OF THE U N I V ERS ITY OF ILLINOIS 8£1 R335a RICHARDSON’S POEMS. ACELDAMA AND OTHER POEMS AND LYRICS. BY CHARLES RICHARDSON. LONDON: SIMPKIN AND MARSHALL. LEEDS: JOSEPH BUCKTON, 50, BRIGGATE. MDGCCLI-. )fcr/ j ENTERED AT STATIONERS HALL, CO i o £2 8 CO h* O o uj TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CARLISLE, ®f)ts 'Folume of ■Jt 4 IN v> OF ■«Ss Qc* is, (by permission) dedicated, HUMBLE ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS LORDSHIP’S ACTIVE ENDEAVOURS TO PROMOTE A MORE GENERAL DIFFUSION OF LITERARY TASTES AND ACQUIREMENTS, AND WITH THE HIGHEST ADMIRATION HIS SUPERIOR TALENTS, AND DISTINGUISHED MORAL VIRTUES, BY HIS LORDSHIPS VERY HUMBLE SERVANT, * To Miss Elizabeth Cowling : aged Ten Years . . 287 To Miss Sarah Ann Shepherd . . . . . . 288 * ACELDAMA. Bella, horrida bella. — Virgil, vi. 86. War, horrid war of ancient days, The poets sang in mournful lays, And modern bards responsive tell , Of sanguine fields and carnage fell, And but the former tale repeat, With all its terrors yet replete. Ambition with insatiate lust, His fellow trampling in the dust, Established order that disdains, And iron rule o’er all maintains ; And passions fierce, a fearful band, Subservient sole to his command, By the stern hunter hounded forth, That with destruction sweep the earth, B 6 ACELDAMA. And hearth and altar desecrate, And scenes elysian devastate ; And the funereal train of woes That hence originates, and flows Astygian stream, dark, deep, and wide, Whose swollen and resistless tide, In course impetuous downwards bears Whatever man to man endears ; And the dread feelings that arise, Like lurid mists which blot the skies, And baneful influences distil, And with despair the bosom fill ; And fortune’s wrecks, and blasted hopes, Wherewith the sufferer vainly copes ; In Lydian cadence they proclaim, In every time and place the same. And who with lofty thoughts elate, For war would be the advocate ? Aspiring after worthless fame, And vulgar suffrage of acclaim, Whose bosom pants the field to take, Where he himself a name may make, Though at the cost of thousands, who Must life or happiness forego ; And with much travail and turmoil, And deadly strife secure the spoil , And pour their blood to fertilize The ground, his laurel that supplies ; ACELDAMA. And win him glory’s tinsel sheen, Whose meteor glare is but a skreen, The stern destroyer’s track that hides, Where misery in ambush bides ; Or ignis fatuus to betray, And to destruction lead the way. Who therefore, wont to take delight In flaunting plumes and armour bright, And the eclat of martial deeds, For wrong and outrage madly pleads ; When that the strange excitement’s off And the proud panoply they doff, The pomp, and strife, and victory o’er, Let him the mournful truth explore. Approach we then the battle plain, Where blood and gore the sward bestain ; O’er which Niobean sadness weeps, And melancholy vigil keeps ; And silence broods with aspect drear, Save when affection lingers near ; When sorrow’s wail and plaintive moan Commingled o’er the waste are thrown, Re-echoed by the stifled sigh Of the unwitting stranger nigh ; Or piteous cries, which rend the air, Of tender orphans, wandering there, b 2 8 ACELDAMA. Who, mid the gory heaps of slain, For fathers call , but call in vain ; Or the dire shriek of wild despair, With frenzied look, dishevelled hair, And clenched with agony the hands As o’er her slain the widow stands. Once smiling fields ; how changed the scene, A moment doth but intervene — The peasant’s cheerful voice resounds, And other pleasing rustic sounds, From shady groves and smiling hills, And murmuring streams and tinkling rills, When horror in the distance looms, And darkness o’er the welkin glooms, On dragon pinions, borne afar, Descends the dreadful scourge of war. — The cry arose, destruction sped, Her myrmidons to slaughter led, Who, their commission to fulfil, The teeming vale, and sunny hill, And homes that peaceful aspects bore, Transmuted to a field of gore. Here for achievements great renowned, Many their blushing honours found, In crimson tides their laurels steeped And here their iron harvests reaped : ACELDAMA. 9 But what the cost? review the slain, Which far and wide bestrew the plain, In martial ranks, at one fell stroke, As from yon heights the cannon broke ; Or gory piles w T ho nobly sped, Where the hot front of battle led, With energy their foe opposed, And at their post existence closed. In vigorous confidence who stood, And expectations rising high, With shattered frames and bathed in blood, In death’s cold arms now lowly lie : A moment— they rejoiced in life ; A moment sealed their mortal strife : And what remains! ambition, look, And contemplate these hearts of oak, Who made for service, on the shrine Of thy proud wishes, all resign. At thy dread summons, heard afar, The trumpet peals the note of war, And eager warriors catch the sound, And, at their posts accustomed found, For conflict girt, a gallant band, In manhood’s prime and strength they stand ; And stern the front which they present, On victory and conquest bent ; And haughty crest, and stalwart frame, The thoughts predominant proclaim ; 10 ACELDAMA. While clenched the sword and couched the spear, Disdainful of a rising fear, Impatient for the battle cry, They danger’s threatening front defy. From yonder heights the signal given, The banners to the winds of heaven Were Haunted forth, all trophied o’er With feats of arms performed before ; Nodded each plume in unison, A thousand hearts seemed but as one ; The lines impetuous onward urged, And in the plain for fight converged. Legion with legion fiercely closed, And iron front to front opposed, The restive war-horse reared his crest ; His soul the trumpet’s sound possest ; He pawed the valley, sought the charge, Undaunted by the embattled targe ; With generous fleetness onwards sped, Where e’er the heat of danger led, Whilst armed with death, he, whom he bore, Tracked as he passed a path of gore. Now through the campaign’s wide extent, What myriads swarm ! on slaughter bent : The combat deepens — Clio, say, What power of language may pour tray, ACELDAMA. 11 Embattled hosts to rage resigned : A fearful scene ! wherein we find, The curse affirmed, denounced on earth, When the dread sentence issued forth, Against him first on record known, Who madly smote his brother down. And here is realized the ban, As man against his fellow man, On mutual violence intent, Nor longer under law's restraint, Whose frenzied passions set at large Their fatal virulence discharge ; Awoke the soul’s unhallowed fire, Enkindling fierce and vengeful ire, Which spends itself in fearful deeds, Wherein the unoffending bleeds. The conflict spreads from side to side ; The battle rages far and wide ; And cannon peals resound again, Whose volleys number fields of slain ; And seried files destruction pour ; And tramping hosts shed seas of gore ; And glittering brand and furbished lance, Like lightening o’er their victims glance, Quenched in whose blood ; for vainly they, Of rough shod warriors, mercy pray, n ACELDAMA. Which there, alas ! no place may find, Where all to madness are resigned, And carnage sole, predominate, Of many a brave one seals the fate. Hark ! to destruction’s hideous cry, Her demons flitting through the sky, Whose fearful shriek and horrid yell , Of doomed and hapless misery tell. Helpless humanity here bleeds ; And who its poignant sufferings heeds ? No one, to aid or succour, flies, Though shrieks of torture rend the skies, Which mid the turmoil scarce are drowned, By trumpet’s bray or drum’s resound; Or the reverberating peal Of sharp platoon, or clashing steel, Or victors’ shouts — the sounds which are Combined to form the voice of war, Whose brazen note which pity scares, From hill to hill wild echo bears. No more ! the marshalled hosts are gone But misery’s dread work is done. Once smiling fields : but horror now, With look askance and scowling brow, There broods in silence, heard no more, Or voice of joy, or cannon’s roar, ACELDAMA. 13 A breathless pause around prevails ; Anon — the shriek of woe assails, Strikes on the ear an awful knell, Which doth of desolation tell , Whose ploughshare, deeply struck, hath made A wilderness of forest glade ; And peaceful home where plenty dwelt, Which for the wants of others felt ; And garden in its blooming pride ; And vineyards spread the country wide ; And farms that healthful labour owned, And which abundant harvests crowned. A lurid gloom upon them rests, And melancholy all invests : For desolation reigneth there, Where wont the vintage was to cheer ; And teeming earth inspired delight, Or verdure clad, or sylvan dight. And rural life, of pleasure full, Excited joys ineffable, At evening’s close, or opening day, Or when the noontide poured its ray, In those to cheerful toil allied, The anvil or the loom who plied, Or husbandman, or lowly swain, Or who in traffic found their gain, Or those whose competent desires, Were blest with all that want requires: 14 ACELDAMA. A feast of gladness free to all, Whose sweets are rarely known to pall ; And few there are with hearts so drear, But here their drooping minds might cheer. Often along the mountain green, O’ertopping the enamelled scene, With pleasure beaming from his eye, Drawn from the earth, or from the sky ; There contemplation wont to stray With measured footsteps took his way, At early dawn before the sun, Had his accustomed course begun ; Or in the copse found a retreat, When that he shed meridian heat ; Or evening come, and fell the dews, Which sweetness through the air diffuse, And Hesperus began to glow, On yonder overhanging brow, He paced in pleasing musing mood, Or ever and anon he stood, Or on some mossy couch he sate, The tranquil scene to contemplate, And catch the sounds with ears at tent. Which forth the open valley sent, What time the woodman hasting home, Chaunted aneath the forest s gloom, ACELDAMA. 15 And peasant from his toil set free, Whistled along his way with glee, Responsive to the ruddy maid, Bent o’er her pail in yonder glade, From hill or crag, whose voice of song, Sweet echoes pleasingly prolong ; And joyous and exultant shout, Of jocund youth, which ranged about The village green on mirth intent, The mind by sorrow yet unbent, With happiness the present fraught, And of to-morrow not a thought. Such sights the eye, such sounds the ear Of philanthropic wisdom cheer ; Which to his mind more gladness bring, Than can from pomp and splendour spring, Whose tinsel sheen and midnight glare, Phantoms and shadows only are. But, ah! the joys once wont to please, Are only less short lived than these. No more ’tis thus; the scene is changed, And happiness is now estranged. There all was redolent of joy, Without a prospect of alloy, When swift the ruthless spoiler came, Like the simoom with breath of flame ; And o’er the smouldering remains Triumphantly gaunt ruin reigns, 16 ACELDAMA. Whose adamantine sceptre’s sway, Mildew, and blight, and death obey. Tis waste and desolation drear! Nor sight, nor sound, the heart to cheer; Nor in the whole extent is seen, Aught to remind of what has been : For ranging o’er the wide campaign Affection fond, her efforts vain, A vestige of the past is sought, So wont to be with gladness fraught, When genial suns their lustre shed, And verdure o’er the the landscape spread , And influences bland awoke, Which healthfulness and vigour spoke. How laughed the hills ! the valleys rang, What time the jocund peasant sang, And every green ambrosial grove, Resounded with the songs of love. And thus the vernal seasons past, With all their charms receding fast ; But as autumnal days drew near, Replete with all their harvest cheer, What sounds of joy were wont to rise, A grateful offering to the skies ! The husbandman with careful tread, Paced where his treasures widely spread, ACELDAMA. 1? Glistened whose eye as he surveyed, The rich abundance there displayed: And as he viewed his ripened store, His heart with gratitude ran o’er. And of his joy, the rustic trains, Who laboured in his fertile plains, Or skilful with the reaping hook, Or gatherers of the vine partook. In the sweet homestead that he owned, On yonder gently rising ground Embowered in overhanging trees, Which courted the delightsome breeze, And overpowering heats allayed, Affording no unwelcome shade, In vernal seasons when at length, The sun attained meridian strength ; Or when prevailed severer skies, When winter’s stormy blasts arise, Breaking the fury of the gale, Or winged with snow, or sleet, or hail ; Nor needs it me with curious eye, In the interior to pry ; The outward tokens which it bare Of ease and comfort, all were there — In that loved spot where long he dwelt, Nor stroke of adverse fortune felt, Those joyous hearts assembled there, The first fruits of his store to share. 18 ACELDAMA. And what a scene of rustic mirth, When crowded round the kitchen hearth, Or at the board with plenty spread, To which the host as freely led, Inviting all to cheer their hearts, With what kind providence imparts. And now concluded the repast, And the short moments failing fast, Engaged awhile in sportive vein, To jollity they gave the rein, And songs went round, and now the joke, Which laughter’s bursting peals awoke ; Until at length the risen moon, With upfilled horns, which brightly shone, And shed that mild and placid light, Around the ebon throne of night, With rapture and delight that fills, And gladness through the soul distils ; And then each youth his maiden led, Forth on the green enamelled mead, Who with a coy averted glance, Nor loath to join the merry dance, Resigned her hand, while native grace Suffused her lovely form and face, As to the viol’s lively strain, She mingled with the mazy train ; Or to the tabor and oboe, “Tripped on the light fantastic toe;” ACELDAMA. 19 Whilst age sedate, relaxed his brow, Applausive of the elphin show, And, for the moment care resigned, Upon the village seat reclined Beneath the overhanging shade, The rustic revelry surveyed; The while reverting to his prime, The joys and gambols of his time. All this, and more, that memory brings, Forth on her retrospective wings, The prospect fair has vanished clean, Nor of its brightness aught is seen, Save in the visions of the past, For war has made the whole a waste. And who, this lately lovely spot, By thee devasted, now a blot : Who that has seen, thy battle car Would care to urge, O! madding war? Ill fated morn ! when first awoke, By thine alarms, the swain forsook His lowly bed, unwitting he Of horrors which pertain to thee ; Nor cognizant of thy dread name, Except through the reports of fame ; Nor for his plains desired from thee A battle notoriety : 20 ACELDAMA. A poor return for treasures spilt, And blood poured o’er the head of guilt; For wasted fields, conflagrate domes, And wrecks of once delightful homes. Who yonder moves across the scene, With hurried and distracted mien? Whom frenzy nerves as on he posts, O’er the remains of fallen hosts; And here and there so vaguely flies, As though the fact to realize : Or in whose sad funereal air, His mind subsiding in despair, Read we, as he the scene surveys, Alternate sorrow and amaze. A look bewildered see him cast, Upon the fearful prospect past, And, lost to self, to nature true, Now starting at some horror new, And now with strong regrets o’ercome, Lamenting o’er his ravished home. Once stood in yon sequestered spot, His woodbine ornamented cot, Which rose and quickset did embower; And many a bright ambrosial flower, In rich profusion round it spread, A soul enlivening fragrance shed : ACELDAMA. A lovely and a calm retreat, For quiet and contentment meet, Where, by unusual feelings thrilled, The tumult of his bosom stilled, The cynic snarl for once constrained, His bitterness might have refrained ; And from parade and pomp retired, More pure enjoyments long desired, Where happiness might rest have found, Sought vainly for in folly’s round. ’Twas there he first began to be, And past his helpless infancy, Which, though it may unconscious dream, And life a blank unmeaning seem, That busy memory scarcely heeds, More wakeful childhood soon succeeds. And there he spent his prime of days, Whose first impressions nought may raze, Which oft in nightly visions come, And bring the vagrant spirits home. And hovers still his heart around, The loved abode and garden ground, Where humble art its skill assayed, For use or ornament displayed, In chattels that did plainly bear, The impress of a housewife’s care, And scriptural but homely prints, Of sombre or batavian tints ; c 2 2 ACELDAMA. And nature varied charms put forth, In the productions of the earth, Or fruit, or flower, profusely shed, The tribute to industry paid ; Whilst in the distance hills were seen, Environing the plains between, With farms and homesteads scattered o’er, Which tokens of abundance wore, Exhibiting a prospect bright, Nature’s fond lover to delight: All which his young untutored eyes, Full often spell-bound with surprise, Or questions raised the sage in vain Might have attempted to explain. And as advanced his childish years, Together leagued with his compeers, By care parental trusted more, He ranged his natal campaign o’er: And often on the sunny hill, Or banks of yonder wandering rill, Or in the copse or mossy glade, Or forest’s more extended shade, In pleasures sweet, or frolics gay, Fleeted his dawn of life away. And as in years and stature grown, Early restraints no longer known, ACELDAMA. Where danger becks he onward speeds, On sport intent, nor caution heeds, But dares the ford, or craggy steep, Whence madly sparkling torrents leap, Or forest tree wherein he spies, At lofty height the feathery prize ; Or of increasing vigour proud, The foremost in the youthful crowd, Delighting in athletic feats, With his coequals he competes, In ring, or race, or wrestling tried, Or stemming the full swollen tide. And now on manhood verged at length, In years maturer as in strength, The things which pleased him once resigned, Far other thoughts possess his mind : And business now his care demands, At plough or loom he plies his hands, And leisure which requires rest, For other pleasures gives a zest : For homestead joy his bosom yearns, And on the fair his eye he turns, Among the virgin trains to find, One to his suit who may be kind; And fixed his choice, how happy then, In quiet mead, or lonely glen, o 2 24 ACELDAMA. Or shady walk, or arbour green, Of eyes inquisitive unseen, With maiden coy in converse sweet, As oft at even thus they meet: He dreams the hour in bliss away Unconscious of an evil day. Nor here the muse may longer dwell, Of humble bridal joys to tell, Or of the calm domestic scenes, Which retrospection supervenes. But all, amid the cloud of years, That once delighted reappears, In contrast with the fearful change, Keverses sad, and horrors strange, Which now the once loved spot pervade, And which the spoiler — war has made. And who may tell the feelings dread, Which o’er his aching bosom spread, As seared and blasted hopes arise, And in dim visions greet his eyes, As in derision? whilst he mourns, And from the sad illusion turns, And the reality beholds : And what a wasteful scene unfolds ! He has not language for his grief, Nor aught may minister relief; ACELDAMA. 25 He may not the sad thought repress — His wrongs admit not of redress. If from the scenes of childhood torn, To other realms an exile borne, Though rough the clime and aspect drear, Hopes of return his soul might cheer, And visions of his wonted home, Amid the solitudes would come, Reviving in their colours bright, Remembrances of past delight, Of which he may be repossest, And with his former comforts blest. But no ! as by the lightning’s stroke, The deeply rooted monarch oak, So lately in umbrageous pride, Its shadow spreading far and wide, Smote to the core, and branches reft, And of its grandeur nothing left, Except a scathed and ruined form, Sad remnant of the ruthless storm ; And the fond hearts which joyed to see The beautiful ancestral tree, Filled at the sight with sore dismay, With drooping feelings turn away. And thus the cruel spoiler came, And swept along with blood and flame, And house and home in ruin laid, And fruitful fields a desert made : 26 ACELDAMA. And most of all the heart can prize, The social and domestic ties, Whose fond endearments sole are meet, Life’s bitter cup to render sweet, Broke and dispersed, and rendered vain, Whate’er of hope might yet remain. And howsoever sad and drear The waste and desolation, where All to destruction is consigned, A reflex in his heart we find, Who, as affection still inspires, For home and kindred there enquires. Draw near, ye great, whose influence Doth widely weal and woe dispense, Full oft on whose persuasive tongue, A nation’s destinies are hung : A glimpse alone may well suffice, To overwhelm you with surprise, At the dread havoc war has made, And which a word might have allayed : But deeply look, nor view alone The field with misery bestrown ; Think of the hapless victims there, Rescued from death, who yet may bear, Perhaps through a protracted life, The scathings of the fearful strife ; ACELDAMA. 27 Think of the hearths made desolate, The widows’ and the orphans’ fate; And aged parents childless left, — Of every hope and stay bereft : And painful as thy thoughts may be, With indignation moving thee, At ills immediate that arise, And which no sophistry may guise, A glance prospective cannot fail To yield a more heart-rending tale : A gloom Cimmerian deep and dread Is o’er the blighted future spread. The strife, how dreadful to behold ! Its awful close may not be told, When Aries riots o’er the slain, Whom fond affection mourns in vain. Nor here the monstrous evil stays ; Like forest fires, a fearful blaze, It rages onward and consumes, Whate’er of gladness life illumes; O’er the wide world its falchion-gleam Doth glance, and like a meteor seem ; Forth of whose red ill-omened glare Are scattered grief, mistrust, despair; Its influence so widely spreads, And in its course misfortune sheds, And fortune’s wrecks and blasted hopes, O’er which the sufferer vainly droops, 28 ACELDAMA. Are multiplied a thousand fold, Beyond what now thy eyes behold : And to repair the fearful ill, How vain is diplomatic skill! And thou, whose boast is in the field, Whose ’tis the reeking brand to wield ; If frightful scenes of blood and death, And victims gasping for their breath, Whose mangled forms bestrew the plain, Sad types of misery and pain; If horrid shrieks of wild despair, And cries for help which rend the air; Or the impressive looks of those, Whose hearts are stagnant with their woes, Their quivering tongues forbid to tell, The feelings which their bosoms swell ; May pity raise, and thee incite In mercy rather to delight — If in thy breast remaineth aught, With kindness and compassion fraught. Draw near Ambition, “rue thy lust,” Ensheath thy sword — there let it rust. How blest the hamlet’s sire, removed By kindly death from scenes so loved, Before the ruthless spoiler came, With bow, and lance, and blood, and flame, ACELDAMA. 29 In peace departed, lowly laid Beneath the drooping cypress shade, Unconscious of the horrors dread Around his cherished home bespread; And undisturbed by trumpet’s peal, The roar of arms or clashing steel, Tisiphonean murmurs dire, Which terror and dismay inspire, Or piercing sounds that upward swell, And deeds of blood and outrage tell. Whilst he enjoyed his term of life, A stranger to the worldling’s strife, His mind by foreign cares unstirred, A man of peace, he had not heard Of glory and renown, whose sway Too apt are mortals to obey, And which to acts of violence Ensanguined aspirants incense. Within his native hills retired, Nor more of fortune’s gifts desired, His ardent wishes pressed not on Over his fields’ fair rubicon, Which all his needful wants supplied, Nor aught that nature asks denied. And far from centres of intrigue, Where power and policy enleague, Whose adamantine hearts nor care For humbler hopes, whose prospects fair. 30 ACELDAMA. So be their statesmanship require, Are cast upon ambition’s pyre. Unwitting of their lawless schemes, It entered not his wildest dreams, That e’er the tide of war should come, Invasive of his peaceful home : O’er lovely scenes in torrents break, And all a desolation make. Of fame unknowing and unknown, The stream of time he glided down, His days in useful labour spent, Encrowned with calmness and content; And so he gently passed away, As into evening melts the day ; And came the night when last he breathed But ah ! the peace which he bequeathed — How is it rendered void and null ! Turned to a cup of misery full, Of which his kindred deeply drink, In stupors of despair to sink. Ere came the spoiler gone to rest, He knows not that his home's unblest, And that beneath the scourge of war, Which hovers like a baneful star, And fills each bosom with mistrust, His country’s humbled in the dust : ACELDAMA. 