes, and some episodial bursts of hearty religious writing; and they, more or less, illustrate, the one the commandment "thou shalt not commit adultery," and the other that of " thou shalt not covet." The twofold object of the author in the two stories that is, the depicturing of virtue and vice in their appropriate colours, and that as strongly as possible, and the pointing the moral, of each obtaining in due course its appropriate reward is powerfully worked out in both; and as one of the most dis- criminating and competent critics who reviewed them said : " In every page there is something which a reader would wish to bear in his memory for ever. For power of animated description, for eloquent reflection upon the events of every -day life, and for soft, touching, pathetic appeals to the best feelings of the heart, the 2 MARTIN F. TUPPEB. volumes are worthy of a place on every library table In the king- dom." The same reviewer says, very justly, of Mr. Tupper'a style: "There is a genuine, hearty, straightforward, downright- ness about him that brings him right on the mark at once. His sentences are neither long, laboured, nor parenthetical, but they are animated by a fine racy idiomatic vigorousness of style that impresses their meaning on the mind and memory. He forms, as it were, a sort of half-way house between Dickens and Carlyle. Without the regularly sustained power of Boz, he has much of his picturesqueness in description and his pathos; and, without his eccentricity, he possesses no slight portion of the full-toned energy and characteristic raciness of the author of ' Sartor Resartus.' " Of such works as these three novels of Mr. Tupper, we hope yet to see many more specimens from his graphic pen. His next work, published in 1845, is entitled "A Thousand Lines," a little tract of but sixty pages, containing poems on various subjects, written in his most captivating manner. Thought vigorous and fruitful, imagery vivid and beautiful, feeling warm and unaffected, clothed in language strong, hearty, and emphatic, or soft, pathetic, and musical, as the theme or the rhythm required, with an originality that cannot fail to be acknowledged in them all, are the characteristics of the verses of this little book. A new version of " Rule Britannia ! " a stirring song for patriots in the year 1860, has in it a genuine fervent English spirit and tone, that make the very heart bound when perusing it. "The Emigrant Ship " is indeed an exquisite little lyric, full of delicate pathos, and instinct with gentle music; and a sound and high souled spirit of philosophy breathes in the noble and cheering stanzas entitled " Never Give Up ! " The last published work of Mr. Tupper is called "Probabilities, an Aid to Faith," issued in January last; resembling in idea the " Analogy " of Butler, but much simpler in detail, and altogether Independent and original in argument and illustration. This small but valuable and instructive volume we have noticed to-day. MARTIN F. TUPPER. XlT Besides the works mentioned, Mr. Tupper published in 1838, " A Coronation Ode, and Sonnets," which, like all his poetry, display much poetic genius and great power of versification.* In appearance, Mr. Tupper is, we believe, about the middle size ; young-looking, and well favoured ; with black hair, cheerful aspect, and cordial manner. Both in his deportment and in his writings, he has all the elements of popularity. Of the former, however, the writer of this sketch cannot speak from personal knowledge, as he is altogether unacquainted with him. With the latter he is quite familiar. His usual residence is at Albury, Surrey; but he has also a seat at Furzehill, near Brighton. * " Hactenus," and a quantity of other occasional lyrics and prose pieces, with " King Alfred's own poems," translated from the Anglo-Saxon, have appeared since the publication of this sketch. AMERICAN PUBLISHERS. SritirntuHt. TO ALL FRIENDS. A book of many thoughts in mingled measures : Songs of my Heart, attuned through many a year From time to time a silent hour to cheer; Unguarded tell-tales of mine inner pleasures, High hopes, and joys most deep, and loves most dear ; What welcome shall we find? Neglect? Reproof '? A sullen pride that coldly holds aloof? JVo, Friends ! not such will be my welcome here : From heart to heart I speak, from love to love, With kindly words that kindliness inspire. Frankly, confidingly ; no fear, no fear But love shall be your greeting to my lyre ; For, through the mercies lent me from above, I warm your hearts, O Friends ! with holy fire. (XZJ) TUPEE1TS POETICAL WORKS. n tjj? Sw FBOM A UNIT. GIANT aggregate of nations, Glorious Whole of glorious Parts, Unto endless generations Live United, bands and hearts ! Be it storm, or summer-weather, Peaceful calm, or battle-jar, Stand in beauteous strength together, Sister States, as Now ye are I Every petty class-dissension Heal it up, as quick as thought, Every paltry place-pretension, Crush it, as a thing of nought; Let no narrow private treason . Your great onward progress bar, But remain, in right and reason, Sister States, as Now ye are! (18) 14 TO THE UNION. Fling away absurd ambition ! People, leave that toy to kings; Envy, jealousy, suspicion, Be above such grovelling things I In each other's joys delighted, All your hate be joys of war, And by all means keep United, Sister States, as Now ye are ! Were I but some scornful stranger, Still my counsel would be just; Break the band, and all is danger, Mutual fear, and dark distrust: But, you know me for a brother And a friend who speak from far; Be at one then with each other, Sister States, as Now ye are I If it seems a thing unholy Freedom's soil by slaves to till, Yet be just ! and sagely, slowly, Nobly, cure that ancient ill: Slowly, haste is fatal ever; Nobly, lest good faith ye mar; Sagely, not in wrath to sever Sister States, as Now ye are! Charm 'd with your commingled beauty England sends the signal round, " Every man must do his duty " To redeem from bonds the bound ! Then indeed your banner's brightness Shining clear from every star Shall proclaim your joint uprightness, Sister States, as Now ye are! TOTHEUNION. 15 So, a peerless constellation May those stars for ever blaze I Three-and-ten-times-threefold nation, Go ahead in power and praise ! Like the many-breasted goddess Throned on her Ephesian car Be one heart in many bodies ! Sister States, as Now ye are. A RHYME FOR ENGLISHMEN. STRETCH forth ! stretch forth ! from the south to the north ! From the east to the west, stretch forth ! stretch forth ! Strengthen thy stakes, and lengthen thy cords, The world is a tent for the world's true lords ! Break forth and spread over every place, The world is a world for the Saxon Race! England sowed the glorious seed, In her wise old laws, and her pure old creed, And her stout old heart, and her plain old tongue, And her resolute energies, ever young, And her free bold hand, and her frank fair face, And her faith in the rule of the Saxon Race! Feebly dwindling day by day, All other races are fading away; The sensual South, and the servile East, And the tottering throne of the treacherous priest, And every land is in evil case But the wide-scatter'd realm of the Saxon Race! THE ANGLO-SAXON RACE. Englishmen everywhere ! brethren all ! By one great name on your millions I Norman, American, Gael, and Celt, Into this fine mixed mass ye melt, And all the best of your best I trace In the golden brass of the Saxon Race I Englishmen everywhere ! faithful and free I Lords of the land, and kings of the sea, Anglo-Saxons ! honest and true, By hundreds of millions my word is to you, Love one another ! as brothers embrace ! That the world may be blest in the Saxon Race I 1851. A STAVE OF INVITATION. FOR happiness, unity, plenty, and peace, And brotherhood over the world, For loves to increase, and dissensions to cease, And war's bloody flag to be furl'd, Come, gather together with hearty good will, In the warmth of a generous mind, And bring us the best of your strength and your skill, To bless and to better mankind! Let quicken'd invention its secret impart The body to succour in need; Let taste and high breeding, and delicate art, The mind with their melodies feed: THE FAMILY GATHERING. Let just emulation and genius be glad To join in the liberal strife Which seals to the world all the wealth that it had, And adds to the blessings of life. So, gather together! your leader and Prince, With many a true man beside, Has set up this standard the world to convince That commerce and love are allied : For Man, of all nations and kindreds, is one, And heartily well is it worth, Thus kindly to cause in the sight of the sun A Family Meeting of Earth ! A BALLAD FOR 1851. A VOICE of happy greeting to the Nations of the World ! A Flag of peace for every shore, on every sea, unfurl'd ! A Word of brotherhood and love to each who hears the call, A Welcome to the World of Men, a Welcome, one and all ! children of a common stock, brothers all around, In kindliness and sympathy receive the joyful sound; Old England bids you welcome all, and wins you to her shore, To see how men of every clime may help each other more. Old England greets you lovingly, as friend should greet a friend, And only prays that peaceful days may never have an end; And only hopes, by doing good, the good of all to gain, And so Goodwill from brethren still, right gladly to attain! 18 ENGLAND'S WELCOME TO THE WORLD. Come on then to this Tournament, of Peace, and skilful Art, Come on, fair Europe's chivalry, and play the Bayard's part 1 For honour, Austria, spur away ! for honour, gentle France ! For honour, Russ, and Swede, and Turk, come on with levell'd lance! Come on amain, high-hearted Spain ! industrious Holland, come ! Italy, Persia, Greece, and Ind, fill up the Nations' sum! And chiefly with us, heart to heart, coine on, and tilt for fame, Columbia, thou that England art in everything but name ! Not, as long since, for deeds of death, but deeds to gladden life Provoking each for others' good to join the generous strife ! As in those games at Pytho, or in old Nemaea's grove, Where Grsecia's best and worthiest for honour only strove. Come, wrestle thus in peace with us, and vie for glory's prize, Bring out your wares of rarest work, and wealthiest merchandise; Let every Craft of every clirae produce its brilliant best, The dazzling zone of Venus, and Minerva's starry crest ! Let Science add the miracles that human reason works When tracking out the Mind of GOD that in all Nature lurks, The Wonderful, that HE hath made Beneficent to man, And gives us wit to fathom it, and use it as we can ! there are secrets choice and strange, that men have not found out, Though up and down the earth we range, and forage round about, The hidden things of Mercy's heart, the Beautiful-Sublime, That GOD hath meant to cheer us on adown the stream of Time : Adown the stream of Time, until we reach that happier shore, Where sin and pain come not again, and grief is grief no more ; For that, nations, wisely strive to do all good you can, And, gratefully as unto God, live brotherly with Man! A HYMN FOR ALL NATIONS. Iqnra for nil Mutinns. 1851. TRANSLATED INTO THIRTY LANGUAGES. GLORIOUS God! on Thee we call, Father, Friend, and Judge of all; Holy Saviour, heavenly King, Homage to Thy throne we bring! In the wonders all around Ever is Thy Spirit found, And of each good thing we see All the good is born of Thee! Thine the beauteous skill that lurka Everywhere in Nature's works; Thine is Art, with all its worth, Thine each masterpiece on earth! Yea, and foremost in the van Springs from Thee the Mind of Man; On its light, for this is thine, Shed abroad the love divine! Lo, our God ! Thy children here From all realms are gather'd near, Wisely gather'd, gathering still For peace on earth, towards men good-will! May we, with fraternal mind, Bless our brothers of mankind; May we, through redeeming love, Be the blest of God above! A WORD FOR THE OREGON MISSION. PUSH on ! to earth's extremest verge, And plant the Gospel there, Till wide Pacific's angry surge Is soothed by Christian prayer; Advance the standard, conquering van, And urge the triumph on, In zeal for God and love of man, To distant Oregon! Faint not, soldier of the cross, Its standard-bearer thou! All California's gold is dross To what thou winnest now ! A vast new realm, wherein to search For truest treasure won, God's jewels, in his infant church Of new-born Oregon. Thou shalt not fail, thou shalt not fall! The gracious living Word Hath said of every land, that all Shall glorify the Lord : He shall be served from East to West, Yea to the setting sun, And JESTJ'S name be loved and blest In desert Oregon. Then, Brothers ! help in this good deed, And side with God to-day! Stand by His servant now, to speed His apostolic way: Bethlehem's ever-leading star In mercy guides him on To light with holy fire from far The Star of Oregon. CUE VOYAGE. WRITTEN ON BOARD THE ASIA, BY REQUEST. COUNT up with me our mercies manifest My brother voyagers; that God hath sped Our wandering steps, in safety hither led, Strong in His strength, and with His bounty blest. 0, how can half the perils be exprest That He hath spared us on this prosperous way? No evil hath come near us, to deform One pleasant night, or one luxurious day, No traitor rock, no fierce tyrannic storm : But, as, at night, bell echoing answered bell Like neighbouring village clocks, the chceriug word Ever was wafted in response, " All 's well I" Thank God! that thus His ready grace hath heard Our pray'rs, though few and feeble, truth to tell! And, meekly think how many better men Havo gone this way in famine and in fear, Yet, after all their toils, had laboured then Vainly, for Death hath feasted on them here! O think how gulph'd away from human ken Thousands have struggled in yon yeasty waves, As gloomily, around some staggering wreck, Yawn'd the black throats of those Atlantic graves ! We the while, pacing this high-terraced deck, Like proud triumphant despots of the deep, Set our calm feet on Ocean's vassal neck; And day or night, in pastimes or in sleep, With ease and skill and mammoth-muscled force Speed to the goal of our victorious course 1 22 THE OLD AND THI NEW. ty <0ft ani tjjt -Inn. SHALL it be with a tear or a smile, Old World, That I bid you farewell for awhile, Old World, Shall you and I part With a pang at the heart, Or in cold-blooded stoical style, Old World? In truth, it must be with a tear, Old World, For much that is near and is dear, Old World! The lingering mind Looks sadly behind In doubt and reluctance and fear, Old World. Yet ever, by land and by sea, Old World, God helps us wherever we be, Old World j My babes He will keep Awake or asleep, And happily travel with me, Old World I So thus with a spirit at rest,. New World, I seek your bright shores of the West, New World I With hearty good will My work to fulfil, And do what I do for the best, New World! Gratefully here for a space, New World, Shall I bask in the sun of thy face, New World, Wherever I roam To feel always at home, With brothers in every place, New World. No dignified dulness to freeze, New World, But cordial kindness and ease, New World, Invite me to stand, With my heart in my hand, To give it wherever I please, New World. A WORD ON ARRIVAL. 28 nn Slrrimil. WRITTEN IN NEW YORK HARBOUR, ON BOARD THE ASIA. NOT with cold scorn, or ill-dissembled sneer, Ungraciously your kindly looks to greet, By God's good favour safely wafted here, After long hope and promise many a year, friends and brothers, face to face we meet. Now, for a little space, my willing feet Shall tread your happy shores; my heart and voice Your kindred love shall quicken and shall cheer; While in your greatness shall my soul rejoice For you are England's nearest and most dear! Suffer my simple fervours to do good, As one poor pilgrim haply may and can, Who, knit to heaven and earth by gratitude, Speaks from his heart, to touch his brother man. A SONG FOR THE ANTIPODES. QUEEN of the South ! which the mighty Pacific Claims for its Britain in ages to be, Bright with fair visions and hopes beatific, Glorious and happy thy future I see ! Thither the children of England are thronging, There for true riches securely to search; Not for thy gold, California, longing, But for sweet home, with enough, and a Church I 3 24 N E W Z E A L A N D . There, a soft clime and a soil ever teeming, Summer's December, and Winter's July, The bright Southern Cross in the firmament gleaming. The Dove, and the Crown, and the Altar on high,- There, the broad prairies with forest and river, There, the safe harbours are bidding men search For Thy best blessings, Heavenly Giver! Home, with enough, and an Englishman's Church ! Fes; for Britannia, the Mother of Nations, Sends out her children, as teeming old Greece, Good men and great men, to stand in their stations, Merchants of plenty, and heralds 'of peace: Stout Anglo-Saxons ! Port Victory calls you ; Take the glad omen, and speedily search Where you shall gather, whatever befals you, Truest of treasures, a Home and a Church ! Fifty years hence look forward and see it, Realm of New Zealand, what then shalt thou see? (If the world lives, at THE FATHER'S So be it,) All shall be greatness and glory with thee ! Even should Britain's decay be down-written In the dread doom-book that no man may search, Still shall an Oxford, a London, a Britain, Gladden the South with a Home and a Church ! 'GOD SPEED/ HEAVEN speed you, noble band! Link'd together, heart and hand, Sworn to seek that far-off land, Canterbury pilgrims, CANTERBURY PILGRIMS. 2fi Heaven speed you! brothers brave, Waft you well by wind and wave; Heaven shield you ! Heaven save ! Canterbury pilgrims. Like a Queen of swarming bees, England, hived amid the seas, Sends you by a favouring breeze, Canterbury pilgrims, With a mother's tender care, To her Southern sister there, Her young sister, fresh and fair, Canterbury pilgrims! Fresh the soil, and fair the clime, Lightly touch'd by toil or time, Scarcely tinged with care or crime, Canterbury pilgrims, Go then, cheerfully go forth ! Hasten to replenish earth With Old England's honest worth, Canterbury pilgrims ! Aye with industry for gold, Godliness for wealth untold, Go, in Christian duty bold, Canterbury pilgrims, Glad New Zealand bids you share Each man plenty, and to spare, GOD be with you then and there, Canterbury pilgrims! BONNET. BT WAT OF POSTSCRIPT. Go forth, in faith and patience, hope and love I But think not, voyagers, to leave behind Ills of the flesh or passions of the mind, Nor to anticipate the bliss above In this new home: for evil must be there, Evil, that sails alike on every wind, In spite of all your caution, all your care: Then be ye tolerant; let no stern soul, However right his ethics or his life, Over the weaker brothers claim control, Stirring the flock to bitterness of strife: Honour man's conscience; from all shackles loose The honest mind with freedom's instinct rife : Take the Church with you, but no church-abuse. AN ILLUSTRATION. TRIPLE blessings on the plough, Triple blessings on the fleece ! Heaven's Angel send you now To be fruitful and increase : "So your country shall remain," And all happiness be pour'd Upon Canterbury plain, From the LORD! THE CANTERBURY SEAL. 27 Triple blessings on the fleece, Triple blessings on the plough! For beneath the Cross of Peace All your toil is hallowed now: While the Church, in sacred robe, Is your help on either hand, As the pillars of the globe Ye shall stand ! Britain, to CfebmUc. A MESSAGE OF PEACE. SISTER Empress, daughter dear, Throned on yonder hemisphere, With a grand career to run Glorious as thy western sun, Sister, Daughter we are one! One, in stories of the past, One, in glories, still to last, One in speech, and one in face, One in honest pride of race, One in faith, and hope, and grace! Sister, we have sinn'd of old, Both of us, through lust of gold; We, for centuries, you, for years, Undismay'd by judgment fears, Throve on human woes and tears 1 Verily, our brothers' blood Whelm'd us in its crimson flood! Yet, at last we turn'd, and gave, As a ransom from the grave, Royal freedom to the slave! 28 BRITAIN TO COLUMBIA. Britain's penitential zeal Let it work Columbia's weal; Wisely hasten, as thou wilt, Soon to wash away this guilt Man in chains, and life-blood spilt! We are mute, we may not chide; Only pray thee, put aside That which must be bane to thee, If, as Christian, Strong, and Free, Thou endure it still to be. Yet, in frankness, we confess We made too much haste, to bless; Not at once, be well assured, But with gradual health allured, Can this chronic plague be cured. Through the wisdom of to-day We have learnt a better way; Sister, it is thine own plan! Take the poor degraded man, Teach him kindly all you can, Then, with liberal hand, restore To his own Liberian shore This poor son of wrong and night, Newly blest with hope and light, And the patriot freeman's Right ! So shall Africa blockade Bloodlessly that dreadful trade : And Liberia's "open door," School, and Church, and merchant-store, Bless her children evermore. DIEU ET MON DROIT. Win, tt mm Srait. A LOYAL TEXT. No fanciful hope, and no cowardly fear Shall ever be lord of my breast, An Englishman gathers his comfort and cheer From Duty by Providence blest; The good royal motto, from Normandy won, Upholds him by day and by night, Adversity's moon, and prosperity's sun, Are shining in "God and my Right!" My God! the great guard, the good ruler, and friend, Who made me, and guides as He will; My Right! which His government helps to defend, And bids me stand up for it still : The heart that has trusted Him well does He love, And fills it with heavenly light, Rejoiced upon earth with all peace from above, And resting on "God and my Right!" My Right the right way, and my Right the right arm, And my Right the true rights of the case, Strong, honest, deserving, the triple-tied charm That keeps a man firm in his place; With these well about us, and God overhead, We fear not whatever we fight, There never was mortal who fail'd or who fled, Whose motto was, "God and my Right!" THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF 1851. tot iiljilritnm rf 1851. A BALLAD FOR THE WORKMAN. HURRAH ! for honest Industry, hurrah ! for handy skill, Hurrah ! for all the wondrous works achieved by Wit and Will 1 The triumph of the Artizan has come about at length, And Kings and Princes flock to praise his comeliness and strength. Now is the time, the blessed time, for brethren to agree, And rich and poor of every clime at unity to be ; When Labour honour'd openly, and not alone by stealth, With horny hand and glowing heart may greet his brother Wealth. Aye, wealth and rank are labour's kin, twin brethren all his own, For every high estate on earth, of labour it hath grown ; By duty and by prudence, and by study's midnight oil, The wealth of all the world is won by God-rewarded toil I Then hail ! thou goodly Gathering, thou brotherhood indeed ! Where all the sons of men can meet as honest Labour's seed j The tribes of turban'd Asia, and Afric's ebon skin, And Europe and America, with all their kith and kin ! From East and West, from North and South, to England's happy coast By tens of thousands, lo ! they come, the great industrial host, By tens of thousands welcom'd for their handicraft and worth, Behold they greet their brethren of the Workshop of the Earth. Eight gladly, brother workmen, will each English Artizan Rejoice to make you welcome all, as honest man to man, And teach, if aught he has to teach, and learn the much to learn, And show to men in every land, how all the world may earn ! THE GREAT EXHIBITION OP 1851. 