THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 VERSES, 
 
 ORIGINAL, AND TRANSLATED 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 ITALIAN AND FRENCH. 
 
 BY REBECCA LEE. 
 
 poco spera, e nulla chiede." 
 
 Tasso. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 BY HAMILTON, ADAMS AND CO. PATERNOSTER ROW; 
 
 AND J. PHILIPSON, BOROUGH OF TYNEMOUTH. 
 
 MDCCCXL1I,
 
 Borough of Tynemouth : Printed by J. Philipson.
 
 f £HX 
 
 TO 
 
 THE FRIENDS, 
 
 WHOSE KINDNESS 
 HAS ENABLED ME TO PUBLISH IT, 
 
 THIS LITTLE WORK 
 
 IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 WITH EVERY SENTIMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 ESTEEM AND GRATITUDE, 
 
 BY 
 
 THEIR OBLIGED 
 
 AND 
 
 OBEDIENT SERVANT, 
 
 REBECCA LEE. 
 
 Tynetnouth, June, 1842. 

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ORIGINAL VERSES. 
 
 Death of King Edward the Sixth 
 Florence 
 
 On a Painting of Two Dead Goldfinches 
 Sonnet 
 
 The Caudine Forks 
 That Beating Heart 
 Ai'ise ye, and depart 
 Oh ! still believe it 
 Another Year 
 They have met again 
 Stanzas written after visiting 
 Tynemouth Haven 
 Ichabod 
 
 Lady Rachael Russell 
 Musings on the Achievements in the Old Chapel, at 
 Southgate : — 
 I. In Ccelo Quies 
 
 II. Resurgam 
 
 III. Mors Janua Vitae 
 
 IV. Requiescant in Pace 
 
 the Tomb of Shakespeare 
 
 PAGE 
 
 5 
 
 9 
 11 
 12 
 13 
 15 
 \7 
 20 
 24 
 25 
 27 
 30 
 32 
 36 
 
 37 
 39 
 41 
 43
 
 VI 
 
 Whereas I was Blind 
 
 The Christian Martyr to his Sons 
 
 The Missionary 
 
 The Missionary Collector's Hymn 
 
 To Franceses 
 
 Sappho — a Sketch 
 
 The Orphan Boy 
 
 Stanzas suggested by a Miniature Picture 
 
 The Dying Freebooter to his Mother 
 
 To L. S. C. on her Birth-Day, 1833 
 
 To Do. do. 
 
 
 1834 
 
 To Do. do. 
 
 
 1835 
 
 Leonidas 
 
 
 
 To J.... K.... 
 
 
 
 Hymn of St. Paul 
 
 
 
 Hymn of St. John 
 
 
 
 Hymn of St. Peter 
 
 
 
 To a Friend 
 
 
 
 The Brazen Serpent 
 
 
 
 Not with a Carnal W 
 
 eapon 
 
 
 The Multitude are all 
 
 dispersed 
 
 Stanzas, suggested by the old Tombs at Bonchurch, 
 " Isle of Wight 
 
 The Spirit of Little Fanny, to her dear Sister Dorah 
 
 May Morning, 1841 
 
 Sudden, not unprepared 
 
 Expostulation 
 
 Impromptu 
 
 PAGE 
 
 44 
 46 
 49 
 52 
 53 
 54 
 55 
 57 
 58 
 CI 
 63 
 65 
 68 
 70 
 72 
 73 
 74 
 75 
 77 
 , 79 
 . 81 
 
 • 85 
 
 . 87 
 
 . 89 
 
 . 91 
 
 . 92 
 
 . 94
 
 Vll 
 
 Sonnet on the Death of an Infidel 
 Sonnet written during Illness 
 The Convict's Child— a Ballad 
 Lines, to the Storm Thrush 
 
 PAGE 
 
 95 
 96 
 97 
 98 
 
 TRANSLATIONS FROM FILICAJA 
 
 Canzone 29 — God is Love 
 
 Sonnet 8 — Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane 
 
 Sonnet 169 — Christ hearing his Cross to Calvary 
 
 Sonnet 182— The Day of Judgment 
 
 Sonnet 128— The Thought of Death 
 
 Sonnet 181 — Ash Wednesday 
 
 Sonnet 194 — Act of Contrition 
 
 Sonnet 172 
 
 Sonnet 147 — Consolation in Adversity 
 
 Sonnet 148 — Faith in God under Misfortune 
 
 Sonnet 168— The Crown of Thorns 
 
 101 
 106 
 107 
 108 
 109 
 110 
 111 
 112 
 113 
 114 
 115 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 Sonnet — by Michel Agnolo Buonarotti 
 
 Columbus — from Chiabrera 
 
 Count Ugolino — from Dante 
 
 Ancient Florence — from Dante 
 
 On the Statue of Moses, by M. Angelo — from Zappi 
 
 Sonnet — from Orazio Petrochi 
 
 116 
 117 
 119 
 121 
 123 
 124
 
 vm 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Paraphrase of the Lord's Prayer — from Dante . . 125 
 
 Song of the Bird — from Tasso . . . . . . 127 
 
 Sonnet on the Death of Laura — from Petrarch . . 128 
 
 Sonnet 15, on the Death of the Poet Cino — from Petrarch 129 
 
 Sonnet 39 — from Petrarch . . . . . . 130 
 
 Sonnet 66 — from Petrarch . . . . . . 131 
 
 Sonnet 68 — from Petrarch . . . . . . 132 
 
 The Captive— from Delille .. .. .. 133 
 
 The Grave of Napoleon Buonaparte — from de la Martine 135 
 
 On the Sleeping Statue of Night, sculptured by M. "1 , . 
 Angelo, on the Tomh of Lorenzo de Medici, / 
 
 Stanzas — from dc la Martine . . . . . . 138 
 
 Stanzas to her first born Son — from Clotilde de Surville 140 
 
 The Old Man's Address to Spring — from Guyon . . 142 
 
 } 
 
 Inscription on the Tomb of aVouns Girl — from Mad. , 
 deStael
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Copies. 
 Alderson, Rev. Robert, Ipswich 
 Atkinson, Mrs. Whitley Park 
 Atkinson, John, Esq. Newcastle 
 Atkinson, Mr. J. M. North Shields 
 Atkinson, Mrs. Knaresbro' 
 Airey, Robert, Esq. Newcastle 
 Akenhead, Mrs. D. do. 
 Anonymous, North Shields 
 Appleby, Mrs. Durham 
 
 B 
 
 Barclay, T. Brockhurst, Esq. Wavertree Lodge 4 
 
 Barclay, Mrs. do. . . 2 
 
 Bayley, John, Esq. Bexley, Kent . . 6 
 
 Bayley, Mrs. John, do. . . . . 6 
 
 Bayley, Miss Edith, do. . . 3 
 
 Bayley, Isaac, Esq. Edinburgh . . 3 
 
 Bell, Dowager Mrs. Tynemouth . . 1 
 
 Blenkinsopp, Mr. and Mrs. R. G. . . . . 1 
 
 Bowlby, Mrs. Durham . . . . 3 
 
 Bowlby, The Misses, do. . . . . 3 
 
 Baldwin, Mrs. Haverbrack . . . . 1 
 Beauvais, J. T. Esq. Bridlington, Yorkshire . . 2 
 
 b
 
 Copies. 
 
 Bethune, Col. Drinkwater . . 1 
 
 Bethune, Mrs. . . . . . . 1 
 
 Bennett, Philip, Esq. Rougham Hall, Suffolk . . 2 
 
 Bell, Errington, Esq. South Shields . . 2 
 
 Barton, Bernard, Esq. Woodbridge 
 
 Baird, Mrs. Newcastle 
 
 Boyd, W. Esq. do. 
 
 Bulman, Mrs. do. 
 
 Butler, Mrs. Gayton Rectory, Northampton . . 
 
 Bacon, Mrs. Ipswich 
 
 Brougham, Mrs. Lindsey, Cambridge 
 
 Butler, Miss 
 
 Blomfield, Miss, Bury St. Edmunds 
 
 Batson, Rev. C. U. Gould 
 
 Balchild, Major (Royal Marines) Woolwich . . 
 
 Buchanan, Capt. (do.) do. 
 
 Brander, Capt. (do.) Bexley Heath 
 
 Barron, W. Esq. (Jun. U. S. Club) 
 
 Brutton, Thomas, Esq. Stafford 
 
 Bramwell, W. Esq, North Shields . 
 
 Buchan, Rev. C. F. do. 
 
 Brown, W. Esq. do. 
 
 Blackwood, Mr. W. jun. do. 
 
 Bell, Mrs. R. South Shields 
 
 Bartleman, Alexander, Esq. Tynemouth 
 
 Bell, Mr. Cockermouth 
 
 Byron, Thomas, Esq. London 
 
 Byron, Thomas, Esq. jun. do. 
 
 Byron, Capt. R. Willoughby (34th Regt.) 
 
 Byron, Cecil E. Esq. 
 
 Byron, Miss 
 
 Byron, Miss Georgiana 
 
 Byron, Miss H. Brownlow
 
 XI 
 
 Brassey, George, Esq. Bramfield, Herts 
 
 Brassey, Mrs. George, do. 
 
 Barlow, Mrs. Winchester 
 
 Beckett, Mrs. Durham 
 
 Blackburn, Mrs. do. 
 
 Biddle, Mrs. Playford, Ipswich 
 
 Beachcroft, Mrs. Loudon 
 
 Beachcroft, Miss, do. 
 
 Balleny, W. Esq. Liverpool 
 
 Copies. 
 
 C 
 
 Crewe, Sir Geo. Bart. Calke Abbey, Derbyshire 
 Crewe, Lady, do. do. . . 
 
 Cresswell, Hon. Mr. Justice 
 Coleridge, Hon. Mr. Justice 
 Clark, Lady, Dunham Lodge, Norfolk 
 Clinton, Rev. C. J. F. Cromwell Rectory, Notts 
 Clarkson, Thomas, Esq. Playford Hall, Suffolk 
 Clarkson, Mrs. do. do. 
 
 Clarkson, Mrs. Thomas, do. do. 
 
 Chapman, Jonathan, Esq. London . . 
 Chapman, W. Esq. Newcastle 
 Chapman, A. Esq. do. 
 Chapman, Rev. E. do. 
 Chapman, Rev. B. Leatherhead, Surrey 
 Chapman, Mrs. Thomas, London 
 Chapman, John, Esq. Tynemouth 
 Chapman, J. B. Esq. Highbury 
 Chapman, W. R. Esq. do. 
 Chapman, E. H. Esq. Harringay House . . 
 Collingwood, Edward, Esq. Lilburn Tower 
 Collingwood, Mrs. Frederick, Glanton . . 
 
 b2 
 
 2 
 6 
 6 
 6 
 2 
 6 
 6 
 3 
 12 
 6 
 6
 
 XII 
 
 Copies. 
 Carr, Rev. James, South Shields . . . . 1 
 
 Coxe, Rev. R. C. Vicar of Newcastle . . 8 
 
 Coxe, Mrs. Vicarage, Newcastle . . . . 1 
 
 Coxe, Miss L. S. do. do. . . 1 
 
 Coxe, Philip S. Esq. London . . . . 10 
 
 Coxe, Mrs. M. E. do. . . . . 2 
 
 Clayton, Rev. Richard, Newcastle . . 1 
 
 Cobbold, Mrs. I. C. Ipswich . . . . 2 
 
 Cobbold, Mrs. Thomas, do. . . . . 2 
 
 Carthew, Thomas, Esq. Woodbridge . . 3 
 
 Charleton, Mrs. Lincoln Hill . . . . 2 
 
 Colquitt, Miss S. Liverpool 
 Coleman, J. F. Esq. London 
 Candler, William, Esq. Worcester 
 Collingwood, Mrs. 
 Cook, Mrs. Bywell 
 Cayley, Miss, Temple Sowerby 
 Chevallier, Mrs. Great Yarmouth 
 Collins, Mrs. Kirkman Bank 
 Cay, Jobn, Esq. Edinburgh 
 Cay, R. D. Esq. do. 
 Cay, Miss, do. 
 
 Clark, Miss, North Shields 
 Clark, Miss Eliz. do. 
 Coppin, Mrs. do. 
 
 Coombs, Mrs. London 
 Clarke, Miss, do. 
 Cartwright, Rev. — Durham 
 Cobbold, Mrs. Woolpit, Suffolk 
 Cottingham, E. Esq. Bexley, Kent 
 Clark, Miss, Uldale Rectory 
 Cowan, Miss, Wooler
 
 Xlll 
 
 Copies. 
 Coope, Mrs. Great Cumberland Street, London 2 
 Collin, Mrs. Bishopwearmouth . . 1 
 
 D 
 Douglas, Lieut. -Gen. Sir Howard, Bart. G.C.B. 1 
 
 Douglas, Lady . . . . 1 
 
 Dixon, Dixon, Esq. Unthank, Northumberland 3 
 
 Dixon, Mrs. do. do. . . 3 
 
 Dalton, Mrs. New Building, Thirsk . . 3 
 
 Darling, George, Esq. Hetton House . . 2 
 
 Darling, Mrs. do. . . 2 
 
 Deverill, J. Esq. Purbrook Park . . 1 
 
 Dalton, W. Esq. Bury St. Edmunds . . 2 
 
 Dalton, Miss, Ipswich . . . . 2 
 
 Durrant, Dr. do. . . . . 2 
 
 Doyle, Mrs. Ramsgate . . . . 1 
 
 Davison, Miss Emma, Monkseaton . . 2 
 
 Dale, Mrs. North Shields . . 1 
 
 Dale, Miss, do. . . . . 1 
 
 Dale, Mrs. H. do. . . . . . . 2 
 
 Dale, Miss, Newcastle . . . . 1 
 
 Dale, Miss D. M. do. . . . . . . 1 
 
 Dodd, Mr. J. P. North Shields . . 1 
 
 Davison, Mr. P. do. . . . . 1 
 
 E 
 
 Eden, Rev. Morton W. Kirby Knowle . . I 
 
 Elsley, Mrs. Patrick, Brompton, Yorkshire 1 
 
 Elsley, Miss F. . . . . . . 1 
 
 Elsley, Miss M. . . . . . . 1 
 
 Egan, Mrs. London . . . . . . 3 
 
 Egan, Miss, do. . . . . 3 
 
 b3
 
 XIV 
 
 Ewbank, Capt. (Jun. U. S. Club) 
 Eddowes, Mrs. W. South Shields 
 Ebdon, Rev. T. Durham . . 
 Ebdon, Miss, do. 
 
 Copies 
 1 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 Fenwick, John, Esq. Preston Villa, North Shields 6 
 
 Fenwick, John, Esq. Camp Ville, do. . . 2 
 
 Fenwick, Mr. Thomas, South Preston, do. . . 3 
 
 Fenwick, Miss, Haling Park, Surrey . . 1 
 
 Fryer, J. H. Esq. Whitley House . . . . 2 
 
 Freeman, Joseph, Esq. London . . 6 
 
 Ferguson, Miss, Carlisle . . 5 
 
 Farr, Miss Emma Laura, Bexley, Kent . 3 
 
 Fuller, Mrs. Upper Tooting . . 1 
 
 Freeman, Mrs. . . . . . . 1 
 
 Forster, William John, Esq. Tynemouth . . 1 
 
 Frost, Mr. North Shields . . . . 3 
 
 Fawcus, Mrs. do. . . . . 1 
 
 Fell, Mrs. South Shields . . 1 
 Farr, G. H. Esq. Pembroke College, Cambridge 1 
 
 Foster, P. le Neve, Esq. Camberwell . . 1 
 
 Fraser, Miss Grace, Brackla, Nairn . . 1 
 
 Farsyde, G. J. Esq. Filing Dales . . 1 
 
 G 
 
 Gould, Rev. Edward . . . . . . 1 
 
 Gould, Mrs. Edward . . . . 3 
 
 Gould, Mrs. Bury St. Edmunds . . . . 1 
 
 Gray, Rev. Thomas, Wooler, Northumberland 1 
 
 Green, Rev. R. Longhorsley . . . . 1 
 
 Green, Mrs. South Shields . . . . 1
 
 XV 
 
 Copies. 
 