31 Its hopes and prospects all are crushed, And every voice of mirth is hushed ; And as by sad Euphrates’ stream, Where former joy seemed but a dream, The harps which late with gladness rang Now on the willows silent hang. Too long has man been passions’ slave, Which still insatiately crave, And give whose never ending cry, Nor worlds their raging lust supply; Hence, in antagonism stern, His feelings ’gainst his fellows burn, Who are of equal rights possest, And seek from him the prize to wrest. So strife and outrages arise, And man disdainful man defies : And oft in battle’s bright array, They pride and potency display ; And the loud cries of warriors bold, At whose dread feats the heart turns cold, Upon the ear unwelcome burst, As for each others blood they thirst. But say, shall it be always so? Shall Hinnom’s vale still overflow, With crimson torrents, richly welled Forth of full veins in rage propelled; 32 ACELDAMA. And garments rolled in blood delight, Which desperation stern excite? When shall the chariot be burned — The sword into a ploughshare turned — The battle bow and arrow broke — And spear become a reaping hook? When shall the sons of men, no more Enamoured of the battle’s roar, Let what is past of war suffice, Nor longer modes of strife devise? A consummation long desired, Wherewith the mind humane is fired. But it is not in hearts depraved, From their corruptions to be saved, Or hope for rescue from the ills Whose record dark the scroll upfills, Which with the first born was begun And unto present times has run, By human efforts, weak and vain, Which but the primal lapse explain. Such as the fountain whence it rose, The widening stream for ever flows, And nothing but supernal power Can e’er its purity restore : And who presumes this doctrine strange And thinks to work himself a change, Alas! for him, of strength bereft, Whom guide nor counsellor is left. ACELDAMA. And naught availetli nature’s light Involving shades to put to flight ; He wanders still, a slave to sense, Beneath the baneful influence Of passions vile, which him impel Amid Tartarian scenes to dwell, Where deeds of darkness serve alone Him to dilate and gloat upon ; And rage malign and lust incite, In fierce contentions to delight. And reason’s aid alike is vain Abnormous passions to restrain ; For frequently her counsels are The worst incentatives to war, And help the warrior to plead Wherefore the innocent should bleed. And at the best a doubtful ray, Full oft she leads the mind astray: An errant guide, of truth forsworn, Of pristine excellency shorn, Whose dictum cautious to receive, Though prompt the honour due to give, We her hallucinations spurn, And from her fond illusions turn; And of the heart, all rankled o’er With sin and guilt, deceived no more. To aid divine ourselves betake, The wizard influence to break, 34 ACELDAMA. Which man impels with senseless rage Against his fellow war to wage. And when subjected to his sway, Whom ruthless winds and seas obey, The kindreds of the earth shall learn Their vital interests to discern ; Nor more the slaves of passions vain, From feuds fatuitous refrain. And then shall love triumphant be, And man in man a brother see ; Of the right heart and mind possest, His aim to make his fellow blest. And this the only strife, oh ! then How happy were the sons of men : Nor of each other more afraid, The source and power of evil laid, The world in quiet might recline Beneath the fig tree and the vine ; No more with martial glory fired, Or longer conquests vain desired ; Of carnage wearied, and the rage Which hecatombs alone assuage. And panting for the gladsome time, When righteousness in every clime, Its blessings shall profusely shed, And o’er the whole abundance spread — With chastened feelings therefore stirred, Oh ! be the prayer to heaven preferred, ACELDAMA. That the sweet messenger ere long, O’er every kindred, tribe, and tongue, Where-ever ocean’s waters lave, The olive may in triumph wave ; When the glad token owned of all That people this terrestrial ball, The sage and savage shall agree To meet in bonds of amity, And mutual hate and war shall cease, And all be harmony and peace. A PICTURE OF HUMBLE LIFE. A dweller in the shade where joys abound, Nor mid the glare of worldly grandeur found; And far removed from me temptations fierce, The guilty bosom that with sorrows pierce, Forbid my humble lot to taste delight That only serves the passions to excite, And from the Paths of Wisdom lead astray In mazes which to ruin lead the way; And thankful for the station me assigned, Oh ! be it mine to cultivate that mind, Which satisfied with that which is possessed Nor feels itself in any sphere unblessed. The providence which over all presides, And for the meanest of his charge provides, Doth large provisions for enjoyment make, Which no one is forbidden to partake ; A PICTURE OF HUMBLE LIFE. 37 A feast for all who wisely know to ehuse That which is good, and evil to refuse. The world survey in sunshine when it beams, Or when the tempest flash athwart it gleams : What is there there but may delight inspire, With thoughts sublime the raptured bosom fire? Whilst its prolific sources nought deny, Which may the wants of man and beast supply : And if perchance there misery be found, We are assured it springs not of the ground; And living words in thunder peals proclaim That man’s corruption solely is to blame, And 'tis the penalty of sin we pay, If wounds the thorn, or thistles hedge our way. Who then presumes to murmur or repine, Or to events a different course assign? ’Tis wiser far submissively to own, Beyond our meed to us is favour shown. If high and prosperous our condition be, We are not therefore from affliction free ; If low and adverse we of sorrow drink, We may not therefore from our portion shrink: Our habitations wisely who appoints, With grief depresses, or with joy anoints, In chastisement severest not unkind, Has with the cup of suffering combined A sweetening draught, the which nor madly spurned, Thereby our sorrows are to gladness turned. D 38 A PICTURE OF And such the views my artless mind possess, Soothed are the feelings which would else oppress And mine it is, with all well satisfied That Providence in mercy doth provide, In acquiescence at his footstool bent, To cultivate and revel in content; And the restricted pleasure he allows, Grateful own as from his hand it flows. And thus the high rebellious thoughts subdued, With desperation and with guilt embued — His goodness questioned, and impugned his love, Unsought the help which cometh from above, Often have I indulged the pleasing vein, And in the voice of song poured forth the strain ; His love the subject of my warm descant Whose hand supplies his every creature’s want; And who, his proffered mercy nor refused, His call neglected, or his grace abused, His common blessings fails not to enhance With whatsoever may our good advance. And, in the pleasing contemplation lost, Awhile my dream elysian uncrost, It seemed as though delight alone might reign, Nor were there room for sorrow to complain. But soon the bright illusion past away, And life returned in all its sad array, And cold realities, and fearful gloom, That track it from the cradle to the tomb ; For blighting sin and guilt upon it rest, Whereby it is of pristine bloom divest : HUMBLE LIFE. 39 Nor longer I of sweet contentment sing, But mournful poppies round my temples fling, In vain research engaged that boon to find, Which seems once more unto the shades consigned ; The while I sink in melancholy strain, And of the sorrows of my kind complain. Beneath sublunar ever changing skies What revolutions in the mind arise ! Now joy elates and peaceful thoughts have sway, And life is bright as is a summer’s day; Anon the fitful vision takes its flight, A moment flashed on the enamoured sight : The prospect fair Cimmerian gloom invades, And the Utopian scene in darkness fades. But 'tis not well in shadows to indulge, Or all the depths of human woe divulge ; A brighter aspect if the subject bear, That brighter aspect be our only care In all its softer colourings to show, As they in sunshine picturesquely glow. For though a desert we the world presume, Its dreariness oases oft illume : And who so stultified in wilds to stray, When fairer prospects open on his way? And such is life of which the muse would sing, A dreary and a visionary thing, Whose darker views, if w r e alone survey, Provoke the sad and melancholy lay. d 2 40 A PICTUEE OF But ’tis not all with gloom encompassed round ; Still may repose amid its wastes he found; And from the Lydian pipe I therefore cease, And on iEolian lyre attempt a song of peace. Who, nor the slave of vice, whom virtue warms, Whom Truth corroborates and Wisdom charms, Though trials may his constancy await, And passions fierce his bosom agitate; To him is life not all a dreary waste, And he of happiness forbid the taste ; Superior to the ills that him enthrall, In strength divine he triumphs over all; Or high, or low, whatever be his sphere, Of bliss supreme he has a foretaste here. Be tired within himself he finds repose, Though rude the breakers, fierce the wind that blows His dwelling, fixed upon the stable rock, Outlives the tempest and survives the shock. In each and every state, the truth is clear, We may he happy whilst we sojourn here, If to the best of interests only true, And beings end we earnestly pursue : Beposing in the smile of Providence, We fear no accidents of time and sense ; And the assurance all is for the best, Will ever calm the agitated breast. And this, the subject of my theme, my aim Is to exemplify and to proclaim, HUMBLE LIFE. 41 So that despondence may refrain the tear, And desperation hope revive and cheer, And incredulity for once may own That happines is not on earth unknown ; Which, though it is with grief and care combined, It well suffices the contented mind, Which knows the bitterness will pass away, And that the sweetness will for ever stay. But as the humble muse nor deems her strain In polished circles will attention gain, Whose pleasures from far other sources spring, From them I turn : the man of toil I sing. In town, or hamlet, or sequestered spot, How blest to him the humble peasant’s cot, Where, labour finished, and at evening’s close, He, after all his travail, may repose, Who by industry all his need provides, And in whose bosom wisdom sole presides. That wisdom which consists in loving God, And a just dread of sin’s avenging rod, To whose stern dictates lent his willing ear, The while she shows the latent dangers near, In unrestrained passions which have source, And from indulgence daily gather force ; And, in the strength divine which hence accrues, Fully resolved the better part to chuse, Though fierce temptations meet him on the way, He only owns her safe and gentle sway ; 42 A PICTURE OF Whose ways are ways of pleasantness and peace, And in whose presence all contentions cease. Tis hers in suffering honied balm to yield, And in the conflict spread the ample shield, The soul that soothes, protection that ensures. And fits the mind for all that man endures Of bitter evils that on earth prevail, And that in ever varying forms assail. No moment safe, the trial yet unknown, We in the contest sure were overthrown, Presumptuously our stalwart foes defied, If we defencelessly the battle tried. And when afflicted we in trouble sink, And of the dregs of sorrow deeply drink, Whose ear is open when the helpless cries? Whose hand for us the antidote supplies? And oft perchance of happiness we dream, And plume ourselves on the well ordered scheme, WTiose best results we fondly deem secure, And make of long and prosperous days too sure ; But, disappointed, who the pang nor feels? When rent the veil the future that conceals. Instead of sunbeams glancing on the hill, Cheering the vale and sportive on the rill, The opening prospect darkens on the view, And bending skies assume a lurid hue : Such the reversion : like the armed rose, Around the flower of hope the grasp we close ; But ah! the sting amid its fragrant bloom, The hand which pierces, simulates our doom. HUMBLE LIFE. 43 And is not more than human strength required, And ardently that needful aid desired, When disappointment blots the opening skies, And difficulties and distresses rise, Lest that the fainting mind, by floods of care, Be drawn into the vortex of despair? And well for him, by evil undismayed, Whose hope and refuge on the Lord is laid ; Who wisdom is to fix our happy choice, In whom we may in all things still rejoice; And in the sphere he us appoints to move, In darkest hours who will with blessings prove. And such liis hope of whom the muse would sing, And this the source from whence his pleasures spring : In quiet and contentment pass his days, His every thought and action, prayer and praise. And nor monotonous the daily round To which by duty and by interest bound. However humble his engagements be, Enough of change and of variety Within his narrow circle he will find, To satisfy the restlessness of mind Inherent in our species, and which serve The flagging arm with fresh resolves to nerve. But to the trifles of a day nor sold, His aspirations, not of earthly mould, Beyond ambition’s wildest sallies soar: On objects fixed, compared wherewith, how poor ! Are all the gifts the world can e’er bestow, Or that from transient human greatness flow; 44 A PICTURE OF And whose possession certain, leaves no room For anxious care, or for desponding gloom : His buoyant hopes, nor failing of supplies, Still upward spring and press upon the skies ; And sweetness give, and calmness, and content. The while his hand on meaner things intent. And therefore dignity upon him rests, And consequence his thoughts and acts invests, Who else, confounded with the things of sense. Into oblivion were hurried hence : Nor of his simple life we vainly tell Amid the sons of God designed to dwell. Not mine the province in poetic flight Wild and unhallowed passions to excite ; More pleasing task whose promptings I obey. Averse in regions of romance to stray, His homely joys and comforts to relate. Who in his littleness is truly great. The sons of ease and luxury I ween Might be enamoured of the lovely scene, Where cheerful toil, in all his labours blest, From his anxieties awhile may rest: With whom content and happiness reside, And all the softer sympathies abide. His cleanly hearth and his old oaken chair, Whose seemly burrish owns the weekly care. Where he reclines anent his cheerful board, Spread with such viands as his means afford ; While here and there, his humble walls around, His other chattels are in order found, HUMBLE LIFE. On which the eye with more complacence rests, Than on the splendour lordlier domes invests : And if perchance a garden plot be near Where useful herb or lowly flower they rear, If that the worthy housewife’s care displays, The master’s mind as aptly this pourtrays. Now morning dawns, and, clad in russet grey, Gives welcome promise of auspicious day ; The neighbouring headlands are betipped with gold, And from their sides the nightly mists are rolled, Soon as the rising zephyrs gently breathe, In many a vague and a fantastic wreathe ; And, decked in all the colors of the bow, Before the orb of day they deeply glow, As down the emerald slope he pours his beam, Athwart the valley and the purling stream, And dews mellifluous gilds with silver sheen, And living lustre spreads o’er all the scene. The wakeful lavarock as she mounts on high, Joyfully hails him in the eastern sky; Nor less alert, refreshed with needful sleep, The bed of sloth nor doth the peasant keep : Betimes uprisen, he for toil prepares, And with good courage meets his worldly cares. How cheerful is the smile his coming greets, When at the morn’s repast his wife he meets ; The choice companion of his early years, And whose affection life to him endears : 46 A PICTURE OF A ready helpmate, who divides his cares, His joy who heightens, and his sorrow shares. And when the noontide heat a pause requires, Or chilling blasts have wasted nature’s fires, And food and rest are needful to renew The strength and spirits which for toil are due, He to his humble cottage hies again, Whereto his heart nor ever turns in vain, And from the world a respite there he finds, From summer’s heat and winter’s piercing winds. Now evening steals apace and twilight dun; His task performed his round of duty run, With satisfaction he the day reviews ; No blot is there the record to perfuse, Toil misapplied to lessen the amount, Or broken hours his wages to discount : His head and hand each in their office vies, With judgment he the plough or shuttle plies; Industriously he labors to excel, Nor deems his work is done unless done well. For home he speeds ; and if perchance he pass Where sons of riot sport the intemperate glass, If for a moment wandering] y he gaze, With scorn or pity he the scene surveys; And if a contrast draws, in wisdom rife, Full well determines whose the happier life — On whom reposes Heaven’s benignant smile, Or who of sense the slave and victim vile : HUMBLE LIFE. 47 And upward lifts a grateful thankful mind, To his own lot more cheerfully resigned; And turns away and hastens to his home, From that palladium less disposed to roam Amid the scenes of revelry and din, And guilt and sorrow, the results of sin. And smiles his hearth before the flickering blaze, Which casts around its soul enlivening rays, And tells of comfort in each smiling face, Where beam content and every humble grace That life ensweeten, and with charms abound, Save in the lowly cot, too seldom found ; Where the blest inmates in obscurity From many dangers and temptations free, Are quite unconscious of the ills that wait On those who riches boast and high estate. In palace proud, where wealth and state recline, And oft amid their splendid stores repine, The victims of imaginary woes, There vainly seek we quiet and repose. Who there abide in luxury and ease, Possessed of all that well might serve to please, One wish unsated, deem themselves unblest, Nor on the ruffled leaflet can they rest ; The while with thoughts of greatness unattained, Their sordid sensibilities are pained, And sickly dreams upon the vision crowd; And poor ambition claps against the cloud 48 A PICTURE OF Its baseless ladder, tempts them to assay The voidless height but only to betray : Just on the point of sating all their wants With all the goods that fame or fortune grants, Their expectations in a moment quashed, And from their grasp the gilded baubles dashed, Their certain blessings nothing them avail, But phantom losses deeply they bewail. Full often thus with those whom fortune owns And with the chiefest of her favors crowns, Who, one aspiring wish ungratified, To them, they deem, is happiness denied. And who with splendour dazzled fondly deems That all is pleasure that so pleasant seems, Let him with close and keen observance view The cot and palace in each varying hue, And their due merits in the balance try, Or ere my humble theme he dares descry. Nor deference denied the rich and great, Nor deeming them alone the butts of fate, As though their riches happiness preclude, And their abundance serves but to delude; For used aright, and for the purpose given, To them and all they are the gifts of Heaven, And their possession many a blessing brings, Whence heartfelt rapture in the bosom springs. And yet the protest stands, whate’er they say Who by appearances are led astray, Who, of a humble competence possest, By providence in all his labors blest, HUMBLE LTFE. 49 May drink of bliss more deeply than the great, On whom ills that he knows not of await. His duties to a narrower sphere confined, So fewer doubts must agitate his mind; Plainer the path wherein assigned to move, Over its proper bounds less apt to rove; And as his wishes must be pampered less, More readily admit they of redress. Thus wandering on, my muse, from theme to theme, Too high for thee the providential scheme, Why some are rich and great, some poor and low, Some drink of bliss, and some the dregs of woe; Enough for me the purport of my lay, All may be happy wisdom who obey; And to the sphere of providence assigned, High thoughts relinquished, who subject the mind. And than the laborer who has sweeter zest, Of anxious care and toil alike divest, When day’s decline and evening’s sober close, Denote the hour he justly claims repose; And homeward bound, his cot appears in sight, Whose lattice gleam illumes the gloom of night; With eager step he makes approaches near, Where all is centred to affection dear : His footfall gives due notice, and, perchance, Shrewdly recognisant of his advance, Some youngling starts, renouncing others’ care, With faltering step the public path to dare, 50 A PICTURE OF His coming greets, and, sure of an embrace. Within his arms reclaims its wonted place; And with soft blandishments and sweet caress, Or childish plaint that from him claims redress, Or infantile remark, of wisdom rife, Intelligence thus early seeking life, In lisping accents, e’er to parents dear, Calls up sweet sympathies that sooth and cheer. And thus he enters on his own domains, Where the award of all his toil he gains, Domestic comforts and endearments kind, Which in affection’s home we always find; Whose inmates, in the school of wisdom taught, Bliss realize which riches never bought. How smiles the scene! where, all in order set, His blithesome household his reception wait; Him on his coming at the threshold meet, And promptly hand him his accustomed seat : Before him soon the evening’s cheer they place, And, with him gathered round, the board they grace, While with uplifted hands and thankful hearts, They bless His goodness who their food imparts ; And more enjoy their temperate repast, Than pampered sensualist his sumptuous feast. Now see him seated: there he reigns supreme, Nor monarch on his throne I happier deem; More sure he boasts than doth the regal race, In all his subjects’ hearts he has a place, Aneath his auspices who gaily smile, Their looks sincere, their bosoms void of guile: HUMBLE LIFE. 51 Heartfelt the joy resulting from his sway, His wish expressed ’tis pleasure to obey. How happy thus, who, from the world aloof, Their hearts against its strange delusions proof, Within their peaceful homes retire, and find Enough to sate the cravings of the mind, Such simple pleasures as will never cloy, Which calm content inspire and heartfelt joy : Their tasks performed and conscience well at ease, And with themselves and with the world at peace, Relaxed their cares, to joy the rein they give, And in life’s vale supremely happy live. Could I a Burns’s energies command, His lights, and shades, and tones, and colours bland, Like him I would a lovely scene describe, Which might impassionate the stoic tribe; In them rekindle nature’s smothered fire, Or, at the least, arouse them to admire. Though to depict aright it is not mine, Britannia hail ! such lovely scenes are thine, For which we need not long or vainly look, In many a crowded or sequestered nook, Where thy blessed sons, though toil their portion be, From peccant sorrow and temptation free, And who the path of wisdom rather chuse, Enjoy content, and blissfully repose. And chief the father and the friend behold, His household treasures more esteemed than gold, LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 52 A PICTURE OF In each of which he sees a beauteous gem, In his hoar age to grace his diadem ; And the fond partner, whose affections pure, Which may the utmost shocks of fate endure, Upon him beam, and charms diffuse around, Such as in Eden’s garden, first were found; Around their children’s healthful forms appear, Pledges of love their years’ decline to cheer: Blest in each others presence dance their hearts, And each kind word and office love imparts. Joy smiling round them, sparkling in their eyes, The while content their every wish supplies, In search of pleasure need they make resort Where worldly phantoms in wild triumph sport, And spread their meretricious charms for those Who spurn the substance and the shadow chuse. Ah, no! of calmer joys enamoured they, Substantial, and that wisdom’s rein obey ; Unlike the mirth that wantonness inspires, Which racks the bosom with unhallowed fires ; Their better part to shun the public show Where folly trips it “ on fantastic toe,” Where sounds the viol and the voice of song, And pleasure’s slaves the midnight hour prolong ; Who in the mazy wild of sense astray, Of direful passions the acknowledged prey, Truth’s awful protestations heard in vain, Their mad career pursue that ends in pain; While the loud voice of conscience vainly chides, And reason their abnormity derides. HUMBLE LIFE. 53 Insidious gaming! nor the power is thine Their hearts to bow at thy unhallowed shrine : Happy in what they lawfully possess, They scorn to plot to make their brother’s less. What haggard votaries thy portals fill, Whose panting bosoms agonies enthrill, As from their grasp evanishes the gold Which they than life itself more dearly hold : And, lost the prize, what else but ruin theirs, In all its fearful forms, that on them stares : The complicated evils unrevealed, Within thy garish precincts oft concealed ; Rapine exulting in unhallowed spoil, Revenge that glories in the frenzied broil. Remorse cancareous that the soul devours, And dire despair the mind which overpowers ; Such aggravated ills are revellers there, Whose scathing brands thy hapless victims wear. But children of content and peace are those, Nor lust of wealth can break on their repose; Proud Mammon of his tinsel makes display, They see the danger and they turn away. And shun they the dread haunts, where hideous vice In charms disguised, the simple to entice, Her blandishments displays and spreads the wile Into her arms the thoughtless to beguile, And whom, encaptived, and from truth astray, j To death’s dark chambers lead, an abject prey. E 54 A PICTURE OF Nor look they on the glass when mantling o’er With deadly draughts that sap each vital pore, Though sparkling in its redness it invites Their sense to drown in rapturous delights, Whilst in the jovial circle songs prevail, The repartee, and jest, and merry tale; And, in the sunshine of the moment seen, We reck not of the shades that supervene. But, ah, the converse! yet, be brief the strain, Lest the dark blot the beauteous picture stain, And yet in language well surcharged to show The dire effects from drunkenness that flow. And see the victim, whom the fumes have left, Of all that’s manly and of sense bereft; A dotard vile, the very beasts below Which nought beyond kind Nature’s claims allow; Or when aroused, a madman in his rage, Whose headlong fury nothing can assuage. But soon the fire is spent, and then, ah ! see The devotee of merriment and glee : Darkness upon his fame and fortune rests And all he owns with wretchedness invests. No further need we to prolong the strain; Whose is my theme his frenzied course disdain. Subservient ever to the inward call, Full well they know such pleasures quickly pall : Of healthful minds possest, they do not err In what may happiness alone confer; Nor do they vainly seek in folly’s round That which in wisdom’s path is only found. HUMBLE LIFE. To them secured whatever tiling is good, They nor indulge in vain solicitude ; Hence disappointment is to them unknown, Or calmly borne, if e’er their wish o’erthrown. Nor is it theirs, in tumults of delight The sordid passions solely that excite, An anodyne to seek, wherein to drown The cares wherewith their path of life is strown : The false and fleeting joys that worldings prize, Their wiser instincts prompt them to despise. Thus folly spurned, and soothed the anxious mi And absent lawless pleasures unrepined, Hence spring the joys that in the cot appear, The gladsome feelings that its inmates cheer : For ’tis not in the mere escape from toil, Or at the loom or culture of the soil, Or other cares and duties of the day, That iron nerve or skilfulness display, That bliss ensures, or gives the spirit rest, Or calms the tumults of the troubled breast ; No! these life’s portion are; and well they know It is their part the willing neck to bow, Subjective to the will of the Most High That man by toil must all his needs supply. And conscious they that duties well fulfilled Alone the meed of satisfaction yield, This is their day-star, their unerring guide, Whose auspices aneath they now abide. 