81 Whatever earth, man's heritage, of every sort can yield, From mine and mountain, sea and air, from forest and from field j Whatever reason, God's great gift, can add or take away, To bring the worth of all the world beneath the human sway ; Whatever science hath found out, and industry hath earn'd, And taste hath delicately touch'd, and high-bred art hath learn'd; Whatever God's good handicraft, the man He made, hath made, By man, God's earnest artizan, the best shall be display'd ! think it not an idle show, for praise, or pride, or pelf, No man on earth who gains a good can hide it for himself; By any thought that any thing can any how improve, We help along the cause of all, and give the world a move ! It i* a great and glorious end to bless the sons of man, And meet for peace and doing good, in kindness while we can j It is a greater and more blest, the Human Heart to raise Up to the God who giveth all, with gratitude and praise I A PROTEST. NOT to flatter kings, Not to serve a Court, Bent on nobler things Than tc make them sport; Loyal, gentle, kind, Yet honest, frank, and free, Pure in life and mind, Must the poet bo! THE POET'S MISSION. Meekness at his heart, Though triumph on his brow, Well to do his part Is his daily vow; Zealous for the best His earnest spirit can, And, at GOD'S behest, Swift to gladden Man! Honour thou the GIFT, Count it no man's slave j To the LORD uplift What His bounty gave ! Let thy spirit spring Up to Heaven's gate, There, on quivering wing, SONG to consecrate ! Song, it soothes the heart, Song, it charms the world; Song, it is a dart By a giant hurl'd; Song, a torrent's strength In its force is found When, aroused at length, Nations hear the sound ! Hark ! they hear, and feel, And may sleep no more ! Hark ! the patriot peal Rings from shore to shore; And, in danger's hour, Stands the poet then, Girt about with power As a King of men ! THE POET'S MISSION. At his burning spell Quakes the solid shore, And with yearning swell Rises ocean's roar, Till the PEOPLE'S will Like a storm is heard, Conjured by the skill Of their poet's word ! At his gentle voice All that storm is calm, And the woods rejoice, And the breeze is balm, And Hosannas rise From a Nation's heart, Flaming to the skies Through the Poet's art 1 Art? it is his breath, The sighing of his soul! Art? it might be Death The fervour to control ! Not by such a name Call the glorious birth Of this heavenly flame Lit to kindle earth ! As his heart may glow, Freely must his song, Like an overflow, Gush out fresh and strong! No constraint be there Ilia energies to tire; Zeal, and love, and prayer String the Poet's lyre! OOD BLESS THE QUEEN. tfofc fate tjj* ( .4 foya/ outburst, occasioned by the cowardly attack upon her Majesty. ) JUNE 27, 1850. GOD bless the Queen ! that echo darts Electric through the land ; God save the Queen ! a million hearts Are with its fervour fann'd : And, God be thanked! He saves the Queen, He blesses her in love; His Providence is ever seen To guard her from above ! dastard! thus to strike that brow Anointed, and so fair; O brave young Queen! that bruise is now The brightest jewel there! In gentlest majesty sublime, Courageous and serene, How nobly does so mean a crime Add glories to the Queen! Yes: evil men and evil deeds Are like some monster chain'd, That, when its wickedness succeeds, Works only good constrain'd : Queen! the deed a traitor dares Is but a kindled spark To set ablaze thy people's prayers For Thee, the nation's Arkl THB MOON AND MOONSHINE. AN ALLEGORY. UPON a slumbering lake at night The moon looks down in love, And there, in chasten 'd beauty bright, A sister sphere of silver light Seems bathing from above. Anon, an evil man conies near, And a rude stone he flings, Half in hate and half in fear, To crush the calm accusing sphere That looks such lovely things. He flung, and struck; and in gwift race Round ran the startled waves; He triumph'd for a little space; But see ! how soon that same calm face Again her beauty laves. So, friend, if envy hits thy name, Be still, it passes soon; Thy lamp is burning all the same, And, even for that moonshine Fame, It must reflect its Moon. nr nm\" A LAMENTATION. THE world is dying, its heart is cold, And well nigh frozen dead, A sorrowful thing it is to grow old, With all the feelings fled, "NOBODY FEELS OR CARES." Dull are its eyes, and dismal its voice, And a mourner's cloak it wears, For all have forgotten to love or rejoice, Nobody feels or cares ! Time was, when zeal and honour and joy, And charities cheering life, Mix'd grains of gold with the mass of alloy, And starr'd this night of strife; But now, it is all for a man's own self, And not how his neighbour fares; Except for pleasure, and pride, and pelf, Nobody feels or cares! Be wise, or a fool, be good or be bad, To others it's much the same; They heed not a whit if you're merry or sad, Or worthy of praise or blame: The world is reaping its broadcast seed Of briers and thorns and tares, And the only word in which all are agreed Is Nobody feels or cares! GI love-stricken lad, Who yearn'd in his loneliness, silent and sad, For the days when again he should laugh and be glad With his father and mother, And sister and brother, All happy at Home ! I tapp'd at the door of the year-stricken Eld, Where apre, as I thought, had old memories quell'd, But still all his garrulous fancies outwell'd Strange old-fushion'd stories Of pleasures and glories That once were at Home ! I whispcr'd the prodigal, wanton and wild, How changed from the heart that you bad when a child, So teachable, noble, nnd modest, and mild! HOME. Though Sin had undone him, Thank GOD that I won him By looking at Home ! And then, when he wept and vowed better life, I hastened to snatch him from peril and strife, By finding him wisely a tender young Wife, Whose love should allure him, And gently secure him A convert at Home ! So he that had raced after pleasure so fast, And still as he ran had its goal overpast, Found happiness, honour, and blessing at last In all the kind dealings, Affections and feeling?, That ripen at Homol &irjj unit "tym. A BALLAD FOR UNION. LADIES, lords, and gentlemen, Attend to what I say, For well I wot you'll like it when You listen to my lay; And labourers and weavers too, Come near, whoever can, 1 want the best of all of you, To build a Noble Man. RICHANDPOOR. The time is past for lofty looks, As well as vulgar deeds; Religion, common-sense, and books, these are magic seeds ! They kill whate'er in man was proud, And nourish what is wise, And feed the humblest of the crowd With manna from the skies. Ay, dreary days of highbred scorn, You've some while died away, And better were the fool unborn, Who tries it on to-day : Ay, wintry nights of lowbred sin, You 've stolen out of sight, And all things base, without, within, Are scatter'd by the light. Take copy of the small, ye great ! In all that's free .and frank; Add cordial ways to courteous state, And heartiness to rank : Take copy of the great, ye small, In all that's soft and fair, Honourable to each and all, And gentle everywhere ! The Gracious Source of all our wealth In body, mind, or store, Pours life and light and hope and health Alike on rich and poor; And though so many covet ill Some neighbour's happier state, They little heed how kind a Will Has fixed them in their fate. RICH AND I'OOR. Think, justly think, what liberal aids Invention gives to all, While Truth shines out, and Error fades, Alike for great and small; How well the rail, the post, the press. Help universal Man, The highest peer, and hardly less The humblest artizan. Religion, like an angel, stands To solace every mind ; And Science, with her hundred hands, Is blessing all mankind; All eyes may see a beauteous sight, All ears may hear sweet sound, And sage-desired seeds of light Are broadcast all around. Lo, the high places levelling down ! The valleys filling up ! Magnates, who ought to wear a crown, Drain Charity's cold cup; While Industry, of humblest birth, With Prudence well allied, O'ertops the topmost peaks of earth, The palaces of pride. Be humble then, ye mighty men ! Be humble, poor of earth ! Be GOD alone exalted, when He speaks by plague and dearth ! Let each be grateful, friendly, true. And that will be the plan, To make rf peer, and peasant too, A truly Noble Man! THE SABBATH. if! A BALLAD FOR THE LABOURER. Six days in a week do I toil for my bread, And surely should feel like a slave, Except for a providence fix'd overhead That hallowed the duties it gave; I work for my mother, my babes, and my wife, And starving and stern is my toil, For who can tell truly how hard is the life Of a labouring son of the soil ? A debt to the doctor, a score at the shop, And plenty of trouble and strife, While backbreaking toil makes me ready to drop, Worn out and aweary of life ! 0, were there no gaps in the month or the year, No comfort, or peace, or repose, How long should I battle with miseries here, How soon bn woighel dr.vn by my \v;>03? Six days in the week, thon, I struggle and strive, And 0! but the seventh is blest; Then only I seem to be free and alive, My soul and my body at rest : I needn't get up in the cold and the dark, I need n't go work iu the rain, On that happy morning I wait till the lark Has trill'd to the sunshine again ! Unhurried for once, well shaven and clean, With babes and the mother at meals, I gather what home and its happiness mean, And feel as a gentleman feels ; THE 8 A BBATH. Then drest in my best I go blithely to church, And meet my old mates on the way, To gossip awhile in the ivy'd old porch, And hear all the news of the day. And soon as the chimes of the merry bells cease, rare is the bell-ringers' din ! We calmly compose us to prayer and to peace, As Jabez is tolling us in : And then in the place where my fathers have pray'd, I praise and I pray at my best, And smile as their child when I hope to be laid In the same bit of turf where they rest ! For wisely his Reverence tells of the dead As living, and waiting indeed A bright Resurrection, 'twas happily said, From earth and its misery freed ! And then do I know that though poor I am rich, An heir of great glories above, Till it seems like a throne, my old seat in the niche Of the wall of the church that I love ! So, praise the Good LORD for his sabbaths, I say, So kindly reserved for the poor; The wealthy can rest and be taught any day, But we have but one and no more ! Ay, what were the labouring man without these His sabbaths of body and mind? A workweary wretch without respite or ease, The curse and reproach of his kind! And don't you be telling me, sages of trade, The seventh's a loss in my gain; I pretty well guess of what stuff you are made, And know what you mean in the main : THE SABBATH. You mete out the work, and the wages you fix, And care for the make, not the men; For seven you'd pay us the same as for six, And who would be day-winners then? No, no, my shrewd masters, thank GOD that His law- The Sabbath is law of the land ; Thank GOD that his wisdom so truly foresaw What mercy so lovingly plann'd : My babes go to school; and my Bible is read; And I walk in my holiday dress; And I get better fed; and my bones lie abed, And my wages are nothing the less. Then Praises to GOD, and all health to the Queen,- And thanks for the Sabbath, say I ! It is as it shall be, and ever has been, The earthgrubber's glimpse at the sky; The Sabbath is ours, my mates of the field, A holiday once in the seven; The Sabbath to Mammon we never will yield, It is Poverty's foretaste of Heaven 1 : *'igs quell'd It felt for others' sr.lc The service it would render Is call'd intrusive boldness, And thus, that heart so tender, Now hardening to coldness, 00 SELFISHNESS. Returns, returns, a blighted thing! To scorn those early days, The freshness of its green young spring, Its beauty and its praise. A BALLAD FOR A MAN'S OWN INNER WORLD. WHIRLING, eddying, ebbing Present, Foamy tide of strife and noise, Mingled-bitter, mingled-pleasant, Loves and worries, cares and joys, ye changing, chancing surges! Calmly doth my Mind forecast How your restless spirit merges In the Future and the Past! Lo, I stand your master-pilot; Though the cataracts be near, Safe I swing round rock or islet, Strong, and still, and godlike Here ! Stout I stand, and sway the tiller Through these rapids glancing down, While the very flood flows stiller, Frozen by my monarch-frown ! O'er the rock-entangled shallows Staunch I steer, adown the stream; And the Past the Present hallows With its melancholy dream, SELF-POSSESSION. 91 And the Future, nearing surely Like Niagara's cliff ahead Steadily I reach, securely As a child that feels no dread! Tea, though earth be torn asunder, Or the secret heart be vext, Though with elemental thunder Or by petty cares perplext, Still I stand, and rule the riot; Still my deep calm soul is blest With its own imperial quiet, The sublimity of Rest! For, a staunch and stalwart true man, Fearing GOD, and none beside, Nothing more, nor less, than human, Nothing human can betide That may diseuthrone a spirit Doom'd to reign in Time's decay, Grandly fated to inherit Endless peace in endless Day! A BALLAD OP COMFORT. NEVER you fear; but go ahead In self-relying strength : What matters it, that malice said, " We 've found it out at length ! " Found out? found what? An honeat man Is open as the light, So, search as keenly as you can, You '11 only find all right. SLANDER. Yes, blot him black with slander's ink, Ho stands as white as snow ! You serve him better than you think. And kinder than you know : What ? is it not some credit, then, That he provokes your blame? This merely, with all better men, Is quite a kind of fame ! Through good report, and ill report, The good man goes his way, Nor condescends to pay his court To what the vile may say : Ay, be the scandal what you will And whisper what you please, You do but fan his glory still By whistling up a breeze. The little spark becomes a flame If you won't hold your tongue; Nobody pays you for your blame, Nor cares to prove it wrong; But if you will so kindly aid And prop a good man's peace, Why, really one is half afraid Your ill report should cease! Look you ! two children playing there With battledores in hand To keep the shuttle in the air Must strike it as they stand; It flags and falls, if both should stop, To look admiring on, And so Fame's shuttlecock would drop Without a Pro and Con! SONNET. 98 innnrt. Lo! ye shall take up serpents without fear, And walk on scorpions, scatheless of their sting, And, if ye drink of any deadly thing, It shall not hurt you ! What a power is here ! A sevenfold buckler to our calm strong hearts Against the feeble, blunted, broken darts Of Hate's fierce frown, or Envy's subtle sneer. Christian, go straight on, though Slander rear (To freeze thy warmth) her cold Medusa head; Go on in faith and love, at duty's call : With naked feet on adders shalt thou tread, Meet perils only to surmount them all, And, out of bad men's blame, as good men's praise, Build up God's blessing on thy words and ways! A BALLAD OF WISDOM. "Give me neither poverty nor riches." PAGEANTS rare of splendid waste Hurried on with glittering haste ; Honours high, and fashions gay, Teasing pomp by night and day; Luxuries that never cease Rich in every zest but peace; Flattering homage, sickly sweet, Pleasures pleasures ? false and fleet, Who shall swear that rank and wealth Have one bliss except by stealth, When the great, the rich, the proud Stoop to imitate the crowd? 94 THE GOLDEN MEAN. Aching toil, or starving rest; Disappointment's bleeding breast; Hopes of better, never here; Luck a laggard in the rear; Cellar, children, curses, cries, Furious crime, or fawning lies, Food? the foulest, scantly dealt; Pain? ay, pain, for ever felt; Who, with Francis, who can praise, Poverty, thy works and ways, Till they rise above despair, Till content hath smother'd care? Give me, Blessed Father! give Just enough in love to live; Give me what is truly good Grace, and food, and gratitude; Kindly give me patience, health, Anything but wasteful Wealth; Wisely in Thy mercy grant Anything but wasting Want; That I may not through excess Sin from want or wantonness, That I may be clear and clean, Lucid in the Golden Mean. tftn*. A BALLAD FOR THE AGED. LIGHT as flakes of falling snow Drop the silent-footed hours; And the days, they come and go, And the years we scarcely know How their frosts, and fruits, and flowers, TIME. 95 Transient crops of weal and woe, Change, and pass, and perish so ! While we muse upon To-day Lo ! the dream has died away ; And there lives what was To-morrow, With its present joy or sorrow, Pains and pleasures, fear and hope, A variable kaleidoscope : So on, so on; till years have sped By tens and twenties over head, And those flakes that fell unfelt Have grown to snows that never melt! yxtstm A LOYAL BALLAD, April, 1848. How glorious is thy calling, My happy Fatherland, While all the thrones are falling In righteousness to stand, Amid the earthquakes heaving thus To rest in pastures green, Then, GOD be praised who helpeth us, And GOD preserve the Queen 1 How glorious is thy calling ! In sun and moon and stars To see the signs appalling Of prodigies and wars, Yet by thy grand example still From lies the world to wean, Then, GOD be praised who guards from ill, And- GOD preserve the Queen I 06 "QOD PRESERVE THE QUEEN 1" Within thy sacred border Amid the sounding seas, Religion, Right, and Order Securely dwell at ease; And if we lift this beacon bright, Among the nations seen, We bless the LORD who loves the right, And GOD preserve the Queen ! Fair pastures and still waters Arc ours withal to bless The thronging sons ancl daughters Of exile and distress; For who so free, as English hearts Are, shall be, and have been? Then, GOD be thank'd on our parts, And GOD preserve the Queen! Though strife and fear and madness Are raging all around, There still is peace and gladness On Britain's holy ground; But not to us the praise, to us Our glory is to lean On Him who giveth freely thus, And GOD preserve the Queen I nation greatly favour'd, If ever thou shouldst bring A sacrifice well savour'd Of praise to GOD THE KING, Now, now, let all thy children raise In faith and love serene, The loyal patriot hymn of praise Of GOD preserve the Queen ! BALLAD FOR THE PRINCE ALFRED. 97 for tjje ON nis BIRTHDAY, August 6, 1849. A THOUSAND years ago, A mighty spirit came To earn himself through weal and woe An everlasting name ! The Great, the Wise, the Good, Was Alfred in his time, And then before his GOD he stood An heir of bliss sublime! And many changes since And wondrous things have been, Till in another English prince, Again is Alfred seen. Though never call'd to rule, Nor ever forced to fight, May he grow up in Alfred's school A child of love and light: In Learning and in Grace Exceeding great and wise, With goodness run his happy race, And reign beyond the skies 1 A NATIONAL ANTHEM FOR LIBERIA IN AFRICA. Mljra far ibma in &frira. PRAISE ye the LORD ! for this new-born Star, On the blue firmament blazing afar, Bless ye the LORD ! our souls to cheer "The love of liberty brought us here!" Hail to Liberia's beacon bright, Luring us home with its silver light, Where we may sing without peril or fear " The love of liberty brought us here 1 " Hail! new home on the dear old shore Where Ham's dark sons dwelt ever of yore, Thou shalt be unto us doubly dear, For "love of liberty brought us here!" Come, ye children of Africa, come, Bring hither the viol, the pipe, and the drum, To herald this Star on its bright career, For "love of liberty brought us here!" Come, with peace aud to all good-will; Yet ready to combat for insult or ill, Come, with the trumpet, the sword, and *he spear, For "love of liberty brought us here!" Thanks unto GOD ! who hath broken th< chain That bound us as slaves on the Western main; Thanks, white brothers ! Oh, thanks sincere, Whose "love of liberty brought us here!" A NATIONAL ANTHEM FOR LIBERIA IN AFRICA. 99 Yes, ye have rescued us as from the grave, And a freeman made of the desperate slave, That ye may call him both brother and peer, For " love "of liberty brought us here !" Thanks ! raise that shout once more, Thanks ! let it thrill Liberia's shore, Thanks ! while we our standard rear, "The love of liberty brought us here!" Thine, Columbia, thine was the hand That set us again on our own dear land, We will remember thee far or near, For "love of liberty brought us here!" Yes, Liberia ! freemen gave Freedom and Thee to the ransom'd slave; Then out with a shout both loud and clear, "Love of liberty brought us here!" A THOUSAND miles of rugged shore, And not a lighthouse seen ? Alas, the thousand years of yore That such a shame hath been ! Alas, that Afric's darkling race, The savages and slaves, Never have known the gleam of grace On their Atlantic waves! 100 THE LIBERIA N BEAOON. Never till Now! glorious light, The beacon is ablaze ! And half the terrors of the night Are scattered by its rays! Forth from the starry heaven'd West Was lit this glowing torch, For, dear Columbia's sons have blest Liberia with a Church ! Yes, young Columbia leads the way, And shows our hard old world How slavery in the sight of day Can wisest be downhurl'd; Not by the bloody hand of power That mangles while it frees, But by Religion's calmer hour, And Freedom of the seas ! Yes, brothers! Patience is the word, And Prudence in your zeal : Where these sweet angels well are heard They work the common weal : The North must wait ; the South be wise ; And both unite in love To help the slave beneath the skies Who is no slave above ! THE LIB KRIAN CHURCH. 101 lihriau of harvest ! And ye, some who never pray'd, and therefore cannot praise; Poor darkling sons of care and toil and unillumined night, Who rose betimes, but did not ask a blessing on your work, Who lay down late, but render'd no thank-offering for that blessing Which all unsought He sent, and all unknown ye gather'd, Alas, for you and in your stead, we praise the GOD of harvest! ye famine-stricken glens, whose children shriek'd for bread, And noisome alleys of the town, where fever fed on hunger, A II Y M N A M> A C II A N T . 107 ye children of despair, bitterly bewailing Erin, Come and join my cheerful praise, for GOD hath answer' d prayer : Praise Him for the better hopes, and signs of better times, Unity, gratitude, contentment; industry, peace, and plenty; Bless Him that His chastening rod is now the sceptre of forgiveness, And in your joy remember well to praise the GOD of harvest! Come, come along with me, and swell this grateful song, Ye nobler hearts, old England's own, her children of the soil : All ye that sow'd the seed in faith, with those wha reap'd in joy, And he that drove the plough afield, with all the scatter'd gleaners, And maids who milk the lowing kine, and boys that tend the sheep, And men that load the sluggish wain or neatly thatch the rick, Shout and sing for happiness of heart, nor stint your thrilling cheers, But make the merry farmer's hall resound with glad rejoicings, And let him spread the hearty feast for joy at harvest-home, And join this cheerful song of praise, to bless the GOD of harvest ! ISnrnrst itynm FOR 1849. AGAIN, through every county Of Britain's happy shores The Great Creator's bounty Unstinted plenty pours; Again to Him returning In thankfulness we raise, Our hearts within us burning, The sacrifice of praise. 108 HARVEST HYMN. great as is Thy glory, Thy goodness doth excel ! What harp can hymn the story? What tongue the tale can tell? The boundless breadth of Nature Is spread beneath Thy throne, And every living creature Is fed by Thee alone ! Rejoice ! for overflowing Is each abundant field; The Lord has blest the sowing, The Lord has blest the yield: The mower has mown double, The reaper doubly reap'd, And from the shining stubble Her head the gleaner heap'd I Rejoice ! for mercy blesses, And judgment smites no more; The GOD of grace possesses Araunah's threshing-floor : The gains of honest labour Are shower'd from above, And neighbour looks on neighbour In happiness and love. men of all conditions, The high, or humbly-born, Away with low seditions ! Away with lofty scorn ! Mix kindly with each other, For GOD has given to all The common name of brother, And gladdens great and small. HARVEST HYMN. 109 And Erin ! thou that starrest So patient on thy sod, To thee, to thee, this harvest Is come, the gift of GOD! Cheer up, though woes oppress thee; Be diligent and true; And, with thy Queen to bless thee, HER KING SHALL BLESS THEE TOO I & lamst Itjnra FOB 1850. PRAISE ye the Lord for his bountiful favour, let the people be glad and rejoice ! High shall the hymn, an acceptable savour, Rise to His throne from the heart and the voice: For the Great King in His royal redundance Fills us with blessings enough and to spare, Fruits in full plenty, and bread in abundance, Glory to GOD for His fatherly care! all ye nations! from season to season Kindly commands lie the earth that it yield Then let us render in right and -in reason Gratitude due for the gifts of the field; Diligence, faith, and contentment are Duty, And if He blesses them all with increase, Thank Him, that earth in its bounty and beauty Pours on us wealth, and abundance, and peace! 