 Greene, Mrs. Fulmodeston . . 1 
 
 Greene, Miss, Norwich . . . . 1 
 
 Green, W. G. Esq. Belford, Northumberland . . 4 
 
 Green, Joseph Henry, Esq. London . . 6 
 
 Greenhow, T. Esq. Newcastle . . . . 1 
 
 Gray, Mrs. do. . . . . ] 
 
 Greenhow, E. H. Esq. Tynemouth . . 2 
 
 Greenhill, Mrs. London . . . . 1 
 
 Gibbes, Miss, do. . . . . . . 1 
 
 Galbraith, B. B. Esq. do. . . . . I 
 
 Garthwaite, Capt. Pilmore Lodge, Darlington 2 
 
 Gillbanks, Miss, Whitefield House, Cumberland 2 
 
 Gordon, Mrs. AVilts . . . . . . 1 
 
 Gossett, Capt. H. (R. N.) Connaught Square 1 
 
 Gibbs, S. Esq. London . . . . 1 
 
 Gallilee, Miss, South Shields . . . . 1 
 
 Gilly, Rev. Dr, Durham .. ..1 
 
 Greenwell, F. Esq. do. . . . . 1 
 
 Grainger, Miss, do. . . . . 1 
 
 Gallie & Bailey, Messrs. Booksellers, Edinburgh 2 
 
 H 
 
 Harvey, Major-Gen. Sir R. C.B. Mousehold 1 fi 
 House, Norwich . . J 
 
 Harvey, Lady, do. . . . . 3 
 
 Harvey, Mrs. Watton, Norfolk . . 3 
 
 Hawks, Lady, Newcastle . . . . 1 
 
 Hawks, Mrs. do. . . . . 1 
 
 Hewitson, Henry, Esq. Cullercoats . . 6 
 
 Hopper, Mrs. E. H. Garlands, Surrey . . 2 
 
 Haslewood, Capt. . . . . . . 3 
 
 Haslewood, Dr. Darlington . . 1
 
 XVI 
 
 Copies. 
 
 Hammond, Mrs. London .. ..6 
 
 Harrison, S. W. Esq. North Shields 
 
 ilulton, Rev. A. do. 
 
 Hasted, Rev. Henry, Bury St. Edmunds 
 
 Hasted, Mrs. H. Siclesmere, Suffolk 
 
 Heigham, Henry, Esq. Hunston Hall, do. 
 
 Heigham, Mrs. George, Bury St. Edmunds . . 
 
 Hewson, Miss, North Shields 
 
 Hewson, Miss F. do. 
 
 Hutchinson, Miss, do. 
 
 Hough, Mrs. Ham, Surrey 
 
 Haigh, Mrs. Tynemouth 
 
 Haigh, Miss, do. 
 
 Hearn, Mrs. Preston 
 
 Hertslet, Mrs. College Street, Westminster . . 
 
 Heath, Mrs. Westoe 
 
 Hawes, Miss, London 
 
 Heron, Miss, Newcastle 
 
 Heron, Miss C. do. 
 
 Haigh, The Misses, Furze Down, Surrey 
 
 Horsford, Mrs. Dover, Kent 
 
 Hawksley, Mrs. do. 
 
 Hutchinson, A. W. Esq. Durham 
 
 Henderson, Robert, Esq. Edinburgh 
 
 Huddleston, Miss, Maryport 
 
 Heberden, C. M. Esq. Lincoln's Inn 
 
 Hornby, Mrs. Sandown 
 
 I 
 
 Ingham, Robert, Esq. Westoe . . . . 3 
 
 Ilderton, S. Esq. Eglingham . . . . 6 
 
 Ilderton, Mrs. do. . . . . 1
 
 XV11 
 
 Copies. 
 Ilderton, Miss, Eglingham . . . . 1 
 
 Ilderton, Miss F. do. . . . . 1 
 
 Ilderton, Miss E. do. . . . . 1 
 
 J 
 Jackson, Mrs. Newcastle . . 1 
 
 Jackson, Mr. Wreay . . . . 1 
 
 Jackson, Miss M. M. Wigton . . 1 
 
 Jones, Harvey B. Esq. Bryanston Sq. London 1 
 
 K 
 
 King, Rev. W. C. Backworth House . . 6 
 Key, Mrs. Stamford Hill, Whitehaven . . 1 
 
 Keighley, Miss, London . . . . 1 
 
 Kirsopp, Miss D. . . . . 1 
 
 Kymer, Miss, Woodlands . . . . 1 
 
 Keenlyside, Miss, North Shields . . 1 
 
 Kirton, Miss, Durham .. .. ..1 
 
 L 
 
 Londonderry, The Most Noble the Marchioness of 2 
 
 Le Mesurier, Major-Gen. Standon House . . 1 
 Le Marchant, Col. Sir Gaspard, Chatham 1 
 
 Le Marchant, Lady, do. . . 1 
 
 L'Emme', Louis, Esq. London . . 6 
 
 Lee, Richard, Esq. do. . . . . 6 
 
 Lowe, Mrs. The Friarage, Yarm . . 2 
 
 Laws, C. U. Esq. Tynemouth . . 1 
 Laws, Mrs. do. . . . . 1 
 
 Lowes, Mrs. Allen's Green, Northumberland 2 
 
 Lowes, Miss, do. do. . . 1 
 
 Lowes, Miss M. do. do. 1
 
 XV111 
 
 Lowes, Mr. George, Shawes, Northumberland 
 
 Lewis, Capt. Dawlish 
 
 Lewis, Miss, Aspen Lodge, Harrow 
 
 Lewis, Mrs. Enfield Old Park 
 
 Liddell, Mrs. Edinburgh 
 
 Lynn, Dr. Woodbridge, Suffolk 
 
 Larken, Miss, London 
 
 Larken, Miss F. do. 
 
 Layton, C. M. Esq. do. 
 
 Logan, James, Esq. do. 
 
 Latimer, Rev. G. P. B. North Shields 
 
 Laing, Miss, do. 
 
 Locke, Mrs. Sloane Street, London 
 
 Lathbury, Mrs. Bury St. Edmunds 
 
 Lawrence, Joseph, Esq. Beddington 
 
 Lamb, W. Esq. Whitehaven 
 
 Lowrey, S. Esq. Crosby on Eden 
 
 Lally, Mrs. Harrogate 
 
 Lee, Miss, Scole House, Norfolk 
 
 Lowrey, Mrs. M. Crosby on Eden 
 
 Lowrey, Mr. T. do. 
 
 Lee, Mrs. Charles, Brunton, Northumberland 
 
 Lowndes, T. M. Esq. Temple 
 
 Lloyd, E. J. Esq. Lincoln's Inn 
 
 Copies. 
 
 M 
 Monson, The Right Hon. the Lady, Gatton Park 
 Mitcalfe, Henry, Esq. M. P. Whitley Lodge . . 
 Mitcalfe, William, Esq. London 
 McNevin, Lieut.-Col. (Jun. U. S. Club) 
 Minton, Rev. T. Darlington 
 Minton, Mrs. do.
 
 XIX 
 
 Maughan, Rev. W. Newcastle 
 
 Middleinore, Mrs. Orston Hall, Notts 
 
 Mathews, Wilkinson, Esq. London 
 
 Mathews, John H. Esq. do. 
 
 Mathews, Mrs. North Shields 
 
 Mathews, Miss, do. 
 
 Mathews, Miss S. F. V. do. 
 
 Mathews, Mr. T. W. 
 
 Marsh, Robert, Esq. London 
 
 Montague, Miss, Mousehold House, Norwich 
 
 Maynard, Mrs. Forster, Pontefract 
 
 Merriott, Mrs. Farnham, Surrey 
 
 Metcalfe, Mrs. Boldon 
 
 Maule, Mrs. Crescent, Greenwich 
 
 Medcalf, Richard, Esq. North Shields . . 
 
 Mease, Mr. S. do. 
 
 Masson, Miss, Weetwood House, Wooler 
 
 Masson, Capt. J. (H. E. I. C. Service) do. 
 
 Mously, Mrs. 
 
 Murphy, Miss 
 
 Mitchinson, Mrs. 
 
 Morris, Richard, Esq. Kensington . . 
 
 Morris, H. W. Esq. London . . 
 
 Marshall, Mrs. South Shields 
 
 Major, Mr. Simonside, do. 
 
 Mills, Mrs. Collin's Wood 
 
 Mausles, Mrs. Edengale 
 
 Mackitchie, T. E. Esq. Edinburgh . . 
 
 Mackitchie, Mr. John, do. 
 
 Morse, Miss, Blundeston, Lowestoft 
 
 Moore, J. Esq. Kirkland 
 
 Mascall, F. jun. Esq. Lincoln's Inn 
 
 Copies, 
 1 
 6 
 2 
 6 
 1 
 6 
 6 
 1 
 6 
 6
 
 XX 
 
 Copies. 
 Mascall, Mrs. F. Red Lion Square . . . . 1 
 
 N 
 Nartson, Mrs. . . 1 
 
 O 
 
 Ouseley, Lady, Felstead, Essex . . 1 
 
 Oliphant, James, Esq. Loudon . . 2 
 
 Oliphant, Mrs. do. . ..1 
 
 Oliphant, Miss Sophia, do. . . 1 
 
 Oliphant, Miss C. do. . . 1 
 
 Oliphant, H. Esq. do. .. 1 
 Oakes, Henry J. Esq. Nowton Court, Suffolk 2 
 
 Onslow, P. Esq. (Royal Marines) Woolwich . . I 
 
 Oxley, Mr. Thomas, North Shields . . 1 
 
 P 
 
 Patteson, Hon. Mr. Justice, Bedford Sq. London 3 
 
 Patteson, Lady, 
 
 Patteson, Miss J. E. 
 
 Patteson, Mrs. Ipswich 
 
 Patteson, Miss, do. 
 
 Patteson, Mrs. W. F. Norwich 
 
 Patteson, Mrs. Oringleford 
 
 Patteson, Miss, do. 
 
 Pedder, Sir J. Chief Justice, Van Dieman's Land 
 
 Pedder, Miss, Brighton 
 
 Parker, Rev. W. H. Soham Rectory, Norfolk 
 
 Parker, Mrs. do. do. . . 
 
 Parke, Capt. (Royal Marines) Plymouth 
 
 Powys, H. P. Esq. Broomfield House 
 
 Powvs, Mrs. do. 
 
 do. 
 
 do. 
 
 3 
 
 do. 
 
 do. 
 
 6 
 
 . . 
 
 . . 
 
 6 
 
 
 
 3
 
 XXI 
 
 Copies. 
 Patteson, Miss M. Norwich .. ..2 
 
 Plummer, Mrs. M. Heworth Rectory .. 1 
 
 Plummer, Miss, Hexham . . 2 
 
 Preston, Edmund, Esq. Great Yarmouth 4 
 
 Preston, Mrs. E. do. 2 
 
 Preston, Mrs. Isaac, do. . . 3 
 
 Preston, Mrs. Edward, do. 
 
 Preston, Miss Harriet, do. 
 
 Preston, Miss Emily, do. 
 
 Preston, Miss Augusta, do. 
 
 Philipson, G. H. Esq. Newcastle 
 Philipson, Mrs. do. 
 
 Philipson, Mr. J. (Bookseller) North Shields . . 
 Poppelwell, Mrs. Preston 
 Poppelwell, Mrs. M. North Shields 
 Pringle, Mr. Harrop, do. 
 
 Pole, Mrs. Mundy 
 
 Peat, Miss, Green Hill House, Wigton . . 
 Preston, S. T. Esq. Lincoln's Inn 
 Page, Mrs. L. F. Woolpit, Suffolk 
 
 R 
 Ryder, Hon. Miss, Grosvernor Square, London 
 Reed, Rev. C. Vicar of Tynemouth 
 Reed, H. Esq. . . . . . . 2 
 
 Reed, Capt. Archibald 
 
 Reed, Miss 
 
 Reed, Miss Soulsby 
 
 Reed, Miss Anne Eliza 
 
 Reed, Stephen, Esq. Newcastle 
 
 Reeve, Mrs. Ellis, Montague Square, London 
 
 Reeve, Mrs. Lowestoft, Suffolk 
 
 c
 
 XXI I 
 
 Rutlierfurd, Miss, Edinburgh 
 Ray, Colonel 
 
 RaynoldSj James, Esq. London 
 Railton, Mrs. Snittlegarth, Wigton 
 Richards, Miss 
 Robson, Miss, Penpeugh 
 Robson, Miss, South Shields 
 Ramsay, Dr. Edinburgh 
 Ridsdale, F. J. Esq. Gray's Inn 
 Reynolds, Dr. Wyncote . . 
 Reynolds, Mrs. do. 
 Rathbone, W. Esq. Green Bank 
 Rathbone, Mrs. do. 
 
 Rathbone, R. Esq. 
 
 Copies. 
 
 Sandon, Viscount, (M. P.) Grosvenor Square . . 3 
 
 Sandon, Lady Frances, do. 2 
 
 Scott, Lieut.-Col. Sir Walter, Bart. Abbotsford 1 
 
 Scott, Lady, do. 1 
 
 Slingsby, Sir Charles, Bart. Scriven Park . . 1 
 
 Slingsby, Mrs. do. . . 1 
 
 Stewart, Mrs. Garlands, Surrey . . 6 
 
 Smyth, Mrs. A. E. New Building, Thirsk .. 3 
 
 Shawe, R. Newton, Esq. Kesgrave, Suffolk . . 2 
 
 Shawe, Mrs. R. N. do. 2 
 
 Shawe, Mrs. . . . . . . . . 2 
 
 Shawe, S. Pole, Esq. . . . 2 
 
 Shawe, Colonel (Coldstream Guards) 
 
 Shawe, Capt. F. M. (do.) 
 
 Shawe, Mrs. F. M. 
 
 St. George, R. M. Esq. Headfort Castle, Galway 
 
 St. George, Mrs. do. do.
 
 xxin 
 
 Shortridge, Richard, Esq. South Shields 
 Shortridge, Miss, do. 
 
 Steel, Major, (H. E. I. C. Service) 
 Steel, Mrs. John, Cockermouth 
 Steel, Miss, do. 
 
 Stephenson, Mrs. Newcastle 
 Skelton, Miss M. Loweswater 
 Smyth, Mrs. Knaresbro' 
 Sayer, Miss, Temple Sowerby . . 
 Scott, Capt. J. R. North Shields 
 Scott, Miss, London 
 Scott, Miss Emma, do. 
 Smith, Thomas, Esq. Gosforth House 
 Smith, Miss, do. 
 
 Smith, Mrs. W. Newcastle 
 Smith, Mrs. Dr. do. 
 Smith, Charles, Esq. 
 Smith, George Stavely, Esq. London 
 Smith, Miss, Whitchester 
 Smith, Thomas, Esq. London 
 Swinburne, R. W. Esq. South Shields 
 Swinburne, T. Esq. do. 
 
 Sharp, Mr. do. 
 
 Salmon, Mrs. do. 
 
 Salmon, J. Esq. Westoe 
 Straker, John, Esq. North Shields . . 
 Stobbs, Mr. do. 
 
 Stephens, Mrs. do. 
 
 Stephens, Mrs. T. do. 
 
 Stephens, Rev. D. E. Sunderland 
 Swan, Robert, Esq. do. 
 
 Sutton, Capt. (R. N.) 
 
 Copies. 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 6 
 . 3 
 
 3 
 . 3 
 
 2
 
 XXIV 
 
 Sutton, Mrs. 
 
 Spicer, Mrs. 
 
 Spicer, Miss 
 
 Spicer, J. Esq. 
 
 Spicer, C. W. Esq. 
 
 Surtees, Miss Louisa, Newcastle 
 
 Simpson, Henry, Esq. London 
 
 Seymour, William, Esq. do. 
 
 Stone, Misses, Chigwell 
 
 Stone, James, Esq. Bexley Heath 
 
 Shields, John, Esq. Durham 
 
 Shields, Miss, do. 
 