56 A PICTURE OF But whence originates this healthful mind, To all the ups and downs of life resigned ; Or the stern principle that them impels, Howe'er the ocean tide of business swells, To due performance of their calling, still Of its demands each tittle to fulfil? Restrained their passions and their wills subdued, Too wont their acts imperious to obtrude, Which o'er appointed hounds no longer move, And well directed, virtues rather prove. But them to subjugate they do not trust In human strength whose origin is dust, Which whoso boasts, in ruin soon involved, His brightest hopes in darkness are dissolved. In Him whose hand the mighty winds retains, And o’er the tempest sovereignty maintains, They trust alone ; to Him for help they fly Who in the hour extreme is always nigh. When dark forebodings fill the mind with fear, And heartfelt sorrows wring the bitter tear; When through deep waters they pursue their w T ay, And clouds tempestuous obscure the day; And faint their hearts because of toil and grief, He interposes and affords relief: Before His presence every shadow flies, And louring storms no more deform the skies ; Nor raging floods his potency withstand, In peace subsiding at His high command : Again the sunshine of his presence cheers, And to the winds are scattered all their fears. HUMBLE LIFE. 57 They own His goodness and His power confess, Nor more rebellious thoughts their souls possess : To Him submissive, to His will they bow, And their glad hearts with raptures overflow. And in their lot rejoicing, lowly though, In Him they trust to bring them safely through, Who, when tumultuous feelings cross the breast, And murmuring thoughts would rob them of their rest, For help arising, when they humbly plead, Is more unto them than their every need : Their passions checked, their stubborn wills restrained, And in their softened bosoms peace maintained. And whilst that with the world they must contend, And to the yoke their necks submissive bend, He nerves the arm, the manly mind prepares, For toil laborious, or for anxious cares ; And in the path of duty He appoints, His light diffuses, and with joy anoints. Of sense the slave and whom the passions blind, And who to pleasure has his heart resigned, His subjugation who lamenteth not, Mourning the vileness of his abject lot? And yet disdained the carcerating chain, ’Tis quickly to the bosom pressed again; Each link’s reviewed as though the charm to break, And, free once more, to life and light awake. But, ah ! the syren tries her softest strain, And lulls him into slumbers deep again ; 58 A PICTURE OF His deathly sleep deludes with dreams awhile, And phantoms of delight upon him smile, In forms promethean that around him flit, Until, a willing captive, he submit, And to her fond embrace his heart incline, And to his passions vile the reigns resign ; When down the giddy void impetuous borne, His sense entranced, and of his vigour shorn, From his weak hands his fair resolves are wrenched, Each rivet of his bands again is clenched. And yet though broad the light in which he errs, Conscious of that which happiness confers, And of his folly the result he feels, Against his fate his heart he madly steels ; Of pleasure all the wretchedness he knows, Still at her shrine obsequiously bows : So dire the rule the demon has attained, To her he crouches while she is disdained. But, in the vale of life who humbly bide, Or in the home of plenty who reside, Whate’er their portion in the world may be, To serve or govern theirs, or bond, or free, — Open the way to men of every sphere, For no condition is excepted here, — Of wisdom taught, endowed with strength divine, The nectared cup of pleasure who decline ; And when the syren fondly on them smiles, And courts the eye and lays her specious wiles, Their wills restrict, call reason to her seat, All acquiescent at her sacred feet, HUMBLE LIFE. 59 And, false pretensions in the balance laid, Whose just decisions promptly are obeyed. Tis thus imperious passions they restrain, Nor longer pleasure in their hearts may reign ; Her abject bondage proudly they disclaim, And self-ascendancy — at this they aim : Nor vainly strive, as they who beat the air; The high emprise, who courage has to dare, To him is sure, and all the fair renown. And victor’s palm, and amaranthine crown. Worthy his triumph: be the laurels green That deck his brow when comes the closing scene ; Outshone the hero whose the vauntless boast, The pomp of power and the embattled host, Who glory reaps upon the sanguine plain, And counts his wounds and tells his thousands slain. And see the peasant in the hour extreme, When fails at length life’s evanescent dream ; And as the world he bids a last adieu, His well spent moments brighten on the view, The reflexes of that supernal power, Which brought him safely through temptation’s hour, In whom renouncing every other plea, He owns the grace unmerited and free. And the sweet calm wherewith suffused his breast, A presage gives of an eternal rest, Whose opening prospect as it greets his sight, Athwart the vale of death diffuses light : 60 A PICTURE OF HUMBLE LIFE. And witness of his joy, his kindred dear, Though thus bereft, refrain the bitter tear, And weeping friends around his couch who bend, With sorrow's wail the song of triumph blend. Nor need of pomp or monumental vase, The final office of the dead to grace ; In every humble duty free from blame, Fond memory retains his spotless name, And in the rolls of heaven is his record, A fame beyond what fading worlds afford. 61 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF HUMAN PURSUITS FOR THE ATTAINMENT OF HAPPINESS. Severe the labours of the youthful wight Who seeks to break the soul imposing spell Whose influence malign restrains his flight From the precincts where fortune bids him dwell; Though the united sisters him impel Her countenance adverse to disregard ; Against her iron thraldom to rebel, In heliconian realms to seek reward, And bravely meet the ills that would his steps retard. And dread the prospect that him lies before ! Pressing towards the vestibule of fame, A motley band than fortune dreaded more, Who scorningly forbid his humbler claim, And to oblivion’s dull and turbid stream, Or right or wrong the judgment they bestow, At once assign his young aspiring name, And lay his ardent expectations low, And snatch the envied bay which else might wreathe his brow. 6*2 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF And, all ! the lot of those whom song inspires ; What fearful wrecks of happiness are theirs : Prometheus like they touch ethereal fires, The which involve them in tumultuous cares : Of sorrow and adversity the heirs, Well might the young aspirant hesitate, Ere lightly he their hapless travail dares ; But onward, as it were, impelled by fate, He recks not of the doom that may his choice await. How dark the records of the suffering bard ! Who may reveal the heavings of his breast, When that he contemplates his portion hard ; Of worldly consolations dispossest? His pittance selfish ingrates often wrest, And batten on his spoils — the gems of thought : Yet not unfrequently supremely blest, Although the recompense be dearly bought, Full oft his labours are with bliss exquisite fraught. Nor envies he the sons of sloth and ease, Or who their talents on themselves employ, Or through ambition, and coy fame to please, Alike relinquish self, and ease, and joy: Pie seeks not thus his bitters to alloy; More lofty aims his ardent thoughts inspire, And which his else o’erwhelmed mind upbuoy : Fondly anticipant he strikes the lyre, Whose echoes not himself alone with rapture fire. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 63 And thus incited by superior power, In voice of song lie finds his chief delight ; And vainly fortune may adversely lour, And his regards the things of sense invite : Opposing ills no longer fear excite ; He rises and he triumphs over all. So would I humbly emulate his flight, Nor suffer needless phantoms to appal, Or to the cynic’s dictum longer be in thrall. And oft indulging in the poet’s dream, Forth have I wandered over hill and plain, Or through the glen, or by the limpid stream, Or in the sylvan shade where wont to reign, In strict accordance with my sombre vein, Sweet solitude, and silence her compeer : Nor were it needful for me to restrain The pleasing raptures wont my soul to cheer ; My first attempts to sing no one to witness near. Or else recumbent on the mountain’s side, With the deep valley winding far below, And rugged moorlands stretching far and wide, Which a drear aspect o’er the landscape throw ; For others’ grief my strain would sadly flow, In sympathy awoke ; as such a spot Might well prefigure wretchedness and woe : Nor wert thou gentle bard of Trent forgot, Whilst that I deeply mourned the hapless minstrel’s lot. 64 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF Still it is but a flash doth round me gleam — A scintillation of the muse’s fire ; More unsubstantial than a morning’s dream ; Wont ere a spark is kindled to expire: True, that with emulatory desire, I have assayed to climb Parnassian heights ; But that I only may a name acquire, The poor ambition nor my wish excites : Far other be the aims of my discursive flights. To this I dedicate my humble lay — To pour instruction in my fellow’s ear, The words of truth and wisdom to convey, So that they may the friendly caution bear, And far from danger and from quicksands steer. Each moment, all, in jeopardy extreme, Have need to act with trembling and with fear ; Nor unimportant is the task I deem, To point out every latent ill. Be life my theme. In climes austere of summer scarcely owned, Whose hills are covered with perpetual snow, Where nature’s products in ice-fetters bound. Seldom or ever to perfection grow ; Or where ausonian gales auspicious blow, And with elysian sweets the sense regale ; Where healthful streams luxuriantly flow ; Or where through heat intense the waters fail — In every region we the flower of promise hail. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. Sweet bud of being, germ of future years, On which fond hope too frequently presumes ; How full of grace the floweret appears, And redolent of odorous perfumes, When first, by zephyrs fanned, it freshly blooms ; And gentle Flora, of her boons profuse, With elfin charms its fairy form illumes ; And kindly rains, and efflorescent dews, iVnd vernal heats elicit all its latent hues. But, ah ! the damask flush nor long remains, And gorgeous colorings, all, too quickly fail ; Pestiferous mildew soon their brightness stains, Or fearful storms temptestuously assail ; Nor more “ ethereal mildness” may avail Their drooping forms or beauties to restore : Broke and prostrated by the driving gale, Their transient glories and their triumphs o’er, They crumble into dust and sink to rise no more. And such is life so fondly first embraced, So gladly hailed the dawn of opening years ; With charms resistless whose fair form is graced, And whose sweet prime no louring tempest sears To which creation wreathed in smiles appears : All, all is sunshine ; earth seems as a bower ; The world sincerity’s resemblance wears ; And inexperience deems not skies can lour, Is therefore unprepared for the inclement hour. 06 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF Alas! but short lived is the smile of youth; First term of life it fleetly speeds away: In hey-day prime to joy we plight our troth, Unconscious time is never at a stay, And that our life’s an evanescent ray, Which even now the damps of death invade — Staunch death who from his purpose will not stray, Until his Voted ones are lowly laid, And find a refuge in the silent cypress shade. And if the day of evil be deferred ; And if the promise of existence hold ; And the loud thunders be in distance heard, And the dark clouds above our head unfold ; And to our ear the tale of hope be told, In silvery tone ; the respite is but short : On disappointment’s blotted page enrolled, We to the record false in vain resort, Of blighted and untenured prospects made the sport. Deceptive is the light upon us shed, Which gleams a moment only to betray ; And seems our path with happiness bespread, Which lures us onward down the flowery way ; And pleasures bland their syren songs assay, Well pleased their victims, who with fleetness hie Where danger lurks, nor deem they are astray, Heedless of evils that in ambush lie, Nor their mistake discover till too late to fly. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 67 Poor pensioners they in hope whose only trust — Sublunar hope besported to deceive, Pier fairest fruitage crumbles into dust, The moment its possession we achieve ; And in her baseless fabrics who believe, Mere exhalations that in sunshine glow, Or ere too late may they their steps retrieve : Let but reality upon them blow, And soon evanishes their vain fantastic show. So morning’s suns adorn the mountain’s side, Whose deadly wastes relief of shade allays ; The tyro deems he can all toils deride, Up to such blooming heights while he assays ; But soon he finds his vision him betrays ; Advanced the steep the blissful scene has sped: The sun’s bright influence or no longer plays, Or shines to show the horrors round him spread, Or beauty of the scene whence he has vainly fled. And thus deceptive as of toil the source, Unmeaning toil whereof all are in thrall, The phantom is which we so madly course, And as fatuitously pleasure call. How vain our toils our expectations all ! For should we in the heatful chase succeed, Its best results in the possession pall When most successful even hope must bleed As its illusions from the eager grasp recede. 68 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF Life is a scene of turmoil while it holds, Whatever objects our regards engage ; Or pleasure to us her gay scenes unfolds, Or serious business calls us on the stage, It is our lot incessant strife to wage ; No one may plead enfranchisement from care, Which is on earth our only heritage : The fardel of existence all must bear — For disappointments and reverses sad prepare. Who therefore on this sea of trouble look, With expectation’s fondly straining eye, Widely the source of happiness mistook, Nor rightly understood their destiny ; Full often will they need to heave the sigh, As they research attempt that boon to find, Whose wont is from its votaries to fly, Who in the precincts unto care assigned, With sublunary things would sate the craving mind. A waste, of pristine beauty dispossest, Nor peace, nor happiness finds refuge here: Their shades on hovering clouds may seem to rest, And oft we deem the flitful phantoms near, And clutch them ; ah ! but no impress they bear. They do not here corporeal forms assume ; But in existence decked await us there, Where angel messengers themselves enplume, And bright realities the prospect wide illume. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 09 Above yon azure, regions of repose, As yet too far remote from mortal sight. They all their charms celestial disclose ; But here it were not meet they should alight : Earth ever restive, full of change and blight, Often with raging storms deformed whose skies, Has little that may happiness invite : A momentary guest, it quickly flies From realms adverse, and to its native heavens hies, Then why the living seek amongst the dead?" Of joy beneath inclement skies why deem? The blissful halos that around us spread, And that transport us with their rainbow gleam, Are less substantial than a morning’s dream ; But portents of the tempest soon to rage, And sounding torrents which restrainless teem, By grief erased from memory’s blotted page, In them w r e find not that which sorrow 7 may assuage. Here adverse streams and foaming eddies thwart, And amid sandbanks oft our course w r e v 7 end ; Now gathering mists around us gloom impart, And threatening storms the mountains’ sides descend, And heaven and earth in wild commotion blend, And rifting lightnings dart from heaven’s high cope, And thunder peals creation seem to rend : Nor brief the fearful warfare; hope must droop, As tempests in succession through the welkin sv T oop. F 70 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF And such the influences that prevail, Say, who would here his all of hope invest? For even when propitious the gale, His bosom, of foreboding fears possest, And fallen brow declare him how unblest : Experience soon forbids him to presume, That evil will no longer him molest, That light his pathway always will illume, Or that the skies no more will be involved in gloom. And should he strive to flee from threatening ill — On eagle’s pinions make excursions wide, Himself unchanged howe’er he wander, still The elemental wars his coming hide And his endeavours to escape deride ; Nor caverned earth, nor ocean’s depths contain A refuge where he may in safety hide ; To every place he bears about his bane, Whose influence to avoid his efforts are in vain. And seeks he now the busy haunts of men, Through the routine of action takes his way ; Assumes the plough, the shuttle, or the pen, — Permitted him discursively to stray, Where art and science all their hoards display, So be to fame he may an altar build ; Or labour daunts, or groundless fears dismay : The cravings of his bosom yet unstilled, Nor of their promised issues is there aught fulfilled. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 71 Such is the bootless chase of human things, Which, if attained, soon pall upon the sense : Fair fame will soil, and riches have their wings ; But peradventure they have permanence, Too soon their power to satisfy is hence : And, surely ’tis alike in reason’s scale, Whether they cease their pleasures to dispense, Or of their fitful pinions they avail : Our expectations fond in either case must fail. Nor less of danger than fallacious hope Is there throughout the path of life bespread ; With foes invidious have we oft to cope, Whose shafts malignant are with fury sped, And plunged with aim unerring to the head ; And worse than these, the falsely smiling friend, Whose honied lips deceit profusely shed, Whilst that his actions to the ruin tend Of the fond dupes who on such broken reeds depend. And so volcanoes flame and smoke discharge, And nature mantle with Cimmerian gloom, And pent up fiery torrents set at large, With breath more fearful than the fierce simoom, Which fields ausonian to destruction doom ; And lurid streams and burning showers descend, And fertile vales and smiling hills entomb ; And dreadful sounds in echoes wide extend; And earth seems as it would unto its centre rend. f 2 72 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF But earthquakes more insidiously creep — Green is the sward and bright the scene around ; On beds of roses danger seems to sleep; Nor conscious is the ear of breath or sound. Struck by some secret hand, upheaves the ground, And mountains reel, and gorges open wide ; For cities vast no longer place is found — The fearful shock nor nature may abide : O’er all doth rampant ruin in wild triumph ride. So open foes ’tis fearful to engage, The contest doubtful though the danger known ; But who is equal to the secret rage, When poisoned arrows are in darkness thrown? The mountain may into a flame he blown, But open is the way and we may fly. The earthquake latently to birth is grown, Nor sound we hear, nor warning we descry ; When, lo ! our fondest hopes in one wide ruin lie. And who of peace can dream whilst on the field, By hostile ranks confronted and defied? Or to the syren song of pleasure yield, When in the distance looms the battle’s tide? The foe may seem restrained, friends nor denied, And vernal skies their balmy influence shed ; But caution’s voice, oh ! let us not deride : The fond illusion in a moment fled, And the rough storm comes down with fury on our head. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 73 The liardy tribes whose home is on the deep, When tempests on them in their fury break, “ Tired nature” heed not, nor presume to sleep, But in their patient vigils safety seek. So would the sage admonishingly speak To those for whom the world seems full of charms; Soon will your ardent bosoms find it bleak, And full of turmoils, warfare, and alarms ; Nor need you think of rest amid the sound of arms. But baits there are which lure us to the strife — Few care unheeded to spin out their days ; And hence have listed in the phalanx of life, Unto themselves a monument to raise, And from their fellows gain a puff of praise ; And where the path to high renown appears, That they may bask in her refulgent blaze, By “ nettle danger” unaroused their fears, The “ bubble reputation” their advances cheers. His musings aiding at their earliest birth, The sun of genius with industry plies ; Whose flights restrainless nor confined to earth, His piercing gaze invades the boundless skies : To him are opened fields of enterprise, Where throngs on throngs whose hearts beat high for fame With toilsome steps and many greatly rise ; And to bequeath to future years a name, All but their own especial trifles they disclaim. 