10 A HARVEST HYMN. We are His children, and GOD our Father; Then will we love one another the more; While He is generous, let us the rather Thank him for blessing the basket and store! Earth is Man's heritage, granted by heaven; If the Great Master has made us His heirs Here and hereafter redeem' d and forgiven, let us greet Him with praises and pra/rs ! A THYRSUS grove it seem'd, of standing spears Wildly festoon'd with gadding wreaths of green; Yet, not as if old Bacchus and his peers In tipsy rout and frolic there had been To hurl them up on end with all their sheen, But orderly set forth in warrior rank Giants array'd, with fighting-room at flank, Caparison'd, and heavily plumed a-top With clustering bells : and, are these Dryad bands, Or groups of Oreades, so blythely seen To gather in with songs that golden crop, Crushing its fragrance in their sportive hands? No! dreamer: let Arcadian fancies drop; These are but hop-pickers, and that the Hop. A SHORT REPLY. Ill TO ONE WHO "DISLIKED POETRY." LADY, thou lovest high and holy Thought And noble Deeds, and Hopes sublime or beauteous, Thou lovest charities in secret wrought, And all things pure, and generous, and duteous; What then if these be drest in robes of power, Triumphant WORDS, that thrill the heart of man, Conquering for good beyond the flitting hour, With stately march, and music in the van ? Cijcritq ! A WORD TO THE RICH. Written for the Liverpool Hospitals, Aug. 1849. FOR Charity's sake ! to the poor of the land Your generous blessing extend, While Need and Affliction with suppliant hand Solicit your help as a friend; Remember, the Master of these, as of us, On earth was a brother in need, And all that ye give to the desolate thus, To Him do ye give it indeed! To Him ! in his Judgment, a fiery sword Hath smitten, and scatter'd, and slain: To Him ! in His Mercy, the sword of the LORD Returns to its scabbard again : 112 CHARITY. To Him! for the GOD who was pleased to be Man, In reason expects of His kin To strive against evil, and do what wo can To chase away sorrow and sin. Britain ! dear home of the good and the great, The kind, and the fair, and the free, The nations applaud thee for strength and for state, And marvel thy glory to see : Because through the length and the breadth of thy land True Charity scatters her seed; And Heaven still strengthens the heart and the hand . That blesses a brother in need! Ay, Britain ! the destitute's refuge and rest, O'ershadow'd with olives and palms, In war thou art prosper'd, in peace thou art blest Because of thy prayers and thine alms: The soft rain of heaven makes fertile thy fields, And so in sweet incense again It rises like dew o'er the harvest it yields, To solace the children of pain. Then hasten, ye wealthy! to bless and be blest, By giving to GOD of His own : He asks you to help the diseased and distrest, He pleads in the pang and the moan ! In vain? can it be? shall the Saviour in vain Petition His pensioners thus? Oh no ! with all gladness we give Him again "What He giveth gladly to us! THEMANABOUTTOWN. 118 EviTrEYED loiterer, pilgrim of fashion, Sunless and hard is thy frost-bitten heart; Scoffing at nature's affection and passion, Till thou hast made the sad angels depart : Sinner and fool ! to be searing and sealing All the sweet fountains of spirit and truth Quick to be free from the freshness of feeling, Swift to escape from the fervours of youth. Woe to thee woe ! for thy criminal coldness ; Oh, I could pity thee, desolate man, But that those eyes, in their insolent boldness, Tempt me to scorn such a state, if I can: Wearied of hunting the shadows of pleasures, Thou art half dead in the prime of thy days, Emptied of Heaven's and Earth's better treasures, Victim and slave to the world and its ways ! Early and late at thy dull dissipation, Listlessly indolent even in sin, What is thy soul but a pool of stagnation, Calmness without, and corruption within ? Happiness, honour, and peace, and affection These were thy heritage every one, But as thou meetest them all with rejection, They have rejected thee, Prodigal Son ! that humility, gracious as duteous, Lighten'd those eyelids so heavy with scorn ! that sincerity, blessed as beauteous, Gilded thy night with the promise of morn! Frankness of mind is the best of high breeding Kindness of soul the true Gentleman's part; And the first fashion all fashions exceeding, Is the warm gush of a generous heart! 114 A PRAYER FOR THE LAND. far .tjje 6, 1848. ALMIGHTY FATHER! hearken, Forgive, and help, and bless, Nor let thine anger darken The night of our distress; As sin and shame and weakness Are all we call our own, We turn to Thee in meekness, And trust on Thee alone. GOD, remember Zion, And pardon all her sin I Thy mercy we rely on To rein Thy vengeance in: Though dark pollution staineth The temple Thou hast built, Thy faithfulness remaineth, And that shall cleanse the guilt 1 To Thee, then, Friend All-seeing, Great source of grace and love, In whom we have our being, In whom we live and move, Jerusalem, obeying Thy tender word, "Draw near," Would come securely, praying In penitence and fear. Thou knowest, LORD, the peril Our ill deserts have wrought, If earth for us is sterile And all our labour nought! A PRAYER FOR THE LAND. 115 Alas, our righteous wages Are famine, plague, and sword, " Unless Thy wrath assuages In mercy, gracious LORD! For lo! we know Thy terrors Throughout the world are rife, Seditions, frenzies, errors, Perplexities and strife ! Thy woes are on the nations, And Thou dost scatter them, Yet heed the supplications Of Thy Jerusalem ! Truth, LORD, we are unworthy, Unwise, untrue, unjust, Our souls and minds are earthy, And cleaving to the dust : But pour Thy graces o'er us, And quicken us at heart, Make straight Thy way before us, And let us not depart! Turn us, that we may fear Thee, And worship day by day, Draw us, that we draw near Thee, To honour and obey ; Be with us all in trouble, And, as our SAVIOUR still, Lord, recompense us double With good for all our ill! Though we deserve not pity, Yet, LORD, all bounty yield, All blessings in the city, And blessings in the field, A PRAYER FOR THE LAND. On folded flocks and cattle, On basket and on store, In peace, and in the battle, All blessings evermore ! All good for earth and heaven ! For we are bold to plead As through thy SON forgiven, And in Him sons indeed! Yea, FATHER ! as possessing In Thee our FATHER-GOD, Give, give us every blessing, And take away Thy rod! A RESPONSE TO "THE PRAYER FOR THE LAND. September 18, 1848. WE thank Thee, King of Heaven ! We bless Thee, glorious LORD ! Because Thy grace hath given The mercies we implored; Because Thy love rejoices To smile Thy wrath away, We come with hearts and voices To praise as well as pray ! now regard with favour The sacrifice we bring, As incense of sweet savour, As Abel's offering; As Noah's, when he raised Thee An altar near the ark ; As Jonah's, when he praised Thee Beneath the waters dark ! PRAISE! 117 For lo! Thy bounteous promise Is sure to those who pray, Averting evil from us And helping us alway; And though we all have wander* d In sinfulness and shame, Yet once again our standard ' We set up in thy name! Thy constant mercy deigneth A covenant of peace; So long as earth remaineth, Its plenty shall not cease; Still in Thy holy keeping Our grateful eyes behold The sowing and the reaping, As in the days of old! Yea, though in righteous reason Thy judgments might have frown'd, The harvest in its season Hath joyfully come round; And while our sins are grievous And make us fear the rod, Thy pity doth relieve us Because we hope in GOD ! Thee, Thee alone for ever Thy children still shall praise, And duteously endeavour To walk in all Thy ways; Still hoping and still asking Thy pardon and Thy love, And in the sunshine basking Of blessings from above ! 118 LIBERTY. (tfqimlitij /tab rnitij. LIBERTF. LIBERTY ! Who shall be free ? The winds of the air, and the waves of the sea, And the beast in his lair, and the bird on its tree, And the savage who battles with boars and with bears For the root that he grubs, or the flesh that he tears, Liberty, these are for thee! Liberty? How can it be That reason, and duty, and science, and skill, And order, and beauty, are lawgivers still, And yet that responsible Man can be found Untrammell'd by rules, and by harness unbound? Liberty, No man is free. Liberty? sadness to see Were the heart without love, or the mind without fear For The Father above, and His Family here; 'And faith and affection, constraining or fond, What are they but chains, an invincible bond, Liberty, manacling Thee? Liberty, look not on me With a Siren's smile on thy beautiful face, And a treacherous wile in thy warm embrace : No! let me feel fetter'd, a martyr, a slave To honour and duty from cradle to grave! Liberty, I'll none of Thee. LIBERTY. Liberty! "fetter'd," yet free: For tlie chain that we wear is of roses and balm, And the badge that we bear is The Conqueror's palm, And the licence we loathe is a freedom to Sin, And the thraldom we love is Obedience within, Liberty, leading to Thee ! Liberty ! for thou shalt be My glorious reward in a happier clime, From the hand of my LORD, who hath bound me to Time As a bondsman here for a year and a day To reign as a King for ever and aye, Holy, and happy, and Free! EQUALITY. PINING Envy's feeble hope, Shipwreck's last despairing rope, Idle wish from Satan sent, Ruffian prize of Discontent, Dull debasing sordid thing Crushing down each generous spring, Stern Procrustes' iron bed To rack the feet or lop the head, Where in all life's social book Shall your purblind statesman look, Where, Equality, to find A sillier lie to cheat mankind? Tell the truth, yea tell it out, Nature, without fear or doubt; Tell it out that never yet Have two utter equals met: Leaves and fruits on every tree, Fowls and fish of air and sea, 9 120 EQUALITY. Stars on high with all their host, Pebbles from a kingdom's coast; Search them all, some difference still Clings to each for good or ill; Search the world all worlds around, Perfect twins were never found; Babes of various realm and race, Men of every age and place, Gifts of GOD, or wise denials, Pleasures, sorrows, triumphs, trials, All things differ everywhere, Never two can start quite fair, Never two could keep the start In soul or body, mind or heart, While the shoitest winter's day To its morrow gloom'd away! Would then Vanity, and Sloth, And Disappointment, scorning both, And Pride and Meanness, hand in hand With Crime and low Ambition stand To scheme and plot a wholesome plan Utterly to ruin Man, Then should they level love and hate, And grind to atoms all things great, Corrupt all good, befoul all fair, Make gladness weep, and hope despair, And, impotent to raise the dead, Kill the living in their stead, By working out the poison'd lie Your sages call Equality. . No ! thou phantom false and fair, Rainbow-castle in the air, EQUALITY. 121 Fit enough for fays or elves, But not for mortals like ourselres, In this hive of human kind, Where some can see, and some are blind, Where some will work though others play, And many swear while many pray, Where disease and age at length Must bend and bow to manhood's strength, Where every one of GOD'S good gifts The favour'd from his fellow lifts, Equal ! equal ? tush : the word In truer letters spells absurd. Equal? there is One alone Reigns Coequal on His throne; Nor can any creature dare W T ith such Essence to compare. All things else through change and chance, And time and place and circumstance, And partial Providence most just, And man's 'I will,' and GOD'S 'you must/ All things, differing each from each, Vainly still their lesson teach, If Equality be thus Possible or wise for us, Where with various means and powers In a trial-world like ours We must work as best we may, And leave it to The Judgment Day To declare how ill or well Earth's advantages may tell : Then, shall equal meed be given By the justice of High Heaven : Then shall compensation true Set us all in places new : 122 EQUALITY. And, how many counted first There shall stand the worst accurst I And, how many here so poor, Lazarus laid at Dives' door, There, instead of last and least, First shall sit at Life's great feast ! FRATERNITY. AWAY, away, Suspicion! And hail, thou generous heat; With tears of just contrition Let me wash my brother's feet: For I have sinn'd, how often ! While Charity stood by This stony heart to soften, And to melt this frozen eye I Yes, I have err'd, like others, By coldness and constraint, Forgetting we are brothers, The sinner as the saint, All children of one Father, All guilty and all weak, And bound by these the rather Every wanderer to seek! Awake then ! holy yearning The hearts of men to thrill, Ascend ! sweet incense burning To warm the human will; let us dare with boldness To burst this girdling chain Of common social coldness, And to love as babes again! FRATERNITY. 128 In frankness, and in fairness, Go forth and reap the earth, Its richness and its rareness, Its more than money's-worth; Go forth, and win from others Their honour and their love, By treating them as brothers And the sons of GOD above! For in that brighter Sequel To which our beings tend At last we shall bo equal In One Redeeming Friend! And He, who made us brothers, Our LORD, and brother too, Hath gone before the others To prepare for them and you! Thus then shall heirs of heaven, But not the slaves of sin, Forgiving and forgiven This holy triad win; Free, equal, and fraternal, In GOD'S own way and time, To live the life eternal, And to love the love sublime ! 3*!nrtiit LUTHER Eleutheros! thou lion-heart, Call'd by a name predestined to be Free, Nobly thou didst the Christian warrior's part, Paul and Ignatius fought again in theo : My glorious namesake, what a praise to me, By nation, name, and nature too, thou art, 124 MARTINLUTIIER. Martin Eleutheros! my Saxon chief! I, too, would scorn to bend a slavish knee, Or bate one tittle of my firm belief, Or seem some other than I boast to be No human master's servant: in thy strength, The ROCK OF AGES, is my spirit strong; And resolutely will I lead along, Like thec, for truth, and good, and GOD at length. COOL and sweet is the breath of the morn, And dew-beads glitter on thistle and thorn; And linnets and larks are beginning to trill Their psalm to the sun just over the hill, And all things pleasant, and pure, and fair Bathe in the balmy morning air. Hist ! the turf is under thy feet, Over it steadily, sure and fleet ! Steadily, Wonder! quietly now; Why, what a hot little fool art thou ! Wild and wanton ! it 's very unkind To leave poor Gael so panting behind; Ho ! my greyhound ! Soho ! a hare ! Good dog: after her! soft and fair; Off does she fly, and away does he bound, Glorious ! how we are skimming the ground ! Heels above head, over she goes! And pussy squeals at my greyhound's nose S O H . 126 Home : hark back ! the games arc done, Though Caesar's self has barely begun : Look ! let him change the spur for the pen, To hunt and to harry the hearts of men, Possibles do, and impossibles dare, And gallop in spirit everywhere ! "AFTER LONG YEARS." Dec. 12, 1848. A SHADOW, a vapour, a tale that is told, Ah ! where is the figure so true As justly to picture my bygones of old Uprising in dreamy review? Those dim recollections, sepulchral and cold, The ancient obscured by the new, As over these hill-tops are mistily roll'd Those ghost-looking columns of dew ! I went to the place that had known me of yore, To sec its familiar face; And mournfully stood, for it knew me no more; All strange did I stand in that place ! And it seem'd as if Hades had render'd its dead When, less by the sight than the sound, At the hint of a voice, in a snow-sprinkled head Some school-fellow's features I found. REVISITING CHARTERHOUSE. O changes in feeling, chances of life ! mercies, and perils, and fears! What ages of trial, and travail, and strife Have sped since those holiday years! In half-drowning vision, as seen in a glass, On a sudden the sorrows and joys Of twenty long winters all hurriedly pass, And, look for once more we are boys! Yet here, like the remnant of some gallant crew Just snatch'd from the deep in the dark, We gaze on each other, a storm-batter'd few Adrift on a perilous bark ! And mournful as Life, and mysterious as Death, Our commonplace converse is heard, For we feel as we speak that we live in a breach, And haply might die in a word! And feelings are fickle, and riches have wings, And nothing is steady or sure, And even affections are changeable things, And where can a heart be secure? Ah ! clouded and dreary and solemn and still, And as by some nightmare opprest, Come, heart! break away from this choke and this chill, In GOD and thyself ever blest ! THE SISTERS. 127 iisto. A KOMAUNT, FOB MUSIC. ALL-BEAUTEOTJS Lady Arabell Glanced scornfully aside, Alas! for he hath loved her well, In spite of all her pride; Yet coldly to that noble heart In all its glowing youth, Away! she cried, and spurn'd aside Its tenderness and truth. Away ! and at her feet he fell As cold and white as stone ! And heartless Lady Arabell Has left him all alone; Alone, to live? alone, to die? Alone? Yet who art thou, Some guardian angel from the sky To bless and aid him now ? Ah ! Florence loves young Cecil well, And pines this many a day, For star-eyed sister Arabell Hath won his heart away, Hath won it all by treacherous arts To fling it all aside, And break a pair of loving hearts For triumph and for pride ! Fair Florence with her eyes of blue And locks of golden light; Dark Arabell's of raven hue With flashing orbs of night; 128 THE SISTERS. And has young Cecil chosen well Between that sister pair, The proud and brilliant Arabell Or gentle Florence fair ? O bitter morn ! blessed morn ! For lo, he turns to love No more that raven queen of scorn, But this sweet sister dove: In spite of lustrous Arabell And all her envious pride, Young Cecil loves his Florence well, And Florence is his bride. INDOMITABLE merit Of the Anglo-Saxon mind ! That makes a man inherit The glories of his kind, That scatters all around him Until he stands sublime With nothing to confound him, The Conqueror of Time, mighty Perseverance ! Courage stern and stout ! That wills and works a clearance Of every rabble rout, That cannot brook denial And scarce allows delay, But wins from every trial More strength for every day, ENERGY. 129 Antagonistic Power! I praise, for praise I can, The GOD, the place, the hour That makes a man a Man, The GOD from whom all greatness, The place, Old England's shore, The hour, an hour of lateness (For Time shall soon be o'er) The Man, ay, every brother Of Anglo-Saxon race Who owns an English mother And Freedom's dwelling-place ! I feel, I feel within me That courage self-possess'd, The force, that yet shall win me The brightest and the best, The stalwarth English daring That steadily steps on, Unswerving and unsparing, Until the world is won, The boldness and the quiet That calmly go ahead, In spite of wrath and riot, In spite of quick and dead, Hot Energy to spur me, Keen Enterprise to guide, And Conscience to upstir me, And Duty by my side, And Hope before me singing Assurance of success, And rapid Action springing At once to nothing less, And all the mighty movings That wrestle in my breast, ENERGY. The longings and the lovings, The Spirit's glad unrest, That scorns excuse to tender Or Fortune's favour ask, And never will surrender Whatever be the task ! I cannot wait for chances, For luck I will not look; In faith my spirit glances At Providence, GOD'S book; And there discerning truly That right is might at length, I dare go forward duly In quietness and strength, Unflinching and unfearing, The flatterer of none, And in good courage wearing The honours I have won! Let circumstance oppose me, I beat it to my will; And if the flood o'erflows me, I dive and stem it still; No hindering dull Material Shall conquer or control My energies ethereal My gladiator Soul ! I will contrive occasion, Not tamely bide my time; No Capture, but Creation Shall make my sport sublime; Let lower spirits linger For hint and beck and nod, I always see the finger Of an onward-urging GOD! ENERGY. 181 Not selfish, not hard-hearted, Not vain, nor deaf, nor blind, From wisdom not departed, But in humbleness of mind, Still shall mine independence Stand manfully alone, Nor dance a dull attendance At any mortal throne; Disciple of no teacher Except the ONE in Heaven, And yielding to no creature The Reason He hath given ! thus, while contemplation In faith beholds above My glorious hope, Salvation, Eternity of Love, And while a Saxon spirit Is bubbling from my heart To strengthen and upstir it To play a giant's part, No hindrance, nor misfortune, No man's neglect, nor ill, Shall bend me to importune One weak indulgence still, But with my GOD to nerve me My soul shall overwhelm All circumstance to serve ine In my Spiritual Keulm ! "NON ANOLI BED ANOKLI. srft In Illustration of the Anglo-Saxon Map. Ho ! ye swift messengers out of the North, Mercy's ambassadors, haste to go forth ! Speedily let your broad sails be unfurl'd, Winging your errand all over the world, Wafting your message of peace and goodwill, Brotherhood, godliness, science, and skill ! Ye are the salt of the earth, and its health, Ye are its gladness, its wisdom, and wealth, Ye are its glory ! Britain, thy sons, Thy stout Anglo-Saxons, thy resolute ones, Ever triumphant on every shore, Are only triumphant for Good evermore ! Ministers bright of the bounties of GOD, Where is the land by these angels untrod ? Tell it out, Africa, China, and Scinde, And Isles of the Sea, and the uttermost Inde, Tell out their zeal, and their grandeur of soul, From the sands of the Line, to the snows of the Pole ! Tell out the goodness, the greatness, the grace, That follow their footsteps in every place ! Tell it out, thou, the first cradle of Man, Teeming with millions, serene Hindostan, Tell how fair commerce, aud just-dealing might, Have blest thee with peace, and adorn'd thee with light 1 Boundless Australia, help of the age, And heirloom of hope on Futurity's page, Lo ! thy vast continent, silent and sad, With the song of the Saxon has learnt to be glad; NOSANOLISEDANOELI. 183 Rejoicing to change the wild waste and the fen Into wide-waving harvests and cities of men ! Mighty Columbia, Star of the West, See, 'tis a world by the Saxon possest! Glorious and glad, from the North to the South, Your millions praise GOD with an Englishman's mouth ! And all love a land where at home they would be, England, old England, the Home of the Free! Dotted about on the width of the world, Her beacon is blazing, her flag is unfurl'd; Not a shore, not a sea, not a deep desert wild, But pays its mute homage to Energy's child, Not a realm, not a people, or kingdom, or clan, But owns him the chief of the children of Man ! The foaming Atlantic hath render'd its isles. And the dark Caribbean its tropical smiles, And Southern Pacific those many-hued flowers, And Europe's Mid-Ocean these temples and towers, Their tribute the seas of Old India bring, And Borneo is proud of her new British King ! Yes ! for dear Britain, the Mother of Men, Rules all, under GOD, by the sword and the pen : She is the Delphi, the heart of the earth, The rock-rushing spring of humanity's worth ; And, if two hemispheres prosper, the cause Lies in old England's Religion and Laws ! Yes! for her realm is the Goshen of light; The wings of these Angels have scattcr'd the night ! Duteous and daring, as beauteous and strong, They are helpers of Right, and avengers of Wrong, Fair in their souls as their eyes and their locks, Stout in their hearts as their oaks and their rocks I COUNTRY 1. 1 F K . Cotnrtq Eift. I THINK not thou that fields and flowers, Copses and Arcadian bowers, Grow the crop of Peace : In this model life of ours Worries seldom cease ! Think not Envy, Hatred, Malice Seethe alone in town and palace; For on Eden first, Pour'd from evil's caldron-chalice, Those hot geysers burst! Though the scene be sweet and smiling, And the silence most beguiling, And so pure the air, Man, his paradise defiling, Pours a poison there ! Look at yonder simple village, With its church and peaceful tillage, Seemingly so blest; Mutual hate and mutual pillage Truly tell the rest! With the tongue's destroying sabre, Neighbour battles against neighbour, Whilst each other's glance Tyranny and servile Labour Scowling watch askance ! COUNTRY LIFE. 186 Wealth, well fawn'd on, and well-hated; Want, with brutal malice mated; And, to teach the twain, Shallow priestcraft, self-inflated, Dreary, dull, and vain ! Ay, Charles Lamb, the wise and witty, Gentle lover of the city, Sensibly he spoke, When he dealt his pungent pity To us country folk: All for arson insecurely, All for slander little purely, Vext with petty strife, Let no silly mortal surely Covet country life. II. Stop! malign not country pleasure; For there is unminted treasure In its quiet calm; In its garden-loving leisure GUead's very balm! In its duties, peaoe-bestowing, In its beauties, overflowing All the dewy ground, In its mute religion, glowing Everywhere around: In its unobtrusive sweetness, In its purity, and meetness For contented minds, And the beautiful completeness Man in Nature finds. 10 186 COUNTRY LIFE. Yes, it is no fault of Nature's, If the vice of fallen creatures Spots her with a curse; Man in towns hath viler features, And his guilt is worse. Troubles, cares, and self-denials, These are no such special vials Pour'd on fields and flowers; But there always must be trials In this world of ours. Country life, let us confess it, Man will little help to bless it, Yet, for gladness there, We may readily possess it In its native air. Rides and rambles, sports and farming, Home, the heart for ever warming, Books, and friends, and ease, Life must after all be charming, Full of joys like these. Yes, however little gaily, And for man, however frailly Check'd with sin and strife, Wisdom rests contented daily With a country life. FONSPARNASSI. 