 Salvin, Miss, do. 
 
 Shipperdson, Rev. T. R. Woodhorn 
 
 Shaw, T. G. Esq. Grenville St. Brunswick Sq. 
 
 Simpson, Rev. T. Newark, Notts 
 
 Steel, Miss, the Close 
 
 Simpson, G. Esq. Lincoln's Inn 
 
 Shepherd, T. Esq. do. . . 
 
 Strachan, W. Esq. CornhilL London 
 
 Copies. 
 
 Temple, Rev. W. Dinsdale Rectory 
 
 Taylor, Rev. Robert, Clifton, Campville 
 
 Taylor, Mrs. Benton 
 
 Taylor, Miss, Earsdon 
 
 Taylor, Mrs. William, North Shields 
 
 Tinley, John, Esq. do. 
 
 Tibbs, S. J. Esq. do. 
 
 Train, Mr. Newcastle 
 
 Train, Miss do. 
 
 Thrush, Mrs. Belle Vue, Harrogate 
 
 6 
 
 1 
 3
 
 XXV 
 
 Copies. 
 
 Thomlinson, Miss, Crosby on Eden . . 1 
 
 Thomas, Colonel C. B. Cheltenham . . 1 
 
 Thomas, Mrs. do. . . . . 1 
 
 Thomas, Miss, Tynyrhewl, Neath . . 1 
 
 Turner, W. Esq. Shooter's Hill . . .   1 
 
 V 
 
 Valpy, Rev. G. Bath . . . . • • 1 
 
 Valpy, Mrs. do. . . • • 1 
 
 . Vertue, Mr. S. Woodbridge . . . . 1 
 
 Vicars, Hedley, Esq. Newcastle . . 1 
 
 Vicars, Mrs. do. . . . . 1 
 
 1 
 
 W 
 
 Walsham, Lady, Tynemouth 
 
 Wright, Mrs. Whitley Park . . . . 2 
 
 Walters, Mrs. W. Clayton, Stella Hall . . 2 
 
 Wawn, Mrs. T. Newcastle . . . . 1 
 
 Walker, Mrs. Arno's Grove, Southgate . . 2 
 
 Walker, Mrs. Isaac, do. 3 
 
 Whitaker, Mrs. Stanton by Bridge, Derbyshire 2 
 
 Wilson, Mrs. George, Alnwick 
 
 Wainman, Mrs. 
 
 Ward, Robert, Esq. Temple Sowerby . . 
 
 Ward, William, Esq. do. 
 
 Winterbottom, Dr. Westoe 
 
 Wallis, Miss, South Shields 
 
 Wingfield, Mrs. Newcastle 
 
 Wright, Mrs. H. W. do. 
 
 Wastell, The Misses, Bury St. Edmunds 
 
 Wardle, Mr. North Shields 
 
 Waters, Frank, Esq. London . .
 
 XXVI 
 
 Copies. 
 Wheeler, William, D. Esq. Birmingham 
 Wainewright, Arnold, Esq. London 
 Wainewright, Mrs. Arnold, do. 
 Wainewright, Reader, Esq. Lincoln's Inn 
 Wainewright, William, Esq. Westminster 
 Wainewright, Mrs. W. do. 
 
 Wainewright, Miss, do. 
 
 Wainewright, Miss Jane, do. 
 
 Wainewright, J. Esq. Six Clerks' Office, London 
 Westall, Miss, Uldale Rectory, Cumberland . . 
 Walford, W. S. Esq. Temple 
 Walker, J. H. Esq. Caldercote 
 Walker, Mrs. do. 
 
 Wilson, Miss, Bishopwearmouth 
 
 Y 
 
 Yeoman, Miss, York . . . . 6 
 
 Yorke, Miss, Sloane Street, London . . 1 
 
 Young, Mrs. T. North Shields . . . . 1
 
 VERSES, 
 
 ORIGINAL, AND TRANSLATED 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 ITALIAN AND FRENCH.
 
 ORIGINAL.
 
 THE DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 KING EDWARD THE SIXTH. 
 
 Upon the bed of death, 
 
 The boy king lay, 
 The last faint tide of breath 
 Ebbing away ; 
 Yet few around that couch there stood, 
 To mourn the youthful and the good ! 
 
 No sister kind and dear 
 
 Beside him knelt — 
 No tender mother's tear, 
 The orphan felt 
 Drop on his cold and clammy brow — 
 Soon to be colder still than now! 
 a 3
 
 But One was with him there, 
 
 Whose love, more deep 
 Than tenderest mother's care, 
 Pillowed his sleep : 
 And o'er the patient sufferer's head 
 The peace which Jesus gives, was shed. 
 
 He lay in deep repose — 
 They deemed he slept : 
 But the pale lips unclose, 
 And he* who kept 
 Sad watch beside him as he lay, 
 Heard him in dying accents pray. 
 
 " O free me, Lord!" he cried, 
 
 " From this vain strife ; 
 " Let me with Thee abide 
 " In endless life : 
 " I would mine earthly race were run, 
 " Yet not my will, but Thine, be done. 
 
 * Sir Henry Sidney.
 
 " For I could wish to live 
 
 " Some little space, 
 " That I might seek and strive, 
 " By Thy good grace, 
 " More faithfully to do Thy will, 
 " To love Thee more devoutly still. 
 
 " O save my people, Lord ! 
 
 " Defend this land 
 " From Popery's vain word ; 
 "So may it stand 
 " Firm as the rocks that guard our shore, 
 " In Thy true faith for evermore !" 
 
 He ceased — and death's cold damp 
 
 Fell on his brow, 
 Flickered the expiring lamp — 
 Where is he now ? 
 That spirit pure hath left its mortal cell — 
 The noble boy is gone where angels dwell ! 
 
 Thou, God, didst hear his prayer, 
 And though in blood
 
 8 
 
 The infant church baptized were, 
 Yet hath it stood 
 For ages, holy, bright, and pure, 
 And yet for ages shall endure. 
 
 Though " evil tongues " are nigh, 
 
 And " evil days," 
 Even now, Thy foes on high 
 Their banner raise : 
 Yet founded on a rock Thy church shall stand, 
 Guarded for ever by Thine own right hand !
 
 FLORENCE.* 
 
 How calmly on fair Arno's tide 
 'J 'he shower of moonlight falls, 
 
 Gemming with silvery light the pride 
 Of the stately marble halls, 
 
 Whose images unbroken he, 
 
 Reflected in that mimic sky ! 
 
 Beautiful Florence ! — many a name 
 
 Of high descent is thine, 
 But mightier far are they whose fame 
 
 Rests on no lordly line, 
 Or mouldering dust of ancestry ; — 
 No ! theirs the soul's nobility. 
 
 * Written for a Drawing in a young Friend's Album, and published 
 by her permission.
 
 10 
 
 And first and chief is he, whom thou, 
 
 Ungrateful in thine ire, 
 Didst drive afar to strike the chords 
 
 Of his immortal lyre ; 
 Forbidden by envious hearts to dwell 
 In the dear land he loved so well. 
 
 And he was thine, whose ardent eye 
 
 The starry heavens beheld, 
 And scanned their mighty workings — till 
 
 Its glorious light was quelled 
 By Ignorance and Bigotry ; — 
 And, Florence ! this he owed to thee ! 
 
 But they are well avenged — for thou, 
 
 No longer great and free, 
 Art forced thy stately head to bow 
 
 In bitter slavery ; 
 While Dante — Galileo — rise 
 Immortal, to their kindred skies !
 
 11 
 
 ON A PAINTING 
 
 OF 
 
 TWO DEAD GOLDFINCHES, 
 
 LYING ON A TUFT OF THE SCARLET CLOVER. 
 
 Time was — we sipped the diamond dew, 
 And thro' the fields of JEther flew, 
 
 Loving and loved together ! 
 But man, who envied us our bliss, 
 Cut short our joys, and left but this, 
 
 Of dying thus — together ! 
 
 Yet, from the turf whereon was shed 
 Our blood, these flowers so brightly red 
 
 Sprang to adorn our tomb ; 
 Maria saw, and bade them be 
 Immortalized with us — for she 
 
 Hath given us deathless bloom.
 
 12 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 How softly beautiful, how purely bright 
 
 Are these last, lingering, unclouded days 
 
 Of slow-retiring Summer ! and they raise 
 
 Within my heart a strange, yet sad delight, 
 
 Which other days give not. The softened light 
 
 Poured thro' yon aged thorn tree, by the rays 
 
 Of the fast westering sun ; and while I gaze, 
 
 The tints for ever varying, invite 
 
 The soul to deep reflection : for the Spring 
 
 Now blends her bright hues with the slow decay 
 
 Of Autumn ; like that fair but faithless glow, 
 
 Which I have seen so sweetly colouring 
 
 A cheek whose beauty now has passed away, 
 
 And deep, deep, in the silent grave lies low !
 
 13 
 
 THE CAUDINE FORKS.* 
 
 Calm, and stern, and silent they stood, 
 
 While the Samnite Lictors tore — 
 From each martial form and lofty brow 
 
 The radiant arms they wore. 
 And the Consuls' stately heads have bowed 
 
 To the ignominious yoke ; 
 But still nor sound nor sign of grief 
 
 From the vanquished legions broke. 
 
 Slowly and sadly passed they on 
 
 Through Caudia's fatal glen, 
 More like forms from the shadowy world, 
 
 Than living and breathing men ; — 
 
 * Vide Livy, B. 9. 
 
 B
 
 14 
 
 And the shades of night are gathering fast 
 
 Round each defenceless head, 
 Yet, reckless of storm or sweeping blast, 
 
 They make the earth their bed. 
 
 And friends come forth to comfort them 
 
 "With words of kindly cheer ; 
 But they answer not : — their misery 
 
 Is not for human ear. 
 No ! — the grief that is born of despair and shame 
 
 Is grief that may not be spoken ; 
 The Roman Eagle lies in the dust, 
 
 And the Roman heart is broken !
 
 15 
 
 THAT BEATING HEART. 
 
 " Fermossi al fin il cor che balzd tanto." — Ippolito Pindemonte. 
 
 " That beating heart at length lies still !" 
 
 It hath sobbed itself to rest, 
 Like a weary child that hath fallen asleep, 
 (But, oh ! her slumber is sound and deep !) 
 
 Upon its mother's breast. 
 
 Once she had dreamed of earthly joy, 
 But the dream was quickly o'er ; 
 Like the morning rainbow it passed away, 
 And left but " the dark and cloudy day," 
 And the vision returned no more ! 
 
 b 2
 
 16 
 
 Once she had " garnered up" her store 
 
 Of bliss, in a human heart ; 
 It had played her false, and the hopes that flew 
 So joyously o'er her when life was new, 
 
 She had seen them all depart ! 
 
 But the wanderer turned at last to One, 
 
 Who hath bid " the weary" come 
 And rest their griefs on Him ; and He 
 Hath taken her, with Himself to be 
 In His Heavenly Father's home. 
 
 And " that beating heart at last lies still ;" 
 But its slumber will not be long — 
 
 It rests in hope of waking again, 
 
 Where not a throb of earthly pain 
 Shall mix with its angel song !
 
 17 
 
 ARISE YE, AND DEPART. 
 
 'Arise ye, and depart; for this is not your rest."— Micah ii. 10. 
 
 Oh ! no — this sad and troublous world, 
 
 Yv here sin has raised her serpent crest- 
 Where sorrow casts on man her gloom, 
 Even from the cradle to the tomb — 
 This cannot be our rest. 
 
 Here joy is not — or, if it be, 
 
 What is it but a fading leaf, 
 Exposed to every blast of heaven, 
 The morning's heat, the frosts of even, 
 So frail its life — so brief! 
 
 b 3
 
 18 
 
 Pilgrims of earth, we wander on, 
 
 Darkness and tempest gather o'er us ; 
 Dangers and snares beset our path, 
 And the deep, gloomy stream of death. 
 Flows sullenly before us. 
 
 And they who, ever at our side, 
 
 Their joys, their griefs, with our's were 
 blending, 
 Are gone ! — for, in this gloomy vale, 
 Each moment death his victims pale 
 
 Unsparingly is rending. 
 
 Yet oft, to cheer the weary way, 
 A voice, as of a seraph blest, 
 
 Seems issuing from the brightening skies ; 
 
 To us it speaks, and says — " Arise, 
 Depart, for this is not your rest." 
 
 So pass we on our pilgrimage : 
 
 Faith, like a star, our footsteps guiding,
 
 19 
 
 To that bright city of our God, 
 Where they who felt his chastening rod, 
 Shall find a " rest," abiding. 
 
 There shall they meet their lost on earth, 
 
 But not again, as once, to sever ; 
 There find they " rest" from perils past, 
 A rest that shall, unchanging, last 
 
 Before the throne of God, for ever !
 
 20 
 
 OH! STILL BELIEVE IT. 
 
 ' ' I have prayed for thee, my brother, 
 " And that earnest prayer prevailed." 
 
 MS. Stanzas. 
 
 Oli ! still believe it ! — not in vain 
 That " earnest prayer" hath been, 
 
 Tho' never more on earth again 
 His stately form be seen — 
 
 Tho' never more on mortal ear 
 
 Shall thrill the voice that was so dear. 
 
 Thou prayed'st that favouring winds and waves 
 
 Might waft thy brother o'er, 
 And land him safe, in health and hope, 
 
 On India's fatal shore : 
 Lo ! God hath in his mercy come, 
 To take the weary wanderer home.
 
 21 
 
 Hast thou not prayed that he might be 
 
 Undaunted in the fight — 
 That God his strength and shield would prove, 
 
 And nerve his arm with might ? 
 Lo ! — Jesus hath the battle won — 
 And the soldier sleeps — his work is done ! 
 
 Tho' no familiar forms and dear, 
 
 Stood round his dying bed, 
 Nor mother's — sister's — brother's tear, 
 
 On his rathe grave were shed, 
 Yet still ". prevailed that earnest prayer ;" 
 Oh ! doubt not there was comfort there ! 
 
 He who could recognize in all 
 The " pleasure of his God," 
 
 Alike in evil as in good — 
 
 Would hear the chastening rod ; — 
 
 And to his soul, in that dread hour, 
 
 He heard the Spirit speak with power 
 
 And still on viewless, noiseless wing, 
 The angels hovered there,
 
 22 
 
 Watching the last faint sigh, to stoop 
 
 And take him to their care ; — 
 To bear the ransomed soul away 
 To regions of unclouded day. 
 
 Thou asked'st life* for him — and God 
 Hath given him length of days, — 
 
 Not here — where blighted hope corrodes, 
 And disappointment preys : 
 
 He hath done with earthly suffering now, 
 
 And a deathless crown is on his brow ! 
 
 No, not in vain, — no, not in vain — 
 That earnest prayer shall be ; 
 
 For ye shall meet again — thine eyes 
 Again that form shall see ; — 
 
 Again that voice shall thrill thine heart, 
 
 Where brothers meet — no more to part ! 
 
 And still, tho' prayer for him be vain, 
 Oh ! cease not thou to pray — 
 
 For there are those who cling to thee, 
 As their best earthly stay : — 
 
 * Psalm xxi. 4.
 
 23 
 
 On these bestow thine anxious care, 
 For potent is the good man's prayer. 
 
 Still for thy brothers pray : — lo ! one, 
 
 In youthful ardour bright, 
 Girds on his Christian armour now —   
 
 Oh ! nerve him for the fight ! 
 Give him the sword, the helm, the shield — 
 And send him to the battle field ! 
 
 Pray for the flock which Christ hath placed 
 
 Beneath thy watchful eye ; 
 For all who come within thy sphere 
 
 Of Christian charity ; — 
 Nor doubt — tho' veiled the Almighty's will, 
 The " prayer of faith prevaileth still !"
 
 ?A 
 
 ANOTHER YEAR. 
 
 Another year ! — ah ! who may know 
 How much of weariness and woe, 
 What cause for many a bitter tear, 
 Lies hid within another year ? 
 
 Another year ! — the lip, the brow, 
 With fond affection smiling now, 
 May wear a cold and heartless sneer, 
 On meeting us another year ! 
 