74 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF Tis theirs the tedious moment to consume In lucubrations o’er the learned page, And scarce doth morn the topmost hills illume, In toils absorbing ere they re-engage : Nought may their classic thirstiness assuage : Hesperian fruit provokes their energies, And, pinioned like the daring ossifrage, Athwart their course the Alps but vainly rise, Or sihk to molehills in their philosophic eyes. And humble though the walk wherein is found Who in the fields of science loves to stray, Nor by conventional fetters ever bound, And daring fortune’s inauspicious sway, Soon the aspiring votary breaks away From the restraints whereby as yet confined, And then in mental vigour tours away, Leaving all grosser vanities behind, To revel in the worlds of matter or of mind. And it is noble truly to aspire To intellectual pre-eminence. If ’tis ambition let the feeling fire Both active mind and the more torpid sense : Man hence educes chiefest excellence ; Is great or little as his enterprise Leads him into the boundless sources, whence The hierarchs of heaven draw supplies : Nor may he disregard the example of the skies. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 75 And bright the prospect that to him unfolds, A meet reward for all his toil and care, When from the mountain’s summit he beholds Creation’s wonders concentrated there; Nor mists are stagnant in the lucid air, And o’er the unclouded scene his eye dilates, Wont like the eagle light’s excess to dare; And as the whole he, raptured, contemplates, His mind, with prescient skill, their mysteries penetrates. But if too vauntful of his visual strength, He much presumes upon his purblind sight, Outstepped his finity he finds at length That there is darkness in excessive light ; And then but feeble at the best in flight, His whirring pinions idly beat the air : Bewildered in his course, in woful plight, He wanders to and fro he knows not where, And rest he vainly seeks, and sinks in dire despair. How vain the things of time and sense appear, Nor expectation meet to gratify! When that which doubtless much ennobles here, In the possession but excites a sigh. In science we desire attainments high : And worthy of pursuit the object is; But often we the curriculum try, And yet our aim in its subversions miss, And in our lofty thoughts attain not unto bliss. 76 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF In other fields what myriads engage ! The treasures of the mind who nor desire : Disdainfully they spurn the schoolman’s page ; Their plodding souls far other views inspire. In Mammon’s dirty mine they toil for hire; Gold has a call on every hour’s employ: And that they may unmeaning hoards acquire, It is their pride of life, their chiefest joy, Reckless the while although they peace of mind destroy. On every tongue the praise of wealth is found ; Few are the bosoms where ’tis not enshrined; All like the Lydian prince would be renowned, As to his fate forgetful though, or blind. Of habits rude, or manners more refined, Who range amid Boeotia’s gloom extreme, Or where Pierean streams mellifluous wind — Whate’er their station — subject — or supreme, This as their panacea all too fondly deem. In every clime its influence prevails, And youth and age alike its claims allow ; And its enchantment dire nor seldom fails Around its victims, who submissive bow, A soul imposing eldric spell to thrown. For this the merchant sacrifices ease, And hardy peasants at their labor glow ; Nor wearied nature may command release From unremitting toils, in death which only cease. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 77 And wherefore thus? why this enslavement vile? Say — what the end of all this anxious care? All that ennobles truly prostrate, while Debasing bonds of servitude they wear. Alas! for man; that he, forsooth, may rear His head a little higher than the rest, And rank’s emblazonry about him bear — That he may be with consequence invest, In low pursuits absorbed, he ceases to be blest. And shall I blot my yet unsullied page, In records mournful, of the vile to tell, Whose souls are moved by a resistless rage, Their only aim and end their hoards to swell, On which their gloating eyes insanely dwell ? Distinction and parade alike they brave, And kind and social feelings all repel ; Nor for indulgement even wealth they crave : Lost to the world, then be the mountain heap their grave. But is there not aside the veil who throws, And can of tinsel gauds aright conceive; When sordid interest his views oppose, Who the commotioned eddies can outlive? I trust there is, our nature to retrieve, Who in life’s valley willingly abides : (The unclassic metaphor my muse forgive) Wisdom a steam apparatus provides, Whereby wind, tide, and current bravely he outrides* 78 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF And yet, nor be my humble lay mistook: I would not needful things depreciate; Nor worthy toil regard with jaundiced look, Whose useful efforts wealth accumulate : And which applied aright, what joys await Its distribution! ’tis a twofold stream Of blessings that doth hence originate ; He who receives his eyes with gladness beam, And he who gives partakes the smile of the supreme. * So gentle currents their soft banks between, Which in due seasons irrigate the plain, Their silvery hues enliven all the scene, And joy and gladness on their margins reign: But cataracts that all restraint disdain, And torrents from the hills that rudely pour ; And ever and anon that spread amain In stagnant sheets where smiled the fields before ; Though with their grandeur struck, their influence we deplore. In some ambition their decided aim, The merchant’s gold the schoolman’s page despised, Disdainful they of other modes of fame, In blood red hues and burnished armour guised, Vain military pomp is only prized. How welcome to their ears the bugles sound! How dance their plumes, of glory when advised! Their restive steeds the eager call respond, And o’er the echoeing hills the gallant horsemen bound. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 79 Glad they drink in the dreadful whoop of war, And hail Acate in her fury sped; Onward they drive Bellona’s vengeful car, Her track with ruin far and wide bespread, Her myrmidons with slaughter ever fed. O’er wasted helds, whence sulphur mists ascend, Conflagrate domes a lurid brightness shed; And there the warrior’s eager footsteps wend His yell dissonant with sharp misery’s cry to blend. In yonder temple whose fair turrets rise, Bright in parhelion rays that supervene, Curtained by graceful clouds from vulgar eyes, In awful state presides the AEretian queen, Decked in Minervian helm and brigantine, And crimson vest with honor’s stars enlaid. Turn fond humanity from the gilded scene : Its marble floor with dripping gore bespread, To lay whose sanguine fumes how vain the incense shed. ’Tis there his vows the blood red warrior pays, Presents unhallowed rites before her shrine ; And gory victims on her altars blaze, Whose fumes with costly frankincense combine i The crowning sheaf and the soul cheering vine Are there to feed the all-devouring flame; While reckless the fair olive to resign, The censer serving hero pleads his claim For an enrolment in the venial list of fame. 80 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF “ There is no flesh in man’s obdurate heart,” Else would his steps in high career be staid, With horror all his better feelings start, At the sad scenes on battle fields displayed : There all the charities of life are laid Prostrate aneath the stern destroyer’s hand, Who in the flaunting robe of power arrayed, And that he may a paltry name command, Into a wilderness converts a smiling land. And wherefore thus? unroll the historic page, Where is the venial bards’ recorded strain. Whose soul’s excited with the fellest rage, He is the noblest of the hunter’s train. For him the patriotic glow they feign, And adulations vile to him present ; And guiltless deemed, a populace insane, To hail his progress, pageants new invent And to his deeds of blood with wild acclaim assent. Thus in the vortex of applause engorged, Heedless though thousands mournful vigils keep, In the habiliments of Vulcan forged, The warriors forth of conquest to drink deep, And iron harvests of the field to reap. And, ah! how vain the sum of his desires! And yet must crimson showers the laurel steep, Whence is the wreath his fallen brow attires, And whose possession his imperious passions fires. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 81 Nor longer, 0 my muse, prolong the theme, The various stages to enumerate, Whereon to act his part in life’s short dream, Man puts on airs of dignity and state ; Nor of his claims one tittle will abate, Though still the shadowy phantom from him flies. In humble spheres, or circles of the great, The meretricious wanton none denies; Promethean fame to each assumes the favoured guise. So varied the pursuits which men engage, Concentred in the one vast wish of fame ; The drivelling idiot and the hoary sage, This is the total of their every aim, To raise themselves a monument and name : But soon the marbles title is erased, Ere wont its founder’s greatness to proclaim; And the memorial of man is past, As is the fragile flower before the driving blast. And such their lot whose dwelling is the earth, Which to unpractised eyes appears so fair ; To toil subjected from their earliest birth, They taste the wormwood and the gall of care : And when mayhap impatiently they bear, And strive to shun their evil destinies, Ah! would they learn or ever they despair, He of philosophers the wisest is Who is affected least by life’s contingencies. 82 THE INSUFFICIENCY OF As sparks inevitably upward tend, So trouble is man’s surest heritage ; His hopes in disappointment ever end, Nor earthly good his sorrows may assuage. When life’s vain baubles his regards engage, As promised comfort in them he descries, Soon turns he anguished from the dread mirage, As fades the scene before his straining eyes, And oases instead, successive wilds arise. Alike abortive proves his boasted lore, His military glory and parade ; His hoarded treasures soon delight no more; And in his friendships tortured and betrayed. Fell disappointments in thick ranks arrayed, Greet him where e’er he turns his blood-shot eyes : Discomfitted in all and sore dismayed, Each avenue of life he vainly tries, Then casts a lingering look toward the open skies. There let his gaze be fixed : nor long in vain ; Benignant heaven e’er answers such appeals : The breathless sigh doth there admittance gain, And who in secret supplication kneels, Egyptia’s noon of darkness nor conceals. Light from on high illumes, and he appears, The Man of sorrows who for mourners feels, And for the fallen Gilead’s balm he bears, And oil and wine outpours; and with his presence cheers. HUMAN PURSUITS, ETC. 83 Amid the wrecks of hope, when all is gone That once illumed and cheered our chequered way, Not even one bruised reed to rest upon, Nor through the tempest shoots one straggling ray, And all around is terror and dismay ; He yet is nigh his succour to impart, Who holds the winds and whom the seas obey : He rescues, and allays the hidden smart, The wounded spirit heals and binds the broken heart. Nor longer may I in the strain indulge, Although enamoured with the brightening theme, Else would I now in loftier tones promulge The law of love, from wretchedness extreme, Which doth the weary wanderer redeem. From hostile realms and bitter thraldom brought, His heart with laughter filled, as they who dream, He marvels who hath his deliverance wrought, Then to the Saviour turns, his heart with transport fraught. And rest obtained, though but a foretaste here Of perfect bliss that him awaits on high, Sublunar things in other guise appear, And sweetly on him smiles the opening sky : Nor longer from the world he seeks to fly, Where if he trouble and temptation find, His aid, and succour, and munition nigh, He calmly meets his lot, to all resigned, And cares, which bowed him once, he casts them all behind. 84 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS AT WHITSUNTIDE. Deus nobis hoec otia fecit. — Virg. Dear children, teachers, and indulgent friends, Kind Providence these joyous seasons sends, When in the lull of business and turmoil, And kindly respite of accustomed toil, We may remit our wordly cares awhile, And the fleet hours with pleasantries beguile. ’Tis Whitsuntide, a season of the year, When nature doth in vernal charms appear, Rude winter, wont her prospects fair to blight, And his attendant tempests put to flight ! When bud and blossom greet the raptured eye, And soft-winged zephyrs gentle gales supply; When suns auspicious life and vigour teem, And skies cerulean on us brightly beam. A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 85 And, such the change in England’s happy isle, On which reposes Heaven’s benignant smile. Her days of leisure not so idly spent, As by our rude forefathers, who intent On what their taste uncultured pleasure deemed, Of satisfaction in wild frolic dreamed, Or feudal sport, or the barbaric game, Which only served the passions to inflame ; Now ’tis a period sanctified for good, In hearts renewed awaking gratitude, When churches yet in embryo agree The pomps and vanities of life to flee, And of the opportunity avail Themselves at living fountains to regale ; And the returning festival devote To what may hallowed feelings best promote. And though not all so wisely are inclined, To themes supernal to uplift the mind, Or of the better part to make their choice ; Still may divine philanthropy rejoice In the enjoyments elevated, which, More than the former, present times enrich, Or to the sons of wealth confined alone, That now with liberal hand are open thrown, When labor’s Ixionic wdieel stands still, Obedient to the legislative will, Which with paternal care his claims regards, - And his long months of weariness rewards, Gr 86 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS, With a reprieve of his allotted doom, Or at the plough, the anvil, or the loom ; When for awhile he may indulge at home, And its endearments taste ; or freely roam As love of science may his mind incline, Or softer sympathies his heart entwine ; Where vagrant fancy prompts, or humour leads, ’Mid scenes of art; or nature’s flowery meads, Whose odours sweet and vocal groves inspire, A tranquil joy, surpassing his desire, And which, an oasis ’mid life’s turmoil, Allays the hardship of protracted toil. No doubt there are, who, wrapped in self esteem. Save their own gauds, that all things trifles deem ; And snarling cynic, and the envious churl The scornful lip contemptuously who curl ; Who only value wealth and worldly gain, And all the charities of life disdain ; And who the mere utilities discern, Whose prompt cui-hono meets us every turn ; All such occasions view with jaundiced eyes, And labor’s festive holiday despise, When that his rightful claim asserted is, With them as now to taste of mundane bliss ; And hence may pass him by with haughty slight, Unapt in other’s pleasures to delight. But youthful minds, as yet without alloy, Guiltless of giving needless rein to joy, A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. At such a time that they should be unmoved By observation quickly is disproved : As well the miser might forget his pelf, Or the fair bride to ornament herself. Their hearts untutored in the worldlings ways, Alike whose censure, or unmeasured praise, His judgment formed in whim or apathy, Or vile contempt of those as good as he, Who carpingly or with indifference sees, What may the unsophisticated please; Their buoyant spirits leave all doubts behind, And in the present full enjoyment find. What high anticipations of to-day Each has indulged, it is not mine to say ; But it has been forestalled by all, I deem, In many a pleasant and fantastic dream ; And my best wishes are — not idly built Amid wild scenes of folly or of guilt, But whose foundations rather are divine, On which the smile of heaven may broadly shine That no one’s expectations may be quashed, Or from the lip the untasted cup be dashed : Nor would I on you with wise saws intrude, Or tell you joy but sparkles to delude. One friendly caution yet receive from me ; Let expectation always moderate be ; So disappointment if it come at all, Its blight upon you will more lightly fall. 88 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. The humble muse rejoices much to see A swarming population, happy, free ; But deep regret nor fails to supervene, At the abuse of good too often seen : Such times as these to wanton riot given, Abusing thus the precious gifts of heaven. Not hard however to be understood, That they, beneath a curse who labor, should Fatuitously proffered good disdain, And suffer evil in their hearts to reign ; And, who, untaught, or who to learn refuse, And darkness rather than the light who chuse, Impulse depraved their only guide that make, In error’s mazes lost their course mistake, And happiness apart from God pursue ; And their still failing efforts yet renew, And every nerve and sinew fondly strain, In hot pursuit, a phantom to obtain, Which, rainbow like, maintains its distance still. Ne’er overtaken chase it as you will. But who the snares of wanton pleasure flies, And at the living fountain seeks supplies, Forth of himself perennial waters flow 7 , Which neither ebb nor fluctuation know; And flowers of promise all their banks bestrew 7 , Of sweetest odour and delightful hue, Whose non-decadence but increasing bloom, With reflex beauties the fair streams illume, Whose healthful currents heart-felt joys attend, To raptures rising that will never end. A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 89 And such the case of those assembled here, Themselves with hallowed pleasures to encheer, Whose source divine, invigorant, and pure, The yearning bosom’s needful wants ensure : Proof against all the accidents that rise Aneath the influence of sublunar skies, By disappointment ever unalloyed, In all their sweetness they may be enjoyed, As foretastes of the rest that will remain When all the elements dissolve again, And the last change that comes o’er heaven and earth, To bliss primeval gives celestial birth; Which consummated in the eternal world, And to his place the fell destroyer hurled, The warrings of the flesh entirely cease, Nor more shall evil interrupt our peace : And cause there is, the future will divulge, Wherefore we should in raptures thus indulge — No transient feelings, such as worldlings fire, Like thorns upblazing that in smoke expire. Our Sunday Schools, at which the sceptic sneers, But which the power of darkness greatly fears,— What hath God wrought by instruments so mean, Both in the past and present may be seen ; And as a retrospect of good possest Invigorates and cheers the human breast, A stated period to appoint ’tis well, When of the goodness of the Lord we tell : 90 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. Our hearts distent with gratitude and praise, Whilst Eben-ezers to our God we raise. And to the humble matron thanks are due, Whose Christian sympathies around her drew, The little circle of forgotten souls, The primal model of our Sunday Schools. And honored Raikes, recorded be his name In other books than those of worldly fame, Whose sphere in life not to a point confined, A wider plan of general good designed. The seedling, seemingly at random flung, And which in deep obscurity upsprung, Its sweetness wasting in the desert air, Subjected to his cultivating care, And heavenly influence on his efforts shed, In cognate offshoots multiplied and spread, As trees of life which now so nobly stand, With branches stretching o’er our happy land, Whose ample shade a refuge has supplied, To outcasts of all other help denied ; Who else the sinner’s ways had still pursued, With dangers, snares, and deaths so thickly strewed Nor once awakened to their lost estate, Had scorned the doom that doth on sin await, And headlong rushed, with all their guilt extreme, Into the presence of the Judge supreme. And proofful that the muse nor vaguely sings, Or builds her theme on suppositious things, A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 91 Of swarming cities let us make survey, Through towns and villages pursue our way, Each nook and corner of the country scan, Hamlet remote, and lone abode of man. Our wandering gaze what teeming thousands meet, Along the highway and the crowded street — The offspring of the humble walks of life, Whose dawning years are tissued o’er with strife, By penury and want of hope bereft, By profligacy dire unheeded left ! Of whom ’tis fearful to indulge the thought As to their fate, if by our schools untaught, x\nd unrestrained in action or in will, What nature prompts permitted to fulfil : The plagues and pests of all, their country’s bane, Fell anarchy amid their ranks would reign. And as they grow in stature and strength, To fearful evil would they rise at length, And earth a pandemonium become, Where Godlike virtue paralyzed and dumb, And happiness and her attendant train, Abused and exiled could no longer reign. And when their feverish life is sped away, And comes at last the great decision’s day, The doom which fixes their eternal state, Beyond the power of language to relate : Their blasted skies with ceaseless horrors bend, Their worm nor dies, their tortures never end. 92 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. And such were you and thousands more beside, For whose instruction Sabbath Schools provide, Within whose sacred precincts truths are taught, Than gold more precious, nor with silver bought. And thanks to friends, though humble in their sphere, Devoted to the task, who labor here : Their only aim the lambs of Christ to feed, And by the streams of living waters lead. And in the last, the great and awful day, When all created things shall pass away ; Fair emerald earth and all its splendid boasts, The gorgeous heavens and their marshalled hosts, All — all shall vanish as a folded scroll, And thunders dread o’er the wide chaos roll ; When every creature shall to judgment come, From Judah’s Lion to receive his doom, The congregated worlds shall then be taught, What marvels meanest instruments have wrought; Which, by the sceptic wantonly despised, By purblind worldlings foolishly unprized, And by the devotees of science spurned, In lore supernal who as yet unlearned ; Weak in themselves, in his Almighty hand, The powers of darkness but in vain withstand ; And pregnant with results perform his will, And all the purposes of grace fulfil. Nor least of these will then be manifest, With the approval of the Saviour blest, Our Sunday Schools, as arks of refuge found, From sin-lost worlds to fairer havens bound : A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDEESS. 93 And myriads will rejoice and praise the Lord, For the repose and safety they afford. ’Twas there they heard of God’s redeeming grace, And there were taught to seek the Saviour’s face ; And then, accepted at the mercy seat, Feel no dismay their awful judge to meet. And even now what instances appear Of good resulting from our labors here, Which, if the present be our only care, Man for his earthly duties to prepare, May well suffice the prostrate mind to raise, And fill the heart with gratitude and praise. How many else, in wretchedness extreme, To them existence an unwelcome dream, Had spent their days : their life a dreary waste ; Forbidden them of happiness to taste, A fruit hesperian watchful dragons keep, Which never o’er their charge are known to sleep, And which, a fearful and envenomed brood By power omnipotence alone withstood, In all the protean forms of ignorance And profligacy, their dire fronts advance. But rescued from the pit, to light upbrought, Nor more their cup with misery o’erfraught, In wisdom’s ways their willing feet inclined, They now fulfil the duties of their kind ; And bliss, unknown where sin alone has sway, Illumes their path with still increasing day ; 94 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. And well they prove that godliness has power Abundant providential gifts to shower : Not boons celestial it alone bestows, For every earthly blessing from it flows. And such the first fruits which on earth appear The humble labourer’s ardent toil to cheer, Whose ripened harvests garnered by the Lord, The myriads swell which countless worlds afford ; What reason therefore have we to rejoice, In songs of gladness to uplift the voice ; As they engaged in sanguinary toil, Who for themselves have got abundant spoil. More worthy are the victories we boast Than the discomfit of the marshalled host, Whose champion hordes o’erspread the battle field, And who to death alone the contest yield. The thralls of sin, their servile bondage broke, Nor more subjected to satanic yoke, These are the trophies our ovations grace, And which at our Immanuel’s feet we place, In humble adoration, owning he Alone has gained the mighty victory And so divine the sources whence distil The rapturous feelings which our bosoms thrill, Nor of an evanescent nature, hence We have no need of mirth to make pretence, As worldlings do, who, playlike, act a part And mimic joys while cares corrode the heart. A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 95 The consciousness, that cannot be destroyed, Wherewith their pleasures always are alloyed, Still haunting them amid their wildest dreams, That all they boast are momentary gleams, Which, scarcely seen, in darkness must expire, Nor leave them aught to hope for or desire. How different who in wisdom’s path are found, Whose joys are lasting, and which still abound ! In truth established and for ever sure, Our hopes the shock of ages will endure. We therefore may our voices loudly raise Who rescued us to magnify and praise. And bless the means, however simple they, Which from destruction's precincts led the way : Enduring themes, which gratitude excite, And wake the soul to rapture and delight, Whose contemplation is a source of bliss That with eternity coeval is. And well it is such mercies to review, And the delightful descant oft renew. In Satan’s bondage we as yet had been, But mercy infinite did intervene, At his command, whom heaven and earth obey, Whose purposes benignant none may stay, And for our rescue prompt and swiftly flew, And from the net the fluttering captive drew-. He saw us in our wretchedness extreme, And in Ids servant’s hearts devised the scheme, Whereby our wayward erring feet are led, Forth of the desert where we long had strayed. 