187 THE SOLACE OP SONQ. EVER babbling, ever bubbling, Bright as light, and calmly clear, Cure for every trial troubling, Solace ever new and near, Fons Parnassi ! free and flowing, Fons Parnassi! glad and glowing, . Rarefied creative pleasure ! they lie who say that Song Is a merely graceful measure, Just a luxury of leisure, Not an anthem sweet and strong Rich in spiritual treasure That to Seraphs might belong, Not a tender consolation All the cares of life among, Not the balm of broad creation In this maze of right and wrong, Not the secret soul's distilling, Every nerve and fibre filling With intense ecstatic thrilling, Evoe ! Fons Parnassi, Fons ebrie Parnassi! Ah ! thou fairy fount of sweetness, Well I wot how dear thou art In thy purity and mectness To my hot and thirsty heart, When, with sympathetic fleetness, I have raced from thought to thought, And, array 'd in maiden neatness, By her natural taste well taught, 188 FONS PARNA88I. Thy young Naiad, thy Pieria, My melodious Egeria, Winsomely finds out my fancies Frank as Sappho, as unsought, And with innocent wife-like glances Close beside my spirit dances, As a sister Ariel ought, Tripping at her wanton will, With unpremeditated skill, Like a gushing mountain rill, Or a bright Bacchante reeling Through the flights of thought and feeling, Half concealing, half revealing Whatsoe'er of Spirit's fire, Beauty kindling with desire, Can be caught in Word's attire ! Evoe ! Fons Parnassi I Fons ebrie Parnassi I It. NEAR GUILDFORD, SURREY, 1838. HOLY precinct, mount of GOD, Where saints have bled, and pilgrims trod, Martyr's hill thy nobler name, Martyr's hill thy fairer fame Than as call'd of her, whose heart Chose but late the better part, Unto thee my praise I bring, Thee my soul delights to sing. 8 T. MARTHA S. Lo, the glorious landscape round ! Tread we not enchanted ground? From this bold and breezy height The charm'd eye sends its eagle flight O'er the panoramic scene, Undulating, rich, and green ; And with various pleasure roves From hill and dale, to fields and groves, Till the prospect mingling grey With the horizon fades away, Shutting in the distant view By fainter lines of glimmering blue. Start we from the warm South-East; Spread the fine pictorial feast: There the landmark tower of Leith Sentinels its purple heath; Nearer, Holrabury's moated hill, Highden-ball, and Ewhurst mill, Dewy Hascomb's fir-fringed knoll, Hind-head, and the Devil's-Bowl, With peeps of far South-downs between Seaward closing up the scene. Like a thunder-cloud, beneath Stretches drear the broad Blackheath : Scatter'd coins have seal'd the sod A classic site that Rome has trod, Field of many a desperate strife For conquest, liberty, or life, When the legion's sullen tramp Echoed oft from Farley-camp, And some Cnn-ir'a ruthless sword Reap'd the ru-i barbarian horde, Britons, patriots, free brave men, But unsldll'd to conquer then. 140 ST. MARTHA'S. Turn we to this woodland shade, Beyond the Hanger's hazel glade : Ah ! 'tis sad, though little strange, That times, and things, and men should change; Sad, though little strange to see Albury, such sad change in thee. Thou wert in my infant dreams, My childish pranks, my school-day schemes; My heart's young home, my pride and praise; Playground of my boyish days; Link'd with learning, goodness, truth, To the story of my youth; Mixt with hope's romantic plan, And loved, now years have made me man. But, the brightness of thy praise Perish'd with those early days, Thy sweet prime, too fair to last, Spring-like came, and smiled, and past; And I note, adown the Vale, Thy good-angel wandering pale, * With folded wing and tearful eye Mourning for the days gone by; Now, like some white wounded deer Hiding in the greenwood here; Now, beside that old church, faint Leaning, like a dying saint. * Away : regard we yet again Nature's beauty, and her bane : * Alas! that man should e'er intrude Where all but he are glad and good, Alas, for yonder fairy glen, Nature's Eden, vext with men! Mammon, from those long white mills With foggy steam the prospect fills; ST. MARTHA'S. Chimneys red with sulphurous smoke Blight these hanging groves of oak; And sylvan Quiet's gentle scenes List to the clatter of machines. Yet more, in yonder rural dell, Where sylphs and fauns might love to dwell, Among those alders, by the stream Stealing on with silver gleam, Blacken'd huts, set wide apart, Grind their dark grain for murder's mart, Or, bursting with explosive might, Rage, and roar, and blast, and blight. Enough, enough of toilsome Art; Fresh sweet Nature woos thy heart: Gaze then on this western plain, A woody, various, rich champaign; Each in its hollow nestling down, The farm, the village, or the town ; Field on field, and grove on grove, Wavelike, far as eye can rove, Till intersecting lines of hill The blue horizon faintly fill. And, while thy spirit praises Earth, Its precious gifts, its wealth and worth, Forget not thou this glorious Sky, Oh ! lift thine eyes, thy heart on high ; Forget not Him, whose mercy gave All the good we hope, or have; Him, whose Presence, far and near, Man's best wisdom learns to fear Where above the green glad world Heaven's banners float unfurl'd, Gorgeous in each mighty fold Bathed in black, or fringed with gold; ST. MARTHA'S. Or, as clouds of fleecy white Sail in seas of azure light; Or, as streamers hurrying hy Tell of tempests in the Sky; Or, like snow-clad mountains, stand Giant wardens of the Land. Earthward once again ; the North I Draw its good, its evil forth: Mile beyond mile of waving field, Rare to see, and rich to yield; The frequent village round its spire ; The snug domain of rural squire; Yon dusky track of Waste and Moss; That iron road-way drawn across; Windsor, throned o'er half the land; And gambling Epsom's far-famed stand; While the dim distance in a shroud Is wrapp'd by London's smoky cloud. Near us, Guildford's ancient town Between the hills is hiding down; Decent Guildford, clean and steep, Ranged about its castle-keep, Relic of departed power, Grey and crumbling square old tower. Like some warder at his post Honest Booker's lofty boast, Fine and feudal, shames outright Puny's telegraphic height, While it overtops with pride All the vassal scene beside, And, above that verdant swell, Sainted Catherine's Gothic cell. ST. MARTHA'S. 143 Westward thence, a narrow track, Stretches far the bare Hog's-back : Ridging up, with hilly sides, Lo, the bristling Boar divides Right and left a kindred scene, Purple moors and meadows green/ Or those seeming-vineyards wide, Farnham's wealth, and Surrey's pride. Forth from Merroe's happy plain And noble Clandon's rich domain, Newland's heights, and Coombe beyond, And nutty Sherbourne's crystal pond, Eastward to the landscape's end The sloping chalky Downs extend, Primal still, by man untamed, Fresh, unbounded, unreclaim'd: Now a lawn of herbage sweet Smooth as velvet to the feet, Now a jungle, matted dense, A wilderness of briar-fence; Here, an earthwork, fosse and mound; There, a race-course curving round; Hollow'd pits, where in old times Bad marauders hid their crimes: Sad sepulchral groves of yew Solemn ranged in order due, Seeming of primeval birth,' Solid as the ribs of earth, Where white Druids, years of yore, Roain'd those mystic circles o'er, Or calmly kneeling on the sod Wisely worshipped Nature's GOD. 144 ST. MARTHA'S. Yes, modern; would thy pride condemn, Or shall thy wisdom pity them? They built no prisons for the poor, Freely fed from door to door; Their foolish mercy did not strive To give the least that keeps alive, Their charity sought not to know How little poor men need below. But thou, what means yon human pound, Brick'd and barr'd, and well wall'd round? But that to thy shame and scorn Penal poverty may mourn How ill-christen'd liberals prove Words by deeds, and faith by love: For here, unpitied, spurn'd, alone, The British slave must grind and groan, Torn from children, friends, and wife, And buried in the midst of life. Man, thy love is chill and small; O Nature, thou art kind to all : This full wide theatre of views Bathed in Autumn's rainbow hues Recreates my freshen'd sight Soft with shade, and rich with light, And, saved from thoughts of pride and pelfj Restores me to my cheerful self. Let then a lateborn son of Time Shadow forth the Past sublime, And while, the greensward laid along, He weaves his meditative song, Tell what various tribes have trod With various hopes this ancient sod. ST. MARTHA'S. 145 The painted Briton, long of yore, Hunting down the wolf or boar; The Roman watcher, posted here Leaning on his iron spear; The fair-hair'd Angle, piling high Beacon-fires against the sky; With vulture-eyes the hungry Dane .Gloating o'er the fertile plain; Patriot Saxons, who withstood The Norman, conquering for good; Monks, to bless with book and bell; Crusaders, bidding all farewell ; Footsore Pilgrims, hither come Midway from St. Becket's tomb; Round-heads, chaunting rebel prayers; Gay devoted Cavaliers; Rustics, on the Sabbath-day Duly toiling up to pray ; Mourners, weeping round the bier Brought for humble burial here; And thousands, more, in dresses quaint, Than tongue can tell, or pencil paint, Have laugh'd, or wept, or fought their fill, Or lived, or died, on Martyrs' Hill. Martyrs' Hill ! before my mind Rise the triumphs of Mankind; Martyrs' hill ! and to my thought Back the crimes of men are brought: Yea; for on this sacred sod Doubtless perish'd saints of GOD, And Elijah's chariot came Mingling with the martyrs' flame, To bear them from that awestruck crowd In robes of light, on thrones of cloud. 146 ST. MARTHA'S. Then, the seed of holy blood Gave its hundredfold of good; Barbarians heard, and thought, and felt, Glow'd, admired, and mourn'd, and kueltj Their very murderers came in fear To bless the sainted victims here; Penitent, with zealous haste Aloft the rustic temple placed, Keyless arches, rough and round, Spanning high the blood-stain 'd ground, Of iron-sandstone rudely built, Memorial of their grief and guilt. Thereafter, Newark's princely priest Added all this Gothic East, The modest choir and transepts twain, Fitting well the Christian fane, Windows, deck'd in colours rich, The pointed arch and florid niche, Contrast to yon Saxon nave That simply mark'd the martyr's grave. Swept along fate's rolling tide, Generations lived, and died, Thronging in succession there With the sacrifice of prayer : And a Martha's dubious name Half eclipsed that better fame, Symbol of degenerate years When earth usurps our hopes and fearg. Ages came, and ages past; Till the flood of Time at last Wafted on the modern race Loving gain, and hating grace : So we draw to thy decay Silent ruin of to-day, ST. MARTHA'S. 147 An evil day of evil deeds, Selfish sects and wrangling creeds, When faith is dead, and zeal grown cold, And churches can be bought and sold, Or left a prey to rot and rain, For lack of grace, and lust of gain. Ruin, I have loved thee long, And owed for years this humble song; While I pay the grateful debt, Hear me one petition yet. When in GOD'S good time and way I wake upon my dying day, Should I still beneath thee dwell, As my spirit sighs farewell, Let the shadows from thy wall Be my hallow'd funeral pall; Let no city's close church-yard Steal from thee thy native bard; But where now I careless lie Make me welcome when I die: On this thyme-enamell'd height Let me bid the world good-night; Sacred to my memory be All the scene that circles thee; And plant o'er me, in goodwill, A plain stone cross on Martyrs' HilL 148 APPEAL. IflDttL 1840. SHAME on thee, Christian, cold and covetous one 1 The laws (I praise them not for this) declare That ancient, loved, deserted house of prayer As money's worth a layman landlord's own. Then use it as thine own; thy mansion there Beneath the shadow of this ruinous church Stands new and decorate; thine every shed And barn is neat and proper; I might search Thy comfortable farms, and well despair Of finding dangerous ruin overhead, And damp unwholesome mildew on the walls; Arouse thy better self, restore it; see, Through thy neglect the holy fabric falls ! Fear, lest that crushing guilt should fall on thee. ftitailt A. D. 1849. RUIN) Ruin now no more, To th LORD we thus restore Thine old glories, holy place, Consecrate again to grace : Thine old glories shine again, Sculptured stone, and jewell'd pane; As a cross upon the hill, Nave, quire, and aisles are mapp'd out still, And thy Norman tower on high Boldly stands against the sky. REBUILT. 149 Thanks to Him who blesseth us That the Body riseth thus, Thanks to Him ! yet more we need A resurrection rare indeed, In this, and us, the Spirit-part Flaming with a martyr's heart; In old St. Martha's, thus made new, Religion's fervour, pure and true : Send, send that quickening might, GOD of love, and life, and light ! MAT 15, 1850. THE dews of Hermon rest upon thce now, Fair saint and martyr ! and yet once again Faith, hope and charity, like gracious rain, Fall on thy consecrated virgin brow : For lo ! the LORD is with thee, as of yore, And dwelleth in these hallow'd walls once more, Rather, hath never left them; for He heard When in thy desolate gates our earnest vow Rose from this ruin'd altar to His throne, And resolutely were thy children stirr'd Not in thy sad estate, forlorn and lone, To leave thec prayerless, but to win The Word, The living word and sacraments of grace Back to the echoes of this Holy Place. 160 SONNET, FOR ST. ANN*8, ALDERNET. #Bmttt, for It. Sinn's, SUtornnj, CONSECRATED, AUGUST 21, 1850. ARISE, LORD, into thy resting-place, Thou, and thy strength ! Be with thy servants here,- To bless their work in faithfulness come near, For thine is all the glory, all the grace : Add then Thy Presence, and in spirit appear To consecrate this House ! Not unto us, But thanks be giv'n to Thee, that, (as a bride, Apparell'd well to meet her coming LORD In virgin garments meekly purified,) Waiteth for heavenly benediction thus " St. Ann's of Alderney," to heav'n restored ; may that blessing on her sacred brow Like Aaron's holy oil of joy be pour'd Down to her beauteous feet in fulness Now ! iteration. SHALFORD, OCTOBER 29, 1847. LIKE some fair Nun, the pious and the chaste, Shalford, thy new-born temple stands serene, Modestly deck'd in pure old English taste, The village beauty of thy tranquil scene; And we to-day have made religious haste A CONSECRATION. 161 To Bee thee wedded to thy heavenly Spouse, Kneeling in unison of praise and pray'r To help the offering of thy maiden vows : Hark ! what a thrilling utterance is there, "Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates," As GOD'S high priest with apostolic care To HIM this tent of glory consecrates : Good work ! to be remember'd for all time, The seed of mercies endless and sublime. " Come in, thou King of Glory," yea, come in, Rest here awhile, great Conqueror for good ! Bless thou this font to cleanse from Adam's sin, Spread thou this table with celestial food ! And, kindled by Thy grace to gratitude, May thousands here eternal treasures win, As, hither led, from time to time with joy They seek their Father: lo! before mine eyes Visions and promises of good arise, The tender babe baptized, the stripling boy Confirm'd for godliness, the maid and youth Wedded in love, the man mature made wise, The elder taught in righteousness and truth, And each an heir of life before he dies ! 11 rtt. 1845. "A LITTLE more sleep, a little more slumber, A little more folding the hands to sleep," For quick-footed dreams, without order or number, Over my mind are beginning to creep, Rare is the happiness thus to be raptured By your wild whispers, my Fanciful train, And, like a linnet, be carelessly captured In the soft nets of my beautiful brain ! Touch not these curtains ! your hand will be tearing Delicate tissues of thoughts and of things ; Call me not ! your cruel voice will be scaring Flocks of young visions on gossamer wings : Leave me, leave me, for in your rude presence Nothing of all my bright world can remain, Thou art a blight to this garden of pleasance, Thou art a blot on my beautiful brain ! Cease your dull lecture on cares and employment, Let me forget awhile trouble and strife, Leave me to peace, let me husband enjoyment, This is the heart and the marrow of life ! (152) 8 I, O T H . 168 For to my feeling the choicest of pleasures Is to lie thus, without peril or pain, Lazily listening the musical measures Of the sweet voice in my beautiful brain ! Hush, for the halo of calmness is spreading Over my spirit as inild as a dove; Hush, for the angel of comfort is shedding Over my body his vial of love; Hush, for new slumbers are over me stealing, Thus would I court them again and again, Hush, for my heart is intoxicate, reeling In the swift waltz of my beautiful brain ! SUtuntij. OPEN the casement, and up with the Sun ! His gallant journey is just begun; Over the hills his chariot is roll'd, Banner'd with glory, and burnish'd with gold, Over the hills he comes sublime, Bridegroom of Earth, and brother of Time 1 Day hath broken, joyous and fair; Fragrant and fresh is the morning air, Beauteous and bright those orient hues, Balmy and sweet these early dews; 0, there is health, and wealth, and bliss In dawning Nature's motherly kiss ! Lo, the wondering world awakes, With its rosy-tipp'd mountains and gleaming lakes, 164 ACTIVITY. With its fields and cities, deserts and trees, Its calm old cliffs, and its sounding seas, In all their gratitude blessing HIM Who dwelleth between the Cherubim ! Break away boldly from Sleep's leaden chain; Seek not to forge that fetter again; Rather with vigour and resolute nerve, Up, up, to bless man, and thy Master to serve, Thankful, and hopeful, and happy to raise The offering of prayer, and the incense of praise ! Gird thce, and do thy watching well, Duty's Christian sentinel! Sloth and Slumber never had part In the warrior's will, or the patriot's heart; Soldier of GOD on an enemy's shore ! Slumber and sloth thrall thee no more. How gladly would I wander through some strange and savage land, The lasso at my saddle-bow, the rifle in my hand, A leash of gallant mastiffs bounding by my side, And, for a friend to love, the noble horse on which I ride ! Alone, alone yet not alone, for GOD is with me there, The tender hand of Providence shall guide me everywhere, While happy thoughts and holy hopes, as spirits cairn and mild Shall fan with their sweet wings the hermit-hunter of the wild ! Without a guide, yet guided well, young, buoyant, fresh, and free, Without a road, yet all the land a highway unto me, Without a care, without a fear, without a grief or pain, Exultingly I thread the woods, or gallop o'er the plain ! ADVENTURE. 165 Or, brushing through the copse, from his leafy home I start The stately elk, or tusky boar, the bison, or the hart, And then, with e?ger spur, to scour, away, away, Nor stop, until niy dogs have brought the glorious brute to bay ! Or, if the gang of hungry wolves come yelling on my track, I make my ready rifle speak, and scare the cowards back; Or, if the lurkiug leopard's eyes among the branches shine, A touch upon the trigger and his spotted skin is mine ! And then the hunter's savoury fare at tranquil eventide, The dappled deer I shot to-day upon the green hill-side; My feasted hounds are slumbering round beside the watercourse, And plenty of sweet prairie-grass for thee, my noble horse. Hist ! hist ! I heard some prowler snarling in the wood ; f seized my knife and trusty gun, and face to face we stood! The Grizzly Bear came rushing on, and, as he rush'd, he fell! Hie at him, dogs ! my rifle has done its duty well ! Hie at him, dogs ! one bullet cannot kill a foe so grim ; The GOD of battles nerve a Man to grapple now with him, And straight between his hugging arms I plunge my whetted knife, Ha ha ! it splits his iron heart, and drinks the ruddy life ! Frantic struggles welling blood the strife is almost o'er, The shaggy monster, feebly panting, wallows in his gore, Here, lap it hot, my gallant hounds, the blood of foes is sweet ; Here, gild withal your dewlapp'd throats, and wash your brawny feet! So, shall we beard those tyrants in their dens another day, Nor tamely wait, with slavish fear, their coming in the way; And pleasant thoughts of peace and home shall fill our dreama to-night, For lo, the GOD of battles lias help'd us in the fight ! 168 THE SONG OP SIXTEEN. jj* inng nf f iite. WHO shall guess what I may be? Who can tell my fortune to me? For, bravest and brightest that ever was sung May be and shall be the lot of the young ! Hope, with her prizes and victories won, Shines in the blaze of my morning sun, Conquering Hope, with golden ray, Blessing my landscape far away; All my meadows and hills are giceu, And rippling waters glance between, All my skies are rosy bright, Laughing in triumph at yester-night : My heart, ray heart within me swells, Panting, and stirring its hundred wells j For youth is a noble seed, that springs Into the flower of heroes and kings ! Rich in the present, though poor in the past, I yearn for the future, vague and vast; And lo ! what treasure of glorious things Giant Futurity sheds from his wings; Pleasures are there, like dropping balms, And glory and honour with chaplets and palms, And mind well at ease, and gladness, and health, A river of peace, and a mine of wealth ! THE SONG OF SIXTEEN. 157 Away with your counsels, and hinder me not, On, on let me press to my brilliant lot; Young and strong, and sanguine and free, How knowest thou what I may be? /nrtq. AH, poor youth ! in pitiful truth, Thy pride must feel a fall, poor youth : What thou shalt be well have I seen, Thou shalt be only what others have been. Haply, within a few swift years, A mind bow'd down by troubles and fears, The commonest drudge of men and things, Instead of your conquering heroes and kings; Haply, to follies an early wreck, For the cloud of presumption is now like a speck, And with a whelming, sudden sweep The storm of temptation roars over the deep; Lower the sails of pride, rash youth, Stand to the lowly tiller of truth ; Quick, or your limber bark shall be The sport of the winds on a stormy sea. Care and peril in lieu of joy, Guilt and dread may be thine, proud boy: Lo, thy mantling chalice of life Is foaming with sorrow, ami sickness, and strife; 168 FORTY. Cheated by pleasure, and sated with pain, Watching for honour, and watching in vain, Aching in heart, and ailing in head, Wearily earning daily bread. It is well. I discern a tear on thy cheek : It is well, thou art humbled, and silent, and meek Now, courage again ! and, with peril to cope, Gird thee with vigour, and helm thee with hope ! For life, good youth, hath never an ill Which hope cannot scatter, and faith cannot kill; And stubborn realities never shall bind The free-spreading wings of a cheerful mind. j)E inng nf I AM not old, I cannot be old, Though threescore years and ten Have wasted away, like a tale that is told, The lives of other men : I am not old; though friends and foes Alike have gone down to their graves, And left me alone to my joys or my woes, As a rock in the midst of the waves: I am not old, I cannot be old, Though tottering, wrinkled, and grey; Though my eyes are dim, and my marrow is cold, Call me not old to-day. THE SONG OF SEVENTY. 159 For, early memories round me throng, Old times, and manners, and men, As I look behind on my journey so long Of threescore miles and ten; I look behind, and am once more young, Buoyant, and brave, and bold, And my heart can sing, as of yore it sung, Before they call'd me old. I do not see her the old wife there Shrivell'd, and haggard, and grey, But I look on her blooming, and soft, and fair, As she was on her wedding-day : I do not see you, daughters and sons, In the likeness of women and men, But I kiss you now as I kissed you once, My fond little children then : And, as my own grandson rides on my knee, Or plays with his hoop or kite, I can well recollect I was merry as he The bright-eyed little wight ! 'Tis not long since, it cannot be long, My years so soon were spent, Since I was a boy, both straight and strong, Yet now am I feeble and bent. A dream, a dream, it is all a dream ! A strange, sad dream, good sooth; For old as I am, and old as I seem, My heart is full of youth : 160 THE SONG OF SEVENTY. Eye hath not seen, tongue hath not told, And car hath not heard it sung, How buoyant and bold, though it seem to grow old, Is the heart, for ever young; For ever young, though life's old age Hath every nerve unstrung; The heart, the heart is a heritage That keeps the old man young! JJute's AWAY with false Fashion, so calm and so chill, Where pleasure itself cannot please; Away with cold breeding, that faithlessly still Affects to be quite at its ease; For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank, The freest is first of the band, And nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, Is a man with his heart in his hand! Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just, He warmly can love, and can hate, Nor will he bow down with his face in the dust To Fashion's intolerant state : For best in good breeding, and highest in rank, Though lowly or poor in the land, Is Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, The man with his heart in his hand ! His fashion is passion, sincere and intense, His impulses, simple and true, Yet temper'd by judgment, and taught by good sense, And cordial with me, and with you : NATURE'S NOBLEMAN. iei For the finest in manners, as highest in rank, It is you, man ! or you, man ! who stand Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, A man with his heart in his hand ! gin? up ! NEVER give up ! it is wiser and better Always to hope, than once to despair j Fling off the load of Doubt's heavy fetter, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care : Never give up ! or the burthen may sink you, Providence kindly has mingled the cup, And in all trials or troubles, bethink you, The watchword of life must be, Never give up! Never give up ! there are chances and changes Helping the hopeful a hundred to one, And through the chaos High Wisdom arranges Ever success, if you '11 only hope on : Never give up ! for the wisest is boldest, Knowing that Providence mingles the cup, And of all maxims the best, as the oldest, Is the true watchword of Never give up ! Never give up! though the grape-shot may rattle, Or the full- thunder-cloud over you burst, Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle Little shall harm you, though doing their worst: Never give up! if adversity presses, Providence wisely has mingled the cup, And the best counsel, in all your distresses, Is the stout watchword of Never give up ! 162 THE SUN. nn. BLAME not, ye million worshippers of gold Modern idolators their works and ways, When Asia's children, in the times of old, Knelt to the sun, outpouring prayer and praise As to GOD'S central throne; for when the blaze Of that grand eye is on me, and I stand Watching its majesty with painful gaze, I too could kneel among that Persian band, Had not the Architect of yon bright sphere Taught me Himself; bidding me look above, Beneath, around, and still to find Him here ! King of the heart, dwelling in no fixt globe, But gladly throned within the spirit of love, Wearing that -light ethereal as a robe. I KNOW thee not, Moon, thou cavern'd realm, Sad satellite, a giant ash of death, Where cold, alternate, and the sulphurous breath Of ravaging volcanoes, overwhelm All chance of life like ours, art thou not Some fallow world, after a reaping time Of creatures' judgment, resting in thy lot? Or haplier must I take thee for the blot On GOD'S fair firmament, the home of crime, The prison-house of sin, where damned souls Feed upon punishment? thought sublime, That, amid Night's black deeds, when evil prowls Through the broad world, then, watching sinners well, Glares over all the wakeful eye of Hell! THE STARS. 168 Cjjf Stars. FAR-FLAMING stars, ye sentinels of Space, Patient and silent ministers around Your Queen, the Moon, whose melancholy face Seems ever pale with pity and grief profound For sinful Earth, I, a poor groveller here, A captive Eagle chain'd to this dull ground, Look up and love your light in hope and fear; Hope, that among your myriad host is one, A kingdom for my spirit, a bright place Where I shall reign when this short race is run, An heir of joy, and glory's mighty son ! Yet, while I hope, the fear will freeze my brain What if indeed for worthless me remain No waiting sceptre, no predestined throne ? HENCE, doubts of darkness ! I am not mine own, But ransom'd by the King of that bright host: In him my just humility shall boast, And claim through him that sceptre and that throne. Yes, world of light, when by the booming sea At eve I loiter on this shingly coast, In seeming idleness, I gaze on thee, (I know not which but one,) fated to be My glorious heritage, my heavenly home, A temple and a paradise for me, Whence my celestial form at will may roam To other worlds, unthought and unexplored, Whose atmosphere is bliss and liberty, The palaces and gardens of the LORD I 164 FORGIVE AND FORGET. /nrgin? nnit /orgrt. WHEN streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall, Bubble up from the heart to the tongue, And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall, By the hands of Ingratitude wrung, In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair, While the anguish is festering yet, None, none but an angel or God can declare "I now can forgive and forget." But, if the bad spirit is chased from the heart, And the lips are in penitence steep'd, With the wrong so repented the wrath will depart, Though scorn on injustice were heap'd; For the best compensation is paid for all ill, When the cheek with contrition is wet, And every one feels it is possible still At once to forgive and forget. To forget? It is hard for a man with a mind, However his heart may forgive, To blot out all insults and evils behind, And but for the future to live: Then how shall it be? for at every turn Recollection the spirit will fret, And the ashes of injury smoulder and burn, Though we strive to forgive and forget. Oh, hearken ! my tongue shall the riddle unseal, And mind shall be partner with heart, While thee to thyself I bid conscience reveal, And show thee how evil thou art: FOROIVEANDFOKQET. 166 Remember thy follies, thy sins, and thy crimes, How vast is that infinite debt! Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times Been swift to forgive and forget ! Brood not on insults or injuries old, For thou art injurious too, Count not their sum till the total is told, For thou art unkind and untrue : And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven, Now mercy with justice is met, Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of heaven, Nor learn to forgive and forget? Yes, yes; let a man, when his enemy weeps, Be quick to receive him a friend; For thus on his head in kindness he heaps Hot coals, to refine and amend; And hearts that are Christian more eagerly yearn, As a nurse on her innocent pet, Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn And whisper, Forgive and forget. Btnfr to mt a lunghm is." EUREKA ! this is truth sublime, Defying change, outwrcstling time Eureka! well that truth is told, Wisely spake the bard of old Eureka ! there is peace and praise In this short and simple phrase, A sea of comforts, wide and deep, Wherein my conscious soul to steep, MY MIND 8 KINGDOM. A hoard of happy-making wealth To doat on, miserly, by stealth, Through Time my reason's ripest fruit, For all eternity its root, Earth's harvest, and the seed of heaven, To me, to me, by mercy given! Yes, Eureka, I have found it, And before the world will sound it; This remains, and still shall stay When life's gauds have past away, This of old my treasure-truth, The bosom joy that warni'd my youth, My happiness in manhood's prime, My triumph down the stream of time, Till death shall lull this heart in age, And deathless glory crown my page, My grace-born truth and treasure this, "My mind to me a kingdom is." Noble solace, true and strong, Great reward for human wrong, With an inward blessing still To compensate all earthly ill, To recompense for adverse fates, Woes, or wants, or scorns, or hates, To cherish, after man's neglect, When foes deride, and friends suspect, To soothe and bless the spirit bow'd Down by the selfish and the proud, To lift the soul above this scene Of petty troubles trite and mean, there is moral might in this, " My mind to me a kingdom is." MY MIND'S KINGDOM. 167 Carve it deep, with letters bold, In the imperishable gold, Grave it on some primal rock That hath stood the earthquake shock, Make that word a citizen Dwelling in the hearts of men, Stamp it on the printed page, Sound it in the ears of age, Gladden sympathising youth With the soft music of this truth, This echo'd note of heavenly bliss, " My mind to me a kingdom is." Ay, chide or scorn, I will be proud, I am not of the common crowd; No serf is here to outward things, He rules with chiefs ! he reigns with kings ! Tell out thy secret joys, my mind, Free and fearless as the wind, And pour the triumphs of the soul In words that like a river roll, Foaming on with vital force From their ever-gushing source, Fountains of truth, that overwhelm With swollen streams this royal realm, And in Nilotic richness steep My heart's Thebaid, rank and deep ! Or bolder, as my thoughts inspire, Change that water into fire ! From the vext bowels of my soul Lava currents roar and roll, Bursting out in torrent wide Through my crater's ragged side, Rushing on from field to field Till all with boiling stone is seal'd, And my hot thoughts, in language pent, Stand their own granite monument ! 168 MY MIND'S KINGDOM. Yes! all the elements are mine, To crush, create, dissolve, combine, All mine, the confidence is just, On GOD I ground my high-born trust To stand, when pole is rent from pole, Calm in my majesty of soul, Watching the throes of this wreck 'd world, When from their thrones the Alps are hurl'd, When fire consumes earth, sea and air, To stand, unharm'd, undaunted there, And grateful still to boast in thjs, "My mind to me a kingdom is." Brother poet, dead so long, Heed these echoes to thy song, And love me now, where'er thou art, Yearning with magnetic heart From thy throne in some bright sphere On this poor brother, grovelling here : For I too, I, can stoutly sing I am every inch a king! A king of Thought, a Potentate Of glorious spiritual state, A king of Thought, a king of Mind, Realms unmapp'd and undefined, A King! beneath no Man's control, Invested with a royal soul, Crown'd by GOD'S imperial hand Before Him as a King to stand, And by His wisdom train'd and taught To rule my realms as King of Thought. thoughts, how ill my fellow-men, O thoughts, how scantly my poor pen Can guess or tell the myriad host Wherewith you crowd my kingdom's coast! MY MIND'S KINGDOM. 109 For I am hemm'd and throng'd about With your triumphant rabble-rout, Hurried along by that mad flood, The joy-excited multitude, A conqueror, borne upon the foam Of his great people's gladness home, A monarch in his grandest state, On whom a thousand thousand wait ! Lo, they come my Tribes of Thought, Fierce and flush'd and fever-fraught! From the horizon all around I hear with pride their coming sound; See ! their banners circling near, Glittering groves of shield and spear. Flying clouds of troopers gay, Serried lines in dark array, Veterans calm with temper'd sword, And a dishevell'd frantic horde, On they come with furious force, Tramping foot, and thundering horse, On they come, converging loud, With clanging arms, a glorious crowd, Shouting impatient, fierce and free, For me their Monarch, yea, for me! Then, in my majesty and power, I quell the madness of the hour, Bid that tumultuous turmoil cease, And frown my multitudes to peace. Each to his peril and his post! All hush'd throughout my mighty host: Courage clear and duty stern, Heads that freeze and hearts that burn; Marshall'd straight in order due, Legions i pass in swift review, no MY MIND'S KINGDOM. Bending to my blazon'd Will, Loyal to that standard still, And hailing me with homage then King of Thoughts and thus, of Men! What? am I powerless to control Nations, by my single soul? What? have I not made thousands thrill By the mere impulse of my will, When the strong Thought goes forth, and binds Captive a wondering herd of minds? And is not this to reign alone More than the ermine and the throne, The jewell'd state, the gilded rooms, The mindless jay in peacock plumes? Yes, if the inmate soul outweighs Its dull clay house in power and praise, Yes, if Eternity be true, And Time both false and fleeting too, Then, humbler kings, my boast be this, "My mind to me a kingdom is." And what, though weak and slow of speech, 111 to comfort, dull to teach ? What, though hiding from the ken Of my small prying fellow-men, Still within my musing mind Wisdom's secret stores I find, And, little noticed, sweetly feed On hidden manna, meat indeed, Blessed thoughts I never told Unconsider'd, uncontroll'd, Rushing by as thick and fast As autumn leaves upon the blast, Or better like the gracious rain Dropping on some thirsty plain. MY MIND'S KINGDOM. And is not this to be a king, To carry in my heart a spring Of ceaseless pleasures, deep and pure, Wealth cannot buy, nor power procure? Yea, by the poet's artless art, And the sweet searchings of his heart, By his unknown unheeded bliss, " My mind to me a kingdom is." Place me on some desert shore Foot of man ne'er wander'd o'er; Lock me in a lonely cell Beneath some prison citadel; Still, here or there, within I find My quiet kingdom of the Mind : Nay, mid the tempest fierce and dark, Float me on peril's frailest bark, My quenchless soul could sit and think And smile at danger's dizziest brink: And wherefore? GOD, my GOD, is still King of kings in good and ill, And where He dwelleth everywhere Safety supreme and peace are there; And where He reigneth all around Wisdom, and love, and power are found, And reconciled to Him and bliss, " My mind to me a kingdom is." Thus for my days; each waking hour Grand with majesty and power, Every minute rich in treasure, Gems of peace and pearls of pleasure. And for my nights those wondrous nights ! How manifold my Mind's delights, When the young truant, gladly caught In its own labyrinths of thought, 172 MYMIND'SKINGDOM. Finds there another realm to range, The dynasties of Chance and Change. dreams, what know I not of dreams? Their name, their very essence, seems A tender light, not dark nor clear, A sad sweet mystery wild and dear, A dull soft feeling unexplain'd, A lie half true, a truth half feign'd; dreams, what know I not of dreams? "When Reason, with inebriate gleams, Looses from his wise control The prancing Fancies of the soul, And sober Judgment, slumbering still, Sets free Caprice to guide the Will. Within one night have I not spent Years of adventurous banishment, Strangely groping like the blind In the dark caverns of my mind? Have I not dwelt, from eve till morn, Lifetimes in length for praise or scorn, With fancied joys, ideal woes, And all sensation's warmest glows, Wondrously thus expanding Life Through seeming scenes of peace or strife, Until I verily reign sublime, A great creative king of Time? And there are people, things, and places, Usual themes, familiar faces, A second life, that looks as real As this dull world's own unideal, Another life of dreams by night, That, still forgotten, wanes in light, Yet seems itself to wake and sleep, And in that sleep dreams doubly deep, While those same dreams may dream anon, Tangled mazes wandering on ! MY MIND'S KINGDOM. 178 * ** Yes, I have often, weak and worn, Feebly waked at earliest morn, As a shipwreck'd sailor, tost By the wild waves on some rough coast, Of perils past remembering nought But some dim cataracts of thought, And only roused betimes to know That yesterday seems years ago ! And I can apprehend full well What old Pythagoras could tell Of other scenes, and other climes, And other Selfs in other times; For, oft my consciousness has reel'd With scores of "Richmonds in the field/' As, multiform, with no surprise, I see myself in other guise, And wonderless walk side by side With mine own soul, self-multiplied 1 If it be royal then to reign Over an infinite domain, If it be more than monarch can To lengthen out the life of man, Yea, if a godlike thing it be To revel in ubiquity, Is there but empty boast in this, " My mind to me a kingdom is ?" Peace, rash fool; be proud no more, Count thy faults and follies o'er, Turn aside, and note within Thy secret charnel-house of Sin, Thy bitter heart, thy covetous mind, Evil thoughts, and words unkind : Can BO foul aud mean a thing Reign a spiritual King? 174 MY MIND'S KINGDOM. Art thou not yea thou, myself, In hope a slave to pride and pelf? Art thou not, yea thou, my mind, Weak and naked, poor and blind? Yea, be humble; yea, be still; Meekly bow that rebel Will; Seek not selfishly for praise; Go more softly all thy days; For to thee belongs no power, Wretched insect of an hour, And if GOD, in bounteous dole, Hath grafted life upon thy soul, Know thou, there is out of Him Nor light in mind, nor might in limb; And, but for One, who from the grave Of sin and death stood forth to save, Thy mind, that royal mind of thine, So great, ambitious, and divine, Would but a root of anguish be, A madness and a misery, A bitter fear, a hideous care All too terrible to bear, Kingly, but king of pains and woes, The sceptred slave to throbs and throes! Justly then, my GOD, to Thee, My royal soul shall bend the knee, My royal soul, Thy glorious breath, By Thee set free from guilt and death, Before Thy majesty bows down, Offering the homage of her crown, Well pleased to sing in better bliss, "My GOD to me a kingdom is." TABBING CHURCH. 176 1844. MOTHER, beneath fair Tarring's heavenward spire, Where in old years thy youthful vows were paid, When GOD had granted thee thy heart's desire, And she went forth a wife, who came a maid, With mindful steps thus wisely have we stray'd, Full of deep thoughts : for where that sacred fire Of Love was kindled, in the self-same spot, Thou, and the dear companion of thy lot, Thy helpmate all those years, mine honour'd sire, To-day have found fulfill'd before your eyes The promise of old time; look round and see Your children's children ! lo, these babes arise, And call you blessed : Blessed both be ye ! And in your blessing bless ye these, and me. ${p sura*. June 29, 1848. FOR memories, and prayer, and pious thought Of days departed, and the dear ones dead, Tarring, once more thy sacred walls I sought : So, to some native spot, some genial bed, The botanist goes forth to seek and find His curious fern or lichen; so, my mind In melancholy pleasure wisely taught Culls here its rarest weed : with tender care Gather it up and store it. Years ago From this old choir a young and loving pair Went out just wedded ; and the glittering show Of pleasure, wealth, and promise glad and gay, Pass'd through these portals ; GOD was with you there, My Father and my Mother! these were They. 178 THE SAME PLACE ANDDAY. Cjje sum? tyim unit Smj. MOTHER ! this day, one little year agone, Thy spirit pass'd from pain to pcacefulness ; Look down then in thy love, and smile upon My duteous pilgrimage; look down and bless In thine own tender love of old, thy son. For in this spot, where on thy bridal-dress The villagers threw flowers, now my heart, To honour thee, where'er in bliss thou art, Pours forth its deep libation. Many years Have sped away, and thou, the blushing bride, After long sojourn down this vale of tears With him thy lover ever at thy side, Didst reap the promise of that word to thee Fulfill'd, " Thy children's children thou shalt see." gomrct, n a SBirtjj. AT length, a dreary length of many years, God's favour hath shone forth ! and blest thee well, handmaid of the Lord, for all thy tears, For all thy prayers, and hope, and faith and fears, With that best treasure of consummate joy A childless wife alone can fully tell How sorely long withheld her first-born boy: This blessing is from heav'n; to heav'n once more, Another Hannah with her Samuel, Render thou back the talent yielding ten, A spirit, train'd right early to adore, A heart, to yearn upon its fellow-men, A being, meant and made for endless heaven, This, give to GOD : this, GOD to thee hath given. DUTY. 177 PEABLS before swine : this is an old complaint ; In very humbleness, and not in pride The spirit feels it true; yet makes a feint To rest with man's neglect well satisfied, And have its wealth of words, its stores of thought, Despised or unregarded : woe betide The heart that lives on praise ! considering nought Of Duty's royal edicts, that command Thy talents to be lent, thy lamp to shine : Soul, be not faint; nor, body, stay thy hand; Heed only this, not whether those be swine, But whether these be pearls, precious and pure; That so, whatever fate the world make thine, With GOD for Judge, thy guerdon be secure. mstl FOR MUSIC. THERE is a time for praising, And a better time for pray'r, The heart its anthem raising, Or uttering its care : One minute is for smiling, Another for the tear, Hope, by turns, beguiling, Or her haggard brother, Fear. 178 COUNSEL. But, if in joy thou praiscst The generous Hand that gave, And if in woe thou raisest The pray'r that He may save; Thy griefs shall seem all pleasure As the chidings of a Friend, And thy joy's ecstatic measure A beginning without end! 1mm, FOR MUSIC. I NEVER left the place that knew me, And may never know me more, Where the cords of kindness drew me, And have gladden'd me of yore, But my secret soul has smarted With a feeling full of gloom For the days that are departed And the place I call'd my Home. I am not of those who wander Unaffection'd here and there, But my heart must still be fonder Of my sites of joy or care ; And I point sad memory's finger (Though my faithless foot may roam) Where I've most been made to linger In the place I call'd my Home. .BYEGONES. 179 FOR MUSIC. "LET byegones be byegones," they foolishly say, And bid me be wise and forget them; But old recollections are active to-day, And I can do nought but regret them : Though the present be pleasant, all joyous and gay, And promising well for the morrow, I love to look back on the years past away, Embalming my byegones in sorrow. If the morning of life has a mantle of grey, Its noon will be blyther and brighter; If March has its storm, there is sunshine in May, And light out of darkness is lighter : Thus the present is pleasant, a cheerful to-day, With a wiser, a soberer gladness, Because it is tinged with the mellowing ray Of a yesterday's sunset of sadness. Hal*, Britannia! A STIRRING SONG FOR PATRIOTS, IN THE TZAR 1860. To the tune of "Who wouldna fight for Charlie 1" RISE ! ye gallant youth of Britain, Gather to your co-.ntry's call, On your hearts her i^n is written, Rise to help he 0/ and all ! \ 180 RULE, BRITANNIA. , Cast away each feud and faction, Brood not over wrong nor ill, Rouse your virtues into action, For we love our country still, Hail, Britannia ! hail, Britannia ! Haise that thrilling shout once more, Rule, Britannia! Rule, Britannia, Conqueror over sea and shore ! France is coming, full of bluster, Hot to wipe away her stain, Therefore, brothers, here we muster Just to give it her again ! And if foeman, blind with fury, Dare to cross our ocean-gulf, Wait not then for judge nor jury, Shoot them as you would a wolf! For Britannia, just Britannia, Claims our chorus as before, Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia, Conqueror over sea and shore. They may writhe, for we have gall'd thttm With our guns in every clime, They may hate us, for we called them Serfs and subjects in old time ! Boasting Gaul, we calmly scorn you As old JEsop's bull the frogs, Come and welcome ! for, we warn you, We shall fling you to our dogs ! For Britannia, our Britannia, Thunders with a lion's roar, Rule, Britan ia! Rule, Britannia 1 Conque-or ;* sea and shore. RULE, BRITANNIA. See, uprear'd our holy standard ! Crowd around it, gallant hearts ! What? should Britain's fame be slandered As by fault on our parts? Let the rabid Frenchman threaten, Let the mad invader come, We will hunt them out of Britain, Or can die for hearth and home ! For Britannia, dear Britannia Wakes our chorus evermore, Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia ! Conqueror over sea and shore. Rise then, patriots ! name endearing, Flock from Scotland's moors and dales, From the green glad fields of Erin, From the mountain homes of Wales, Hi BE ! for sister England calls you, RISE ! our commonweal to serve, RISE ! while now the song enthralls you, Thrilling every vein and nerve, Hail, Britannia ! hail, Britannia ! Conquer, as thou didst of yore ! Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia ! Over every sea and shore. 182 THE EMIGRANT SHIP. (Emigrant FOR HCSIC. FAR away, far away, The emigrant ship must sail to-day: Cruel ship, to look so gay Bearing the exiles far away. Sad, and sore, sad and sore, Many a fond heart bleeds at the core : Cruel dread, to meet no more, Biter sorrow, sad and sore. Many years, many years, At best will they battle with perils and fears: Cruel pilot, for he steers The exiles away for many years. Long ago, long ago! For the days that are gone their tears shall flow! Cruel hour, to tear them so From all they cherish'd long ago. Fare ye well, fare ye well! To joy and to hope it sounds as a knell: Cruel tale it were to tell How the exile sighs farewell. Far away, far away ! Is there indeed no hope to-day? Cruel and false it were to say There are no pleasures far away. THE EMIGRANT SHIP. 183 Far away, far away! Every night and every day Kind and wise it were to pray, GOD be with them far away ! nf I HAVE achieved a tower of fame More durable than gold, And loftier than the royal frame Of Pyramids of old, Which none inclemencies of clime, Nor fiercest winds that blow, Nor endless change, nor lapse of Shall ever overthrow! I cannot perish utterly: The brighter part of me Must live and live and never die, But baffle Death's decree ! For I shall always grow, and spread My new-blown honours still, Long as the priest and vestal tread The Capitolian hill. I shall be sung, where thy rough waves, My native river, foam, And where old Daunus scantly laves And rules his rustic home ; As chief and first I shall be sung, Though lowly, great in might To tune my country's heart and tongue, And tune them both aright. 