 Another year ! — how many a friend, 
 Whose soul now seems with our's to blend, 
 May from our circle disappear, 
 Swept off before another year ? 
 
 Another year ! — hours pass away, 
 And bring the close of life's brief day ; 
 And we, whose hearts are beating here, 
 May sleep in dust — another year !
 
 25 
 
 THEY HAVE MET AGAIN. 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 IN THE CHURCH OF STRATFORD-UPON-AVON, 
 
 WARWICKSHIRE. 
 
 Sere Itetfi ti)? 33otfn of 
 
 JUDITH COMBE, 
 DAUGHTER OF WILLIAM COMBE, OF OLD STRATFORD, 
 
 In the County of Warwick ; 
 
 Who was to have been married to Richard Combe, of Hempstead, 
 
 In the County of Herts, 
 
 Had not death prevented it by depriving her of life, 
 
 To the extreme grief and sorrow of both their friends, 
 
 but more especially of Richard Combe, 
 
 Who, in testimony of his unfeigned love, 
 
 Erected this monument to her pious memory. 
 
 She took her last leave of this life, August 17th, 1649, 
 
 in the arms of him who most entirely loved her, and was beloved 
 
 by her even to the very death. 
 
 STANZAS SUGGESTED BY THE ABOVE. 
 
 They have met again ! — the faithful one, 
 Who loved to " the very death," 
 
 Hath welcomed him, in whose clasping arms 
 She drew her last earthly breath ! 
 
 c
 
 26 
 
 And he who so " entirely loved," 
 
 While this dim earth he trod, 
 Now kneels with an angel's love before 
 
 The glorious throne of God. 
 
 They have met again ! — and they part not now, 
 
 They have entered into rest ; — 
 The light of heaven on each fair brow, 
 
 And its peace in each faithful breast !
 
 27 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 AFTER VISITING THE TOMB OF SHAKESPEARE, 
 AT STRATFORD-UPON-AVON. 
 
 " Shakespeare lies here !" — How many thoughts 
 In that brief sentence lie comprest ; — 
 
 ThougMs that come crowding o'er the mind, 
 And will not be represt ! 
 
 Perchance, around these grey old walls 
 His youthful footsteps oft have strayed ; 
 
 Musing beneath the midnight moon, 
 That on the clear stream played. 
 
 And many a high and lofty theme 
 
 Passed over his creative mind ; 
 And many a bright and beauteous dream 
 
 Seemed borne upon the wind. 
 
 c 2
 
 28 
 
 Here dreamed he of fair "Juliet's" charms, 
 Of sweet " Cordelia's" filial woes ; 
 
 Or gentle " Desdemona's" form, 
 Before his mind's eye rose. 
 
 His " Imogen's" enduring love, 
 
 In bright imagination came ; 
 And many an " airy nothing," here 
 
 Received a " shape and name." 
 
 Or, " in fine frenzy rolling," here 
 
 The " poet's eye," beneath the shade, 
 
 Discerned the " tricksy elves," whose song 
 Delicious music made. 
 
 " Ariel,"—" Titania,"— " Oberon," 
 
 In rainbow tints before him fly ; 
 Now sparkling in the bright moon's beam, 
 
 Now lost in vacancy. 
 
 Or, formed of " sterner stuff," the shades 
 Of " Brutus," — " Coriolanus," came ; 
 
 And the spell was wove that bade the " Thane" 
 Tremble at " Banquo's" name.
 
 But all have passed away : — the stream 
 
 Rolls silently beneath the trees, 
 And no sweet voice of airy sprite 
 
 Comes on the midnight breeze. 
 
 All, all is still — the spell is done ! — 
 But oft the pilgrim, lingering near, 
 
 Sighs, as he gazes on the stone, 
 
 That tells him " Shakespeare's dust lies here!" 
 
 c 3
 
 so 
 
 TYNEMOUTH HAVEN. 
 
 Stanzas composed under circumstances of peculiar depression, August 
 13th, 1835, at the Prior's Haven, Tynemouth. 
 
 Is it not happiness — to sit 
 
 Upon this rocky shore, 
 To listen to the swell and fall 
 
 Of Ocean's ceaseless roar ? 
 To mark the trembling surges flash, 
 
 And roll upon the beach — 
 While Ocean's breast is gemmed with sails 
 
 Far as the eye can reach ? 
 
 Is it not happiness — to gaze 
 
 Upon the soft blue sky, 
 To feel the very breath of heaven, 
 
 As the breeze comes wandering by ?
 
 31 
 
 To listen to the sea-bird's scream, 
 As he dips his snowy wing — 
 
 Or skims between the sky and sea 
 In many an airy ring ? 
 
 Then hush thy sighs, ungrateful heart, 
 
 No longer idly deem 
 All happiness for ever flown, 
 
 As flits a morning dream ! 
 While earth, and sea, and sky are spread 
 
 Before thine eyes in light, 
 Close not thy vision on the blaze, 
 
 And then proclaim it night ! 
 
 But mark in all, the countless proofs 
 
 Of thy great Father's love — 
 Who wills His children's good, in all 
 
 Around them, or above : — 
 Is not His breath in Ocean's breeze, 
 
 His voice in Ocean's roar — 
 His footstep on the trackless seas ? 
 
 O mark them ! and adore !
 
 32 
 
 ICHABOD. 
 
 "The Emperor Adrian, considering that the remains of their holy City 
 and Temple was one gTeat cause of the Jews' rebellion, ordered the very 
 marks and relics, especially of the Temple, to be entirely razed, and to be 
 ploughed up, according to the Roman Custom, which was the highest 
 mark ef their ignominy and final destruction, and also the full accomplish- 
 ment of all our Saviour's predictions. This was completed in the month of 
 August ; and at the same time, all the Jews in Palestine, who were yet 
 unsold, were banished for ever out of their own native country, and their 
 whole race forbidden to set foot upon, or even so much as to come within 
 sight of Jerusalem, even from the highest hill, upon pain of death. Only 
 with great difficulty they obtained the favour of going every year upon the 
 10th day of August, to approach the place, and to deplore their unspeakable 
 loss and misery." — Echard's Eccles. Hist. Vol. 2. p. 467. 
 
 Ichabod ! the glory hath departed from our race, 
 And Israel's God from Israel hath turned away 
 
 his face ; 
 Our Temple lies in ruins now, there is not left 
 
 a stone, 
 And the Roman Eagle gleameth where the 
 
 Shechinah once shone.
 
 33 
 
 The plough-share hath been o'er our land, the 
 
 glory of all lands ! 
 And where Jehovah's altar stood, an idol-altar 
 
 stands ; 
 Mount Zion is a desert — and in Jordan's silver 
 
 waves, 
 Where once our fathers dry-shod passed, the 
 
 Gentile stranger laves. 
 
 Where are thy promises, O God ! to David and 
 
 his seed, 
 That thus another flock than thine upon thy 
 
 mountain feed ? 
 Is Abraham forgotten quite, thy chosen one, thy 
 
 friend — 
 That thus his race beneath the yoke of unbelievers 
 
 bend ? 
 
 Alas ! for thee, Jerusalem ! — alas ! for Zion hill ! 
 In exile and captivity my heart is with thee still ; 
 In childhood — boyhood — manhood — age — beneath 
 
 thy soft blue sky, 
 For threescore years and ten I lived — but there I 
 
 must not die !
 
 34 
 
 No ! this the Roman will not grant — he forces us 
 
 away, 
 Far from our fathers' sepulchres our weary bones 
 
 to lay ; 
 Our dust will never mix with theirs, our children 
 
 will not see 
 Our names upon the funeral stones, where all our 
 
 fathers be ! 
 
 One miserable boon he grants: — on one long 
 
 summer day, 
 When all around is bright and fair, and all beside 
 
 is gay, 
 To climb again the hills that round Jerusalem yet 
 
 stand — 
 And strain our eyes to look upon our lovely 
 
 promised land ! 
 
 For many a weary day and night, in "hope 
 
 deferred," have I 
 Yearned earnestly to see that land once more 
 
 before I die ; 
 And now my daughter's infant boy hath led me to 
 
 the height,
 
 35 
 
 And throned in fallen majesty — Mount Zion is 
 in sight ! 
 
 But I shall never see it more ! for hopeless 
 
 darkness falls 
 On all around me, and in vain I turn these 
 
 sightless balls 
 Towards the land — my father's land ! — which I 
 
 loved so well, 
 And the tears and sobs of infancy mine aged bosom 
 
 swell. 
 
 O blessed tears ! — I did not know my heart had 
 
 been so weak — 
 They give me hope that soon this worn and wasted 
 
 heart will break ; 
 That soon this weary frame will sleep, tho' on a 
 
 foreign strand, 
 Since I no more may look on thee, mine own dear 
 
 native land !
 
 36 
 
 LADY RACHAEL RUSSEL. 
 
 Written after reading the account of the last parting of Lady Rachael 
 Russel with her husband, Lord William Russel. 
 
 She breathed no wild complaint — she shed no tear ! 
 Silent she stood, and calm ; only one look 
 Of hopeless anguish turning — as she took 
 Her last farewell — on him so justly dear 
 And who so soon should press a bloody bier, 
 Dying a traitor's death. Now, o'er the book 
 Of God — in grief which scarce her soul can brook — 
 She listens that sad, sullen knell to hear, 
 Which tells her all is over ; that his eye 
 Hath closed upon her in the silent night 
 Of death's long sleep — nor will again unclose, 
 Till reunited in the realms on high 
 1 1 beams again, by heavenly love made bright — 
 And thoughts like these shed balm — even on her 
 bitter woes !
 
 87 
 
 MUSINGS ON THE ACHIEVEMENTS 
 
 IN THE 
 
 OLD CHAPEL, AT SOUTHGATE. 
 
 IN CCELO QUIES.* 
 
 " There will be peace in heaven !" Oh ! how this 
 
 thought 
 Should arm the soul with patience strong to bear 
 The petty ills of life ; — to cast our care 
 On Him, who this eternal peace hath bought 
 So dearly for us, — and Himself hath taught 
 Patience in deepest suffering. Light as air 
 Seem all the griefs the human heart which tear, 
 To those with which His holy life was fraught. 
 
 * This and the three following appeared some years since in 
 a periodical.
 
 38 
 
 And when of hope this most consoling ray 
 To cheer our darkling path on earth is given, 
 To all who humbly to their Father pray, 
 Shall it be said that we have vainly striven ? 
 Though deepest clouds deform our closing day, 
 One hope is sure — " There will be peace in 
 heaven !"
 
 39 
 
 ii. 
 
 RESURGAM. 
 
 *' I shall arise again !" — But where ? 
 In regions of untold despair, 
 Where tortured wretches aye bewail 
 Tlfcir sins — when grief will not avail ; 
 Where never-dying agony 
 Looks up, with swoln and tearless eye, 
 To supplicate— but vainly now — 
 For mercy, God will not bestow ; 
 Where the worm dies not, and the fire 
 That burns within, will not expire : — 
 For this is an eternal doom 
 Of woe, of anguish, and of gloom ! 
 
 " I shall arise again !" — But where ? 
 In realms of pure and cloudless air, 
 d 2
 
 44) 
 
 Where angel harps are ever ringing, 
 And angel voices ever singing ; 
 Where sin and sorrow are not known, 
 But peace and deathless joy alone ; 
 There are the "poor in spirit" blest, 
 And there " the weary are at rest," 
 And, humbled by His chastening rod, 
 The " pure in heart" behold their God ! 
 
 Oh ! in that brighter, better land, 
 No human heart can understand 
 The countless blessings there shall be, 
 For ever — yea, eternally. 
 
 Most mighty God ! to me is given, 
 The awful choice — of Hell or Heaven ; — 
 Oh ! may Thy Spirit guide my heart, 
 To choose that holier, better part, 
 That, when I leave this world of pain, 
 In Heaven I may " arise again !"
 
 41 
 
 in. 
 MORS JANUA VIT.E. 
 
 " Through death alone we enter into life !" 
 He, he alone sets wide the gates which lead 
 To light, to life, to immortality ! 
 Nor to the humble Christian doth he come, 
 Clad in the awful terrors of his form, 
 In ghastly semblance, and with frowning brow, 
 But as a friend, whose gentle hand unlocks 
 The fetters that have bound him to the earth, 
 And kept him back from his eternal home. 
 Death is no conqueror, no monarch now — 
 Jesus hath conquered death, — divested him 
 Of all the ensigns of his reign, his dart, 
 The " likeness of his kingly crown ;" and led 
 Him captive to his heavenly Father's throne. 
 
 d 3
 
 42 
 
 The Christian turns not shuddering now away 
 From his approaching footsteps — for he sees 
 With faith's prophetic eye, th' invisible world, 
 And, " through the dreary vista of the tomb," 
 He sees a place of rest, where he shall dwell 
 With spirits of the just made pure, and washed 
 In his and their Redeemer's blood — until 
 That last, long, thrilling trumpet-call shall sound, 
 And rouse the sleepers of the tomb, to stand 
 Before the judgment, — and to hear the voice 
 Of perfect justice speak their final doom !
 
 43 
 
 IV. 
 
 REQUIESCANT IN PACE. 
 
 Yes ! here " tliey sleep in peace !" — the toil, 
 The tumult of the world are o'er ; 
 
 Its jarring passions laid to rest, 
 Its coldness heeded now no more. 
 
 They sweetly sleep ; and every tear 
 Tb vf shed upon this world of woe, 
 
 Is wiped by Him who could alone 
 Its bitterness of anguish know. 
 
 The storm howls o'er their narrow bed, 
 They heed not now its wildest beating ; 
 
 Spring " decks their turf," with thousand dyes, 
 Like human hopes and wishes fleeting. 
 
 And they sleep on : — nor hope, nor fear, 
 Nor joy, nor grief, can now betide them ; 
 
 Soon, other steps shall linger here, 
 
 Where we too " sleep in peace," beside them.
 
 44 
 
 WHEREAS I WAS BLIND. 
 
 " Whereas I was blind, now I see."— St. John ix. 25. 
 
 Oh ! the glories of that vision 
 
 Bursting on the blind man's eye ! 
 Oh ! the rapturous transition 
 
 From the gloom of vacancy ! 
 When the beauties of creation 
 
 All at once before him shone, 
 And when joy and admiration 
 
 Drew forth tears till then unknown. 
 
 Could he disbelieve the blessing ? 
 
 Could he doubt his new-found sense, 
 Thus so wondrously impressing 
 
 On the heart its influence ?
 
 45 
 
 No — for hear his simple story, 
 When the taunting Pharisee 
 
 Bade him " give to God the glory," — 
 " I teas blind, and now I see." 
 
 Thus the Holy Spirit, rending 
 
 From the heart the darkening veil, 
 Points to glories never ending, 
 
 And to hopes that never fail : 
 All our doubts and fears dispelling, 
 
 Bids us fix the enraptured sight 
 On A hat bright eternal dwelling 
 
 Where the Lamb shall be our light ! 
 
 All the promises revealing, 
 
 God to man, in mercy, gave ; 
 Thus our full redemption sealing, 
 
 Bids us triumph o'er the grave : — 
 Doubt not then the heavenly vision, 
 
 Thou from darkness thus set free ; 
 Ever sing thy blest transition — 
 
 " I was blind, but now I see ! "
 
 A6 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR 
 TO HIS SONS. 
 
 Scene— The Arena. 
 
 The hour of martyrdom draws on, 
 
 I hear the lion's roar — 
 I have marked the flash of the tiger's eye 
 
 Behind yon grated door ; — 
 Clasp me, once more, my sons ! — and then, 
 To meet our death like Christian men ! 
 
 For me — my race is well nigh run — 
 
 I fain would be at peace ; 
 Gladly I leave the world's vain strife, 
 
 And bid its sorrows cease :
 
 47 
 
 But life, to you, is newly born, 
 And bright and joyous was its morn ! 
 
 The Christian badge is gleaming yet 
 
 Upon each sunny brow, — 
 " Christ's faithful soldiers," ye have been — 
 
 Ye will not falter now ! 
 Ye will not basely turn and fly, 
 When the hour of triumph is so nigh ! 
 