96 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. And what more fitting season to express Our gratitude for favours we possess Than is the present, as of old ordained A feast of joy for blessings great attained. When ancient Israel from the wilderness Came up the promised Canaan to possess, And his first harvest gathered, he was taught That to the Lord the first fruits should he brought An offering meet, and an acknowledgment Of him whose goodness every mercy sent. And nor delaying to perform his vows, The while his heart with gratitude o’erflows, From the blessed period when the field he reaped, And with the produce his wide garners heaped, Some fifty days or so were numbered o’er, When to the priest his offering he bore. And as he stood, with rapture almost dumb, By his abundant mercies overcome, His lowly gift upon the altar laid, Before the Lord he this confession made: — That forth of woe and misery extreme, As one awaking from a fearful dream, Up from the house of bondage safely brought The hand he owned which his deliverance wrought. Egyptia no longer could retain ; Her adamantine bonds were broke in twain ; The desert too with dangers thickly spread, But through them all he was in safety led : A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 9 And by his might whom hosts of heaven adore, And all the powers of darkness quail before ; Whose presence wide as is creation’s sphere, To whom whose tribes as grasshoppers appear : And who supreme o’er all, yet nor disdains To lend an ear when the** oppressed complains. He from his holy habitation came, His chosen one from bondage to reclaim, And interposed for him a Syrian vile, Who long had sighed for the returning smile Of heaven benignant, which, nor understood, In chastisement still purposes our good, And forth of ills, our portion here below That us envelope in a cloud of woe, Upon us bursts, and with his brightness cheers, And as a Saviour and a friend appears. So Israel, the victim and the slave Of tyranny more bitter than the grave, Who long the absence of Jehovah mourned ; By Zoan’s haughty princes vilely spurned; And by affliction, prostrate in the dust, Full often led the promise to mistrust, No more his goodness doubting, hear the voice Which bids them in their sufferings rejoice ; Through which in triumph brought and set on high To whom the islands of the Gentiles fly, And through the vista of forthcoming days, Bemotest tribes of earth in wonder gaze, And in them own the just and faithful God, Who the oppressor visits with the rod : 98 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. Their honour such whose God the Lord alone, And in their troubles who his presence own. And thus, regarding not as mortals do, The high abasing, lifting up the low, Faithful unto his promise in their need, He interposes for the chosen seed ; Which, with a high and an uplifted hand, By him conducted to the promised land, Were there at length established in peace, And blest abundantly with earth’s increase. Hence sounds of gratitude and praise arise, And shouts of exultation rend the skies : With plenty crowned, and now no more enthralled, The joyous season Pentecost he called. But have not we more reason to rejoice, And unto Heaven uplift our cheerful voice, And to our Saviour raise hosannas loud, For richer blessings upon us bestowed? Full oft the bitter portion we deplore Of woe and strife our path that chequer o'er; And when in mercy is cut short our grief, And for our sufferings we obtain relief, From every evil rescued, it is well For temporal good the grateful heart should swell. But when, with solemn gaze, we, contemplate Ourselves as sinners and in lost estate, What dreadful feelings o’er us supervene! The wreck how fearful ! and how sad the scene ! A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 99 And as the soul, to agony upwoke, The charm of madness and of folly broke, In dire amazement anxious looks around, Is there no Saviour — is no ransom found — Are the enquiries bursting from its lips, As to the dregs the cup of woe it sips : And lo! responsive, the deep gloom that cheers, The star — the star of Bethlehem appears ; A Saviour comes, and, joyful, comes to save, To snatch him from the portals of the grave. Where, once engulfed, his hope for ever fails, Nor interposing mercy aught avails, And lost, lost, lost, eternal echoes wake, As forth he launches on perdition’s lake. But tell me is it in a heart of stone, Left to its selfish reasonings alone, Its high imaginations to bring down, And sin, and guilt, and misery to own? The unrenewed upon his riches broods, And boasts himself of his increasing goods, Unto the present all his views confined, Unconscious that he is both poor and blind, And heedless of his utter wretchedness, He seeks not the true riches to possess. And what save grace can make him feel his need? And what save grace unto the Saviour lead? The holy spirit’s influence from on high, Must first renew and then with grace supply. And on this day the blessing first was given, Which like a mighty wind came down from heaven, 100 A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDEESS. And thousands felt the power of grace to save, And to the Lord themselves they freely gave : The spirit sealed the word, which then believed, The rite baptismal gladly they received, An outward token of the inward birth, Which them admitted to the church on earth ; Where, joined by faith unto the living head, A feast divine is for them richly spread: A foretaste of the bliss that shall endure, When things of time and sense shall be no more. Hence on this day a custom it became, That whosoe’er assumed the Christian name, Arrayed in garments of the purest white, They from the church received the solemn rite ; And from the robes of spotless purity, Denoting them from all defilement free, Wherewith on this occasion they were drest, By outward show the inner state exprest, No longer we the Pentecost proclaim, But Whitsuntide the hallowed season name. The day to gladness therefore we devote, The subject long of prophecies remote, Which ancient seers earnestly desired, Their sacred ardours by its prospect fired. And may we view the heavenly boon aright, On us diffusing a transcendant light, Whose glorious rays the path of life illume, On every hand dispersing hellish gloom. A SUNDAY SCHOOL ADDRESS. 101 And for the gift (which who may comprehend ?) Oh! may our hearts with gratitude distend, And the full thoughts, of language unpossest, In silent adorations be exprest. And here the muse the welcome theme would end, Nor lightly from her loftier flights descend; But, ah ! the dangers that beset us here ! Who thinks he stands must entertain the fear, Lest from his heights of blessedness he fall, And ruin be his portion after all. The light divine upon our times that beams, On us descending in abounding streams, More need we have with care to cultivate Our high investment, else severer fate, For the excess of unrequited love, The meed of our unfaithfulness will prove. Oh ! may we therefore not the gift refuse, Or wantonly our day of grace abuse, Which used aright to perfect bliss will tend, The which, perennial, never knows an end. Rejoicing therefore in our portion here Although it be with trembling and with fear, Our joy need not be that of worldly men, Whose hopes deceive, whose pleasures end in pain. Their mirth like thorns, which quickly catch the fire, And blaze a moment, and as soon expire : The source divine from whence our pleasures rise, The accidents of time and sense defies, And faithful to the goodness to us shown, All disappointment is to us unknown. H 10*2 THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. But once a year this festival arrives, When almost universally there is Cessation from the needful toils of life In this our happy isle ; an oasis — Amid the world’s wide waste, whose aspect sad And moral desolations darkly loom, To heaven’s keen gaze portentously upheaved, — From shadows and Cimmerian gloom averting, Where spirits pure their vision may repose. In many a nook and corner, sunny spots, Where truth concentrates her congenial rays, Teachers and pupils of the various schools Which on the sabbath, holiest of employs ! Instruction to the needy poor dispense, Relaxed awhile severer discipline, With hearts exhilarated rendezvous ; THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. 103 And soon anon, the starting anthem sung, They issue forth in regular array ; And passed the throng of neighbours and of friends, Who kindly smile upon the pageantry, Along the shady lane they take their way, And up the winding road, whose terminus Some pleasant mansion is, whose master, blessed With fortune’s gifts which humbly he receives As boons from heaven, and joyful to dispense Where e’er the donor may be magnified, Opens his heart and welcomes to his arms, Whom the Supreme, the Lord of earth and heaven, When in the flesh unto his bosom pressed. Thrown wide the portals, hospitably cheered, Their thanks in joyful accents loud proclaimed, Where Flora’s beauties richly are displayed, And o’er the pleasant park they range about ; And on this pentecostal season, wont, As in the ancient apostolic times, To meet together in their master’s name, Ever and anon their sportive movements checked, They form in circles wide, and meetly drilled, In solemn anthems they uplift their voices, And laud and magnify in joyous songs, Who made the world and who the world redeems. And how delightful ’tis, on every breeze Wafted o’er hill and vale, the vocal strains To praise melodiously attuned, to hear ! Now rising soothly on the charmed ear, And now in dying cadence faintly heard, h 2 104 THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. Or in full chorus like the trumpet’s peal, Rousing the soul to transport and to joy. And sweet the echoes which the theme repeat From mountain’s side, or the high beetling crag. Or the deep wood, or ivied abbey walls ; Or other objects, dull, inanimate, Yoidless of all intelligence, and mute, Save when as instruments with skill arranged, Their parts reverberative they perform ! The song to heighten, and the praise resound Of Him, who reigns in heaven supremely blest : And yet who is well pleased with aught that serves To raise the incense gratitude presents. And what more pleasing than when infancy, In lisping tones the mighty theme assays, Which wakes to emulation seraphs’ lyres ! And though the carping pharisee, who stands In pompous attitude of feigned prayer, Which mocks his majesty, whose services Require the unsullied offerings of the heart ; And the misguiding scribe, whose purposes Are only served by the perverted word ; With ex-cathedra insolence forbid, — Their dull formality and pride of heart, By happier children artlessly reproved ; Still may they to the altar of the Lord, Whether in solemn fane or open skies, With unsophisticated hearts and minds resort ; And their hosannas rise upon the breeze, And rocks and hills the welcome sound return : THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL, Not in reproof of their dire apathy, Whose icy bosoms never felt the fire Of true devotion, which the spirit melts, The soul entire dissolving into love ; Steeled in their own devices, and to whom The voice of mercy makes appeal in vain ; But in response to sucklings and to babes, Out of whose mouths proceed perfected praise. And melts it not the indurated heart, Wrapped in the world and of the sense enslaved; And the unbending sceptic almost leads, Mauger the reason proud whereof he boasts, And to whose deity alone he bows, As the undoubted power which him may lead Through all the mazes of existences, Unto the wondrous origin of all; Renouncing all the wild and drivelling dreams, Which high imagination bodies forth, That in apostasy enmarsliall him ; Humbly to own ’tis more than mere pretence, Or the device of deep designing men, Who, as in usual jargon he relates, Religion forge to keep the world in awe, Which opens out and legibly reveals, So that who runs may clearly understand The plan, whereby lost and abandoned man, To pristine glory may be yet restored ; W T hen infant tongues so promptly speak his praise And in hosannas magnify his grace Who saves from death and rescues from the grave 106 THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. And for his ransomed ones a place has found, An everlasting mansion in the skies, Where, wiped the tear from every sorrowing eye, Joy reigns supreme and bliss, which never yet The heart of man has ventured to conceive, Howe’er it soared in expectations wide : Nor intermitted but increasing still. And ’tis the prelude of the heavenly song, Which saints above, a countless mnltitude, Palms in their hands and crowns upon their heads, Tokens of victory o’er their every foe, For ever chant before the eternal throne. And are not thus anticipations sweet Excited in each heaving anxious breast, Of that blessed time when loosed from earthly things , We too shall join the everlasting song? And who then is not strengthened in resolves, The way of life with eager steps to run : Renouncing all besetting, darling sins, Casting aside each dull impeding weight ; Whether ’tis pleasure spreads the luring wile, Or worldly cares their seemly merit plead ; Alike relinquished all ; and diligence Affected sole, this purpose all before, To make their calling and election sure ! To this our meetings here on earth must tend , For this we to the temple oft repair, For prayer in solemn convocation joined, And sacred knowledge seek, and strive to learn THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. LOT That wisdom which consists in fearing God. And may our hearts, intent on this alone, From earthly vanities, and sensual joys, And all the worldling’s pleasures he withdrawn. And that we may at last with Jesus reign, Now may we learn in youth to bear the cross, The shame despising and the tribulation Which we must yet endure and glory in, Till fought our passage through this vale of tears. And when a gleam of light benignly shed From heaven’s high cope where reigns supernal love, Disparts a moment the more settled gloom Which rests upon the destinies of man, And for awhile we respite have from care, And the sad travail incident to us, Whilst sojourning where sin has spread its blight; In the calm sunshine of the moment blessed, We, unreproved, of pleasure may partake, So far as is consistent with the law Which sin and folly cannot compromise. And the sweet intervals from time to time Afforded us, wherein, relaxed the toil Which duty with unsparing hand enjoins, We to enjoyment may resign ourselves; In these may we consider figured forth The rest remaining for the faithful few, Who only meet on earth to separate ; But, joined at last the assembly of the blest, Through countless ages never part again. And thus our mercies must upload the mind 108 THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. Unto the fountain whence all good proceeds ; Who chiefly our eternal welfare seeks, But in the plenitude of grace and love, Withholds not any providential gift That may our lot on earth alleviate ; And whilst he scatters plenty with his hand In rich abundance, and our need supplies, Is no less bountiful when he affords The beauteous flower that fancy gratifies, Or the bright fields adorns with waving corn, Or clothes the campaign in a verdant robe, Or the wide landscape spreads, in richest hues Bedecked, and all the forms of hill and vale ; Or wandering streamlet and deep bosomed river, And craggy steep and hoary headed mount, And dark ravine and overhanging cliff; Whose verdure and whose colorings be such As from the roseate hands of Flora drop, When summer reigns and genial heats prevail; Or deeper shades, or russet, or obscure, Which mark the closing season, when at length, Each object wont to charm the eye, appears In its denuded outlines prominent : For ’tis alike, in vernal livery, Or snow enwreathed and icicled about ; O’er all the eye in rapture may dilate, Awoke the sympathies which best conspire, To raise, and elavate, and purify The mind; too long absorbed in sordid things. And ’tis his bounty also that has put THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. 109 Into the hearts of those who have the power The destinies of others to direct, Thus to afford occasion when we may Accustomed tasks relinquish for awhile, And, as our wiser judgments may incline, Of pleasures taste whose sources are divine. And now mayhap the stated hour is near When the accustomed viands are prepared, And, not the appetite alone to please, But also taste, decorously displayed, Beneath the roof where wont they are to meet For other purposes — to find supplies That nurture and corroborate the mind — WTiich for this festival occasion is W 7 ith the choice treasures of the gay parterre, And laurel, ivy, and the hardy tribes That boast perrenial verdure, trimly decked : The walls and ceiling gracefully festooned, And post and pillar wreathed with evergreens, Though simple in themselves, which cynic minds May turn from with disdain, the eye delight, And sympathies awake that much increase The heartfelt pleasure there predominant. And thanks are justly to the donor due, Who of his garden’s treasures these affords; And the kind hands that with artistic skill, The spoils arborial tastefully arrange. So then obediently their sports they leave Upon the given signal, and prepare 110 THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. For their departure from the favoured spot, With all the charms of summer richly graced; And in due order onward they proceed, Their looks and their deportment shadowing forth The gladsome feelings and the gratitude, Which the indulgment has conspired to raise ; And pleasing murmurs run from rank to rank, Each with his fellow held in converse sweet Recounting the adventures of the day, As to the well accustomed dome they haste. And welcome is the feast on their return Which an unsparing hand for them has spread ; The which partaken with an appetite By healthful pleasures not alone provoked, Sweet in itself the genuine repast, And that may well suffice to gratify The pampered and fastidious epicure ; But sweeter far, associate as it is With an occasion dedicate to joy, — In token and remembrance of the past When darkness palpable prevailed around, In contrast with the present happier times When light superior on us broadly shines ; Thankful for all that providence has given, In teachers kind who tell them how to live So as on earth their God to glorify; And the indulgences repeated oft, The harder lot assigned them in the world That may ameliorate ; — thankful for all — They speed them home to dream of future bliss. THE WHITSUNTIDE FESTIVAL. Ill And blessings rest upon the faithful bands, Into whose hearts are put to take the charge And oversight of portions of our youth, Which else might quickly to perdition run ; And who into their recreations enter, Rejoicing with them, so be they may gain Their hearts’ affections, and by cords of love Lead them to give themselves unto the Lord : Seeing to these little ones they this have done, The richest boons of heaven on them be poured. 112 AN EPISTOLARY ADDRESS TO AN OLD FRIEND. Dear Sir, as I find myself now in the vein, I therefore address you in metrical strain, Assured though harshly may warble my muse, The tribute of friendship you will not refuse. Twice ten years have nearly completed their round, Since you and I first in acquaintance were found, When youthful, and eager, and new for the world, Whose woe-inscribed scroll was but partly unfurled : Unwitting of evil we knew not, the brake So fair and so flowery harbours the snake; And hills, in the distance of beauteous forms, Which smile in the sunshine, are regions of storms. We thought of the future, and sweet was the dream, As lightly we talked of each purposed scheme; AN EPISTOLARY ADDRESS. 113 Tomorrow beguiled us while distant it was ; But, ah! as the present, how changed! alas. And yet I must not give the reins to complaint ; A picture all shadow ’tis folly to paint : That life has its trials is certainly true, The pathways of all which so sadly bestrew ; But as an amend for the crook in the lot, It also has pleasures must ne’er be forgot : And that you and I, as we’ve hitherto sped, So far on our journey by providence led, Of crosses and trials not wanting our share, Have had our peculiar burdens to bear, And felt joy and grief like the rest of our race,— I need not much proof to establish the case. But troubles they never upspring from the ground, As chastenings divine they will always be found, The which, when severest, with blessings are rife, To smooth and to gladden the Christian’s life : Our Father in Heaven who prepares our estate, On whom it is ours in patience to wait; To him is revealed the heart’s deep intent, Which ever on folly and evil is bent, By the will energetic still onward impelled Like a stream of the south by mountain rills swelled, Which bears to destruction its victim away, Who, life within prospect, of death is the prey; And the current to stem, an o’erwhelming flood, By power omnipotent only stood, He knows when to smite us and when to refrain, With grief to depress us and raise us again ; 114 AN EPISTOLARY ADDRESS. And in him acquiescent we’ll always confide, Nor doubt for our rescue that he will provide, And save us from evil and bear us safe through, The dangers and deaths that await us below ; And the short day of life, which will soon disappear, With food and with raiment will cherish us here. So, as to his dealings with me, ’tis I strive If that I may at the solution arrive, When painful forebodings and murmu rings rise, And as to my lot evil thinking devise, — ’Tis thus that I reason, and oftentimes quell The turmoils of thought which would make me rebel, And, like the vain potsherd, my maker defy, And why such my portion presumptuously cry. And you I nor question, in spirit the same, Like trust in kind Providence equally claim. And in this we exceed not the fowls of the air ; The reason we boast of their instinct as rare : When come is the season they hence must away, The promptings of nature at once they obey, And assembling in flocks for awhile exercise, Ere for their long voyage they finally rise ; Then touring aloft in his power confide, Whose hand to the region appointed will guide. So far then in heart and in sentiment one, Whatever by wisdom supernal is done Agreed not to question, we gladly receive Whate’er in his goodness he pleases to give : AN EPISTOLARY ADDRESS. 115 Or bitter, or sweet, be the cup he may fill, In all dispensations resigned to his will, Come joy, or come sorrow, it comes not amiss, In each distribution a blessing there is. But a truce to such matters in which we agree; And now to our differences let us see. And between you and me the contrast is clear, Nor least of similitude does there appear; At all events as to the matter now broached, Which must be with lightest of pencillings touched. Of goodly dimensions a tree you are seen, Whose root is firm fixed and foliage green, With branches outspreading which, proudly upborn, The vine and the olive so richly adorn; Whilst I but a stunted and withered trunk, On each year’s completion the more and more shrunk, And branchless, and leafless, and moss covered too, As beacon or landmark permitted to grow. No matter, however, nor envy is mine ; Though stinted my portion I do not repine : Who has my inheritance chosen knows best, And in him of all that is needful possest, I would not encroach on his purposed schemes, Nor exchange with another who happier seems. John Newton informs us in manner so quaint, If archangels hither on mission were sent, Whate’er the appointments they with them did bring, — - The one as a shoeblack, the other as king, — - 116 AN EPISTOLARY ADDRESS. They would to their offices cheerfully stand, The one to obey and the other command. And so it is ours in meeknees to bow v And grateful for all that awaits us below, His pleasure perform in the sphere that’s assigned, With diligent aptness and gladness of mind, Nor murmur escape us if humble our task, Or careworn though seeming in sunshine to bask ; Since scripture enjoins us to be satisfied With what is imparted, or which is denied : For what is the highest, or lowest estate? ’Tis whim only maketh us little or great ; And any condition, the mind but at ease, Will surely content us and verily please. And nov T in conclusion I’ll hasten along, And bring to a close my epistle or song ; And sure it is time, for I have, you may say, Like famed uncle Toby been marching away, But still in position retain the same spot, Nor backward, nor forward, have moved one jot. And yet I will venture a line or two more ; ’Tis friendship demands it so great is whose power : The journey of life we together began, And Heaven has hitherto lengthened our span ; And widely though differ the ways v r e pursue, And diverse the dangers our pathways bestrew; — In thoroughfares yours to bustle and shine, Whilst lowly and deep in the valley is mine; — AN EPISTOLARY ADDRESS. 