1:5 184 THE ASSURANCE OF HO 11 ACE. Thou then, my soul, assume thy state, And take thine honours due; Be proud, as thy deserts are great, To thine own praise be true ! Thou too, celestial Muse, coine down, And with kind haste prepare The laurel for a Delphic crown To weave thy Poet's hair. HOR. Od. XXX. lib. Hi t teuranrB nf (Duft. Now have I done my work! which not Jove's ire Can make undone, nor sword, nor time, nor fire. Whene'er that day, whose only powers extend Against this body, my brief life shall end, Still in my better portion evermore Above the stars undying shall I soar! My name shall never die : but through all time, Wherever Rome shall reach a conquer' d clime, There, in that people's tongue, shall this my page Be read and glorified from age to age; Yea, if the bodings of my spirit give True note of inspiration, I shall live ! OVID. Mel. subfinem. fost-STrtto. LOTTERY tickets every day, And ever drawn a blank : Yet none the less we pant and pray For prizes in that bank: POST-LETTERS. 186 Morn by mom, and week by week, They cheat us, or amuse, Whilst on we fondly hope, and seek Some stirring daily news. The heedless postman on his path Is scattering joys and woes; He bears the seeds of life and death, And drops them as he goes! I never note him trudging near Upon his common track, But all my heart is hope, or fear, "With visions bright, or black! I hope what hope I not ? vague things Of wondrous possible good; I dread as vague imaginings, A very viper's brood : Fame's sunshine, fortune's golden dews May now be hovering o'er, Or the pale shadow of ill news Be cowering at my door! Mystery, master-key to life, Thou spring of every hour, 1 love to wrestle in thy strife, And tempt thy perilous power; I love to know that none can know What this day may bring forth, What bliss for me, for me what woe Is travailing in birth ! See, on my neighbour's threshold stands Yon careless common man, Bearing, perchance, in those coarse hands My Being's alter'd plan! 186 POST-LETTERS. My germs of pleasure, or of pain, Of trouble, or of peace, May there lie thick as drops of rain DistilTd from Gideon's fleece! Who knoweth? may not loves be dead, Or those we loved laid low, Who knoweth? may not wealth be fled, And all the world my foe? Or who can tell if Fortune's hour (Which once on all doth shine) Be not within this morning's dower, A prosperous morn of mine ? Ah, cold Reality! in spite Of hopes, and endless chance, That bitter postman, ruthless wight, Has cheated poor Romance : No letters! the dreary phrase: Another day forlorn : And thus I wend upon my ways To watch another morn. Cease, babbler ! let those doub tings cease : What? should a son of heaven With the pure manna of his Peace Mix up this faithless leaveu? Not so ! for in the hands of GOD, And in none earthly will, Abides alike my staff, and rod, My good, and seeming ill. ADVICE. 187 flfaitt. MAKE haste, make haste, ray prudent little friends! You lag behind the world, both blind and halt, For your own credit leave off finding fault, And wisely bustle up to make amends : Look you ! time was, when even such small salt As your encouragement and speaking fair Would have been prized and grateful; savouring well The taste of bitterness, the touch of care The proud young spirit felt, but scorn'd to tell, When, keenly sensitive of man's despite, While conscious that from kinder Heav'n above A gift had been vouchsafed of purest light, That spirit coveted your looks of love, And yearn'd around, and ye refused his Eight. YET were there other some, the generous few Kindly prophetic, helping with their praise Balmy and precious as the morning dew Or early sunshine in those anxious days : All thanks, all thanks ! I now can shine on you ; And love you for the love that linger'd not Till honour and success hath wreath 'd my pen, Till GOD had seal'd to me a blessed lot, That pleasant heritage, the hearts of men. All thanks, ye noble souls ! Behold, the rill Your dewy praise did graciously distil Soon gather'd to a stream, and swelling then Grew to a river, and that river w^e Far out to sea now rolls its ceaseless tide. 188 SOCIETY. Inrirtij. ALAS, we do but act; we are not free: The presence of another is a chain My trammell'd spirit strives to break, in vain How strangely different myself from me ! Thoughtful in solitude, serenely blest, Crown'd and enthroned in mental majesty, Equal to all things great, and daring all, I muse of mysteries, and am at rest: But in the midst, some dull intruded guest Topples me from my heights, holding in thrall With his hard eye the traitor in my breast, That before humbler intellects is cow'd, Silently shrinking from the common crowd, And only with the highest self-possest. Etui, null tjje Stonl. JATTER, unlit by love, unlink'd to Mind, Never hath reached the poet's inner heart: Tho' the strong magic of his plastic art With Prospero's own power avails to bind Caliban's husk to play its coarser part Of dutiful captivity to Thought, Yet, to seek sympathy, and seeking find Where'er in human or divine he ought, Herein is found his joy ! Think it not strange If Nature's most sublime or beauteous form, Some pastoral vale, or snowy mountain range, Or cataract, or lake, or tropic storm, Rouse not the soul^ike actions great or kind; Those charm mine eyes, but these my spirit warm. ORIGINAL PROLOGUE. 180 (Driginol ^rolognr, TO ANONTMOUS POEMS. MY heart presents her gift : in turn, of thee I ask a little time, an idle hour, Kindly to spend with these ray thoughts and me, Wooing the fragrance of the Muses' bower: Not without crest or coat, yet nameless now, As one to earn his spurs, and prove his power, A candidate unknown, with vizor'd brow, Bearing no charge upon mine argent shield, Full of young hopes, I dare the tented field ! Not so: this is no time for measuring swords; Thou art no craven, though thy spirit yield, For yonder are fair looks, and friendly words: Choose a more peaceful image : here reveal'd, Taste a small sample of my humble hoards. ARE there no sympathies, no loves between us? Is my hope vain? I have not vext thee long, Nor lent thee thoughts from GOD and good that wean us; Nor given thee words that warp from right to wrong: And if, at times, my too triumphant song Hath secm'd self-praise, doth it indeed demean us, That when a man feels hotly at his heart The quick spontaneous fire of thoughts and words, He will not play the hypocrite's ill part, Flinging aside the meed liis mind affords? No! with all gratitude and humbleness I claim mine own ; nor cnn affect to scorn A gift, of my Creator's goodness bom, His grace to give, my plry to possess. THE NEW YEAB. tattmiuf, rtr. PUBLISHED IN 1848. THE old man he is dead, young heir, And gone to his long account; Come, stand on his hearth, and sit in his chair, And into his saddle mount! The old man's face was a face to be fear'd, But thine both loving and gay; O who would not choose for that stern white beard, A bright young cheek alway? The old man he had outlived them all, His friends, he said, were gone; But hundreds are wassailing now in the hall, And true friends every one ! The old man moan'd both sore and long Of pleasures past, he said ; But pleasures to come are the young heir's song, The living, not the dead! The old man babbled of old regrets, Alack ! how much he owed : But the young heir has not a feather of debts His heart withal to THE NEW YEAR. 191 The old man used to shudder, and seem Remembering secret sin; But the happy young heir is as if in a dream, Paradise all within! Alas! for the old man, where is he now? And fear for thyself, young heir; For he was innocent once as thou, As ruddy and blythe and fair: Reap wisdom from his furrow'd face, Cull counsel from his fear; speed thee, young heir, in gifts and in grace^ And blessings on thee, New Year! Hl'0 for % tot! ALL'S for the best! be sanguine and cheerful, Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise, Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful, Courage for ever is happy and wise : All for the best, if a man would but know it Providence wishes us all to be blest, This is no dream of the pundit 'or poet, Heaven is gracious, and All's for the beet! All for the best! set this on your standard, Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love, Who to the shores of Despair may have wander'd, A waywearied swallow, or heartstricken dove: 102 ALL'S FOB THE BEST. All for the best ! be a man but confiding, Providence tenderly governs the rest, And the frail bark of His creature is guiding Wisely and warily all for the best All for the best ! then fling away terrors, Meet all your fears and your foes in the van, And in the midst of your dangers or errors Trust like a child, while you strive like a man All's for the best! unbiass'd, unbounded, Providence reigns from the East to the West; And, by both wisdom and mercy surrounded, Hope and be happy that All 's for the best ! WORLD of sorrow, care, and change, Even to myself I seem, As adown thy vale I range, Wanderiug in a dream : All things are so strange. For, the dead who died this day, Fair and young, or great and good, Though we mourn them, where are they? With those before the flood j Equally past away ! Living hearts have scantly time To feel some other heart most dear, Scarce can love the love sublime Unselfishly sincere, Death nips it in its prime ! THE DIDDLE READ. 193 Minds have hardly power to learn How much there is to know aright, Can dimly through the mist discern Some little glimpse of light, The order is, Return! Willing hands but just begin Wisely to work for GOD and man, And some poor wages barely win As one who well began, The Master calls, Come in ! Well, this is well : for well begun Is all the good man here may do, He cannot hope to see half done; A furlong is crept through, And lo, the goal is won ! This is the life of sight and sense, And other brighter lives depend On all we here can just commence; But long before an end GOD calls his servant hence. Take courage, courage : not in vain The Ruler hath appointed thus; Account it neither grief nor pain His mercy sparcth us It is the labourer's gain. Here we begin to love and know ; And when GOD'S willing grace perceives The plant of Heav'n hath roots to grow, He plucks the ranker leaves, And doth transplant it so ! 194 OLD HAUNTS (Dili Jtonnto. FOR MUSIC. I LOVE to linger on my track Wherever I have dwelt and parted, In after years to loiter back, And feel as once I felt, young-hearted I My foot falls lightly on the sward, Yet leaves a deathless dint behind it, With tenderness I still regard Its unforgotten print, to find it ! Old places have a charm for me The new can ne'er possess, for ever, Old faces how I long to see Those looks that here can bless me never I Yet, these are gone : while all around Is changing with each changing hour, I'll anchor on the solid ground And root my memories there in power! SBnttU nf A MILITARY BALLAD. YE children of the veterans Who fought for faithless Spain, And for ungrateful Portugal Pour'd out their blood like rain,- Come near me, and hear me, For I would tell you well How gallantly your fathers fought, Or gloriously they fell! THE BATTLE OF ROLEIA. 195 I sing Roleia's bloody strife, The first of many frays, When iron Wellesley led us on Invincible always; Roleia gay and evergreen, Festoon'd with vines and flowers, Roleia, scorch'd and blood-bedew'd, And half that blood was ours I The seventeenth of August It shone out bright and clear, And still we press'd the Frenchman's flank, And hung upon his rear; From Brilos and Obidos Had we driven the bold Laborde, And now among the mountain rocks We sought him with the sword! All golden is the plain with wheat, All purple are the hills With luscious vineyards ripe and sweet, And laced with crystal rills; Yet must the rills run down with gore, The corn be trampled red, Before Roleia's threshing-floor Is glutted with her dead! cheerily the bugles spoke, And all our hearts beat high When over Monte Junto broke The sun upon the sky; Right early from Obidos We gladly sallied then A goodly host, in columns three, Of fourteen thousand men. 196 THE BATTLE OF KoLKJA. Brave Ferguson led on the left, And Trant the flanking right, With iron Arthur in the midst, The focus of the fight ; And fast by Wellesley's gallant side The Oaufurd rode amain, And Hill, the British soldier's pride, And Nightingale, and Fane. Crouching like a tiger, In his high and rocky lair, The Frenchman howl'd and show'd his teeth, And wish'd he wasn't there; For Craufurd, Hill, and Nightingale Flew at him as he lay, And up our gallant fellows sprang As bloodhounds on the prey. And look ! we hunt the bold Labor Jc To Zambugeira's height, While Trant with Fane and Ferguson Outflank him left and right j And then with cheers we charge the front, With cheers the foe reply, No child's play was that battle brunt, We swore to win or die ! Rattled loud the musket's roar, We struggled man to man, The rugged rocks were wash'd in gore, With gore the gullies ran ! Fiercely through those mountain paths Our bloody way we force, And find in strength upon the heights The Frenchman, foot and horse: THE BATTLE OF EOLEIA. 197 Ah, then, my Ninth, and Twenty-ninth, Your courage was too hot, For down on your disorder'd ranks Secure they pour the shot; But all their horse and foot and guns Could never make you fly, The losing Frenchman fights and runs, But Britons fight and die ! Up to the rescue, Ferguson! And keep the hard-fought hill; Their chiefs are pick'd off, one by one, And lo, they rally still; They rally, and rush stoutly on, The bold Laborde gives way, The day is lost ! the day is won ! And ours is the day ! Then well retreating sage and slow Alternately in mass With charging horse, the wily foe Gains Runa's rocky pass; And left us thus Roleia's field, With other fields in store, Vimiera, Torres Vedras, And half a hundred more 1 How many years are fled, How many friends are dead : Alas, how fast The past hath past, How speedily life hath spedl 19? RETROSPECT. Places, that knew me of yore, Know me for theirs no more; And sore at the change Quite strange I range Where I was at home before. Thoughts and things each day Seem to be fading away; Yet this is, I wot, Their lot to be not Continuing in one stay. tay. A mingled mesh it seems Of facts and fancy's gleams; I scarce have power From hour to hour To separate things from dreams. Darkly, as in a glass, Like a vain shadow they pass; Their ways they wend And tend to an end, The goal of life, alas ! Alas? and wherefore so, Be glad for this passing show; The world and its lust Back must to their dust Before the soul can grow. Expand, my willing mind, Thy nobler life to find, Thy childhood leave Nor grieve to bereave Thine age of toys behind. PEACE AND QUIETNESS. 199 flnil PEACE is the precious atmosphere I breathe; And my calm mind goes to her dewy bower, A trellis rare of fragrant thoughts to wreathe, Mingling the scents and tints of every flower: For pity, vex her not; those inner joys That bless her in this consecrated hour, Start and away, like plovers, at a noise, Sensitive, timorous : do not scare My happy fancies, lest the flock take wing, Fly to the wilderness and perish there ! For I have secret luxuries, that bring Gladness and brightness to mine eyes and heart, Memory, and Hope, and keen Imagining, Sweet thoughts and peaceful, never to depart. THEN give me Silence; for my spirit is rare, Of delicate edge and tender: when I think, I rear aloft a mental fabric fair; But soon as words come hurtling on the air, Down to this dust my ruined fancies sink : Look you! on yonder Alp's precipitous brink An avalanche is tottering; one breath Loosens an icy chain; it falls, it falls, Filling the buried glens and glades with death ! Or as, when on the mountain's granite walls The hunter spies a chamois, hush ! be calm, A word will scare it, even so, my Mind Creative, energizing, seeks the balm Of Quiet: Solitude and Peace combined. 14 200 THE EARLY GALLOP. (Written in the saddle, on the crown of my hat.) AT five on a dewy morning, Before the blazing day, To be tip and off on a high-mettled horse Over the hills away, To drink the rich sweet breath of the gorse And bathe in the breeze of the Downs, Ha ! man, if you can, match bliss like this In all the joys of towns ! With glad and grateful tongue to join The lark at his matin hymn, And thence on faith's own wing to spring And sing with cherubim ! To pray from a deep and tender heart, With all things praying anew, The birds and the bees, and the whispering trees, And heather bedropt with dew, To be one with those early worshippers And pour the carol too! Then, off again with a slacken'd rein, And a bounding heart within, To dash at a gallop over the plain, Health's golden cup to win ! This, this is the race for gain and grace Richer than vases and crowns; And you that boast your pleasures the most Amid the steam of towns, Come, taste true bliss in a morning like this, Galloping over the Downs ! ASCOT, 201 tant: JUNK 3, 1847 WHEN HERO WON. MODERN Olympia ! shorn of all their pride The patriot spirit, and unlucred praise Thou art a type of these degenerate days, When love of simple honour all hath died; Oh dusty, gay, and eager multitude, Agape for gold No! do not thus condemn; For hundreds here are innocent and good, And young, and fair, among but not of them; And hundreds more enjoy with gratitude This well-earn'd holiday, so bright and green: Do not condemn ! it is a stirring scene, Though vanity and folly fill it up; Look how the mettled racers please the Queen! Ha ! brave John Day a Hero wins the cup ! life. A BUSY dream, forgotten ere it fades, A vapour, melting into air away, Vain hopes, vain fears, a mesh of lights and shades, A chequer'd labyrinth of night and day, This is our life; a rapid surgy flood Where each wave hunts its fellow; on they press; To-day is yesterday, and hope's young bud Has fruited a to-morrow's nothingness: Still on they press, and we are borne along, Forgetting and forgotten, trampling down The living and the dead in that fierce throng, With little heed of Heaven's smile or frown, And little care for others' right or wrong, So we in iron selfishness stand strong. WATERLOO. A BALLAD FOR THE SOLDIUU THERMOPYLAE and Cannae Were glorious fields of yore, Leonidas and Hannibal Right famous evermore; But we can claim a nobler name, A field more glorious too, The chief who thus achieved for us Victorious "Waterloo. Let others boast of Caesar's host Led on by Caesar's skill, And how fierce Attila could rout, And Alaric could kill, But we right well, hear me tell What British troops can do, When marshall'd by a Wellington To win a Waterloo! for a Pindar's harp to tune The triumphs of that day ! for a Homer's pictured words To paint the fearful fray ! Alas, my tongue and harp ill-strung In feeble tones and few, Hath little skill yet right good-will To sing of Waterloo. Then gather round, my comrades, And hear a soldier tell How full of honour was the day When every man did well I WATERLOO. 208 And though a soldier's speech be rough, His heart is hot and true While thus he tells of Wellington At hard-fought Waterloo. Sublimely calm, our iron Duke, A lion in his lair, Waited and watch'd with sleepless eye To sec what France would dare, Nor deign'd to stir from Brussels Until he surely knew The foe was rushing on his fate At chosen Waterloo. What? should the hunter waste his strength Nor hold his good hounds back Before he knows they near the foea And open on the track? No : let " surprise " blight Frenchmen's eyes, For truly they shall rue The giant skill that, stern and still, Drew them to Waterloo. Hotly the couriers gallop up To Richmond's festive scene, Alone, alone the chieftain stood Undaunted and serene : Ready, ready, staunch and steady, And forth the orders flew That march'd us off to Quatre Bras, And whelming Waterloo. Begin, begin with Quatre Bras, That twinborn field of flame, Where many a gallant deed was dona By many a gallant name j 204 WATERLOO. That battle-field, which seem'd to yield An earnest and review Of all that British courage dared And did at Waterloo. We heard from far old Blucher's guns, At Ligny's blazing street, And hurried on to Weimar's aid, Right glad the foe to meet; A score of miles to Quatre Bras; But still to arms we stood And cheerly rush'd without a pause To win the Boissy wood: Then, just like cowards, three to one, Before we could deploy, To crush us, Ney and Excelmans Flew down with fiendish joy; But stout we stood in hollow squares, And fought, and kept the ground, While lancer spears and cuirassiers Were charging us all round ! Ay, ay, my men, we battled then Like wolves and bears at bay, And thousands there among the dead With sable Brunswick lay : And back to back in that attack The ninety-second fought, And "steadily" the twenty-eighth Behaved as Britons ought. Then up came Maitland with the guards, Hurrah ! they clear the wood ; But still the furious Frenchman charged, And still wo stoutly stood, WATERLOO. 205 Till gentle night drew on, arid that Drew off the treacherous Ney, For when the morning dimly broke The fox had stole away! Thus much, my lads, for Quatre Bras; And now for Waterloo, Where skill and courage did it all, With GOD'S good help in view ! For we were beardless raw recruits And they, more numerous far, Were fierce mustachioed mighty men, The veterans of war. The GOD of battles help'd us soon, As godless France drew nigh, It was the great eighteenth of June, The sun was getting high ; And suddenly two hundred guns At once with thundering throats Peal'd out their dreadful overture In deep volcano notes. Then, by ten thousands, horse and foot, Came on the foaming Gaul, And still with bristling front we stood As solid as a wall: And stout Macdonnell's Hougoumont, The centre of the van, Was storm 'd and storm'd and storm M in vain, He held it like a man ! who can count the myriad deeds That hundreds did in fight? Ponsonby falls, and Picton bleeds, And both are quench'd in night: WATERLOO. And many a hero subaltern And hero private too Beat Ajax and Achilles both In winning Waterloo! What shall I say on that dread day Of Ferrier and his band? Ten times he chased the foes away, And charged them sword in hand ; Six of those ten he led his men With blood upon his brow, And in the eleventh dropp'd and died To live in glory now ! Or, give a stave to Shaw the brave, In death the hero sleeps, Hemm'd by a score, he knock'd them o'er, And hew'd them down in heaps; Till, wearied out, the lion stout Beset as by a pack Of hungry hounds, fell full of wounds, But none upon his back ! And Halkett then before his men Dash'd forward and made prize (While both the lines for wonderment Could scarce believe their eyes) Of a gaily-plumed French general Haranguing his array, But Halkett caught him, speech and ail, And bore him right away! Thee too, De - Lancey, generous chief, For thee a niche be found, Wounded to death, he scorn' d relief Whilst others bled around : WATERLOO. 207 And D'Oyley and Fitzgerald died, Just as the day was won, And Gordon by his general's side The side of Wellington ! And Somerset and Uxbridge then Gave each a limb to death; Curzon and Canning cheer'd their men With their last dying breath; And gallant Miller stricken sore With fainting utterance cries, " Bring me my colours ! wave them o'er Your colonel till he dies ! " Then furious wax'd the Emperor That Britons wouldn't run, " Les b&es, pourquoi ne fuient-ils pas ? Et done, ce Vellington?" But Vellington still holds his own For eight red hours and more, " Why comes not Marshal Blucher down ? Ha ! there's his cannon's roar, " Up, guards, and at them ! charge ! " the word Like forked lightning passes, And lance, and bayonet, and sword Rush on in glittering masses ! Back, back, the surging columns roll In terrified dismay, And onward shout against the rout The conquerors of the day! now, the tide of battle Is turn'd to seas of blood, When case and grape-shot rattle Among the multitude, 208 WATERLOO. And Fates, led on by Furies, Destroy the flying host, And Chaos mated with Despair Makes all the lost most lost! Woe, woe ! thou caitiff-hero, Thou Emperor and slave, Why didst not thou, too, nobly bleed With those devoted brave? No, no, the coward's thought was self, And "Suave qui peut" his cry, And verily at Waterloo Did great Napoleon die! He died to fame, while yet his name Was on ten thousand tongues That trusted him, and pray'd to him And cursed him for their wrongs ! noble souls ! Imperial Guard, Had your chief been but true, Ye would have stood and stopp'd the rout At crushing Waterloo! Still as they fled from Wellington To Blucher's arms they flew; These two made up the Quatre Bras To clutch a Waterloo! Ha! Blucher's Prussian vengeance Was fully sated then, When hated France upon the field Left forty thousand men. Thus, comrades, hath a soldier told What Wellington's calm skill, When help'd by troops of British mould And GOD'S almighty will, "ARE YOU A GREAT READER?" 