 It is a fearful death to die, 
 
 And your young hearts will swell, 
 
 When memory turns to your childhood's home, 
 To the mother ye loved so well : — 
 
 She weepeth now by a desolate hearth, 
 
 For we have left her alone on earth ! 
 
 Look up, once more, to the bright blue sky, 
 
 Our Master watcheth there — 
 To mark how we fight the fight of faith, 
 
 To mark how His cross we bear : 
 Our blood may be flowing like water round, 
 Where shall the deathless spirit be found ?
 
 48 
 
 Kneeling before the Throne of God 
 Shall our ransomed spirits be, 
 
 And Jesus shall give -us the crown of gold, 
 And the palm of victory : — 
 
 Clasp me, once more, my sons ! — and then, 
 
 We wait for death like Christian men !
 
 49 
 
 THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 Darkness descends upon the silent sea, 
 The stars are glittering in the deep blue sky, 
 And by the shore a pilgrim stands alone. 
 Thai shore is not of Europe — for the palm 
 And the broad cocoa tree their giant leaves 
 Spread to the winds of heaven ; and from afar, 
 At times is heard the prowling jackal's cry, 
 And the deep roaring of the forest king. 
 Why stands that wanderer by the silent sea, 
 Still gazing on the western sky, until 
 His eye grows dim with unshed tears ; and oft 
 Breathe forth a long-drawn, melancholy sigh ? 
 He is a Christian Missionary : — he hath left 
 His happy home beside the quiet lake, 
 
 E
 
 50 
 
 His father, mother, country, all the heart 
 
 Holds dear or valuable on earth ; and all 
 
 The ties that bind the brotherhood of man, 
 
 He hath for ever broken : — and for what ? 
 
 For Jesus and His gospel's sake, — to be 
 
 The messenger of life and peace to those 
 
 Who have no hope here or hereafter — 
 
 The poor, despised, untutored African ! 
 
 To bring to him the tidings of a world 
 
 Where all are equal, and where man no more 
 
 Shall dare enslave his brother, on the plea 
 
 Of difference of hue ; but where the slave is free ! 
 
 The rich and poor are met together — and the worn 
 
 And weary wanderer finds eternal rest : 
 
 And this, too, purchased for him by the blood 
 
 Of God's own Son, come down from heaven to be 
 
 The atoning sacrifice for all mankind. 
 
 For such high purpose hath that wanderer left 
 
 His home and native land ; — yet still, at times, 
 
 (For he is human) thoughts will intervene 
 
 Of all he hath forsaken, — and, as now 
 
 He stands upon the shore, and gazes on. 
 
 Till almost, to his bodily eye, the scenes
 
 51 
 
 Of early youth revive — he almost hears 
 
 His mother's gentle voice, his father's tones 
 
 Arise upon his ear — as when he took 
 
 His last farewell, and bade him go and prosper. 
 
 But now the dream hath died away, — he turns 
 
 Towards his humble cabin ; where he prays 
 
 To heaven, for strength to aid him in his work — 
 
 That work which surely shall not be in vain, 
 
 For Christ hath said — " Go forth and teach 
 
 all lands, 
 And I am with you, even to the end." 
 
 e 2
 
 52 
 
 the 
 
 MISSIONARY COLLECTOR'S HYMN. 
 
 Weaker than a bruised reed — 
 Lord, I go Thy cause to plead ! 
 Thou my guide, my helper be — 
 Jesus ! Saviour ! plead for me ! 
 
 Though I meet contempt and scorn, 
 I'll recall what Thou hast borne 
 When Thou shared'st the poor man's lot, 
 When Thine own " received Thee not !" 
 
 Give me, Lord ! the willing feet, 
 To tread the dark and gloomy street ; 
 Give me the persuasive art, 
 To touch the cold, the selfish heart. 
 
 Grant me, as in utmost need, 
 For Thee, and for Thy cause, to plead ; 
 And should my voice all powerless be, 
 Then, Jesus ! Saviour ! plead for me !
 
 53 
 
 TO FRANCESCA. 
 
 " Nascosa, ma dolce. : 
 
 " Hidden, but sweet," the violet lies, 
 Safe from the gaze of vulgar eyes, 
 And the careless pass it by, nor guess 
 The power of its lowly loveliness. 
 
 But they who seek, 'mid the leafy cells, 
 Where, hermitess-like, the violet dwells, 
 They, and they only, can tell how fair 
 And sweet is the treasure lies hidden there. 
 
 And thus, Francesca, the world in thee 
 Sees but thy maiden simplicity, 
 Nor knows how rich are the treasures of mind, 
 That dwell in thy fairy form enshrined. 
 
 But they who love thee, and mark thee well, , 
 They, dearest Francesca, can proudly tell, 
 How pure, and how lofty a spirit there lies 
 " Hidden," from all but Affection's eyes ! 
 
 e 3
 
 .VI 
 
 SAPPHO, 
 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 Sappho ! the fated Lesbian ! who was doomed 
 To feel that worst of pangs, rejected love ! 
 She loved — but was not loved again. How keen 
 And bitter is that feeling, none may tell 
 Save those whose painful lot it is to know 
 That on this earth there beats for them not one, 
 No ! not one heart, with love and tenderness ; 
 That in this world of bliss they stand alone, 
 Unsought, unprized, unpitied, and unloved. 
 She — Sappho — felt this — and she hid her woes, 
 Deep, deep, beneath the white sea foam ; the 
 
 waves 
 Closed over her pale form and broken lyre : 
 But Time and Fame have consecrated both, 
 And, in the dream of days gone by, her name 
 Still lives — a deathless monument.
 
 55 
 
 THE ORPHAN BOY.* 
 
 The orphan boy has sunk to rest, 
 
 Beneath the Baltic's sounding billow ; 
 
 The cold sea-weed floats o'er his breast, 
 Thp colder rock is his only pillow. 
 
 No knell was rung, no requiem sung 
 
 O'er him, who there lies soundly sleeping ; 
 
 But his praise shall dwell on many a tongue, 
 And many an eye for him be weeping. 
 
 Life, with its many-coloured rays 
 Of joy and grief, was all before him ; 
 
 And, scarcely tinged with thought, the days, 
 Buoyant with hope, new gaily o'er him. 
 
 * J. S. Galbraith, who was drowued off Memel, Oct. 18th, 1829.
 
 56 
 
 But, all is over now ! — his life 
 
 No more must gladden hearts that love him ; 
 A moment's agonizing strife, 
 
 And the pitiless waters closed above him ! 
 
 Yet, weep not ! — though the heart will swell, 
 And Affection shall forget him never — 
 
 For the orphan boy is gone to dwell 
 
 In his Heavenly Father's home — for ever.
 
 57 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A MINIATURE PICTURE. 
 
 Those smiling eyes ! — those smiling eyes ! 
 They beam as though life's bitter sighs 
 Could never that fair bosom swell, 
 Or ought but peace within it dwell ! 
 
 Those coral lips that all but speak, 
 The hues upon that youthful cheek, 
 The waving locks — the calm, fair brow, 
 They seem to live before me now ! 
 
 But all that loveliness is past, 
 Those smiling eyes have looked their last, 
 And youth's gay hopes, and beauty's bloom, 
 Lie mouldering in an early tomb ! 
 
 Yet that which was not of the earth — 
 The spirit, not of human birth, 
 Upon a cherub's golden wings 
 To heaven's eternal glory springs !
 
 58 
 
 THE DYING FREEBOOTER, 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS MOTHER. 
 
 There's blood upon my hand, mother, 
 There's blood upon my brow — 
 
 I have many a widow and orphan made, 
 And I hear them curse me now ! 
 
 Take thou this jewelled cross, mother, 
 And the chain of beaten gold, 
 
 They were the gifts of a saint in heaven, 
 I shall never more behold. 
 
 Lay them on Our Lady's shrine, mother, 
 That mass for my soul be said — 
 
 That men may pray for the reaver's soul, 
 When I am with the dead.
 
 59 
 
 Evil has been my life, mother, 
 
 Lonely my death will be ; 
 No friend will weep at my funeral, 
 None — mother — none but thee ! 
 
 O had my Marion lived, mother, 
 
 I had not all evil been ; 
 Now we shall never meet again, 
 
 There's a deadly gulph between ! 
 
 My friends have all left me now, mother, 
 
 They were only friends in ill ; 
 They loved me but while my fortune smiled, 
 
 But thou art with me still ! 
 
 Friendship will fade away, mother, 
 
 And guilt will cast out love, 
 But the love that dwells in a mother's heart, 
 
 Nothing can quench or move. 
 
 The babe that lay on her heart in youth, 
 Through life — in death — is dear, 
 
 And such is thy love for me, mother, 
 Or thou had'st not been here.
 
 00 
 
 Pray for me yet once more, mother, 
 
 Pray for me once again ; 
 Perhaps thy prayers will be heard in heaven, 
 
 They cannot all be vain ! 
 
 And kiss my lips once more, mother, 
 
 And kiss my cheek and brow ; 
 There's none will grieve when I am gone, 
 
 None — mother — none but thou !
 
 61 
 
 TO L. S. C. 
 
 ON HER BIRTH-DAY, MAY 1, 1833. 
 
 Born with the May, thou darling child, 
 
 When the spring has banished the winter wild, 
 
 And birds are warbling loud and free, 
 
 And life is bursting from flower and tree, — 
 
 What shall I wish thee — Flower of May, 
 
 On this first return of thy natal day ? 
 
 I'll wish thee, dear one, that life may be 
 
 Like the lovely season of May to thee ; 
 
 It hath its clouds, its storms, its showers, 
 
 But it hath its sunshine, and stars, and flowers : • 
 
 And brighter and fairer these are seen, 
 
 Till merged in the light of the summer sheen. 
 
 And thus may thy childhood's joyous hours, 
 
 Pure as May breezes, and bright as her flowers, 
 
 F
 
 62 
 
 Thy youth's fair promise, thy womanhood's prime, 
 And the soft decay of thine age's time, 
 Though joy and sorrow be mingled there, 
 'Tis the lot of all who breathe mortal air ; 
 In brightness and beauty pass smiling away, 
 Till lost in the glory of heaven's own ray !
 
 63 
 
 TO L. S. C. 
 
 ON HER BIRTH-DAY, MAY 1, 1834. 
 
 My little bud — my flower of May ! 
 Since last we hailed thy natal day, 
 
 Rude blasts have been around thee : 
 But these have only to our hearts 
 
 A .Iore closely bound thee ! 
 
 Since last thou wert of May the Queen, 
 Sickness and sorrow both have been 
 
 Within thy father's dwelling, 
 And thy sweet mother's heart e'en yet 
 
 With grief is swelling. 
 
 And even now thy father eyes, 
 
 With mingled looks of smiles and sighs, 
 
 His " little infant" treasure ; 
 And marks thy frolic play, with thoughts 
 
 Half pain — half pleasure. 
 f 2
 
 G4 
 
 Oh ! be it thine, my pretty dove, 
 Well to repay their anxious love, 
 
 And all their fond caressing — 
 To be, as years shall onward move, 
 
 Their earthly blessing. 
 
 So pass thou through life's pilgrimage, 
 Of youth, of womanhood, and age, 
 
 (If length of clays be given) 
 That thou may'st sleep at last in Christ, 
 
 And wake in heaven.
 
 65 
 
 TO L. S. C. 
 
 ON HER BIRTH-DAY, MAY 1, 1835. 
 
 Three years have passed " in sun and shower," 
 And thou, my little opening flower, 
 Art even more precious in our sight 
 Than when, a little " gem of light," 
 Thy blue eyes opened on the morn, 
 The " sweetest child that e'er was born !" 
 Each day — each hour — has given to view 
 New beauties, — graces ever new. 
 Each cooing sound, each little cry, 
 Each sparkle of that arch, bright eye, 
 Each step of those wee, tottering feet, 
 Each lisping word those lips repeat ; 
 Thy joyous pranks, thy simple wiles, 
 Thy tears, thy kisses, and thy smiles — 
 Xay, even thy little passions' starts, 
 Have all entwined thee round our hearts, 
 
 f 3
 
 66 
 
 With love thou can'st not guess at yet ; — 
 O wilt thou ever know it, Pet ? 
 
 Now, one fond friend would fain convey 
 
 A blessing, on this first of May ; 
 
 All harsh and rude the ryhme may be — 
 
 It has one grace — sincerity. 
 
 As years on years shall onward steal, 
 
 O mayest thou, clearest, learn to feel 
 
 The deep responsibility 
 
 That must, that will attach to thee. 
 
 Nursed in an atmosphere of love, 
 
 How can'st thou angry passions prove ? 
 
 With patience' self before thine eyes, 
 
 A fretful murmur cannot rise, 
 
 Accustomed holy truths to hear, 
 
 Like household words, from lips so dear 
 
 And so affectionate ; can'st thou 
 
 Before sin's altar ever bow ? 
 
 And when such truths their lovely light, 
 
 With heaven's own radiance, clear and bright, 
 
 Shed over every word and thought 
 
 Of those who gave thee being — nought,
 
 G7 
 
 O surely, nought can lead astray 
 Thy steps from wisdom's narrow way ! 
 
 Sweet one, farewell ! Remember, heaven 
 Will much require where much is given ; 
 So may est thou still a blessing prove 
 To them, whose all of hope and love 
 Rests in each other and in thee, 
 And still their earth's best treasure be ; 
 Make it, through life, thy dearest care, 
 To cherish those who now, in " fear," 
 Which "perfect love" dispels not, gaze 
 Upon thy winning infant ways — 
 And be thy grateful tenderness, 
 Through life, a light to soothe and bless 
 Those anxious hearts, which have so striven 
 Their darling to mature for heaven.
 
 68 
 
 LEONIDAS. 
 
 The idea is taken from one of Dagley's Gems. 
 
 He knelt upon the blood-stained sand, 
 
 Beside his orbed shield ; 
 And his eye was calm — for he came to die 
 
 On that hopeless battle-field ; — 
 And his broken sword beside him lay, 
 Well had it done its work that day ! 
 
 His dagger glittered in the ray 
 
 Of the cold, silent moon, 
 And he gazed when his valiant followers lay, 
 
 And where he would sleep full soon : 
 For the tide of his life was ebbing fast, 
 And that glorious battle-field was his last.
 
 G9 
 
 And, oh ! what feelings were his who knelt 
 
 In that lone and narrow glen ! 
 His home — his country — his children, came 
 
 Across his spirit then ; 
 But his heart quailed not — in that fearful hour, 
 The spirit of freedom alone had power. 
 
 He raised his now feeble and fainting form, 
 
 And, with that dagger bright, 
 He traced on the rock one line — and his soul 
 
 Fled to the realms of light : 
 " Go thou to Sparta, stranger, and say — 
 " How her sons have obeyed her laws this day !"
 
 70 
 
 TO J K. 
 
 JANUARY 1, 1834. 
 
 Time, on his silent wing, hath borne away 
 Another hour of life's brief stormy day, 
 Warning the busy, thoughtless race of man, 
 How short a portion of their little span 
 Remains behind ; — yet none attend the call 
 And Time flies on, unmarked, unprized by all. 
 Young girl! — thou standest on life's threshoh 
 
 'o »' 
 
 The shade of grief yet falls not on thy brow, 
 And lovely visions of bright years to be, 
 Before thy mind's eye float in brilliancy : — 
 O listen thou the warning voice of truth, 
 The scythe of Time nor pity knows, nor ruth ;
 
 71 
 
 Thy rainbow visions all will melt in air, 
 
 And with Time comes his haggard offspring, 
 
 Care ; — 
 Then seek thou strength to meet her, where 
 
 alone 
 That strength is found — before the Eternal 
 
 Throne ! 
 And, pondering heedfully thy heart and ways, 
 Redeem the time — for there be evil days, 
 For every child of Adam, yet in store, 
 Before that hour when Time shall be no more.
 
 72 
 
 HYMN OF ST. PAUL. 
 
 I long to die — and be 
 
 With Christ, who is my life ; 
 I long to leave this lower world 
 
 Of misery and strife ! 
 