117 Our keeper the Lord is yet manifest still, To turn from us every threatening ill ; And our ebenezer may each of us raise, And him who hath saved us hitherto praise : And still in his ways may we ever be found, To Zion uplooking and thitherward bound. i 118 AN INVITATION. Mr. Parker, my friend, My wishes attend, At Kirkstall, my residence fair ; On the side of a hill, Is my snug domicile, Where sweet is the ambient air. Cannon hill is the name, In the annals of fame, Though otherwise vulgarly styled ; Its summit so high, In days long gone by, With roundheaded treason defiled. AN INVITATION. 1 1 9 The democrats there, Did batteries rear, Whose echoes the welkin ascended ; At loyalty levelled, Who with hair dishevelled, The cause of his master defended. In front is the church, Where birds have a perch, And where they caw, chirp, and sing; The sparrow and crow% Have a lodgment there now, And from thence they are wont to take wing. The parsonage there, So naked and bare,* On its skirts the embroidery wanting ; Its infantile trees Scarce touched by the breeze, While others are only just planting. * At the time the above was written the Parsonage and Grounds were in an unfinished condition and consequently had a “naked and bare” appearance: the park or grange also was yet unplanted: the historical allusions, it is pre- sumed, are sufficiently obvious, i 2 AN INVITATION. no Farther right is the grange, Where cattle may range, And sheep with their lambkins disport ; Rather wild is the scene, With its trees far between, To the left we will therefore resort. My lattice in front, Just looks out upon’t, A prospect delightful and fair ; The view it commands, Where the old abbey stands, On the banks of meandering Aire. Farther left is the forge, Tn a space like a gorge, Which mountains when riven present ; It, lost in the smoke, Doth description provoke, What I see not I never invent. Beyond is the wood, Which ages has stood, Its former enchantments though broke; There druids, we’re told, Their rites used to hold, ’Neath the shade of the wide spreading oak. AN INVITATION. 12 L It Horsforth embowers, So the view is not ours, Though sylvan the scene I doubt not ; But Baildon I’m sure, Or rather the moor, In the distance appears — a dim spot. Thus I’ve made a survey, In poetical play, Of the inducements our village holds forth For those who have leisure, And, bent upon pleasure, Despise not contemplative mirth. With you they’ll prevail, When I cast in in the scale, My friendship unsullied as fame : To your household my greeting, I am, till our meeting, C. Richardson — ever the same. THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE AND ITS ENVIRONS. Forsook the purlieus of the sunny hill, Where lately I of Kirkstall’s beauties sung, To every needful change submissive still, Nor with unmeaning griefs my bosom wrung ; No vain regrets my quiet may disturb, For change of scene nor need affect the mind ; In every place their waywardness who curb, A rest and a palladium they find. Where providence our various lots ordains, There will he meet us and our portions bless : And the young lions who with food sustains, Will to our wants administer redress. THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE, 123 And in his care confiding, be it mine, The rising murmur ever to prevent, And in the place his mercy doth assign, To cultivate and to enjoy content. And unobtrusive quiet here may reign, Save that when satchel’d school boys hither come, Here to indulge their ever sportive vein, Or meet within yon walls their wonted doom. But done the task and ceased the passing shout, As waving hats and eager feet chime in ; Dispersed the noisy hudibrastic route, Silence succeeds the bustle and the din. And o’er the business of the passing day, And closed the door upon a toilsome world, How sweet within home’s precints ’tis to stay, With every care into oblivion hurled. And, in the vale of life, how happy he, Who, nor on crackling mirth and pleasure bent, From lawless and insatiate wishes free, On higher aims and objects is intent. Of true enjoyment it is his to boast, What e’er the sons of riot may aver, Whose revelries a moment at the most, The day of coming evil but defer. 124 THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. And such myportion — blessed with home and friends And needful rest when daily toil is o’er; Boons these which Providence in mercy sends, The wear and tear of nature to restore. And be it mine, nor murmuring at my lot, However humble my condition here, Or by the worldling sneered at or forgot, At wisdom’s fount my drooping soul to cheer. Well satisfied that what he gives is best, Who in his word benevolence displays ; And in the promise of all good possest, Unfounded fears no more my mind amaze. And what around me but may pleasure bring Unto the eye and heart, disposed to feel Unsullied joys from gratitude that spring, And care’s deep lacerations soothly heal. Who gives repose when labor’s work is done ? Or spreads the intellectual repast, Which genius has, for the less favored, won From the unfathom’d mines of thought and taste. And who in nature’s charms provides a treat, The day that garnish and that glow by night ; For solemn thought and contemplation meet, And an unfailng source of pure delight? THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE.. 125 And who the mind disposes to content, Well pleased with that his bounty wisely gives ; And who the rising murmur to prevent, The bosom of to-morrow’s thoughts relieves? And thus in light divine inclined to view The brighter aspects of my portion here, The thorns acute my pathway that bestrev r , The promises of future blessings bear. Not mine ’tis true the mansion where repose The sons of affluence and titled names, Where skill artistic in each object glows, And luxury its triumphs oft proclaims. Nor the broad-lands that in the sunshine gleam, Replete w r ith all enjoyment may require, Whence sweet abundance flows, a welcome stream, Enough to sate the utmost of desire. Of which possest how falsely is it thought That want and grief no more may cross the breast: But who of wisdom and experience taught, In large possessions solely seeks not rest. My humble cot, hid in the general mass Of other structures that contiguous stand, Unnoticed e’en by those who daily pass, Nought of the picturesque has at command. 126 THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. No ivied verdure its rude walls enclose, Nor gentle woodbines round its lattice wreathe, Undecked the portal by the queenly rose, Amid whose leaves soft zephyrs wont to breathe. And scant the grounds attached to my domain, By feet (not acres) meted their extent ; Nor sunny banks are mine which bees maintain, O’er beds of thyme on luscious errands sent. But all I have is equal to my wants, And wisdom’s sated with the humblest cheer ; And mine the eye with freedom that descants, Has claims sufficient on each object near. Nor mean the prospect that’s around me spread, Of hill, and valley, wood, and winding stream ; The whole when vernal suns their influence shed, Does to my simple taste elysian seem. The Aire meandering by, whose soothing sound, In darksome hours disposes to repose, Where oft the gentle angler takes his ground, Unto its destination yonder flows. Its verdant banks with nature’s charms bedecked, There many a gem botanic richly thrives ; Nor may the muse the unpicturesque reject, Or pass unheeded man’s industrial hives. THE AUTHOR S RESIDENCE. . 127 Amid the sweetest scenes some craggy rock Its broad continuous sides unwelcome rears, Which the luxuriant fancy gives a shock, Beyond it as the landscape disappears. But to the eye that with the eagle’s ken The whole extent of prospect widely sees, The fertile track, the moorland, cliff, and glen, The rude, and lovely, all conspire to please. And so would I regard yon busy nook, The hammer and the wheel where Vulcan plies ; A shade athwart the valley casts the smoke, But thence what public benefits arise. And nor unseemly does it gloom contrast, With neighbouring woodland, and the silver stream, Which there debouches, and glides softly past, Where stands the abbey in its age extreme. Hail ! hoary pile, the theme of many a lay, Which raptured poet has so sweetly sung ; Now, as in early days, I often stray Amid thy reverend walls with ivy hung. Well knew the cloistered man to chuse a site In pleasant meadow or in fertile vale, Where murmuring lapse of waters, sparkling bright, Sweetness diffuse the senses to regale. 128 THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE, A pious Lacy to his times devoted, Of his abundance thy foundations laid, Which long his church’s sacred rites promoted, And where his vows the world-estranged-one paid. And often there the weary pilgrim found Rest and refreshment after all his toil , And, to some distant shrine on journey bound, Was strengthened to endure fresh turmoil. But, ah ! a change came o’er thy peaceful scenes, Thy walls dismantled and thy inmates fled ; A season of dire outrage supervenes, Which far and wide around thee ruin spread. But — interesting in thy long decay, Nor aid as once within thy portals sought, Full often strangers pensive visits pay, Amid thy fallen greatness lost in thought. No more: — I turn me from thy reverend shade, And like a traveller my way pursue ; A brief memorial in tribute paid, I once again my purposed theme renew. And as the winding course of Aire I trace, Far as the wandering eye can onward reach ; What busy scenes have here and there a place, And timely lessons to the sluggard preach. THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. 129 Beneath yon lofty roofs, where skill presides, Of ages his appliances the fruit, Industry’s sinewy arm he safely guides, Of want or luxury the taste to suit. And, ah ! the comforts meet which thence proceed : Our swarming populations there may find, In useful toil, what may supply their need, Or sate the wishes of the craving mind. A blessing, Britain, on thy sons may rest, Unapt to shrink from the appointed task, Who, in their skill of competence possest, In the calm sunshine of contentment bask. Along the vale the iron roadstead trends, Where inert matter seems endowed with life, And, steam impelled, the locomotive wends, As with the fleeting wind it were at strife. There busy commerce its abundance pours, In near or distant marts to be discharged ; The son of traffic or of pleasure tours, His range of travel boundlessly enlarged. Nor mythic lore such wonders may unfold As have by modern science been achieved ; And almost realized we now behold Feats that were once as prodigies received. 130 THE AUTHORS RESIDENCE. Lost in astonishment my muse surveys Yon filaments of wide extending wires ; The power divine itself in man displays, Whose skill arrests even etherial fires. There quick as thought intelligence may run O’er hill, and vale, and interceptive seas ; And soon the mighty triumph shall be won, That brings in contact the antipodes. Thus wondrous art within my view is brought : Who can emotionless such trophies see ? The marvels yonder human skill has wrought : The creature such : — what must the Maker be? And nature too in all her charms arrayed, Combined with those a feast for thought supplies And gentle hills with their umbrageous shade, In living verdure clad before me rise. At early dawn, arose the orb of day, Ere toil has from his healthful slumbers broke, How smiles the scene before the solar ray, As yet unsullied by the dust and smoke. With busy hamlets crowned, their sloping sides, In gently undulating forms descend, And kiss the margin where the river glides, In onward course, with other streams to blend. THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. 131 And there abide amid embowering trees, And floral scenes whence odours sweet arise, Who, nor the slaves of luxury and ease, Enjoy the fruits of care and enterprise. Blest in their labors, and their country blest, Not in themselves encentred the reward ; Their humbler fellows of their share possest, As public benefactors them regard. Their greatness gained not in the tented field, Where guilt has birth and blood in torrents flows; And which nor other turbid sources yield, But the reward which commerce fair bestows. And here and there the cultivated lands, With pleasing verdure that bestud the hill, Which own the culture of more humble hands, The heart with joy, the eye with rapture fill. Up, on the right, old Bradford’s road ascends, Where commerce long his weary fardels dragged ; But, ah! bellatum est ; his travail ends, And there no more the reeking hack is fagged. While, on the left, the pasture hills appear, Whence, we, in legends indistinct, are told The vengeful giant in his mad career, The boulder hurled at his defier bold. THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. 132 And well for him who dared a giants wrath, That the projectile of precision lacked ; It struck the ground within his destinied path, And there remains memento of the act. The village now prevents a further view, Where sounds the shuttle and the anvil rings, And jocund youth their noisy games pursue, And at his task the workman gaily sings Nor may I pass unheeded yonder fanes, Whose humble fronts nor boast artistic skill, Where piety her pristine rule maintains, And hearts renewed celestial ardours thrill. And still the same and yet another form, For man’s instruction to Salvation given, See, in the rear, the spire which braves the storm, The village landmark — and which points to Heaven. How changed the scene ! nor distant is the day, Save yonder dateless pile, nor place were found Where man may homage to his Maker pay, And prayer prefer, and praises loud resound. Though not to temples made with hands confined, In every place Jehovah lends an ear ; But it rejoices the devoted mind, His house to build and Zion’s walls to rear. THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. 133 Nor may we deem our privileges small — On every hand the gospel trumpet heard ; The lines to us in pleasant places fall, Not now, as once, a famine of the word. But the responsibility how dread ! Who err in light their doom the more severe : Our hands withal in holy triumph spread, We need rejoice with trembling and with fear. Of yonder mount nor need I further tell, Beneath whose shadow where my late abode, Forth of whose summit rose the war-note fell, Whilst gaunt destruction all around bestrode. Nor more remains except the neighbouring copse, Which spreads a welcome ample shade behind ; The tempest in its mid career that stops, And skreens my dwelling from the northern wind. And here I bide the subject of content ; And far from me ambition’s feverish dreams ; On high imaginations who intent, His pleasure wrecks in wild adventurous schemes. And mine the joy which all alike command, Whose wishes to their stations are confined, And in their lot with flinchless patience stand, To duty and to suffering resigned. K 134 THE AUTHOR’S RESIDENCE. For duty oft oppressive though it be, And suffering to humanity pertain, Who is undaunted by the armed tree, The flower of promise he will surely gain. And storm and tempest which on earth prevail, Of music and of the sublime possest, Whose refuge is in God, nor less they fail Than softer scenes to lull the soul to rest. 135 THE COMMON LOT. As lately wandering on the banks Of the meandering Aire, With dark and heavy thoughts opprest, And brow o’ercast with care, Unconsciously I struck my lyre, The moody silence broke, And gentle echoes o’er the vale, Symphoniously woke. And, at the moment lost to all, Except my fellows’ woes, In Lydian cadence well attuned, My song in sadness rose; And this the burden of the strain That trembled on my strings, Affliction’s bitterness extreme, In poverty that springs. k 2 136 THE COMMON LOT. The poor and abject man, whose toils With early day begin, Nor the appointed task has done, When evening shades set in; And who, of nature vainly warned, With unremitting care, Must through the long protracted hour, The yoke of bondage wear : But whose endurance nor avails, A competence to gain, Wherewith a wife and children dear, In comfort to maintain ; And sadly and despondingly, Who tells his stinted hire, Which scarce affords the bare supply, Their simple wants require. And when mayhap the pittance fails, Whereon his all depends, Who may describe the feeling which His anxious bosom rends? When those for whom so much he cares, Before him pine and droop ; Nor in the prospect of affairs, Is aught to cherish hope. THE COMMON LOT. 137 And why are those of high estate, In pomp and pleasure bred, Who life in vicious rounds consume, Luxuriantly fed ? Whilst the industrious laboring man, Whose toil deserves the best, Sighs when he views his scanty board, With plenty long unblest. And thus in wide discursions lost, My thoughts presumptuous ran, And daringly I questioned The providential plan : O’er some, prosperity the shield Of its protection casts, Whilst others are, exposed and bare, The sport of wintry blasts. I ceased — too lofty was the theme Of varied good and ill ; Its comprehension far beyond An humble poet’s skill : And in perplexity enwrapped, Nor marked a stranger stood To note my strain unconscious of My broken solitude. 138 THE COMMON LOT. And as I paused he forth advanced A form, which in the pride, Of hoary and benignant age, With Nestor’s might have vied ; His sparkling eye with gay content — His brow with wisdom beamed, And as he flitted on my view, He more than earthly seemed. Enthusiasm warps thy views Young bard, the sage began, And through its mists presents to thee, 4 4 A partial view of man : ” I’ve hearkened to thy care struck strain, And learned thy bosom’s doubt; Thou’rt young, my son, but list — my years Are more with wisdom fraught. And dost thou think the labouring poor Of comfort dispossessed? Or, by a ruling providence, The rich alone are blessed? Appearances have led astray ; Have led thee to believe, What immatured judgment doth From parts alone conceive. THE COMMON LOT. Let’s draw a parallel between The little and the great, Unprejudiced consider well, The merits of each state : For, great although the difference seems, To more discerning eyes ; Seen through a brighter medium , The strange illusion flies. Presume not thou the wealthy is Removed from any care, Exempted by significance, The common lot to bear : With all the goods of fortune blessed, By arrogance puffed up — He too must weep; he vainly strives To pass the bitter cup. Beneath the lordly look there is A canker to destroy ; For no commixture is without The heaven ordained alloy : And though in fortune or in birth We in the scale ascend, The floods of care, with deepened tide, Increase and upward tend. 140 THE COMMON LOT. What’s worse than disappointed hope? And whose the most aspires? The lofty’s? or the lowly’s? whose With louder groan expires? The simple hind who treads the plain, Of fortune’s good denied, Has surely wants, but they are few, And sooner satisfied. He labours and receives his hire, Or needs — the bounteous give : The affluent have also claims; But who may theirs relieve ? All, all alike subjected here, Beneath life’s burden groan : Each has an equal bitterness; Each mortal knows his own. But why — methinks thou wouldst demand — What e’er our station be, From disappointment none exempt, Or from affliction free ? Man’s bom for immortality; This earth is not his rest ; But mark — how close he clings to life, E’en when the most unblest. THE COMMON LOT. What were his fate, if gilded joys Attended every beck? Glories to be revealed would fail, The charm of life to break : Vainly would Faith attention call; Vain were the heavenly prize, The empty joys of sense, to urge Earth’s votary to despise. And what is life’s contracted span? How vain each tinsel bait, When with eternal joys compared, The faithful that await! Then own the inflicting hand is good, Own ’tis in mercy sent, Since sorrows multiplied prepare For life’s relinquishment. 142 STANZAS. “ Thy shoes shall be iron and brass ; and as thy days so shall thy strength be.” Deu*t xxxiii, 25. Strangers on earth, borne down of ill, Mortals their wretchedness bewail : But why should doubt man’s bosom fill, Or unbelieving fears prevail ? When, saith the Highest, trust in me, And as thy day thy strength shall be. Arouse thee then thou man of tears, Nor longer from the promise rove, Cast off thy unbelieving fears, Assured that Heaven will faithful prove : As, saith the Highest, trust in me, And as thy day thy strength shall be. STANZAS. 143 And is adversity thy lot, Whilst through the wild thou passest on? Though friendship’s presence cheer thee not, Then art thou blest when most alone : For, saith the Highest, trust in me, And as thy day thy strength shall he. Though subject to the wanton scorn Of those who bask in fortune’s smile, Than her fond minions less forlorn, Whom phantom pleasures so beguile ; Heaven’s smile benignant rests on thee, And as thy day thy strength shall be. When to the conflict thou art called, Promptly the trumpet’s voice obey ; Be not at danger’s front appalled, Nor from the contest turn away; For, saith the Highest, trust in me, And as thy day thy strength shall be. When through deep water wends thy way, And fiercely toss the waves on high, With confidence their rage assay, Firm be thy heart, unmoved thy eye; For, saith the Highest, trust in me, And as thy day thy strength shall be. 144 STANZAS. Vainly the tempest hurtles by, And the rude billows madly foam, Legions of evil thee defy, And compass thee with hellish gloom ; Heaven is a wall of brass to thee, And as thy day thy strength shall be. And when in nature’s latest hour, The things of time and sense recede , And death’s deep shadows darkly lour, And human hopes all prostrate bleed ; Parted is Jordan’s stream for thee, And as thy day thy strength shall be. Happy the pilgrim strong in faith, Prepared for all things in the Lord; Whose watchword is “the scripture saith,” Whose refuge is the living word ; The tide of ill may flow o’er thee, But as thy day thy strength shall be. 145 MAN IS NOT MADE TO MOURN. A LYRIC. A gloom enwreathed the plaintive bard. E’en from his earliest birth; And louring clouds which veiled the skies, Confined his views to earth : No wonder therefore that he should Nor better things discern, But to the dread conclusion come, That man is made to mourn. If all the travail and the toil, That man endures below, Were the legitimate results, Which from existence flow, Then would I not experience sage, With sophistries o’erturn, But frankly own, though much averse, That man is made to mourn. 146 MAN IS NOT MADE TO MOURN. Tis true affliction is our lot, Whilst in this wilderness, And evils rise for which we seek, In vain for a redress ; And to condemning unbelief, Which still has much to learn, It seems as written in the rock, That man is made to mourn. But sorrow springs not of the ground, Whate’er the wise may say, Who on the themes — cause and effect, — Such scrolls of lore display : An humbler lesson, taught of grace, ’Twere well for all to learn, Would soon erase the notion strange, That man is made to mourn. And yet to trouble man is born, — The scriptures so declare, — As surely as conflagrate sparks Fly upwards in the air; And curious mortals, food of life, Who oft to poison turn Have hence presumed the doctrine true, That man is made to mourn. MAN IS NOT MADE TO MOURN. 147 And on the premises they shew, Adduced from human guilt, It is allowed the argument Is not unfairly built : Poor fallen nature ! say what else May we therein discern, But, as from evil evil flows, That man is made to mourn? And yet if truth we only seek, And prejudice resign, To other grounds we must betake, And search the hidden mine ; And in the page of holy writ, A better lesson learn, — - The soul exhilarating truth, Man is not made to mourn. As long as we remain in sin, We hold a downward course; And as a natural result, The primal curse has force : But there’s a voice that urges us, From evil to return, In whose glad sound we find affirmed Man is not made to mourn. 