209 Against a veteran triple force On battle-field can do : Then, three times three for Wellington, The Prince of Waterloo ! I HOPE to ripen into richer wine Than mixt Falernian; those decanter'd streams Pour'd from another's chalice into thine Make less of wisdom than the scholar dreams; Precept on precept, tedious line on line, That never-thinking, ever-reading plan, Fashion some patchwork garments for a man, But starve his mind: it starves of too much meat, An undigested surfeit; as for me, I am untamed, a spirit free and fleet That cannot brook the studious yoke, nor be Like some dull grazing ox without a soul, But feeling racer's shoes upon my feet Before my teacher starts, I touch the goal. (JB UtrMct. I LEAVE all judgments to that better world And my more righteous Judge : for He shall tell In the dread day when from their thrones are hurl'd Each human tyranny and earthly spell, That which alone of all lie knoweth well THE VERDICT. The heart's own secret : He shall tell it out With all the feelings and the sorrows there, The fears within, the foes that hcmm'd without, Neglect and wrong and calumny and care : For He hath saved thine ev'ry tearful pray'r In His own lachrymal; and noted down Each unconsider'd grief with tenderest love : Look up ! beyond the cross behold the crown, And for all wrongs below all rights above! GUERNSEY! to me and in my partial eyes Thou art a holy and enchanted isle, Where I would linger long, and muse the while Of ancient thoughts and solemn memories, Quickening the tender tear or pensive smile : Guernsey! for nearly thrice a hundred years Home of my fathers ! refuge from their fears, And haven to their hope, when long of yore Fleeing Imperial Charles and bloody Rome, Protestant martyrs, to thy sea-girt shore They came to seek a temple and a home, And found thee generous, I their son would pour My heartfull all of praise and thanks to thee, Island of welcomes, friendly, frank, and free ! ALL'S RIGHT. 211 flll'0 ftigijt FOR MUSIC. NEVER despair at the troubles of life, All's right ! In the midst of anxiety, peril, and strife, All's right I The cheerful philosophy never was wrong That ever puts this on the tip of my tongue, And makes it my glory, my strength, and my song, All's right! The Pilot beside us is steering us still, All's right! The Champion above us is guarding from ill, All's right! Let others who know neither Father nor Friend Go trembling and doubting in fear to the end, For me, on this motto I gladly depend, All's right ! jjt Complaint nf an flnrimt $riton ; DISINTERRED BT ARCHAEOLOGISTS. Two thousand years agone They heap'd my battle-grave, And each a tear and each a stone My mourning warriors gave; 212 THE COMPLAINT OF AN ANCIENT BRITON. For I had borne me well, And fought as patriots fight, Till, like a British chief, I fell Contending for the right. Seam'd with many a wound, All weakly did I lie; My foes were dead or dying round, And thus I joy'd to die ! For their marauding crew Came treacherously to kill, The many came against the few To storm our sacred hill. We battled, and we bled, We won, and paid the price, For I, the chief, lay down with the dead A willing sacrifice ! My liegemen wail'd me long, And treasured up my bones, And rear'd my kist secure and strong With tributary stones : High on the breezy down, My native hill's own breast, Nigh to the din of mine ancient town, They left me to my rest. I hoped for peace and calm Until my judgment hour, And then to awake for the victor's palm And patriot's throne of power I And lo ! till this dark day Did men my grave revere; Two thousand years had posted away, And still I slumber'd here: But now, there broke a noise Upon my silent home, 'Twas not the Resurrection voice That burst my turfy tomb, COMPLAINT OP AN ANCIENT BRITON. 213 But men of prying mind, Alas, my fellow men, Ravage my grave, my bones to find, With sacrilegious ken ! Mine honour doth abjure Your new barbarian race; Restore, restore my bones secure To some more sacred place ! With mattock and with spade Ye dare to break my rest; . The pious mound is all unmade My clan had counted blest: Take, take my buckler's boss, My sword, and spear, and chain, Steal all ye can of this world's dross, But rest my bones again ! I know your modern boast Is light, and learning's spread, Learn of a Celt to show them most In honour to the Dead! Ifliste. IT is the way we go, the way of life ; A drop of pleasure in a sea of pain, A grain of peace amid a load of strife, With toil and grief, and grief and 'toil again . Yea: but for this; the firm and faithful breast, Bolder than lions, confident and strong, That never doubts its birthright to be blest, And dreads no evil while it does no wrong : WISDOM. This, this is wisdom, manful and serene, Towards GOD all penitence and prayer and trust, But to the troubles of this shifting scene Simply courageous and sublimely just : Be then such wisdom thine, my heart within, There is no foe nor woe nor grief but Sin. FOB MUSIC. Go, leave me to weep for the years that are past, For my youth, and its friends, and its pleasures all dead, My spring and my summer are fading too fast, And I long to live over the days that are fled; It is not for sorrows or sins on my track That I mournfully cast my fond yearnings behind, Ah no, from affection I love to look back, It is only my Heart that has wedded my Mind. And still, let the Mind that has married a Heart, Though loving, be strong as a King in his pride, And ever command that all weakness depart From the realm that he rules in the soul of his bride; For what, if all time and all pleasures decay ? My Mind is myself, an invincible chief, Like a child's broken toys are the years past away, And my Heart half-ashamed has forgotten her grief. PROPHETS. 215 Jfonplpts. PROPHETS at home, I smile to note ycur wrongs; How scantly praised at each ancestral hearth Are ye, caress'd by million hearts and tongues, And full of honours over half the earth: petty jealousies and paltry strife ! The little minds that chronicle a birth Stood once for teachers in the task of life; But, as the child of genius grew apace, Dismay'd at his gigantic lineaments, They fear'd to find his glory their disgrace, His mind their master : so their worldly aim Is still to vex him with discouragements, To check the spring-tide budding of his fame, And keep it down, to save themselves a name. unit tftyaff. MY little learning fadeth fast away, And all the host of words and forms and rules Bred in my teeming youth of books and schools Dwindle to less and lighter; night and day I dream of tasks undone, and lore forgot, Seeming some sailor in the "ship of fools," Some debtor owing what he cannot pay, Some conner of old themes remember* d not: Despise such small oblivion; 'tis the lot Of human life, amid its chance and change, To learn, and then unlearn ; to seek and find And then to lose familiars grown quite strange: Store up, store wisdom's corn in heart and mind, But fling the chaff on every winnowing wind. 15 216 THE TRUE EPICURE. ty te f pirate. How saidst thou ? Pleasure : why, my life is pleasure ; My days are pleasantness, my nights are peace: I drink of joys which neither cloy nor cease, A well that gushes blessings without measure. Ah, thou hast little heed how rich and glad, How happy is my soul in her full treasure, How seldom but for honest pity sad, How constantly at calm ! my very cares Are sweetness in lay cup, as being sent; And country quiet, and retired leisure Keep me from half the common fears and snares; And I have learnt the wisdom of content : Yea, and to crown the cup of peace with praise Both GOD and man have blest my works and ways. A MAN of no regrets He goes his sunny way, Owing the past no load of debts The present cannot pay: He wedded his first love Nor loved another since; He sets his nobler hopes above ; He reigns in joy a Prince ! A man of no regrets, He hath no cares to vex, No secret griefs, nor mental nets Nor troubles to perplex: THEHAPPYMAN. 217 Forgiveness to his sin, And help in every need, Blessings around, and peace within, Crown him a King indeed ! A man of no regrets, Upon his Empire free The sun of gladness never sets, Then who so rich as he? Yea, GOD upon my heart Hath pour'd all blessings down : Then yield to Him, with all thou art, The homage of thy crown ! HIGH in Battle's antler'd hall, Ancient as its Abbey wall, Hangs a helmet, brown with rust, Cobweb'd o'er, and thick in dust; High it hangs, 'mid pikes and bows, Scowling still at spectral foes, Proud and stern, with visor down, And fearful in its feudal frown. When I saw, what ail'd thee, heart, Wherefore should I stop, and start? That old helm, with that old crest, Is more to me than all the rest; Battcr'd, broken, though it be, That old helm is all to me. 218 HERALDIC. Yon black greyhound know I well: Many a tale bath it to tell How in troublous times of old Sires of mine, with bearing bold, Bearing bold, but much mischance, Sway'd the sword, or poised the lance, Much mischance, desponding still, They fought and fell, foreboding ill: And their scallop, gules with blood, Fess'd amid the azure flood, Show'd the pilgrim, slain afar Over the sea in Holy War; While that faithful greyhound black Vainly wateh'd the wild boar's track, And the legend and the name Proved all lost but hope and fame, Tout est perdu, fors 1'honneur, Mais " ISEspoir est ma force " sans peur. VANITY, vanity ! dead hopes and fears, Dim flitting phantoms of departed years, Unsatisfying shadows, vague and cold, Of thoughts and things that made my joys of old, Sad memories of the kindly words and ways And looks and loves of friends in other days, Alas! all gone, a dream, a very dream, A dream is all you are, and all you seem! life, I do forget thee : I look back, And lo, the desert wind has swept my track: 1 stand upon this bare arid solid ground, And, strangely waken'd, wonder all around; T II B E N O S . 219 How came I here? and whence? and whither tend? Speak, friend! if death and time have spared a friend: Behold, the place that knew me well of yore Knoweth me not; and that familiar floor Where all my kith and kin were wont to meet Is now grown strange, and throng'd by other feet. soul, my soul, consider thou that spot, Root there thy gratitude, and leave it not; Still let remembrance, with a swimming eye, Live in those rooms, nor pass them coldly by; Still let affection cling to those old days, And, yearning fondly, paint them bright with praise : O once my home with all thy blessings fled, forms and faces gather'd to the dead, scenes of joy and sorrow faded fast ! How hollow sound thy footsteps, ghostlike PAST ! An aching emptiness is all thou art, A famine hid within the cavern'd heart. Thou changeless ONE, how blest to have no change, Only with Thee, my GOD, I feel not strange : Thou art the same for ever and for aye, To-morrow and to-day as yesterday, Thou art the same, a tranquil Present still ; There I can hide, and bless Thy sovereign will : Yea, bless Thee, my Father, that Thy love Call'd in an instant to the bliss above From ills to come and grief and care and fear Thy type to me, most honour'd and most dear! true and tender spirit, pure and good, So vext on earth and little understood, Thy gentle nature was not fit for strife, But quail'd to meet the waking woes of life; And therefore GOD Our Father kindly made Thy sleep a death, lest thou shouldst feel afraid ! 220 THE DEAD. A DIRGE. I LOVE the dead! The precious spirits gone before, And waiting on that peaceful shore To meet with welcome looks and kiss me yet once more. I love the dead! And fondly doth my fancy paint Each dear one, wash'd from earthly taint, By patience and by hope made a most gentle saint. glorious dead ! Without one spot upon the dress Of your ethereal loveliness, Ye linger round me still with earnest will to bless. Enfranchised dead ! Each fault and failing left behind, And nothing now to chill or bind, How gloriously ye reign in majesty of mind ! royal dead ! The resting, free, unfetter'd dead, The yearning, conscious, holy dead, The hoping, waiting, calm, the happy changeless dead I T H E D E A D . 221 I love the dead! And well forget their little ill, Eager to bask my memory still In all their best of words and deeds and ways and will. I bless the dead ! Their good, half choked by this world's weeds, Is blooming now in heavenly meads, And ripening golden fruit of all those early seeds. I trust the dead! They understand me frankly now, There are no clouds on heart or brow, But spirit, reading spirit, answereth glow for glow. I praise the dead! All their tears are wiped away, Their darkness turn'd to perfect day, How blessed are the dead, how beautiful be they! O gracious dead ! That watch me from your paradise With happy tender starlike eyes, Let your sweet influence rain me blessings from the skies. Yet, helpless dead, Vainly my yearning nature dares Such unpremcditcted prayers , All vain it were for them ; as even for me theirs. 222 THE DEAD. Immortal dead! Ye in your lot are fix'd as fate And man or angel is too late To beckon back by prayer one change upon your state, 0, godlike dead, Ye that do rest, like Noah's dove, Fearless I leave you to the love Of Him who gave you peace, to bear with you above! And ye, the dead, Godless on earth, and gone astray, Alas, your hour is past away, The Judge is just; for you it now were sin to pray. Still, all ye dead, First may be last and last be first, Charity counteth no man curst, But hopeth still in Him whose love would save the worst Therefore, ye dead, I love you, be ye good or ill, For GOD, our GOD, doth love me still, And you He loved on earth with love that nought could chill. And some, just dead, To me on earth most deeply dear, Who loved and nursed and blest me here, I love you with a love that casteth out all fear : THE DEAD. 228 Come near me, Dead! In spirit come to me, and kiss, No! I must wait awhile for this: A few, few years or days, And I too feed on bliss! of ^arlianttnt to IMingtau nnft Ijis Slrmtj. OUTSPAKE a nation's voice, Concentred in her king, While cannons roar, and hearts rejoice, And all the steeples ring: Outspake old England then By prelates and by peers: By all her best and wisest men, Her sages and her seers Old England and her pair Of sisters, north and west, The comely graces, fresh and fair, Who charm the world to rest. All honour to the brave ! The living and the dead, Who only fought to bless and save, And crush the hydra's head : All honour aud all thanks To every mother's son, Saxon, or Celt, or Gael, or Manx, Who fought with Wellington ! 224 TUANK8 TO WELLINGTON. For heroes were they all, To conquer or to die, By Ahmednuggra's bastion'd wall, Or desperate Assye: And, heroes still, they strive Against the dangerous Dane, When France stirr'd up the northern hive, To sting us on the main : ft All heroes, heroes still, For Lusitania's right; By red Koleia's hard-fought hill, And Vimiera's fight: And stout the heroes stood On Talavera's day; And wrote their conquering names in Dlood, At Salamanca's fray: Still heroes, on they went O'er Cuidad's gory fosse, And stern Sebastian's battlement, And thundering Badajos: And, heroes ever, taught Old Soult to fly and yield, Shouting " Victory " as they fought On red Vittoria's field; And, heroes ay, they flew To Orthez, conquering yet; Until, at whelming Waterloo, The Frenchman's sun had set ! Then, thanks! thou glorious chief, And thanks ! ye gallant band, Who, under GOD, to man's relief Stretch'd out the saving hand: TO AMERICA. m. LET aged Britain claim the classic Past, A shining track of bright and mighty deeds, For thee I prophesy the Future vast Whereof the Present sows its giant seeds : Corruption and decay come thick and fjist O'er poor old England; yet a few dark years, And we must die as nations died of yore ! But, in the millions of thy teeming shore Thy patriots, sages, warriors, saints, and seers We live again, Columbia ! yea, once more Unto a thousand generations live, The mother in the child; to all the West Through Thee shall We earth's choicest blessings give, Even as our Orient world in Us is blest. IV. THOU noble scion of an ancient root, Born of the forest-king ! spread forth, spread forth,- High to the stars thy tender leaflets shoot, Deep dig thy fibres round the ribs of earth : From sea to sea, from South to icy North, It must ere long be thine, through good or ill, To stretch thy sinewy boughs : Go, wondrous child ! The glories of thy destiny fulfil ; Remember then thy mother in her age, Shelter her in the tempest, warring wild, Stand thou with us when all the nations rage So furiously together ! we are one : And, through all time, the calm historic page Shall tell of Britain blest in thce her son 1 228 PAIN. DELAY not, sinner, till the hour of pain To seek repentance : pain is absolute, Exacting all the body and the brain, Humanity's stern king from head to foot: How canst thou pray, while fever'd arrows shoot Through this torn targe, while every bone doth ache, And the scared mind raves up and down her cell Restless, and begging rest for mercy's sake 1 Add not to death the bitter fears of hell; Take pity on thy future self, poor man, While yet in strength thy timely wisdom can, Wrestle to-day with sin ; and spare that strife Of meeting all its terrors in the van, Just at the ebbing agony of life. A RAGING throbbing tooth, it burns, it burns! Darting its fiery fibres to the brain, A stalk of fever on a root of pain, A red-hot coal, a dull sore cork by turns, A poison, kindred to the viper's fang, Galling and fretting : ha ! it stings again, Riving the sensitive nerve with keenest pang. Well; from this bitter let me cull the sweet, For Goodness never did afflict in vain, But wills that Pain should sit at Wisdom's feet: Serve GOD in pleasant health; repent, and pray, While the frail body rests at grateful ease; And, sympathise with sickness and decay, Charitable to Man : remember these. NO SURRENDER. 3ln Inrrnte! TOR MUSIC. EVER constant, ever true, Let the word be, No surrender: Boldly dare and greatly do ! This shall bring us bravely through, No surrender, No surrender! And though Fortune's smiles be few, Hope is always springing new, Stijl inspiring me and you With a magic No surrender ! Nail the colours to the mast, Shouting gladly, No surrender! Troubles near are all but past Serve them as you did the last, No surrender, No surrender! Though the skies be overcast And upon the sleety blast Disappointments gather fast, Beat them off with No surrender ! Constant and courageous still, Mind, the word is No surrender j Battle, though it be uphill, Stagger not at seeming ill, No surrender, No surrender! Hope, and thus your hope fulfil, There's a way where there's a will, And the way all cares to kill Is to give them No surrender! 230 NEVERMIND! * SOUL, be strong, whate'er betide, GOD himself is guard and guide, With my Father at my side, Never mind ! Clouds and darkness hover near, Men's hearts failing them for fear, But be thou of right good cheer, Never mind ! Come what may, some work is done, Praise the Father through the Son, Goals are gain'd and prizes won, Never mind ! And if now the skies look black, All the past behind my back Is a bright and blessed track; Never mind ! * Stand in patient courage still, Working out thy Master's will, Compass good, and conquer ill; Never mind! . Fight, for all their bullying boast, Dark temptation's evil host, This is thy predestined post; Never mind ! Be then tranquil as a dove; Through these thunder-clouds above Shines afar the heaven of love; Never mind! THE CBOMLECII DU-TUS, GUERNSEY. 231 jju toralnjr fa $&, HOARY relic, stern and old, Heaving huge above the mould Like some mammoth, lull'd to sleep By the magic-murmuring deep Till those grey gigantic bones Gorgon-time hath frown'd to stones, Who shall tell thine awful tale, Massy Cromlech, at "The Vale?" Ruthless altar, hungry tomb! Superstition's throne of gloom, Where in black sepulchral state High the hooded Spectre sate Terrible and throng'd by fears Brooding for a thousand, years As a thunder-cloud above All that wretched men may love, Is there no grim witness near That shall whisper words of fear, Every brother's heart to thrill, Every brother's blood to chill, While thy records are reveal'd And thy mysteries unseal'd? Lift, with Titan toil and pain, Lift the lid by might and main, Lift the lid and look within On this charnel-house of Sin 1 O twin brethren, how and when Dwelt ye in this rocky den ? Rise, dread martyrs ! for your bonoa Chronicle these Cro in lech -stones; Ifi 282 TH ECHO M LECH DU TUB, QUERN8ET Rise, ye grisly, ghastly pair, Skeletons ! how came ye there Kneeling starkly side by side More like life than those who died? More like life ? what a spell Of horror cowers in that cell ! More like life ! Alive they went Into that stone tenement, Bound as in religious ease Meekly kneeling on their knees, And the cruel thongs confined All but the distracted mind That with terror raved to see Woe ! how slow such death would be Woe ! how slow and full of dread : Pining, dying, but not dead, Pining, dying in the tomb, Drown'd in gulfs of starving gloom, With corruption, hideous fear, Creeping noiselessly more near, While the victims slowly died Link'd together side by side Till in manacled mad strife Both had struggled out of life ! Yea: some idol claim'd the price Of this living sacrifice; Some grim demon's dark high priest Bound these slaves for Odin's feast, Offering up with rites of hell Human pangs to Thor or Bel! Christians, ponder on these bones; Kneel around the Cromlech-stones: Kneel and thank our GOD above That His name, His heart is Love: THE CROMLECU DU TUB, GUERNSEY. 233 q) That His thirst is not for blood But, for joy and gratitude; That He bids no soul be sad But is glad to make us glad; That He loves not man's despair, But delights to bless his prayer! tj Cljiltet. 1845. MY little ones, my darling ones, my precious things of earth, How gladly do I triumph in the blessing of your birth ; How heartily for praises, and how earnestly for prayers, I yearn upon your loveliness, my dear delightful cares ! children, happy word of peace, my jewels and my gold, My truest friends till now, and still my truest friends when old, 1 will be everything to you, your playmate and your guide, Both Mentor and Telemachus for ever at your side ! I will be everything to you, your sympathising friend, To teach and help and lead and bless and comfort and defend; come to me and tell me all, and ye shall find me true, A brother in adversity to fight it out for you! Yea, sins or follies, griefs or cares, or young affection's thrall, Fear not, for I am one with you, and I have felt them all; 1 will be tender, just, and kind, unwilling to reprove, I will do all to bless you all by wisdom and by love. My little ones, delighted I review you as ye stand A pretty troop of fairies and young cherubs hand in hand, And tell out all your names to be a dear familiar sound Wherever English hearths and hearts about the world abound. 234 MY CHILDREN. 4P My eldest, of the speaking eyes, my Ellin, nine years old, Thou thoughtful good example of the loving little fold, My Ellin, they shall hear of thee, fair spirit, holy child, The truthful and the well-resolved, the liberal and the mild. And thee, my Mary, what of thee? the beauty of thy face? The coyly-pretty whims and ways that ray thee round with grace ? more than these; a dear warm heart that still must thrill and glow With pure affection's sunshine, and with feeling's overflow ! Thou too, my gentle five-year old, fair Margaret the pearl, A quiet sick and suffering child, sweet patient little girl, Yet gay withal and frolicsome at times wilt thou appear, And like a bell thy merry voice rings musical and clear. And next my Selwyn, precious boy, a glorious young mind, The sensitive, the passionate, the noble, and the kind, Whose light-brown locks bcdropt with gold, and large eyes full of love, And generous nature mingle well the lion and the dove. The last, an infant toothless one, now prattling on my knee, Whose bland benevolent soft face is shining upon me; Another silver star upon our calm domestic sky, Another seed of happy hope, dropt kindly from on high. A happy man, be this my praise, not riches, rank, or fame, A happy man, with means enough, no other lot or name; A happy man, with you for friends, my children and my wife, Ambition is o'ervaulted here in all that gladdens life ! ADEBTOFLOVE 285 it a Stlit nf lew. 1838. THOU, more than all endeared to this glad heart By gentle smiles, and patienee under pain, I bless my GOD, and thee, for all thou art, My crowning joy, my richest earthly gain ! To thec is due this tributary strain For all the well-observed kind offices That spring spontaneous from a heart, imbued With the sweet wish of living but to please; Due for thy liberal hand, thy frugal mind, Thy pitying eye, thy voice for ever kind, For tenderness, truth, confidence, all these: My heaven-blest vine, that hast thy tendrils twined Round one who loves and won thee, not unsued, Accept thy best reward, thy husband's gratitude. n little (Ellin. 