 I have fought the fight of faith, 
 I have run my earthly race ; 
 
 And now I fain would have my crown, 
 And see my Saviour's face. 
 
 I am ready now ; the hour 
 Of martyrdom draws near ; 
 
 I know in whom I have believed, 
 And wherefore should I fear ? 
 
 Now to the Eternal King — 
 
 The immortal, only God, 
 Be glory — where He dwells in light, 
 
 Where no man yet hath trod !
 
 73 
 
 HYMN OF ST. JOHN. 
 
 " Love one another," was the last — 
 The last command our Master gave ; 
 
 " Love one another, even as I 
 
 Have loved, still love you, to the grave." 
 
 " Love one another." If ye love, 
 
 Keep the commandments of your Lord — 
 
 Walk in His steps — while, day by day, 
 Ye meditate upon His word. 
 
 " Love one another." Blessed Lord ! 
 
 What earthly love could equal thine ? 
 Yet did'st thou not disdain to be 
 
 Beloved by such a heart as mine ! 
 
 " Love one another." Lord of Love ! 
 
 Soon may I mingle with the throng, 
 Whose love is perfected in Thee — 
 
 Thy love, their deathless theme of song ! 
 
 G
 
 HYMN OF ST. PETER. 
 
 Lord ! to the death I follow Thee ! 
 I will lay down my life for Thee ! 
 For whither should Thy servant go — 
 In heaven above, or earth below, 
 If not to Thee, of life the Lord, 
 Who hast of life the Eternal Word ? 
 
 Yet, Lord ! forgive my hasty zeal, 
 O let me all my weakness feel ; 
 Teach me my wavering heart to fear, 
 Accept the penitential tear, 
 And bend upon me from above, 
 Thine own pure look of heavenly love ! 
 
 Faithfully would I feed thy sheep — 
 
 Do Thou my soul from error keep-} 
 
 My vile apostacy forgive, 
 
 And let me in Thy presence live. 
 
 All hearts lie open at Thy will, 
 
 Thou knowest, Lord ! I love Thee still !
 
 iO 
 
 TO A FRIEND, 
 
 WHO HAD SUGGESTED THE PASSAGE,* AS A 
 SUBJECT FOR A PAINTER. 
 
 Oh, no ! the hand of man may not essay- 
 To paint the unutterable love, that shone 
 In the Redeemer's face, when on that night 
 Of grief and shame to every child of man, 
 The Lord of Glory stood in Annas' hall, 
 Betrayed and bound — forsaken and denied ; 
 And when the last denial left the lips 
 Of him so boastful once, so abject now, — 
 " And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter." 
 Not Buonarotti's mighty hand hath dared, 
 Nor RafFaelle's gentler imaging, 
 To paint to bodily sight that look divine : 
 
 * Luke xxii. 61. 
 G 2
 
 76 
 
 Yet human feeling haply mingled there, 
 For He was "very man," as " very God." — 
 No ! — paint it not — save in the inmost fold 
 Of every sinner's heart, till he shall feel 
 That he, too, hath denied the Lord his God ; 
 That he, too, hath called down that silent look 
 Of mild reproach and wounded love, — and then, 
 Let him, like Peter, too, go forth and weep !
 
 77 
 
 THE BRAZEN SERPENT. 
 
 1 And it came to pass, that if a serpent had bitten any man, when 
 he beheld the serpent of brass, he lived."— Numbers xxi. 9. 
 
 O raise me, Mother ! for my heart 
 
 Beats painfully and slow ; 
 Aud I fain would look on the soft, blue sky, 
 
 Once more before I go. 
 
 raise me ! for I fain would look 
 Upon the glowing west ; 
 
 1 fain would see the sun's last rays, 
 
 Before I go to rest. 
 
 My bones must whiten where they lie, 
 On the Desert's burning sand ; 
 
 I shall not see the cool green hills 
 Of the lovely Promised Land ! 
 g 3
 
 r8 
 
 Yet, Mother ! hark ! what means that sound 
 Of hurried steps advancing ? — 
 
 What form is that, on which the rays 
 Of evening's sun are glancing ? 
 
 And hear I not our Prophet's voice, 
 
 A healing power proclaim ? — 
 Doth he not bid us " look and live," 
 
 In the great Jehovah's name ? 
 
 Is it that serpent-form, whereon 
 
 The eyes of all are turning ? 
 Oh ! where is fled the raging pain 
 
 Late in my bosom burning ? 
 
 And the serpent-form has passed away, 
 And a glorious Form is there ; 
 
 Glorious, 'mid agony and shame, 
 And the head is bowed in prayer. 
 
 And He the serpent's head hath bruised 
 
 And rent away his sting : 
 Mother ! — I live again ! — for He 
 
 Brings healing on his wing !
 
 79 
 
 NOT WITH A CARNAL WEAPON. 
 
 ' The weapons of our warfare are not carnal."— 2 Cob. x. 2. 
 
 Not with a carnal weapon, 
 Not with a mortal shield — 
 
 Must we the battle strive to wage 
 That is fought on no earthly field !* 
 
 Our foe is the Prince of Air, 
 In darkness veiled from sight ; 
 
 And how may an arm of flesh avail 
 Against an Archangel's might ? 
 
 Helpless and prone we lay, 
 With Satan's yoke around us, 
 
 Made tenfold heavier by the chains 
 Wherewith our sins had bound us. 
 
 * This first stanza was composed in a dream.
 
 80 
 
 But Jesus hath set us free — 
 
 He hath burst the bonds of sin ; 
 
 He hath brought us "panoply of proof," 
 And bade us the battle win ! 
 
 He hath shod ovir feet with peace, 
 Our helm is the hope of heaven — 
 
 And to our hands the Word of God, 
 That two-edged sword, is given. 
 
 And take we the shield of faith, 
 The breast-plate of righteousness ; 
 
 Let our loins be girded about with truth, 
 And may God the battle bless !
 
 81 
 
 THE 
 
 MULTITUDE ARE ALL DISPERSED. 
 
 " Jesus went up into a mountain apart to pray ; and continued all 
 night in prayer."— Matt. xiv. 23— Luke vi. 12. 
 
 The multitude are all dispersed, 
 Each " scattered to his own ;" 
 
 The chosen apostles, too, are gone, 
 And He is " left alone ;" 
 
 And slowly wends the toilsome way, 
 
 Up to the mountain top " to pray." 
 
 The day, with all its many cares, 
 
 Hath faded into night, 
 And on that lonely mountain top 
 
 The moon pours down her light, 
 Gilding the head of him who there 
 Is kneeling in unuttered prayer.
 
 82 
 
 Whose is the silent form that kneels 
 On the barren mountain's brow ? — 
 
 Can it be His, beneath whose frown 
 The evil spirits bow ? 
 
 Before whose glance of heavenly might 
 
 Disease and death have taken flight ? 
 
 Tis David's Son— 'tis David's Lord ! 
 
 'Tis He to whom is given 
 All power and might in heaven and earth,* 
 
 The Lord of earth and heaven ! 
 Then, wherefore is He kneeling there, 
 Upon the mountain top in prayer ? 
 
 For our example — Jesus prayed, 
 That man, proud man, might see 
 
 The perfect pattern — and behold 
 His own iniquity ;-}• 
 
 Oh ! have our hearts the lesson caught, 
 
 Which then our blest Redeemer taught ? 
 
 * Matt, xxviii. 18. t Ezek. xliii. 10.
 
 83 
 
 " All night" the Saviour prayed, while we, 
 
 Ungrateful as we are, 
 Deem some brief moments all too long 
 
 To bow the knee in prayer ; 
 And grudge the scanty portion given 
 From things of earth to thoughts of heaven. 
 
 Well knew He this, to whom all hearts, 
 All secret thoughts are known;* 
 
 And, therefore, knelt He all night long 
 On the mountain top, alone ; 
 
 The mighty boon from heaven to gain, 
 
 Man will not ask, or asks in vain.f 
 
 And, therefore, were His days in toil, 
 His nights in watchings spent — 
 
 And, therefore, was His holy form 
 Beneath the rude cross bent ; 
 
 The Father's wrath to turn away, 
 
 From those who know not how to, pray. 
 
 * Matt. xii. 25. t James iv. 3.
 
 SI 
 
 In life, for them he prayed — in death, 
 Still prayed He for his own, 
 
 And still he intercedes for man 
 Before the Father's throne ; 
 
 Man's ceaseless Advocate is He, 
 
 Through Time, and through Eternity !
 
 85 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE OLD TOMBS AT BONCHURCH, 
 ISLE OF WIGHT. 
 
 Whose are those tombs, and by whom were they 
 raised — 
 
 Sad memorials of those that were dear ? 
 Their names are effaced from the records of Time, 
 
 And their bones lie forgotten here ! 
 
 ■ft v 
 
 Alas ! in this lonely and desolate spot, 
 
 How many a tear has been shed ! 
 How many a wish been breathed to share 
 
 The grave of the honoured dead ! 
 
 Here the beauty may sleep that enchained all hearts, 
 And the voice that all ears enchanted ; 
 
 And the lover has watered the rose with tears, 
 That on her grave he planted. 
 
 H
 
 86 
 
 Here the mother may sleep, who had left her child 
 
 Alone, on the world's wide waste ; 
 And her child has knelt on the long, damp grass, 
 
 And the cold, cold stone embraced. 
 
 Here the tender wife may be laid to rest, 
 
 And her widow'd husband here 
 Has laid on her grave his aching breast, 
 
 And poured the bitter tear. 
 
 But they have passed from their place on earth, 
 
 From the hearts that once held them dear ; 
 Their very names are all lost and gone, 
 And their bones lie crumbling here.
 
 87 
 
 THE 
 
 SPIRIT OF LITTLE FANNY, 
 
 TO HER 
 
 DEAR SISTER DORAH. 
 
 Nay, Sister, do not weep for me, 
 
 I am so happy here ! 
 There's nothing here but peace and joy, 
 
 And no one sorrows here ! 
 
 And the angels live so happily — 
 Those bright and beauteous things ; 
 
 They float along the rainbow air, 
 Upon such glorious wings ! 
 
 And they sing such sweet and lovely songs, 
 And their harps so loudly sound, 
 
 They have crowns of gold upon their heads, 
 And glory all around. 
 H 2
 
 88 
 
 But there is One among them stands, 
 
 Fairer than all beside, 
 With wounds upon his feet and hands, 
 
 And a large wound in his side. 
 
 His name is Jesus ! and they all 
 Kneel round him, when they sing ; 
 
 And they call him — holy, holy, Lord ! 
 And Heaven's Eternal King ! 
 
 And, Sister, He loves little ones, 
 And bids them come to Him ; 
 
 And I kneel with little angels there, 
 And sing the angel's hymn. 
 
 And He says, if we had staid on earth, 
 We might have wicked been, 
 
 And never reached this happy place, 
 Nor all His glory seen ! 
 
 He says that once He died for us, 
 And all to Him are dear ; — 
 
 Oh ! Sister ! pray to Him, that He 
 Will bring you to me here I
 
 89 
 
 MAY MORNING, 
 1841. 
 
 TO MY LITTLE PUPILS. 
 
 Up, little slumberers ! come out with me ! 
 
 The dew is sparkling on flower and tree ; 
 
 The sun shines out from the bright, blue sky, 
 
 And the lark in the heaven is soaring high, 
 
 The lambs in the meadow frolic and play, 
 
 All rejoice in the early day : — 
 
 The waves are dancing along the shore, 
 
 The tempests of winter are heard no more, 
 
 The white sails sparkle upon the sea, 
 
 Oh ! come, little slumberers ! come with me ! 
 
 Wake, little idlers ! come out with me ! 
 The thrush sings loud from the alder tree, 
 
 h 3
 
 90 
 
 The linnet her nestlings with food has filled, 
 And the bee her cell has begun to build ; 
 The insects are sporting above the stream, 
 Like diamond sparks in the sunny gleam ; 
 All God's creatures are up and awake, 
 The deer in the forest, the hare in the brake, 
 And the patient oxen that graze the lea — 
 Then, wake ! little idlers ! and come with me !
 
 91 
 
 SUDDEN, NOT UNPREPARED. 
 
 J. C. obit. April 4th, 1828, JEt&t. C4. 
 
 Oh, no ! — though to him the summons came 
 Like the flash of the bolt from heaven ; 
 
 Though not a moment for prayer or praise, 
 To his parting soul was given : — 
 
 Yet it was not sudden — for, unprepared, 
 
 That summons could never have found 
 him; 
 
 For he lived in a halo of Christian love, 
 And the light of his Saviour round him.
 
 92 
 
 EXPOSTULATION. 
 
 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 O never, never be that sweetest lyre 
 
 Touched with unhallowed fire ! 
 O wake not thou the magic of its lays, 
 Save to thy Maker's praise ! 
 Nor desecrate the powers He hath given 
 To themes less bright, less pure, than angels sing 
 in heaven. 
 
 The poet's art is one of heavenly birth — 
 
 Then let not songs of earth, 
 And earth's vain glories, mar the sacred spell, 
 But ever wake the shell, 
 To sing the God of Providence, of Grace, 
 Who makes the clouds His Throne, the stars His 
 dwelling place.
 
 93 
 
 Let meaner minstrels meaner subjects sing, 
 
 And strike their idle string, 
 To tell of earthly love, that will decay, 
 Even with the summer day : — 
 But, oh ! be thine to sing that boundless love, 
 Which passeth human ken, and fills the heavens 
 above ! 
 
 Thus pure, my friend, thus heavenly be thy 
 
 lay, 
 That so, when called away, 
 To join the wing-veiled Seraphim on high, 
 In sky-born melody ; 
 Not unaccustomed, thou may'st join the tlirong, 
 That, round the rainbow throne, aye pour their 
 deathless song !
 
 94 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR A YOUNG FRIEND S ALBUM, 
 AND PUBLISHED BY PERMISSION. 
 
 Oh ! tell me not of the magical art, 
 
 That is wrought but to swell the miser's 
 treasure ; 
 
 The philosopher's stone is a thankful heart, 
 Whose alchymy turns even pain to pleasure. 
 
 And tell me not of the learned leech, 
 
 From poisons a healing balm expressing, 
 Be mine the lore that the soul can teach, 
 
 From the evils of life to extract a blessing.
 
 95 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 ON READING THE ACCOUNT OF THE DEATH 
 OF AN INFIDEL. 
 
 " That was a most tremendous leap !" I said, 
 
 And shudderingly I turned, and closed the book, 
 
 As fearing longer on the page to look, — 
 
 Where, of an unbeliever's* dying bed, 
 
 The fearful tale was told. His impious head 
 
 To be less wise than God, could hardly brook — 
 
 So he the illumined path of truth forsook, 
 
 And did the darkling maze of error tread ; 
 
 And, in the pangs of life's last agony — 
 
 " Now for a leap in the dark !" he madly cried. 
 
 My soul, come thou not into such impiety, 
 
 But ever on the written word abide — 
 
 " In trembling hope," — and pray unceasingly, 
 
 " Lord! let me die as all Thy saints have died !" 
 
 * Hobbes.
 
 9G 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 WRITTEN DURING ILLNESS. 
 
 Sunday again ! Another week has flown, 
 
 And still they chain me to this couch of care ; 
 
 Another week ! nor to the house of prayer 
 
 My steps, as erst, have turned. The sun shines on, 
 
 Beneath his fostering beams the flowers have 
 
 blown, 
 And the green earth looks beautiful and fair, 
 But not for me, — and the soft, fragrant air, 
 Reviving all, comes not to me alone. 
 And yet are these no days of useless pain, 
 Each has its own appropriate duty ; past 
 (As days of sickness should be) in a train 
 Of pious thought, and the whole spirit cast 
 In posture of devotion ; so in vain 
 This chastisement shall not be found at last.
 
 97 
 
 THE CONVICT'S CHILD. 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 You ask me why my step is slow — 
 
 And why my eye with grief looks wild ? 
 
 I am the heir to shame and woe, 
 A poor, unhappy Convict's Child ! 
 