148 MAN IS NOT MADE TO MOURN. “Come unto me ye wearied, O’erburdened, and distrest,” So saith the Saviour of mankind, “And I will give you rest:” And the announcement joy imparts ; Our hearts with rapture burn : The promise plainly indicates Man is not made to mourn. Then to the voice of grace divine, Let us but faithful be, And the dread sentence shall remove, And us from sorrow free : Nor more the slaves of sin, or by Contending passions torn, New joys the bosom cheer, and prove Man is not made to mourn. And though the mind may be oppressed ; And anxious cares arise, That with unpenetrable gloom, Invest the fairest skies ; Still may our hopes survive, and faith In darkness light discern, And we in secret comfort find Man is not made to mourn. MAN IS NOT MADE TO MOURN. 149 And so the curse which sin has brought Upon all terrene things, Is turned to chastisements, of which The heart in triumph sings ; And in the furnace we may find, On faith’s strong wings upborne, As judgment into mercy turns, Man is not made to mourn. The light afflictions, for awhile Whereby we are opprest, Our grace refine, and work for us A better state of rest : The trial of our faith we own, The bitter cup nor spurn, And in severest sufferings feel Man is not made to mourn. And what are all our conflicts here, Whilst sojourning below, Compared with that eternal bliss, Hereafter we shall know? Nor more of unbelief beguiled, We now the truth discern. And kiss the rod, and gladly own Man is not made to mourn. L 150 AN ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN, WRITTEN SOON AFTER HER ACCESSION TO THE THRONE. Lady, the regal diadem, Adorns thy youthful brow, And richly gleaming pearl and gem A radiance o’er thee throw. And courtly dames thy steps attend. Thy every wish obey, And nobles at thy levee bend, And to thee homage pay. And men for worth and fame renowned, In council or the field, Still at the post of duty found, Nor who to danger yield; AN ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN. 151 Thy throne and sceptre to defend. They watch with constant care : And prayers unceasingly ascend That Heaven thy life may spare. And Britain’s thousand isles rejoice. And own thy welcome sway, And the glad echoes of thy voice, With promptitude obey. But brightly though the orient gem, And ocean’s pearl may shine, They but adorn thy diadem ; Their lustre is not thine. Forth of thy kindly glistening eye Doth real effulgence break, The while thy bosom labors high. A nation’s weal to speak, ’Tis this a halo round thee spreads, And to thee gives a charm, Which o’er thy realms an influence sheds, The hearts of all to warm. For splendid though thy court may be, And power and greatness thine, These are not a security From traitorous design. l 2 AN ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN. 152 Oft in the outward show of things, That pleasant seem and fair — Where roses bloom, a thorn upsprings, The dainty hand to tear. So in thy prosperous estate — Which long mayst thou enjoy — What only seems to elevate, As surely may destroy. It is not pomp, or pageantry, That loyalty enlists ; Nor in the homage rendered thee. Wherein thy strength consists. But in thy people’s loving hearts, Thy peaceful sway that own Which happiness to all imparts, Is firmly fixed thy throne. And there if thou supremely reign, By power supernal blest, All other threatening ills are vain — Thou mayst securely rest. And in thy days shall peace prevail, Prosperity be thine ; Nor with thy culture blest, shall fail The olive or the vine. AN ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN. 1 53 And Britain, where thy power resides, In arts and commerce high, And where the ark of God abides, Shall all her foes defy. And, glorious in the best of deeds, Her banner wide unfurled, Shall prove, as the oppressed one needs, A refuge for the world. And nations boasting high renown, Which nigh or distant are, And all succeeding times shall own Her as their guiding star. 154 ADDRESS TO THE CHARTISTS, ON THE OCCASION OF THEIR RISING IN THE SUMMER OF 1842. The humble muse your sad estate bemoans, Enough to draw e’en pity from the stones — Cut off the source which once your wants supplied, And for your craving hunger bread denied ; Or competition, or whatever cause, Employment from your willing hands withdraws. But what avails it that in hordes you come, O’er all the land to spread a general gloom? For should your plans (a doubtful case) succeed, And through its length and breadth the country bleed ; ADDRESS TO THE CHARTISTS. 155 Should every loom and hammer yet in play, Perforce or willingly your word obey ; Should all agree their labour to forego, The fountain whence their means of living flow, And the same pangs which you have keenly felt With an unsparing hand on all be dealt,— And deathly hunger every one assail And desolation everywhere prevail ; Would this the evils you endure abate, Or tend your sufferings to alleviate ? Or rather would it not your woes complete, And means remedial totally defeat? Besides who is it, for awhile reflect, Whom most your direful measures will affect : Your fellow workmen — do they wish you ill That with your woes their cup you seek to fill ? If ’tis indeed that folly has resolved, They shall with you in ruin be involved, ’Twill only make the cataract more strong Which to destruction bears you all along : And farewell hope that they may yet engage, To save you from the whirlpool’s foaming rage. Poor commerce, wont subsistence to provide For the vast numbers who in her confide, Of late affected through her every vein, Must needs be long ere native strength she gain. But is it wisdom with her foes to join, And in crusade against her weal combine, 156 ADDRESS TO THE CHARTISTS, And your devoted energies employ Both root and branch so madly to destroy ? With her you flourish, or with her you sink, The cup of nectar, or the henbane drink : Then rather be your energies combined, With esculapian skill her wound to bind ; Which to effect let each renounce himself, And prejudice devote to public health ; So truth shall aid you in your high resolve, And your unhallowed compacts all dissolve ; And patriotism (softly breathe the sound, Nor with the brawling faction it confound) With well directed zeal the heart that warms, And opposition in the end disarms, — Let it your cynosure and banner he, Which, onward leading, makes you truly free. J 57 THE CONTENTED COTTAGER. A distance from the public road, Beneath yon sheltering thorns, Behold the cottager’s abode, Whose sides the rose adorns. Where in content that murmur quells, His wants whose labours crown, An unobtrusive man — he dwells, O happy state ! unknown. For in his Saviour’s presence blest, He seeks no higher good; In Him of joys supreme possest, Which ne’er the grasp elude. And hence he shuns the haunts of men, So anxious after gain; Nor does he riches seek, and when They are witheld, complain. 158 THE CONTENTED COTTAGER. Nor in the courts where pleasure sports Has he desires to stray; He scorns her smiles, and from her wiles, He turns his heart away. All that he wishes toil supplies, Nor fears of want assail ; And his unsullied pleasures rise, From springs that never fail. Repose, in aid divine that’s found, With grateful feelings warms ; And he in rapture looks around On the creation’s charms. The campaign wide, and verdant hill, The sun, and breeze, and sky, With an unceasing gladness thrill ; A constant feast supply. Within the deep retired glen, Elysian scenes amid, There’s bliss unknown to common men, To fortune’s slaves forbid. And oft, to duty’s summon true, His couch betimes resigned, Accustomed labor to renew, He hastes with ready mind. THE CONTENTED COTTAGER. 159 And as he speeds upon his way, What sounds salute his ear ! How sweetly smiles the opening day ! What lovely scenes appear ! The tuneful lark, the morn to greet, Upborne on lightsome wings, The rising orb of day to meet, His early matin sings. And nature in full glory streams, Adorned with richest hues, And soul exhilerating beams, Gild the mellifluous dews. And soon the songsters of the grove, In chorus full unite, In utterance of songs of love, And unassumed delight. And as the moments steal apace, And noontide heats have sway, And evening softens into grace, And night succeeds to day ; Each in succession themes supply, The soul that elevate ; With rapturous thoughts uplift the eye ; The mind with joy elate. 160 THE CONTENTED COTTAGER. And grateful feelings heave the breast, And prompt the song of praise To Him whose love is manifest, In all that he surveys. And all these various delights, From whence his pleasures flow, In them he has established rights, That none may disallow. For howsoe’er exclusive power Its legal claims may plead, It cannot filch the peasant’s dower On nature’s charms to feed. And as he hies his daily rounds, From dawn to closing eve, “Or rural sights, or rural sounds,” His toil and care relieve. He knows that labor is the lot Of every child of man, Nor wishes he to thwart or blot The providential plan. But thankful for the boons which may His cares alleviate, Tis his, with promptness day by day, On duty’s call to wait. THE CONTENTED COTTAGER. Warmed at the altar of his love, Who all things has supplied, He, in his low estate, doth prove There’s nothing good denied. And hence proceeds this happy frame With constant joy enthrilled ; And therefore ’tis his only aim On God his hopes to build. And whilst such raptures him inspire, When nature he surveys, His upward gaze is lifted higher, And nature’s God obeys. And on so firm foundation laid, His peace must be secure ; All mundane things may droop and fade, But this shall still endure. And what is all the world beside To a contented mind ? He’ll safely o’er his troubles ride, Who is to all resigned. Nor toil that little respite knows, Nor cares his joy prevent ; His cup of blessing overflows, With calmness and content. STANZAS. When first my sun of life his course assayed, To my untutored mind how bright his beam ! In all the charms of opening day arrayed, The cloud and darkness did hut phantoms seem : Or at the most a reflex for his ray, Jn gorgeous colors widely thence disj>ersed, In glorious light at length to melt away, When on the world the day in splendour burst. But ah ! the sweet illusion did not last, Nor long all new and so enchanting seemed ; Full soon across me swept the bitter blast, Blighting the joys wherewith my fancy teemed. How changed the scene ! the zenith scarce attained, Full oft eclipse portentous shade has spread ; Ere half its circuit has its brightness waned, And hopes of noontide splendour all are fled. STANZAS. 163 The cold realities of life no more As distant and unthought of ills appear, But as the dark o’erhanging cloud they lour, And in their bosoms storms and tempests hear. And it is well it is not sunshine all, So constituted are the things of sense ; Sweetest delights in long possession pall, And lose their potency and influence. Often through long continuence of the calm, Prevail o’erpowering and oppressive heats, And lacks the electric air its wonted balm, And high the feverish pulse of nature beats. And welcome is the storm that slowly steals Upon the zenith and the heavens o’erspreads, And which anon bursts forth in thunder peals, And genial showers in rich abundance sheds. The tempest past its blessings sole remain ; Nature rejoices at the prospect gay Of parched hills and vales revived again ; And o’er the landscape smiles departing day. And so to care nor let me sacrifice; Still may I look for evening’s chastened scene ; The clouds may fail and leave cerulean skies : My sun may yet descend in sky serene. 164 NIGHT. AN ODE. When spreadeth night her dubious shade O’er nature’s smiling face; And gathering clouds the throne invade, Whence Phoebus, in his strength arrayed As he pursues his race, Pours forth his ever welcome ray; But whose remission too affords A season that with joy accords, Nor less delights than the updawning day. ’Tis then beneath the welcome gloom, In moody frame I love to roam : ’Tis nature’s calmest hour. The eldrie spell of closing night The musing soul remits for flight, Unbending all its power; Which thus renewed in strength, may soar, Of contemplation led away, Fearless whose dictates to obey, O’er lengths and breadths of thought unknown before. NIGHT. J (35 Brought to a close the anxious day’s routine, When others to the couch resort, In contemplative revels it is mine, The hesperian hour to court. Nor nature wants e’en now a charm, Her fondest lovers’ hearts to warm ; The poet’s soul to fire, And with sweet extacies his bosom thrill : For fancy may the gloomy void upfill, And rapturous dreams inspire. Hark! to the wandering breeze and tinkling rill: And see, Cyllene sheds her placid beams, Whose pale light spreads in gentle gleams, Athwart the vale and on the hills, And calmness through the soul instils : All, all to soothe conspire. ’Tis silence all; ceased is the strife, And busy hum of active life ; ’Tis silence all save yonder stream, Reflecting Phebe’s softest beam, And which rejoicing in whose ray, In gentle lapses falls away ; Or the winged beetle’s whirring sound, Oft startling with its blind rebound ; Or Philomela’s melting strain, Who loves observeless to complain ; Or distant tread of wayward wight ; Or deep-mouthed warden of the night : M 106 NIGHT. Sounds these, which harmony afford, And well with solitude accord, With calmness that suffuse the breast, And the chaffed spirits lull to rest ; Whose rudeness laid, in gentler guise, More kindly influences rise, And elevate the musing soul Beyond the range of passion’s fierce control, Welcome, 0 night ! whose gathering shade Subductively deep thought inspires ; Man, of himself too oft betrayed, The willing prey of false desires, Thine influence needs which recollection brings, And calls him from his many wanderings home, When felt remorse so poignantly that stings, He wills no longer wantonly to roam : But invocative of the power Supreme Which virtue gives, he deprecates his frown ; Nor more the abject slave of self esteem, What worth so wont to claim he doth disown : In wisdom’s light which darkness pierceth through, He sees the path he must for life pursue, And who the day, and night, and seasons gives, On him he casts his care, ill him divinely lives. MISSIONARY STANZAS. “ Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.” Mark xvi, 15. “There stood a man of Macedonia, and prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us.” Acts xvi, 9. A voice from the islands in ocean afar, Whose Dagons all prostrate assistance deny ; A voice from the regions of rapine and war, Whose loud cry of vengeance ascendeth the sky ; A voice from the east where Moloch enshrined, With carnage unglutted, his victims has torn ; A voice from the west to the outcast assigned, By avarice tortured and treated with scorn. O’er mountain, and valley, and wilderness drear, And shadowy forest the echo i s past ; And wide rolling ocean nor stays its career — It flows on each tide, and is borne on each blast Nor in thunders are uttered its mystical words, Nor when the fire rageth and earth is upriven : Like the voice still and small which the prophet records, In the heart’s deep recesses the message is given. 168 MISSIONARY STANZAS. “ Come over and help us ” the import it bears, The horrors of darkness around us prevail, The raging destroyer unpitying tears, And death and destruction resistless assail : Who cares for our souls? who regardeth our cry? And who for our rescue will dare interpose? In vain to our idols for refuge we fly, Whose altars the blood of their victims o’erflows. Nor vain the appeal ; for in many a heart Is a welcome response to the message divine : There are with home’s fondest endearments who part, And freely their long cherished comforts resign ; And ready they stand for their Saviour to hear To earth’s furthest limits, where sighs for release The outcast unconscious of Jesus’ care, The message of mercy, salvation, and peace. How noble the band! in faith how supreme! In Jesus abiding, in Jesus they live: Rejoicing in whom doth their spirits redeem, And freely receiving and freely they give. Themselves who hath called from the thraldom of sin, Their meat and their drink it is now to proclaim; To call from the wilderness wanderers in, And teach them the wonders of Jesus’ name. MISSIONARY STANZAS. 169 And vainly the heathen may rage to destroy, And strong in their counsels, on mischief be bent, The utmost of malice and terror employ, Presumptuously deeming the work to prevent. Divinely commissioned and sent of the Lord, The witness of truth ’tis in vain to oppose ; The Holy-one’s unction upon him is poured, And forth in the strength of Jehovah he goes. No dangers appal them, their lives in their hands, Courageously daring what ills may betide, Who only acknowledge the Saviour’s commands ; For sure the munition wherein they abide. And warm are their hearts as the prospect unfolds, The standard of God when the heathen invoke ; And when, driven forth from his strongest of holds, The vanquished enemy bows to the yoke. And long though the contest and many their foes, And fierce opposition oppress them awhile, Still — still in the promise of God they repose, Discomfiture failing their hopes to beguile : Re-strengthened even in every defeat, To heaven preferring the prevalent prayer. Again, and again the attack they repeat, And the utmost of danger unflinchingly dare. 170 MISSIONARY STANZAS. Till at length is triumphant Immanuel’s king, And earth in subjection opposes no more; The strong and the mighty their offerings bring, And Sheba, and Tarshish their treasures outpour ; And on the high mountains the Cross is unfurled, And nations remote the glad token descry; To Jesus triumphant, his conquest the world, The isles of the Gentiles exultingly fly. Then ocean’s abundance together shall flow, — Creation’s whole compass he claims for his own, — And Sharon and Carmel their beauty bestow, And Lebanon’s glory his conquest en crown : Nor longer the outcast and captive may mourn, The ransomed of Zion rejoice in his name, The thousands of Israel with gladness return, And lofty hosannas his triumphs proclaim. 171 A CHRISTMAS MISSIONARY PETITION. This is the joyful season, when We celebrate the birth Of the Most Highest, who did deign To sojourn once on earth. Who, of his pristine beauties shorn, His glory laid aside, And of a lowly virgin born, Hid man with man abide. He came redemption to proclaim, His love to manifest, And that believing in his His name, Man may he truly blest. His coming the angelic throng, In heavenly strains did tell, And peace and good will was the song, To them on earth who dwell. 172 A CHRISTMAS MISSIONARY PETITION. And sages from the east drew nigh, And brought the gold and gem, Admonished and directed by The Star of Bethlehem. And as they worshipped at his feet, Their lordly gifts did bring, Adapted to his high estate, As Prophet, Priest, and King. And should not equal raptures thrill, The ransom’d ones of earth ; Should not our hands the offering fill, In honor of his birth ? Give then — it is to spread His name ; We do not ask for self — Give then, his gospel to proclaim, A portion of your wealth. The heathen yet in darkness lost, To every ill a prey ; From wave to wave of error tost. And far from truth astray — A Saviour they have vainly sought, At their unhallowed shrines ; Nor truth within their grasp is brought, Nor on their temples shines. A CHRISTMAS MISSIONARY PETITION. 173 And shall we — a more favored race — Our richer boons withold, Nor the triumphing power of grace, In heathen lands unfold ? Ah no ! a missionary band, Are now prepared to go And preach in every distant land, The tidings of great joy. And now the means they only wait, We ask you to bestow ; And as you’re favored in estate, So let your bounty flow. So shall the servants of the Lord, Their onward way pursue ; And with the Spirit’s conquering sword Satanic realms subdue. And soon shall heathens join the strain, Which first the angels sung, And the glad anthem rise again From every heart and tongue. 174 THE MUSIC OF NATURE. Oh ! list to the sound that is forth of the trees, Where wantons the zephyr or scent bearing breeze ; Or wind in its strength, as it speeds through the sky, On aerial pinions impetuously. And when clouds and darkness the sky overspread, And hail and the torrent profusely are shed, And earth seems the bending heavens to climb, In the rush of the tempest there’s music sublime : Or when the loud thunder with deafening crash, Responsively peals to the lightning’s flash, Which fills for the moment the mind with dismay, Then solemnly dies in the distance away. When streamlets meander from neighbouring hills, In soft flowing currents or tinkling rills; Or deep bosomed rivers impetuous and strong, Which pour their broad tides the wide campaign along; THE MUSIC OF NATURE. 175 Or when from the mountain or precipice bold, The huge mass of waters resistless is rolled ; Or softer, or deeper the tones they evolve, In transports delightful the heart they dissolve. Yea, oft on thy margin, 0 Aire ! I have sate, My soul with enraptured feelings elate; And often at midnight repose I have found, To slumber disposed by thy murmuring sound. And when on the brink of the ocean we stand, Where the billow eternally breaks on the strand, How soothing the sound of the deep heaving main, As advances the tide or recedeth again. Or, the storm at its height, when the winds fiercely rave And lash into fury the foam crested wave, There’s a thrill of delight in the hoarse tempest’s roar Or dash of the surge as it beats on the shore. And when from the storm and the tempest we turn, In the depth of the forest our sorrows to mourn, The wild woodland music how sweet to the ear, The bosom whose soul soothing harmonies cheer, iVnd when risen early the morning we greet, In the hey-day of summer with beauties replete, As through the green lane or sweet meadow we rove, How charming the chorus that's heard in the grove. 176 THE MUSIC OF NATURE. The lark’s cheerful strain and the mavis’ sweet song, The swallow which twitters the streamlet along, The cuckoo’s brief note and the caw of the rook, The silver toned cascade and babbling brook. And the bee as it flits o’er the summer clad mead, And the flock and the herd as they peacefully feed, In the general chorus of nature they blend, Whose sounds, a sweet incense, to Heaven ascend. Nor restricted the pleasures which hence may arise; Her harmonies nature to no one denies : And as softly they breathe or sublimely they swell, On the ear unsophisticate sweetly they tell. The sons and the daughters of affluence may To Lind or Malibran their devoirs pay; It is not my lot to enjoy their rich songs, But the music of nature to me it belongs. 177 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD WRITTEN FOR A BROTHER WHO SUPPLIED THE AUTHOR WITH THE LEADING SENTIMENTS. Farewell, farewell our darling child, Since we must parted be, Removed or ere of sin defiled, And now from sorrow free. And painful though it be to leave Thee in the silent tomb, And we may not forbear to grieve For thy untimely doom ; ’Tis but a momentary pang ; — And though the tear may fall, Howe’er on thee our hopes might hang, We would not thee recall. The grave the body but contains ; The soul returns to God, And where the Saviour ever reigns, Has found a safe abode. 178 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. We will not therefore mourn as those, Who are of hope bereft, Upon whose all the earth doth close, Nor aught beyond is left. We know that thy Redeemer lives, And though the worm destroy, Corruption’s conquest he achieves, And shares with thee his joy. We see thee in the realms above, From sin and sorrow free, Where thou the joys of Heaven shalt prove, To all eternity. And faith expands the daring wing, Which terrene bounds defies, And joyous hope doth upward spring, And presses on the skies. If to our calling true we are, If faithful unto death, We too thy sacred bliss shall share, For so the promise saith. And we indulge the pleasing thought, Our mortal course when run, We by thy conduct shall he brought, Before the eternal throne. 