1837. MY precious babe, my guileless little girl, The soft sweet beauty of thy cherub face Is smiling on me, radiant as a pearl With young intelligence and infant grace : And must the wintry breath of life efface Thy purity, fair snow-drop of the spring? Must evil taint thee, must the world enthrall Thine innocent mind, poor harmless little thing ? Ah, yes, thou too must taste the cup of woe, Thy heart must learn to grieve, as others do, Thy soul must feel life's many-pointed sting: But fear not, darling child, for well I know Whatever cares may meet thee, ills befall, Thy Gon, thy father's GOD, shall lead thee safe through all 288 ON THE BIRTH OF LITTLE MART. dDtt lip 3&irtji nf little 3Bnq. 1838. Lo, Thou hast crown'd me with another blessing, Into my lot hast dropt one mercy more; All good, all kind, all wise in Thee possessing, My cup, bounteous Giver, runneth o'er, And still Thy princely hand doth without ceasing pour! For the sweet fruit of undecaying love Clusters in beauty round my cottage door, And this new little one, like Noah's dove, Comes to mine ark with peace, and plenty for my store. happy home, light and cheerful hearth ! Look round with me, my lover, friend, and wife, On these fair faces wo have lit with life, And in the perfect blessing of their birth, Help me to live our thanks for so much heaven on earth. A SONG of gratitude and cheerful prayer Still shall go forth my pretty babes to greet, As on life's firmament, serenely fair, Their little stars arise, with aspects sweet Of mild successive radiance; that small pair, Ellin and Mary, having gone before In this affection's welcome, the dear debt Here shall be paid to gentle Margaret: Be thou indeed a Pearl, in purcness, more Than beauty, praise, or price; full be thy cup, Mantling with grace, and truth with mercy met, With warm and generous charities flowing o'er; And when the Great King makes His jewels up, Shine forth, child-angel, in His coronet! TO LITTLE 8ELWYN. 237 n little leltntjn. 1842. NOT slender is the triumph and the joy, To know and feel that, for his father's sake, The world will look with favour on my boy; On thee, my pretty little prattling son, On thee ! and that it shall be thine to take (With whatsoever else of this world's spoil) For heritage the honours I have won. Speed on, my second self, speed nobly on ! Forget, in good men's praise, the strife and toil Which Folly's herd shall still around thee make If thou dost well; speed on in gifts and grace, Beloved of GOD and man, even as now; Speed, and in both worlds win the glorious race, Bearing thy father's blessing on thy brow! (Dn little Mlinm. 1844. LOOK on this babe; and let thy pride take heed, Thy pride of manhood, intellect, or fame, That thou despise him not: for he indeed, And such as he, in spirit and heart the same, Are GOD'S own children in that kingdom bright Where purity is praise, and where before The FATHER'S throne, triumphant evermore, The ministering angels, sons of light, Stand unrcproved ; because they offer there, Mix'd with 'the Mediator's hallowing prayer, The innocence of babes in Christ like this: guardian Spirit, be my child thy care, Lead him to GOD, obedience and bliss, To GOD, fostering cherub, thine and his I HENRY DE B. T. to & C 1817. HAIL then a sixth! iny doubly triple joy, Another blessing in a third-born boy, Another soul by generous favour sent To teach and train for heaven, through content, Another second-self with hopes like mine In better worlds beyond the stars to shine, Another little hostage from above The pledge and promise of Our Father's love ! GOD guard the babe : and cherish the young child ; And bless the boy with nurture wise and mild; And lead the lad; and yearn upon the youth; And make the man a man of trust and truth; Through life and death uphold him all his days, And then translate him to Thyself with praise ! 848. So, one by one, Thy jewels are made up Ev'n to the perfect number, glorious LORD! So, one by one, ambrosially pour'd These rills of happiness o'erflow my cup. Add yet this grace, Contentment with Enough : That, resting always on Thy gracious word, My band of innocent babes, my beauteous band, Through all the maze of life, thorny and rough, To Thee in prayer continually given, Safely may pass along; and, hand -in hand, A lustrous company, a blessed seven, Pure as the Pleiads, as the Sages wise, With hearts commingled like the rainbow dyes, May shine together, heirs of earth and heaven ! ERRATA. 239 f irate. AN AUTHOR'S COMPLAINT. FRIENDS and brothers, judge ine not unheard; Make not a man offender for a word: For often have I noted seeming fault That harm'd my rhymes, and made my reasons halt, Whilst all that error was some printer's sloth, Who scorning rhyme and reason slew them both: Be ye then liberal to your far-off friend, Where garbled, guess him ; and where maim'd, amend ; Trust him for wit, when types have marr'd the word, And wisdom too, where only blockheads err'd. A Reply to Longfellow's Poem on Mars, in " Voices of the Night." THOU lover of the blaze of Mars, Come out with me to-night, For I havo found among the stars A name of nobler light. Thy bvjust is of the unconqucr'd Mind, The strong, the stern, the still; Mine of the happier Heart, resign'd To Wisdom's holy will. They call my star by beauty's name, The gentle Queen of Love ; And look ! how fair ita tender flame Is flickering above : VENUS. star of peace, torch of hope, I hail thy precious ray A diamond on the ebon cope To shine the dark away. Within my heart there is no light But corneth from above, 1 give the first watch of the night To the sweet planet, Love : The star of Charity and Truth, Of cheerful thoughts and sage, The lamp to guide my steps in Youth And gladden mine old age ! O brother, yield : thy fiery Mars For all his mailed might Is not so strong among the stars As mine, the Queen of night : A Queen to shine all nights away, And make the morn more clear, Contentment gilding every day, There is no twilight here! Yes; in a trial world like this Where all that comes is sent. Learn how divine a thing it in To smile and be content! THE WARM YOUNG HEART. 241 tnann pung Hunt" FOR MUSIC. A BEAUTIFUL face, and a form of grace Were a pleasant sight to see, And gold, and gems, and diadems, Right excellent they be : But beauty and gold, though both be untold, Are things of a worldly mart, The wealth that I prize, above ingots or eyes, Is a heart, a warm young heart ! face most fair, shall thy beauty compare With affection's glowing light? riches and pride, how pale ye beside Love's wealth, serene and bright ! 1 spurn thee away, as a cold thing of clay, Though gilded and carved thou art, For all that I prize, in its smiles and its sighs, Is a heart a warm young heart ! (From Kloptlock.) SHE slumbers. blessed sleep, rain from thy wings Thy life-giving balm on her delicate frame; And send thou from Eden's ambrosial springs A few flashing drops of their crystallous flame, 242 TOCIDLI, ASLEEP. Then spread them, soft painter, upon her white cheek Where sickness hath eaten the roses away; Love's gentle refresher, Care's comforter meek, Thou moon of sweet blessings, pour down the kind ray To smile on my Cidli: she slumbers: be still, Hush'd be thy soft-flowing notes, my lyre, Thy laurels mine anger shall scathe and shall kill, If idly thou waken my sleeping desire. SUM. Born at Wantage, in Berkshire, Oct. 25, 849. COME, every true-born Englishman ! come Anglo-Saxons all ! I wake a tune to-day to take and hold your hearts in thrall; I sing The King, the Saxon king, the glorious and the great, The root and spring of everything we love in Church and State 'Tis just a thousand years to-day, Oh ! years are swift and brief, Since erst uprose in majesty the day-star of our Chief, Since Wantage bred a wondrous child, whom GOD hath made the Cause Of half the best we boast in British liberties and laws. Last-born of royal Ethelwolf, he left his island home, Ulysses-like, to study men and marvels in old Rome; And, thence in wrath returning, overthrew the pirate Dane, And, young as Pitt, at twenty-two, began a Hero's reign. Oh ! Guthran swore, and Hubba smote, and sturdy Hinguar storm'd, And still like locusts o'er the land the red marauders swarm'dj But ALFRED was a David, to scatter every foe, The shepherd, psalmist, warrior, king, unblamed in weal and woo. ALFRED. 243 Ay, hiding with the herdsman, or harping in the camp, Or earnestly redeeming time beneath the midnight lamp, Or ruling on his quiet throne, or fighting in the fen, Our Alfred was indeed an Agamemnon, king of Men ! Unshrinking champion of the Right, in patriot strength he stood, Declare it, threescore fields of fight ! and mark it down in blood : Unflinching chief, unerring judge, he stoutly held the helm, Tell out those thirty years of praise, all Albion's happy realm ! A Solomon for wisdom's choice, that he loved learning well Let O.vf>rd chimes with grateful voice from all their turrets tell; A Nuraa, and Justinian too, let every parish sound His birthday on the merry bells through all the country round ! A Nestor, while in years a youth, he taught as Plato taught, A Constantino, a Washington, he fought as Scipio fought, A Wellington, his laurcll'd sword with Peace was glory-gilt, And Nelson's earliest wooden walls of Alfred's oaks were built! gallant Britons, bless the GOD who gave you such a prince, His like was never known before, nor ever hath been since, The fountain of your liberties, your honours and your health, The mountain of yonr sturdy strength, the Ophir of your wealth. And now, arouse thee, Royal Ghost! in majesty look round; On every shore, in every clime, thy conquering sons are found ; By kingdoms and dominions, by continents and isles, The Anglo-Saxon realm is Jifly hundred thousand miles ! Ay, smile on us, and bless us in thy loftiness of love, The name of Anglo-Saxon is all other names above, By peoples and by nations, by tribe and sept and clan, Two hundred millions claim it in the family of Man ! 244 ALFRED. They claim it, and they claim thee too, their father and their king ! mighty Shade ! behold the crowds who claim thy sheltering wing : Thou hast o'ershadow'd, like an Alp, the half of this broad earth And where thy shadow falls is Light, and Anglo-Saxon worth! The energy, the daring, the cheerfulness, the pride, The stalwarth love of freedom, with Religion well allied, The trust in GOD for ever, and the hope in Man for time, These characters they learnt of thee, and stand like thee sublime. Where'er thy gracious children come, a blessing there they bring, The sweet securities of Home around that place they fling, Warm Comfort, and pure Charity, and Duty's bright blue eye, And Enterprize, and Industry, are stars upon that sky ! Stout Husbandry amid those fields with soft Contentment meets, And honest Commerce, early up, is stirring in those streets; And all the glories of the sword, and honours of the pen, Make us the Wonder of the world, the Cynosure of men ! And, hark ! upon my harp and tongue a sweeter note of praise, How should a Saxon leave unsung what best he loves always? dearer, deeper, nobler songs to thrill the heart and mind, The crown of womanhood belongs to English womankind ! Young maiden, modest as the morn, yet glowing like the noon, True wife, in placid tenderness a lustrous silver moon, Dear mother, loving unto death and better loved than life, Where can the wide world match me such a mother, maid, or wife ? Fair Athelswytha, Alfred's own, is still your spirits' queen, The faithful, the courageous, the tender, the serene, The pious heroine of home, the solace, friend, and nurse, The height of self-forgetfulness, the climax of all verse ! ALFRED. 246 And now, Great Alfred's countrymen and countrywomen all, Victoria ! Albert ! graciously regard your minstrel's call ! Up, royal, gentle, simple folk ! up first, ye men of Berks ! And give a nation's monument to Alfred's mighty works! In Anglo-Saxon majesty, simplicity and strength, children, build your Father's tomb, for very shame at length : The birthday of your king has dawn'd a thousand times this day, It must not die before you set your seal to what I say! 'd&b* Datr of a (Ehnnsonfc w 849. OCTOBER 25, 1849. TO-DAY is the day of a thousand years ! Bless it, O brothers, with heart-thrilling cheers! Alfred for ever! to-day was He born, Day-star of England to herald her morn, That, everywhere breaking and brightening soon, Sheds on us now the full sunshine of noon, And fills us with blessings in Church and in State Children of Alfred, the Good and the Great! Chorus, Hail to his Jubilee Day, The Day of a thousand years ! Anglo-Saxons ! in love are wo met, To honour a name we can never forget! Father, and Founder, and King of a race That reigns and rejoices in every place, Root of a tree that o'ershadows the earth, First of a Family blest from his birth, 246 THE DAY OP A THOUSAND YEARS. Blest in this stem of their strength and their state, Alfred the Wise, and the Good, and the Great! Chorus, Hail to his Jubilee Day, The Day of a thousand years ! Children of Alfred, from every clime, Your glory shall live to the death-day of Time! And then in bliss shall ever expand O'er measureless realms of the Heavenly Land ! For you, like him, serve GOD and your Race, And gratefully look on the birthday of Grace. Then honour to Alfred ! with heart-stirring cheers ! To-day is the day of a thousand years ! Chorus, Hail to his Jubilee Day, The Day of a thousand years ! \)t I. (OBVERSE.) IN simple majesty serenely mild, By pain well chasten' d, and made wise through grief, Calm like a king, while gentle like a child, Yet firm as may become the nation's chief, Alfred! I stand in thought before thee now, And to thy throne in duteous homage bow, After a thousand years! My soul is glad, Thus to have roused to thankful thoughts of thee, From this dull mist of modern base and bad, The world of Englishmen; that haply we, United now again, as once thy will Determined, and still mindful of thy worth, Paragon of goodness, force, and skill ! Like thee, may be a blessing upon earth. THE ALFRED MEDAL 8. 247 II. (.REVERSE 1.) THY children, King of Men ! thy faithful ones, The boldly cheerful, true in head and heart, Salute thy crown with reverence as thy sons, And joy to see thee honour'd as thou art, By millions everywhere : behold, King ! These, whom old England's laws, old England's tongue And all the good that of thy sowing sprung Have nourish'd up like thce in everything, Claim thee for Father; yea, yon untold host, Ever the first to conquer and control, Ambassadors of truth to every coast, And mercy's messengers from pole to pole, Thee, mighty King, their bright example boast, And date their glories from thy Sazon soul. III. (REVERSE 2.) THEN, Brothers, be at peace and love each other, Let us contend for mastery no more, Britain ! Columbia ! let the name of brother Echo with tenderness from shore to shore : We dare not hope that alien wars are o'er; We fear there yet must rage the strife of tongues ; The races and religions of mankind, Mixing tumultuously their rights and wrongs, Yet with the flesh will battle out the mind : But us, one speech unites; to us, one birth, One altar, and one home, one Past belongs : One glorious Present over all the earth ; One Future ! hark, the strain prophetic swelling,- Brothers in unity together dwelling! 17 248 SOCRATES TO LYSIA8. lorratfs tn jCtjsias. No ! Lysias ! all that honied eloquence May not be buttress to my righteous cause; The majesty of Truth and Innocence Deigns not to hoodwink nor to cheat the laws : What, if iny foe's benighted moral sense Will not, or cannot, see my holy ends? To lure the youth of Athens to all good, To knit mankind in one, a world of friends, To win their worship from mere stone and wood, And preach the Unknown God ! God of all, Thy will be done ! let falsehood work my fall, Martyr for truth I rise ! and dwell at ease ; The only Advocate on whom I call Is GOD Himself, to plead for Socrates! OF THE ANGLO-SAXON RACE. AN ILLUSTRATION. HONOUR and Arms! The seals of Grace upon this oriel glow; Anns, as when brothers may embrace, and not to fight a foe ; The arms of peace, heraldic arms, with blazon richly dight, Made gorgeous with chivalric charms, and gilt with glory's light! THE MEMORIAL WINDOW. Honour and Arms! brethren dear, I see your flashing eyes, I feel your true hearts hurrying near from all outlandish skies, To bask one hour in one dear spot, the kernel of your love, In poor old England unforgot, the blest of GOD above ! Centre of all, Britannia's shield in praise unsullied shines, Rose, shamrock, thistle, round its field a wreath of beauty twines; Sweet Erin's harp of melody, with Scotia's canton fair, And thine own royal lions three majestic roaming there. Next, to thy right, a mighty son, a stalwarth giant grown, A wanton and a truant one, and yet a child to own ! The sturdy stripes, the glittering stare, long may they blaze above, Not on the bloody helm of Mars, but in the crown of love! Nearer thy heart another stands, a twin, but one in two, And bringing homage with both hands from one wide heart most true ; Stem Caledonia's thistly praise reveals her hardy child, Where Canada's mild beaver strays to stock the western wild. 260 T H E M E M O R I A T, W I N D O W . Shining above, in orient light the morning sun upsoars, Hindustan's elephantine might is shadow'd on those shores; Their luscious fruits of tropic toil the sea-girt Indies breed, And forth from Afric's southern soil springs Anglo-Saxon seed. Beneath our Britain's blazon fair Australia's emu stands, And kangaroos are skipping there on rich unpeopled lands ; New Zealand's war-boat paddles fast; and Borneo's royal ship Makes many a pirate scuffling past beware "the Badger's" grip! Old Egbert's cross in golden light is shining over all, And, on its right, no viper's bite harms Malta's holy Paul; While huge Gibraltar's rock outstands, for bristling cannon cleft, Like Hercules with Samson's hands to pillar up the left. Below, with praise each lesser star in mingled lustre smiles, The storm-swept Falklands seen afar and soft Ionian Isles, With soft Sierra's libell'd beach, and Mandarin'd Hong Kong, And all who speak in English speech, or sing an English song. THE MEMORIAL WINDOW. heralds ! when and where before were Earth's true honours seen, In brightness and in beauty more than on this Gothic screen ? Where Britain, like a mother hen, is gathering to her wings The world of Anglo-Saxon men, creation's priests and kings! (Call in poor DAUGHTERS of poverty, jaded and ill, So vainly prolonging the strife, How scarce for to-day, the day's task to fulfil, And, as for to-morrow, despondingly still In dread of the battle of life, Toiling in pain for a pittance of bread, Or starving, with nothing to do, Friendless, and fever' d in heart and in head, And longing for rest to lie down with the dead, A word, my poor sisters, with you! There is a fair land in a sweet southern clime, Another young England indeed, Which GOD, in His providence working sublime, Has kinctyy reserved till the fulness of time, To succour His children in need ; A happy new home, which He wills you to seek, With plenty to have and to spare, And hope in your bosom, and health on your cheek, And human affections all eager to speak Of tenderness waiting you there ! 252 A CALL TO POOR SEMPSTRESSES. The valleys are rich, and the mountains are green, And the woods in magnificent state To the distant horizon o'ershadow the scene, Where never till now Adam's footstep has been, And Eve is delaying so late. Then haste for your happiness, joyfully haste From perils and pains to be free; For, Providence calls you to gladden the waste And freedom, and plenty, and pleasure to taste In homes that are over the sea. Cull to tlj* (In aid of Mr. Sydney Herbert' a exertions on behalf of distressed Needlewomen.) CHRISTIAN patriots, men of mighty heart ! One added word to you: the hour is ripe; Thousands are thronging eager to depart From this fierce rivalry in mammon's mart, To happier shores, where penury's hard gripe On earth's rich zone is loosen'd : hasten then, Pour out your offerings with a liberal hand, Earnest in zeal to help your fellow-men, And from old England this reproach to wipe, That, crowded up in corners of the land, Virtuous toil can starve in sorrow's den ! Up! use your wealth aright; and prove its worth By generous aid to yonder homeless band, Who look to you to find them homes on earth. OUR THANKSGIVING HYMN. 263 $|iank5gimiig Ipn. NOVEMBER 15, 1849. O FATHER of mercies, Spirit of love, SON of the Blessed who reignest above, Thou Good One, and Great One ! in homage to Thee, We bring the glad heart, and we bend the true knee. Thy people would praise Thee, Thou beyond praise! For wondrous in love are Thy works and Thy ways; Thy children would pour from the heart and the voice Their psalm of thanksgiving in GOD to rejoice ! Because Thou hast heard us! and answer'd the pray*r We made in the season of death and despair; Because over judgment, and terror, and pain, Thy mercy hath triumph'd, and saved us again ! Ah ! well we remember how dark and how dread The pestilence brooded o'er living and dead; And can we forget with what mercy and might The prayer which Thou blessest hath scatter'd the blight ! Yet more ! for the fulness of plenty and peace Hath made us in wealth as in health to increase, And so would we thank Thee, because ^hou hast given The fatness of earth, and the favour of heaven ! Then, Father of mercies, accept what we bring, Our incense of praise to the SAVIOUR and King ! Hosannah ! to Thee let us gratefully live, Hallelujah ! LORD, when Thou hearest, forgive. ACCEPTABLE THANKS. A SEQUEL TO " OUK THANKSGIVING HYMN." THANKSGIVING ! brothers, how pleasant a thing It is the glad anthem to raise In deep adoration of Heaven's High King, So far above blessing and praise ! Thanksgiving ! children of GOD in all ranks, How then shall we worthily give A holy oblation, acceptable thanks, To Him in whose favour we live ? By penitence, patience, contentment, and prayer, By peace upon earth and goodwill, By speeding the woes of affliction to share, And hasting the hungry to fill: By making, as masters, this Thanksgiving Day A holiday, happy and true, Not meanly withholding the journeyman's pay, But giving it all as his due ! By bringing an Englishman's home to the poor, A home of clean comfort, and peace; By driving disease and despair from his door, And makJhg his hardships to cease : By Water, and Air, the free bounties of Heaven; By wise recreation and rest; By fairly earn'd wages ungrudgingly given For Labour, the honest man's test ! ACCEPTABLE THANKS. 255 thus, if the rich for the poor man will move To better his home and his hearth, thus, if the poor his rich brother will love, And honour his betters on earth, Then GOD will be pleased! and this Thanksgiving Day Will indeed be a Summer of days, For Man will be gladden'd by Man as he may, And GOD by acceptable praise ! fi/n a pang FROM PETRARCH. SLOTH and the sensual mind have driven away All virtues from the world: where'er I range, I note on every side an evil change; Our steps are now unlit by heavenly ray : The poet, walking in his crown of bay, Is pointed at for scorn; the selfish herds Of mammon-worshippers insulting say " What is the worth of all these nietred words ? Your crowns of bay and myrtle are but leaves:" And so Philosophy goes starved and lone, And Vice is glad, while widow'd Virtue grieves : Still, be not thou dishcarten'd, generous one, Follow that path, which enter'd ne'er deceives, But leads if not to Gain, to Glory's throne. 266 CONFESSION. ALAS, how many vain and bitter things My zeal, and pride, and natural haste have wrought; Yea, thou my soul, by word and deed and thought, The curse of selfishness hath scorch 'd thy wings: There is a fire within, I feel it now, A smouldering mass of strong imaginings That heat my heart, and burn upon my brow, And vent their hissing lava on my tongue Scathing, unsparing: yet, my will is just, My wrath is ever quickened by a wrong, I flame to strike oppressors to the dust, To crush the cruel, and confound the base, To welcome insolence with calm disgust, And brand the scoffer's forehead with disgrace. u tju f nit nf NOTHING of thee shall perish, rare old Man ! Thou art an heirloom to the world and us; Let even me then bring my homage thus, And greet thee with such greeting as I can : For thou art not thine own; the nations claim Thee for their children's children, veteran, A spirit walking in immortal fame, The friend of Memory : Death is none of thine, Nor Self, the death of soul; thou wilt not spurn An acolyte, whose venturous footsteps turn Out of the track to offer at thy shrine :> Because, Italian suns and classic skies Have ripen'd all thy heart blood into wine Excellent, spiritual, pure and wise. A BONO. 257 AH Memory! why reproach me so With shadows of the past, The thrilling hopes of long ago That came and went so fast? Ye tender tones of that dear voice, Ye looks of those loved eyes, Return, and bid my heart rejoice, For true love never dies! Rejoice ? word of hope ! I may When those indeed return; For looks and tones so past away In solitude I yearn! Let others fancy I forget The light of those dear eyes, I love, how I love thee yet! For true love never dies.