 I cannot with my playmates stay, 
 To hear my father's name reviled ; 
 
 I cannot joyous be, and gay, 
 
 A poor, unhappy Convict's Child ! 
 
 And still to this lone spot I creep, 
 
 "Where once poor mother sat and smiled ; 
 
 Oh ! that with her, in death, might sleep — 
 The miserable Convict's Child!
 
 98 
 
 LINES. 
 
 TO THE STORM THRUSH. 
 
 Sing on, sing on, thou fearless bird ! 
 
 Sing on thy gladsome lay ; 
 For ever thy sweetest note is heard — 
 
 In the dark and cloudy day, 
 When the linnet's varied pipe is hushed, 
 
 And the blackbird's voice is still, 
 And the flood of music o'er — that gushed 
 
 From the nightingale's little bill. 
 Yes ! — thou art like the cheerful mind 
 
 That, in misfortune's hour, 
 Something of comfort still can find — 
 
 In the very clouds that lower !
 
 TRANSLATIONS.
 
 TRANSLATIONS FROM FILICAJA.* 
 
 Vincenzio da Filicaja had druuk deeply both of the stream of 
 Helicon and of 
 
 " Siloa's brook, that flowed 
 
 " Fast by the oracle of God." 
 
 The fire of the Muses, and the fire of the Altar, equally burned in 
 his bosom, and sparkled through his song. No poet ever followed 
 more successfully the steps of the inspired prophets, in their paths of 
 
 highest elevation or deepest humility There is 
 
 wonderful energy and pathos in his language ; and the figure of repi- 
 tition, as in the Sacred Scriptures, is often and most effectually 
 employed. — Montgomery's Lectures on Poetry. 
 
 CANZONE 29. 
 
 GOD IS LOVE. 
 
 Love ! Celestial Love ! 
 In love thou did'st me form, 
 Ere yet with rapid foot the hours 'gan move, 
 Ere yet the Almighty lips 
 Unclosed in dread command ; 
 
 * Three or four of the Sonnets appeared in the British Magazine, 
 some years ago. 
 
 i 3
 
 102 
 
 Above the unformed, colourless abyss, 
 That yet in darkness lay, thy mighty arm 
 Was raised in power omnipotent — and I 
 Within thy bosom silently lay hid. 
 
 But since the Almighty voice, 
 Which things in heaven and things in earth obey, 
 Hath called creation from that dark abyss, 
 For me the wandering stars — 
 The skies for me — for me the steadfast earth, 
 With every form of beauty it contains, 
 
 Created are ; — thus, I may proudly say, 
 The world's Creator had a thought for me ! 
 Then into this, my breathless clay, He breathed 
 His own pure spirit — so He to His work 
 The eternal impress of its Maker gave. 
 
 Nor to preserve the life thus given in love, 
 Was the aye burning flame of love divine 
 Or slow or niggard in its gifts : 
 As oft as unto Thee I turned — so oft 
 My fainting life Thou did'st renew ; 
 Guiding and strengthening what Thyself had'st 
 given.
 
 103 
 
 And, oh ! what love was Thine ! 
 That gave on me to shine 
 Among Thine own, Thy guiding star of faith ? 
 Thou mightest me have laid (for all are Thine) 
 On Ganges' shore, or 'neath a Moorish sky, 
 Or where Abydos rolls, 
 With guilty waves upon a guilty land : 
 So had I breathed the air and trod the soil 
 Where infidelity alone is found ; 
 My arms to bonds of bitter slavery, 
 Thou mightest have doomed — but from Thy 
 goodness I 
 Rejoice in freedom, and in this world's gifts. 
 
 But what is this ? Disloyal, treacherous heart ? 
 To Him who loved thee so — scarce from the hand 
 That crowneth me with blessings, I receive 
 His many gifts — than 'gainst Him I rebel 
 With desperate insanity, and turn 
 Those very gifts to arms, against His power ; 
 For this, alas ! I do, whene'er I sin. 
 Do I not love Thee, then ? O where,
 
 104 
 
 In what barbarian school can I have learned 
 
 So foul an art ? How am I fall'n so low ? 
 The very air that sighs around, loves Thee — 
 The murmuring brooklet at my feet loves Thee — 
 
 And yon sweet nightingale, her song to Thee 
 Pours forth in love and gratitude ; — the beasts 
 Love Thee ; — and all their varied tones but tell, 
 
 To him who ponders them aright, Thy love, 
 Thy power and glory — and all praise Thy name ; 
 The stars which are the living tongues of heaven, 
 
 The day — the shadowy night — 
 The sun, that marks the hours and seasons forth, 
 
 The waters sparkling to adorn the earth, 
 The herbs and flowers, the hoar frost and the snow, 
 If these could form their hidden fires to speech 
 
 And sound — and words — and sighs — these all 
 "Would, turning to their Maker, say " We love." 
 
 And I alone love not — and I alone 
 Dare to resist the thunder of Thy voice ; 
 But, if I love Thee not, my doom will be 
 Where cries and groans and pains eternal dwell.
 
 105 
 
 Leave me, O leave me, then, thou loveless heart ! 
 Let not thy want of love torment me more ; 
 A thousand hells make not the sum of this — 
 The hell of loving not my gracious Lord ! 
 And, loving Him, hell were no longer hell ; — 
 What follows then ? My heart is not all stone, 
 
 And love will cost me, but the wish to love. 
 I would love Thee, my Lord ! for I have erred, 
 In loving misery and tears conjoined, 
 Beneath a mask of beauty and of joy — 
 For such is earthly love. But I will love, 
 And 1< % ' e I ask from Love ; — the wish — the prayer, 
 
 Already kindle in my heart a flame ; 
 And if the flame be light from heaven, oh ! grant 
 That it may still unceasing burn, nor leave, 
 Within my soul, one trace of earthly fires.
 
 106 
 
 SONNET 8. 
 
 CHRIST IN THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE. 
 
 If sad looks be the heralds of the heart, 
 If gestures, blood, and sighs, may claim our faith- 
 Then is He near to death — and asketh death ; 
 And here will He oft die, ere He depart, — 
 For my sins doth He mourn, yet for His grief— 
 His grief, that every other grief transcends, 
 (Ah ! such the height to which His love ascends) 
 Neither from earth or heaven He finds relief. 
 At this sad sight how shall I now express 
 My bitter anguish, but by tears alone, 
 Weeping my soul away with every tear ? 
 Oh ! than the garden Adam wont to dress, 
 More fatal garden thou ! The seed was sown 
 Of guilt in Eden, — mark its harvest here !
 
 107 
 
 SONNET 169. 
 
 CHRIST BEARING HIS CROSS TO CALVARY. 
 
 Lord ! Thou did'st bend to this unworthy load, 
 
 Those sacred shoulders which the world sustain ; 
 
 And thus, by shame and torture, earthward bowed, 
 
 Sufficient were Thy burden and Thy pain : 
 
 But heavier burden did Thy spirit bow, 
 
 Of sin — my sin — which Thou did'st bear alone, 
 
 / sinned — and Thou hast suffered — fainting Thou 
 
 Did'st grieve for me — I joy by Thee have known ; 
 
 Yes, tho' I grieve not, I may meekly take 
 
 Thy burden up, and bear it, and so make 
 
 Thy cross my shield, 'gainst death mine enemy ; 
 
 Nor of my sins the ocean wild and dark, 
 
 Shall 'whelm me — for that cross shall be my bark, 
 
 Thine arms the haven whither I would be !
 
 10S 
 
 SONNET 182. 
 
 THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 
 
 It will — it will come soon ! oh ! listen then — 
 The dreadful day of wrath mil come, ye fools ! 
 "When the last trumpet shall call forth the dead, 
 Out of the graves, to rise and meet their Judge ; 
 And each immortal spirit, re-arrayed 
 In its once mortal vesture, shall depart — 
 The good to heaven, the wicked to the land 
 Where everlasting death shall be their doom. 
 O ere the dawn shall wake that dreadful day, 
 Confess your sins to God, and he forgiven ; 
 Have faith in God, and do the works of faith, 
 That, amid horror and dismay, on you 
 The light may shine : as when the face of God 
 "Was veiled in clouds and darkness to His foes — 
 But, on His chosen, shone in light and joy.
 
 109 
 
 SONNET 128. 
 
 THE THOUGHT OF DEATH. 
 
 O Thought of Death, that lately to my heart 
 Did'st speak with such a voice of power and 
 
 might — 
 Where art thou? whither gone? wilt thou depart, 
 And flee before me on the wings of light ? 
 Within — around me — have I vainly sought, 
 Amid the regions both of sense and mind, 
 Nor yet I trace thee ; — yet, O solemn Thought, 
 Thy relics still, in awe and dread, I find. 
 Could I behold my vile and sinful will, 
 Haply I might at last therein discern 
 The image true of Death, and thee descry : 
 But vainly unto Death for help I turn, 
 Since where Death reigneth thou art absent still, 
 And where Death is not, Thought is ever nigh. 
 
 K
 
 110 
 
 SONNET 181. 
 
 ASH WEDNESDAY. 
 
 Out of the bosom of the dark, deep tomb, 
 Each year before the bar of truth ye come, 
 Ye sacred Ashes ! and with speech severe, 
 Against myself I bid ye witness bear. 
 " No, no !" — (ye cry) " thou could'st not now be 
 
 known 
 For him of yore! Where is thy proud youth 
 
 flown — 
 Where is thy strength, thy early promise, where ? 
 And where the ringlets of thy golden hair ?" 
 Convinced, I motionless and silent stand, 
 As though my final moment were at hand ; 
 Then, trembling, gird me for the parting hour, 
 When that dread sentence comes with awful power, 
 From which lies no appeal : — that to the earth 
 I must return, from whence I had my birth.
 
 Ill 
 
 SONNET 194. 
 
 ACT OF CONTRITION. 
 
 Lord, I have sinned — and if, all tremblingly, 
 I turn to Thee, with mourning and with prayer, 
 If sighs and bitter tears my portion are, 
 Nor these, nor broken heart can profit me. 
 " I who made man, will man's destroyer be !" 
 Thou said'st — nor lightly ; — Lo ! Creation fail- 
 Becomes a waste ; thy winds the mountains tear, 
 And the fierce waters from their bounds are 
 
 free ! 
 Thus it must needs be, that grief's piercing 
 
 sword 
 So deeply wound my heart, and break it so, 
 That for a human heart none might it know. 
 Now, a new man, the old man is abhorred, 
 And made the child of Thy most holy love, — 
 New life, new spirits, in my heart I prove. 
 
 K 2
 
 112 
 
 SONNET 172. 
 
 Above the low and grovelling realm of sense, 
 
 To regions higher and of purer ray, 
 
 Where night comes not to veil the glorious 
 
 day, 
 Or wrap the air in vapours dark and dense ; 
 To contemplate the attributes immense, 
 And all-incomprehensible, yet true, 
 And the Most High in his own light to view, 
 (If man may live and see Omnipotence,) 
 Arise ! my soul ! — and plume thine ardent wings, 
 To soar in the clear air of heavenly thought, 
 Nor longer waste thyself, 'mid earthly things. 
 The depths of heavenly love, as yet unsought — 
 Learn thou to fathom, — while Faith onward 
 
 springs, 
 As she a glance of the Unseen had caught.
 
 113 
 
 SONNET 147. 
 
 CONSOLATION IN ADVERSITY. 
 
 I weep for joy, when my Almighty Friend 
 In love chastises me ; and such the peace 
 I feel within, that other good I spurn, 
 And my heart swells beneath the sense of 
 
 bliss. 
 As one who, listening to the soothing strain 
 Of some imaginary tale of sorrow, weeps, 
 And weeps the more, the more the story 
 
 charms, — 
 And pain but makes the pleasure more intense : 
 Thus many a sweet and pleasant tear I shed, 
 While by some secret Power constrained to break 
 My wonted silence, looking up to heaven, 
 I cry — " Bright Angels ! if that joy alone 
 May dwell within your high abodes, I feel 
 I have a deeper bliss — the 'joy of grief!" ' 
 
 k 3
 
 114 
 
 SONNET 148. 
 
 TAITH IN GOD UNDER MISFORTUNE. 
 
 Deaf to the flattering wind's inviting voice, 
 Cautiously moves my little bark along. 
 One oar the billow touching, one the shore, 
 She heedeth not the gentle zephyr's song. 
 And now the seas toss their white waves on high, 
 And fill with fear and dread my trembling heart ; 
 The shores recede, and 'neath the darkened sky, 
 To steer in safety I have lost mine art. 
 When from the pilot's eye the clouds of night 
 Have veiled the Bear, anon he sees arise 
 Some other star to guide his dubious course : 
 Thus I, though mortal help meet not mine eyes, 
 Still trust in Him who doth in heaven abide, 
 And Faith is still my ruler and my guide.
 
 115 
 
 SONNET 1G8. 
 
 THE CROWN OF THORNS. 
 
 Who rent ye from the trunk, and who hath placed 
 Upon that sacred Head, ye thorns, the harsh 
 And cruel diadem ? The guilty task 
 Was yours, by fate alone ; but mine by sin. 
 These hands, these very hands of mine, composed 
 The impious wreath ; — this heart hath been the soil 
 Whence they have sprung to life, and whence they 
 
 drew 
 The sap that should such bitter fruit produce. 
 So with the growth of my great sins they grew, 
 Infect with poisonous venom ; — now behold 
 Themselves the ministers of wrath become ! 
 But, O ! when thus with barbarous fury, I 
 Had bound ye on my blest Redeemer's head — 
 WTvy did ye then not turn and rend my heart ?
 
 116 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 BY MICHEL AGNOLO BUONAROTTI. 
 
 Now, my life's painful voyage almost o'er, 
 
 My frail bark seeks, through stormy seas, a shore 
 
 Where each the solemn dread account must pay — 
 
 Of all the actions of life's varied day. 
 
 And now, with deep remorse, the guilt I feel 
 
 Of suffering art so much of time to steal, 
 
 And love that to my God alone was due — 
 
 thoughts that once so joyous were, to you 
 
 1 turn, in vain, for help — two deaths are near ; 
 One certain — and the other much I fear. 
 Nor Painting now, nor Sculpture can impart 
 One ray of comfort to my sinking heart ; 
 
 My help rests all on Him, whose boundless love 
 Beams from the cross, and from the heavens above.
 
 117 
 
 COLUMBUS. 
 
 FROM CHIABRERA 
 
 Yes ! — by the heart that seeks not to achieve 
 A high and splendid destiny, are deeds 
 Of lofty enterprize despised or scorned ; 
 But they of nobler soul, to nobler acts 
 Aye self-devoted, find their joy in toil, — 
 Nor the frail chain of popular reproach 
 Can bind such spirits on their glorious path. 
 Thus many a year, by many unworthy ways, 
 Europe repressed the seaman's lofty hope — 
 The vulgar laughed in scorn, (and kings were they) 
 At the poor pilot, promising new realms ; 
 Yet, over seas unknown and trackless deeps, 
 His prow invincible, he guided well, — 
 Even with the eager haste of one who comes, 
 After long absence, to his dear wife's arms ;
 
 118 
 
 So he spreads yard and canvas to the breeze, 
 Flies o'er the ocean — braves the ocean storms, 
 Triumphant o'er the very fear of death, — 
 Till, all the perils of the great deep passed, 
 He sees the once-deemed fable-land arise, 
 And, swiftly springing from the tall ship's side, 
 Treads out exulting on a new found world ! 
 Then high amid the sunny air is reared — 
 Banner of heaven — the unconquerable Cross ! 
 And, following the chief's example, all 
 In humblest posture, kneel in worship there.
 
 119 
 
 COUNT UGOLINO. 
 
 FROM DANTE, 
 
 L'lnferno, Canto 33 — St. 46. 
 
 Now in the lock of that most horrid tower, 
 
 I heard the key turn — and I gaz'd upon 
 
 My children's faces ; but I spoke not then — 
 
 I wept not, for I seem'd to turn to stone. 
 
 They wept, poor boys ! and little Anselm said-— 
 
 " Thou look'st so strangely, Father, art thou ill ?" 
 
 Still I wept not ; nor did I answer him 
 
 All that long day, and the still longer night ; 
 
 Until another sun upon us rose. 
 
 One little ray had pierced the gloomy depth 
 
 Of that sad prison-house, and I discerned 
 
 The marks of famine in my children's eyes, 
 
 And then I gnawed my hands for grief and rage ; 
 
 They thought it was for hunger, and they rose
 
 120 
 
 And said — " O Father ! we should suffer less 
 If thou would'st feed on us : thou gavest us 
 These forms of our's — receive them now again." 
 Then 1 suppressed my grief for their dear sakes — 
 And that day and the next we all were mute ; 
 Why, cruel earth ! did'st thou not open then ? 
 The fourth day, Gaddo fell before my feet, 
 And cried—" Wilt thou not help me, Father !" 
 There he lay, dead — and one by one they all 
 Sank down, between the fifth day and the sixth, 
 And then I blindly groped among my sons, 
 And three days called on them who could not hear — 
 Then grief, not famine, did the work of death.
 
 121 
 
 ANCIENT FLORENCE. 
 
 FROM DANTE, 
 
 IlParadiso, Canto 15— St. 96. 
 
 Fair Florence, then within her ancient walls, 
 
 Sat in her mild and peaceful modesty : 
 
 Nor chain nor coronet of gold adorned 
 
 Her daughters then — nor useless ornament. 
 
 The father then felt not a pang of grief 
 
 Upon his daughter's birth — to think of all 
 
 The woes that time and marriage with them bring. 
 
 No fatal factions tore our city then, 
 
 Nor evil passions vexed her with their sway ; 
 
 Nor sought she then to rival or excel 
 
 Imperial Rome, in its own luxury. 
 
 Bellincion Berti then I knew, content 
 
 With a plain leathern garment, and his wife 
 
 Came from her mirror with a cheek untinged, 
 
 L
 
 124 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 FROM ORAZIO PETROCHZ. 
 
 I called on Time, and asked of him the name 
 Of a vast Temple, which in ruins lay : — 
 He answered not, — but through the aery way 
 More swiftly wav'd his wings. I called on Fame, 
 " O thou who wanderest over earth and sea, 
 
 " To seek their wonders, hither turn thine eyes ; 
 " And, ere the echo of its memory dies, 
 " Preserve this Temple for posterity !" 
 She vanishes — nor heeds my cry : — but now, 
 By her slow step, and ever gloomy look, 
 Oblivion's dark and giant form is known. 
 " And thou," I cried, " wilt thou the boon bestow, 
 Wilt thou reveal ? Her voice the firm earth shook, 
 " Ask me not whose it was : — 'Tis now mine 
 own !"
 
 125 
 
 PARAPHRASE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LORD'S PRAYER. 
 
 FROM DANTE, 
 II Pur. Canto 11, St. 1. 
 
 O God, our Father ! who in heaven art, 
 Not circumscribed therein ; but by the love 
 Which from eternity Thou hast bestowed 
 On all the creatures of Thy will and power : 
 Hallowed be Thy great and glorious name 
 By all creation, who may lift the voice 
 To praise Thy wisdom and Thy majesty. 
 Pour upon us Thy kingdom's heavenly peace, 
 Which of ourselves we never could obtain, 
 But from Thy gracious mercy and Thy love. 
 And as around Thy throne the Seraphim, 
 Singing hosannas, ever do Thy will — 
 So may Thy will be done on earth below. 
 
 L O
 
 126 
 
 Each day bestow on us the bread of life, 
 While through this barren wilderness we pass ; 
 And, as the evil which we have received 
 From others, freely we to them forgive, 
 Do Thou forgive our trespass, gracious Lord. 
 And look, with eyes of pity, on our sins, — 
 Deliver us from evil ; nor our souls 
 Abandon to the subtle tempter's snares ; — 
 For Thine the Kingdom is — the Glory — Power, 
 Here and hereafter, now, and evermore !
 
 m 
 
 SONG OF THE BIRD. 
 
 FROM TASSO, 
 Gerusakmme, Canto 16, St. 14. 
 
 f Mark," thus he sang, "how springs the virgin rose 
 
 " From her soft, modest robe of tender green ; 
 
 " Half hid, half shewn, her beauties now appear, 
 
 " And lovelier seem, thus indistinctly seen. 
 
 " Now, bolder grown, her beauteous form she turns 
 
 " To every passing eye ; — anon she fades, 
 
 " And droops and dies away ; — no longer now 
 
 " Prized by a thousand youths, a thousand maids. 
 
 " So passeth, in the passing of a day 
 
 " Of human life, the bud, the leaf, the flower ; 
 
 " And tho' sweet Spring return with blossoms gay, 
 
 " Never to man returns youth's joyous hour ! 
 
 " Cull, then, the rose, in the sweet hour of prime, 
 
 " For soon the morn of life is overcast ; 
 
 " Gather the rose of love, while yet you may, 
 
 " For soon the hour of youth and love is past !"
 
 128 
 SONNET, 
 
 ON 
 
 THE DEATH OF LAURA. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH. 
 
 Those eyes, which I so warmly did admire, 
 Those arms, those hands, those feet, and that 
 
 sweet face, 
 Which have extinguished in me every trace 
 Of what I was, and turned my heart to fire ; 
 Those curling tresses, like bright golden wire, 
 The lightning of that angel smile, the grace 
 Which could a paradise on earth retrace — 
 Now in a heap of dust must all expire ! 
 And I survive ! but to lament in vain, 
 The day-star of my path, which my fond eye 
 Still turned to bless, whether in weal or woe : 
 And now my harp is hushed — or to complain 
 Alone must wake its plaintive melody ; 
 Its spring of love and joy has ceased to flow !
 
 129 
 
 SONNET 15, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF THE POET CINO. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH. 
 
 Weep, ladies ! and, with you, let Cupid weep ! 
 Weep, lovers ! each one for his friend departed ; 
 That he is gone, whose tender lays imparted 
 Glory to names that else would ever sleep, — 
 For me, my grief is silent, stern, and deep. 
 My tears are not like yours, ye hollow hearted ! 
 He from this world of sin and grief has parted, 
 And now his meed of glory he shall reap. 
 Weep for thy fallen estate, sad Poesy ! 
 Now thy beloved Cino is no more ; 
 Perverse Pistoia ! weep thy Poet lost — 
 For he is gone, and gone eternally ; 
 Yet, while his loss with tears we all deplore, 
 He joins in choral hymns the heavenly host.
 
 130 
 
 SONNET 39. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH. 
 
 When Sol in ocean bathes his flaming hair, 
 And my mind darkens with the darkening sky, 
 The stars, and the bright moon come forth on 
 
 high — 
 But they can give no respite to my care ; 
 And then the griefs that do my bosom tear, 
 I tell to her who hears not when I cry. 
 Then the harsh world, and my sad destiny, 
 I mourn, — my sighs are wasted in the air, — 
 Sleep has abandoned me, she comes not near 
 So lost a wretch as I ; but in her place 
 Come sighs, and tears, that waste my soul away : 
 Now day returns, but not to me appear 
 Her charms, — one only sun my life did grace, 
 And that for ever has withdrawn its ray.
 
 131 
 
 SONNET 66. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH. 
 
 Th' adoring angels, and the spirits blest, 
 The denizens of heaven, when they did see 
 The lady of my love pass by them, wonderingly 
 Exclaimed, with love and reverence imprest — 
 " What star is this, in such bright radiance drest, 
 " Some spirit it must be, who wearily 
 " Hath trod the regions of mortality, 
 " And now returns to her eternal rest ?" 
 She — happy to have left her house of clay — 
 Soars to the realms of bliss, and often turns 
 On me, from her bright eye, a heavenly ray, 
 To mark, if I her steps attend ; while burns 
 My heart, to reach the glories of that day 
 To which she flies, but never more returns.
 
 132 
 
 SONNET 68. 
 
 FROM PETRARCH. 
 
 So oft on rapid wings of thought I fly 
 
 To heaven, I seem among the spirits blest, 
 
 Who now have entered their eternal rest, 
 
 Rending the veil of coarse mortality ; 
 
 And now my heart beats low and shiveringly, 
 
 And she for whom my soul is thus opprest, 
 
 Whispers — " Still art thou treasured in this breast, 
 
 " Though now in robes of light I tread the sky." 
 
 She leads me to her God — I, bending low, 
 
 That we may yet in heaven united be, 
 
 With deep humility and grief, implore ; 
 
 A voice replies — " This fate the heavens bestow — 
 
 " Wait but a few short years, and thou and she 
 
 " Shall meet in bowers of bliss, to part no more."
 
 133 
 
 THE CAPTIVE, 
 
 FROM DELILLE. 
 
 See, where yon solitary captive dwells, 
 
 For ever destined to these gloomy cells ; 
 
 His sole employment, through the lingering day, 
 
 To mark the weary moments roll away — 
 
 T' explore the measure of his sad domain — 
 
 Muse on that home he shall not see again ; 
 
 Or, of the former tenants of the cell, 
 
 Read the sad lines, the histories which tell, 
 
 And, tracing there his own unhappy name, 
 
 To future captives leave a mournful fame. 
 
 'Twere little here with all of hope to part, 
 
 But memory comes to agonize his heart. 
 
 Alas ! while with the maids their hearts approve 
 
 In the gay city, or the lonely grove, 
 
 His friends of other days are wandering free ; 
 
 What time the hour of mirth and revelry 
 
 M
 
 134 
 
 Calls the gay youth of ever-smiling France, 
 To join the festive ring, the song, the dance, — 
 Or, with a sweeter joy the heart to move, 
 Marks the propitious hour of faithful love : 
 He sits alone ! — in gloomy silence close 
 The mornings and the evenings of his woes ; 
 The voice of friendship never meets his ear — 
 He sees not shed for him soft pity's tear, 
 No movement has he but to drag his chain, 
 No heart but for his grief — no sense but pain — 
 No ray of comfort on his dungeon falls, 
 Its arch, his sky— his horizon, its walls ; 
 And, if to seek the stars he raise his eye, 
 In that deep darkness must it fade and die. 
 The light, to every human heart so dear, 
 Comes not, thro' prison bars, his soul to cheer ; 
 Or if one feeble ray should pierce the gloom, 
 It deepens all the horrors of that tomb — 
 In hopeless woe consuming all his days, 
 He seeks the light, yet grieves to see its rays.
 
 oo 
 
 THE GRAVE 
 
 OF 
 
 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 
 
 FROM DE LA MARTINE. 
 
 Where the wave beats against the rocky shore, 
 
 The mariner afar descries a tomb ; 
 Time has not thrown his darkening mantle o'er 
 
 The white stone's surface ; there wild roses blow, 
 And he who seeks the ivied veil to explore, 
 A shattered sceptre finds ! 
 
 Here sleeps — no name is here — ask it of Earth ! 
 
 Engraved in characters of blood and flame, 
 From Egypt to where Tanais has his birth ; 
 
 In bronze, in marble, sculptured lives that name, 
 In brave men's hearts — and slaves of little worth, 
 Who trembled 'neath his sway. 
 m 2
 
 136 
 
 Among the names that Time will not efface, 
 
 None on the lightning's wings so far hath flown ; 
 
 No mortal footstep hath its iron trace 
 
 Stamped on men's memories with so deep a tone, 
 
 A tone that echoed thro' Earth's widest space, 
 And the march ended here ! 
 
 Now he lies here ! — three paces bound his reign, 
 And his shade utters not a murmuring sound ; 
 
 His foeman's foot above him gives no pain — 
 The wild bee hums that awful brow around, 
 
 His spirit hears now but the sounding main, 
 
 Whose waves beat on the shore !
 
 137 
 
 ON THE 
 
 BEAUTIFUL SLEEPING STATUE 
 OF NIGHT, 
 
 SCULPTURED BY MICHAEL ANGELO, ON THE 
 TOMB OF LORENZO DE MEDICI. 
 
 The form of Night, so sweetly sleeping here, 
 By Angelo was sculptured in the rock ; 
 Yet, since she sleeps — she lives — awaken her, 
 Incredulous ! — and she will answer thee ! 
 
 " Sweet is my sleep, but sweeter far to be 
 " Of senseless marble, now that sin and shame 
 " Are rife around — neither to see nor hear 
 " Is mercy : — therefore, hush ! — and wake me 
 not!" 
 
 m 3
 
 138 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 FROM DE LA MARTINE. 
 
 Gliding insensibly away, 
 Day gently follows after day, 
 Bearing upon their quiet stream 
 Our every thought, and hope, and dream : 
 And, like the early faded flower, 
 Which, even in the festive hour, 
 
 Falls from the guest's gay brow ; 
 The joys which earth can give, decay, 
 And, withering from our sight away, 
 Strew life's dark passage now. 
 
 Rememberest thou this lonely shore, 
 With its silvery-tinted waves — 
 
 Where the image seems to sleep, that light 
 Upon its breast engraves ?
 
 139 
 
 A dear name o'er the waters flies, 
 But no responsive voice replies, 
 Save the murmur of the shore — 
 Unhappy ! breathe it now no more ! 
 See'st thou not, 'mid the dark reeds here, 
 That name inscribed upon a bier !
 
 MO 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 TO 
 
 HER FIRST BORN SON. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH OF CLOTILDE DE SURVILLE, 
 A. D. 1422. 
 
 My infant darling ! image of thy sire ! 
 
 Sleep on the bosom which thy lip hath pressed ! 
 Sleep sweetly, cradled in thy mother's arms, 
 
 Close thy dear eyes, by slumber deep oppressed. 
 
 Beautiful baby ! may thy infant eyes 
 
 Rest in that sleep, which comes no more to me ; 
 I wake to guard thee, dear one, to defend — 
 
 Sweeter than sleep, such watchfulness, for thee ! 
 
 When shall I see thy father once again, 
 
 My youthful love, " the beautiful, the brave !" 
 
 Sweet baby boy ! lift up thy little hands, 
 
 And ask of heaven the boon we both must crave.
 
 141 
 
 How will he print the first, fond father's kiss, 
 On that soft brow, and vie with me for more ; 
 
 And yet, in all a father's tenderness, 
 
 The husband's love will not exhaust its store. 
 
 Thine are his features, thine his noble brow — 
 There his bright eyes, — his living roses there ; 
 
 No marvel — born of one who loves so well, 
 How can'st thou but thy father's image bear ?
 
 142 
 
 THE OLD MAN'S ADDRESS 
 TO SPRING. 
 
 FROM GUYON. 
 
 O Spring ! thou season soft and fair, 
 Season of hopes and pleasures high ; 
 
 For thy sweet gifts, my weary soul 
 Can only offer thee a sigh ! 
 
 Suffer, oh ! suffer me to weep, 
 
 For, since the close of my young hours, 
 Full many a year hast thou returned 
 
 To deck all here, save me, with flowers. 
 
 Oh ! why, sweet Spring, to man alone 
 Thy quickening influence deny ; 
 
 He, while all nature owns thy sway, 
 Sees life — but knows that he must die.
 
 143 
 
 Those flowers, which erst my youthful hands 
 Were wont to twine around my brow ; 
 
 Those flowers, alas ! will only serve 
 To hide my lowly grave-stone now !
 
 U4 
 
 INSCRIPTION 
 
 ON THE 
 
 TOMB OF A YOUNG GIRL. 
 
 FROM MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 Friends ! with light hearts that hither come to tread, 
 With lighter feet this green and flowery turf — 
 Like you, — I trusted life's uncertain joys, 
 Your songs, your guileless pastimes, all were mine ; 
 Love soothed my heart with his delusive joys, 
 And a yet sweeter bond of union gave — 
 One moment shivered all these flattering hopes, 
 What now remains of all ? This lowly grave. 
 
 BOROUGH OF TYNEMO0TH : PRINTED BY J. PHILIPSON.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 orm L9-17r/!-8,'55(Bo33»s4)444 
 
 TUB LWKA** „**
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 3R Tae - 
 C5)OhXl7 
 
 
 L8U2 
 
 
 ~ I 
 
 
 AA 000 367 232 6 
 
 PR 
 
 19 
 
 ;2