179 LINES WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF A FRIEND WHO WAS CARRIED OFF AT AN EARLY AGE BY CONSUMPTION. I saw him in the flowery bloom And redolence of years, What time, unmindful of the tomb, When youthful vigour cheers. And his a gladsome willing mind, E’er prompt with needful aid, To my infirmity so kind, His arm my weakness staid. But soon, anon, with furbished dart, The cruel spoiler came, And struck the citadel — his heart — And rankled through his frame. And in submission to the stroke, Unto his fate resigned — The promise of the future broke — From earth he lift his mind. 180 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. I saw him, shorn of youthful charms, In wasteful sickness droop, To woman’s fond but weaker arms For aid too needful stoop. Closed is the scene, death claims his prey, His frame to dust returns, Borne to the narrow cell away, Where the dark cypress mourns. There may he rest; peace to his soul; His hour of life is past : Nor sorrow’s billows o’er him roll, Nor sweeps the rising blast. Called by the voice which wakes the dead, To shun reversioned wrath, He from the yawning danger fled, And found the better path. And brief his race : the goal attained, The swelling Jordan o’er, He has the blissful haven gained, On Canaan’s happy shore. And by conducting angels led To his eternal home, What raptures are around him shed, When Jesus bids him come. 181 LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. Friendship with sorrow still must grieve, And tribute duly pay; Now thine are tears, ’tis mine to weave A sympathetic lay. I saw thy darling’s filmed eye, Thy blasted hopes I read ; But light descending from on high A halo round her spread. I thought, though now of life bereft, Of her eternal day, And viewed in all of Hannah left An empyrean ray. Me contemplation upward bore To the celestial hills, Where death his triumph boasts no more, And life her frame rethrills. n 18*2 LINES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND And thoughts like these may well suffice, Howe’er the rod we loathe, When severed are affliction’s ties, The edge of grief to smooth. But still bereavements are not sweet, And kindred ties are dear ; And while we own the sentence meet, Yet flows the hitter tear. And a fond parent’s heart must bow, And sorrow nor restrain : But though we nature’s claim allow, We do not Heaven arraign. Who has affliction’s cup upfilled, Whate’er he wills is best; To him we would submission yield, And on his promise rest. The charms that infancy adorn, And the fond heart delight, Were her’s, so early from thee torn — Struck with untimely blight. But from the chequered ills of life, Which oft the heart appal, And devious paths with danger rife, She has escaped them all. ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 183 Unknown to thee the fearful woes, Thy Hannah had assailed, If as the alternate of thy throes, Thy wishes had prevailed. Ere ill insidious could infect, Or lift its hydra head, — Its venom unbelief inject, — To her repose she’s fled. Then grieve not thou as those who mourn, By future hopes unblest, But hail thy Hannah’s fleet return, To her eternal rest. And let triumphing faith be thine , Exultant lift thy eyes, Forestall the moment when thou’lt join Thy trio* in the skies. *An allusion to the circumstance of his having been bereaved of three of his children in their early years. N 2 184 THE DYING CHRISTIAN. Vain transitory world, adieu! Your pleasures I decline ; Seek not the contest to renew; I all of life resign. I mourn the power of sin no more ; It ceases to molest: The conflict with the flesh is o’er, And now I sink to rest. And, sleeping in the silent tomb, I wait the joyous day, When at the judgment Christ shall come, And summon me away. In realms of everlasting rest, Where joy eternal reigns, I join the assembly of the blest, On the celestial plains. 185 LINES WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF THE ACCIDENTAL RENEWAL OF A CORRESPONDENCE WITH AN ESTEEMED FRIEND AFTER AN INTERMISSION OF SEVERAL YEARS. Sweet friendship’s tokens! prized the more When unexpectedly they come, We eye their welcome contents o’er, As misers do their hoarded plum. Perchance the darksome days not few, Since we in the same circles moved, And through the mists of years we view, Whom as one’s soul we dearly loved. And change and distance interpose, A gulf not easily o’erstept; Yet still the kindly feeling glows, Like sacred fire devoutly kept. ACCIDENTAL RENEWAL OF A CORRESPONDENCE. And when some accidental cause, The memory of the past renews, Each intervening shade withdraws, And wonted joys the soul perfuse. Forgotten incidents arise, As wont in other times to cheer ; And panoramics greet the eyes, Wherein our former friends appear. And as in bygone days awhile, In vivid recollections lost The passing moment we beguile, By stern realities uncrost. As iron sharpeneth iron, so Mortal his fellow mortal cheers ; By friendship’s presence blest, we go More gladly through this vale of tears. But who, by changing scenes of life? Or vain caprice? or sudden slip? Or, like the prophet, men of strife, No more this sweetened cup may sip? By all detested and forsook, And bowed aneath affliction's rod, They yet may find who upward look, An everlasting friend in God. 187 STANZAS, SUGGESTED IN REMEMBRANCE OF AN ESTEEMED FRIEND. How mournful the remembrance of the dead — Kindred or friends whom once we called our own ! Yet sw r eet the thought, their spirits pure are fled Where sorrow and affliction are unknown. Now busy memory faithfully displays, With childlike fondness her more sacred store, And in hesperian colorings pourtrays, Each incident wherein a part they bore. Nor in her finer touchings may she fail With life in its realities to vie, For ready promptings every where prevail, And which the passing air may e’en supply. The wooded hill, and valley sweetly spread, The verdant mead and dew bespangled grass, The village fane, and ruin’s hoary head, Before the mental vision duly pass. STANZAS. 188 And hum of bees, and cuckoo’s joyous call, And distance chastened noise of busy men ; Accustomed sounds as on the ear they fall, A picture of the past reveal again. And in the social circle when we join, Or in more sacred precincts humbly bow, All, all we see, or feel, or think, combine, The floodgates of affection to o’erflow. And other scenes than those which pleasure give, Nor fail to meet the scrutinizing eye ; The hitter draughts of life they too receive, — We see them languish and we see them die. We could not wish their stay ’mid scenes of woe ; Heart rending griefs which rack the anxious breast^ And dread surmisings, and the heaving throe. Are poor alternates for relinquished rest. We may not then resummon them from bliss, Again to taste the cup of suffering here : And parted but awhile the rod we kiss, And joyously indulge the silent tear. ’Tis humble faith uplifts the drooping mind: We sorrow not as those of hope bereft ; But to our loss in confidence resigned, A moment deem it we behind are left. STANZAS. 189 Yea! it is ours, sufficiency of grace To us assured by promises divine, To griefs unhallowed never to give place, But to the will of God our all resign. And faithful to the light around us shed, In living streams diffused from heaven’s high cope, And with them found in Christ the living head, We on the future may dilate in hope. And soon we’ll join their kindred spirits there, Where all “adieus and farewells are unknown,” And soon with them in blissful realms appear, And with them bow before the eternal throne. 190 ADDRESS TO A YOUNG FRIEND ON OCCASION OF HER BIRTH DAY, WITH A PRESENT OF wesley’s hymns. To thee dear girl the gentle muse, On this thy natal day, A tribute thou wouldst not refuse, Most cheerfully would pay ; But that in wayward feeble flights, Her efforts that constrain, Parnassus’ famed and favored heights, She vainly strives to gain. There flowers with sweetest odours fraught, In rich abundance grow ; And the more valued gems of thought, With living radiance glow : And who those happy climes aneath, As denizens may rove, May coronals and chaplets wreathe. For those whom most they love. ADDRESS TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 191 And be it so that ’tis not mine To range in freedom there, And flowerets sweet with skill entwine, And friendly gifts prepare ; Else would I now, with plastic hand, On this thy day of days, Of treasures there I might command, A seemly offering raise. Accept then what I substitute My humble powers in lieu, Of other hands the valued fruit, Of rich and varied hue : The buds and blossoms pious care Has culled on Zion’s hill, The fragrant odours that they bear, The soul with rapture fill. Here pristine years and hoary age May equal pleasure take ; The soul’s best feelings here engage And high excursions make : ’Mid flowers ambrosial freely roam, In sanctified repose; Forget awhile her earthly home, And complicated woes. 192 ADDRESS TO A YOUNG FRIEND. And when in sorrow, or in pain, Or flows the bitter tear, Here consolation flows amain, O’er every ill to hear ; And when that gladness fills our eyes, Here may we heighten joy, And for the moment realize The seraphim’s employ. And thus our hearts uplift to God, In songs of prayer or praise, For mercies, or the chastening rod, The orison we raise : And whatsoever may incite To hearken to his voice, In that we safely may delight, And make our happy choice. And from the fount of truth supplied This nether stream is ours, Which onward, an unebbing tide, In strains harmonic pours. Nor disappointment need be thine, My artless lay instead, That with a treasure so divine, My tribute thus is paid. 193 INSCRIBED IN AFORESAID HYMN BOOK. For sin deep sorrowing, when oerflows the tear, In solemn wailings here thy griefs assuage ; And when the opening Heavens thy bosom cheer, In strains seraphic here mayst thou engage ; Or, born of God, rejoice in Jesu’s name, And in triumphal songs his victories proclaim. ADDRESS TO A FRIEND ON AGAIN MEETING AFTER .A LONG SEPARATION. How many moons have waxed and waned Since last we bid farewell : — But though the separation pained, We did not dare rebel. Our Father’s hand prepared the lot, To each of us assigned ; And at His will we murmur not, Whose chastisements are kind. 194 ADDRESS TO A FRIEND. Bereavements and afflictions sore, Have bowed you to the dust, And taught you how supremely poor, In earthly things who trust. And forth as wanderers you go ; But He directs your ways, And sure and safely guides you through The most bewildered maze. An habitation he provides, An other home and friends, And whatsoe’er you need besides, His hand in mercy sends. Our portions different, yet the same, We too have felt the rod, And in affliction’s scorching flame, Have need to praise our God. His hand which no one may oppose, Hath us as strangely led, And in the presence of our foes, For us a table spread. And parted thus we meet again, Amid contending gales, Nor may of judgment dare complain, Since mercy more prevails. ADDRESS TO A FRIEND. 195 And yet once more we mount the waves Our voyage to pursue, And though the sea tempestuous raves, Our God will strength renew. And when at last, life’s voyage o’er, Our haven we attain, Safe landed on the heavenly shore, We never part again. Then be our earnest hopes enfixed Upon the things above, And bitters in our cup commixed, Shall sovereign blessings prove. ] 96 INSCRIBED IN AN ALBUM. That boon of life, a friend we seek, Where e’er our footsteps stray, Whose honied lips a charm may speak, Our destiny to fray. And should the blessing multiplied, Not oft our grasp elude, Yet still stability’s denied, To every earthly good. And ah ! how fleetingly they pass, A quick succeeding train, A moment here, but soon, alas, Their place is void again. And art is often in request, The vacuum to fill ; And fond forget-me-nots the breast, With recollections thrill. And here inscribed, affection's hand, Its traces leaves behind, Mementos which in record stand, Of bye-gones to remind. 197 WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF A VISIT FROM TWO FRIENDS, WHO TOOK PITY ON ME IN MY IMPRI- SONMENT, BEING CONFINED TO THE HOUSE BY THE PREVAILING FROST AND SNOW STORM I THE NIGHT DARK AND WINTERLY. The bards of other times assert, In song and in orations ; And modern naturalists affirm, Their truthful observations, — How swallows round our dwellings sport, In bright and sunny weather ; But when the wintry blasts arrive, They leave us altogether. And so, continue they, in strains Which make us quite indignant, When riches and abundance ours, The world is all benignant ; But when blind fortune turns away, Or on us darkly frowneth, Each quondam friend is then aloof, And us no longer owneth. o 198 ON OCCASION OF A VISIT. This picture in its light and shade, And every line and feature, Too many have experienced To be too true to nature : But like the sophists, who delight So much in contradiction, I will in my especial case, Prove that it is a fiction. When summer suns and vernal blooms, And zephyrs sweet invited, Within the precincts of my home, Too seldom you alighted ; Amid whatever else might cheer, You left me solitary, Presuming that I needed not, Your aid to make me merry. But changed the scene, and winter now His ancient rule maintaining, And o’er creation’s deadened scene, Tyrannically reigning ; The fields with snow, and every road With frost encrusted over, Prevents me rambling forth at will And keeps me under cover. ON OCCASION OF A VISIT. 199 And so like Franklin, Parry, Ross, To arctic regions sent up, Prevented in their prompt returns, By icy barriers pent up ; Of birthright liberty deprived And on my oars reclining, Yet would I fain my bitter lot, Endure without repining. For often in the saddest hour, When most we feel neglected, The clouds break up, and succour comes, From quarters least expected ; A knock is heard, and friends are nigh, Before my door awaiting, Who kindly to my rescue fly, My doom commiserating. And more the favor to enhance, The air is chill and biting, And dark the night and lone the way, And all things uninviting ; Yet to the call of duty true, The prisoner they visit, And the reward of those who do, They surely may not miss it. o 2 00 ON OCCASION OF A VISIT. Now closed the doors and candles lit, And at my ingle seated, With harmless mirth, and wisdom’s saws, The drowsy hour we cheated ; And thus awhile we chatted on, By anxious cares untroubled, Nor thought we of the time, until The stated hour was doubled. And now perhaps you will allow My argument is proven, Although my careless jingling rhymes, May serve to dub me sloven : And so my wish is that you may When e’er your lot is weary, Be with a friend provided, who In solitude may cheer ye. 201 THE DIFFICULTY EVADED. “ To say the women is rather coarse ; but to say the ladies , or the fair sex , is, we humbly opine, execrable.” Cham. Edin. Jour., July 24, 1841. Creation’s flower of loveliest hue, Creation’s lord delights to view ; And yet begrudges it a name, Because therein without a claim : Or proofful of extreme respect, The common parlance doth reject. “Women” too homely, coarse, and plain, “Ladies” affected, cold, and vain, And “fair-sex” by no means his choice, Too sentimental and precise ; Names these which no possession give, Nor in his fond affections live : Unworthy of his ardent vows, And which he therefore disallows. But must a boon so rich and fair, Only illude his anxious care, 02 A VALENTINE. Because his wit cannot devise, A designation for the prize? Not so, the muse would humbly say, Suggesting too a simple way, With bliss replete, and whence may rise A name, possession that implies. Nor time in long demurs to waste, To the parterre forth let him haste, Nor opportunity abuse, But with discernment promptly chuse That sweetener of “the cup of life,” “The honey drop, a pleasing wife,” Which he may proudly call his own, His joy, his honour, and his crown. A VALENTINE. A spotless name, as noon day clear, Which censure puts to flight, A conscience pure, and heart sincere, And virtue thy delight ; And all that makes a homestead please, A woman’s worth be thine ; — So mayst thou win by charms like these, Some worthy valentine. k 203 ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY WHO CALLED UPON ME FOR A CONTRIBUTION ON ST. valentine’s day, 1848 . What time the fair one whispers her request, It is our part to honour the behest, “And on the wings of swift obedience move,” The strength of our allegiance to prove ; And therefore ’tis I take the pen in hand, Though strange is the position I command; For notwithstanding well displayed the targe, At which my shaft invited to discharge, Howbeit my aim unerring be and true, Yet may no quarry unto me accrue. But like the fox which cast a greedy eye Upon the o’erhanging grapes, and needs must try To snatch his fill, and strove and strove again, If that he might the luscious prize obtain ; In all his efforts baulked, he cries, pshaw, No doubt the fruit is worthless, sour, and raw; So would not I the boon depreciate, Because my evil or my better fate, 04 ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. Too plainly indicates it is not mine, To share the favors of St. Valentine: And far from me the cynics spleen and sneer, And base born envy’s more detested leer; For in the matter though I have no choice, I rather would this day with those rejoice, The present who with future hopes beguile, And court the hymeneal bishop’s smile : For joys there ^are and anodynes for strife, When rightly mixed is this “ cup of life,” The mind by sordid interest uncontrolled, Nor beauty’s charms for filthy lucre sold, But hands and hearts conjoin; and vandals they With thoughts of care who youthful minds dismay. With all the sweets which here we may enjoy, There always will and must be an alloy, And faint the heart that will not pluck the rose, Because forsooth the thorn may break repose. So then adieu, and may the joy be thine, United with thy favoured valentine ; And when the cares of life come o’er the scene, And louring clouds a moment intervene, May st thou with one to share thy every grief, Find in thy heart’s copartnery relief. 205 EPITHALAMIUM. Exultant hope and blissful joy Should cheer the wedding day ; Nor ventures the obtrusive muse An ill-timed mournful lay. Cares gather thickly, and too soon The cup of bliss alloy ; Forestall not then their bitterness, But present cheer enjoy. And let the gala be prepared, And happiness be there : And may prospected future years, In bright succession cheer. Nor are the hopes we may indulge, Or fugitive or vain, Whose brighter aspects though they pale, Their substance may remain. ‘206 EPITHALAM1UM. For joys there are — and blissful too — The meed of guileless love ; And who to sacred virtue time, May all their fulness prove. In Eden’s garden, say, what else Was needed man to bless ? And yet amid ambrosial scenes, He felt his loneliness. And hence the Maker of all good, A partner him designed, In whom was loveliness of soul, And sense and thought combined. And then the fiat was declared That man and wife be one, Because it were not meet or well, That man should be alone. And happy is the youthful bride, And happy is the swain, Who, under love’s sweet influence, The law- supreme maintain. Blest in each other’s fond embrace, In hand and heart combined, Their joys are doubled, and for grief An anodyne they find. EPITHALAM1UM. •20 Their genial and unsullied joys The rays of gladness beam ; And forth like evening’s chastened ray Is the effulgent stream. And cares, when cares begin to rise, And o’er the welkin lour, Though keenly levelled be the shaft, Evince but half their power. The storm around their sun of bliss, In beauteous haloes wreathes ; And the hoarse tempest’s roar subdued, In gentle whispers breathes. Such is their lot whose love is true — Upon whose faithful vows Reposes Heaven’s approving smile, Whence every blessing flows. Peace in themselves — the world may rage— Its gauds alike they spurn ; And to the calm domestic hearth, For happiness they turn. There all that life endears they find ; And, in their portion blest, In the mild sunshine of content, They are of all possest. 208 E PITH ALAMIU M . By grace divine their hearts inclined To run in wisdom’s ways, So sweet and gently passes on The spring tide of their days. And as, in early youth, their age With needful blessings crowned, They at the last, like full eared corn, Are ripe and ready found. And from foretasted joys on earth Triumphantly they rise ; And to perfected bliss aspire, Prepared them in the skies. 309 A SIMILE. The lovely rose, the garden’s pride, Had opened to our view, Unrivalled by all flowers beside For fragrance or for hue. The skies their influence had shed And fostering dews distilled ; With beauty bowed its blushing head, Its cup sweet odours filled. But soon its charms, so fair and frail, Were scattered to the wind ; The gently breathing summer’s gale Scarce left a rack behind. Still, of its glories though bereft, Nor wasted its perfume, In its sad remnants there was left Mementoes of its bloom. And thus it is with man, I cried, Whom nature’s gifts endow, And whom nor fortune has denied The good she can bestow. ‘210 A SIMILE. Of worth and every grace possest That man to man endears, And in his rich abundance blest, Nor evil day he fears. And his compeers upon him gaze, His goodness envy owns ; And every tongue proclaims his praise, And him with honor crowns. But, ah! his glory quickly fails ; The spoiler swiftly comes, And imperceptibly assails, And to destruction dooms. Nor found within his wonted place, His exit we deplore : Before the sad beholder’s face, He falls to rise no more. And yet the odour of his name An incense sweet survives, Whence he, who anxious after fame, A motive power derives. And more than this — full well we know He has attained the prize — The rest awaiting all below, Eternal in the skies. JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. See, where the patriarch’s sons appear; Conscious of guilt they stand : Before the cast-off brother fear, Now lord of all the land. Decked in the panoply of power, The lordly robe and gem, He cast, the while his heart ran o’er, An eye severe on them. Nor knew they as they humbly stood To supplicate his grace, Nor, in his august presence, could Eecall their brother’s face. Sternly he tells them, “Ye are spies,” ‘ ‘ And for our hurt ye come And bids the wretched suppliants rise To meet a prison’s doom. 212 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. But soon the brother stood contest; He could refrain no more : The tide of feelings in his breast, In filial tears ran o’er. And does my father live? oh! say: — And joy his bosom warms — Nor longer tarry, but away, And bear him to my arms. And does my darling son still live, The good old patriarch cries, My years of sorrow to retrieve, And bless these aged eyes? Ah ! ’tis my son, my long lost son, Whom I once more embrace; My few short days I gladly run, Since I have seen his face. And now the favoured race removes, To a more fruitful place, The once deserted brother proves, His brethren’s chief solace. HOPE AND FEAR When tossed on life’s tempestuous sea, The sport of every wind, Man, as he struggles to be free, Would cast his fear behind; And, overcome by vain assays, Though oft his spirits droop, He tribute to the future pays, Still cherishing his hope. And dark and cloudy be the day, And keen the wintry gale, To-morrow’s sun may chase away What ever ills prevail : And if the inauspicious hour Its course prolongeth, still More distant days may peace restore, And pleasure’s cup refill. 14 HOPE AND FEAK. And at the best, should lengthened years His sorrows but increase, The coming of the future cheers — He yet will have release ; For all that grieves him death will close, The wretched that befriends, And in the grave hell find repose, When dust with dust he blends. Thus sensual reason with him pleads, And to his hope dictates, And with the expectation feeds, That quiet yet awaits : And pressing o’er the fearful brink That circumscribes the tomb, In ignorance he does not shrink To contemplate its gloom. But hark ! a voice than thunders dread, Upon his senses falls, And from the regions of the dead, % His startled thought recalls; And fear in all its terror breaks, And cherished hope derides, And what, despairingly he seeks, Beyond the grave abides. HOPE AND FEAR. 215 Eternity its dreadful views Unto his gaze presents, And all he dreaded most renews, And all he hoped prevents : The scenes of horror there disclosed, Excite him to despair; He thought in death to have reposed, But fiercer fears are there. But is it darkness sole o’erehades, And soul appalling gloom, Nor one faint glimmering invades, The portals of the tomb? Are human hopes for ever wrecked? Is bliss engulphed there? And have we only to expect The howlings of despair? Ah no! the words of truth proclaim There is a rest remains, And he who trusts in Jesu’s name, The promised bliss obtains : And where this light empyrean shines, The soul in rapture springs, And fear its terror all resigns, And hope its triumph sings. p 2 21G THE PURPOSES OF AFFLICTION. Though clouds arise and blot my day, While through the wilderness my way, And hope in darkness fade; When hurtling storms deform the air, In strength divine their power I dare, Unmoved and undismayed. Who is it bids the wind arise, And speeds the tempest through the skies — With darkness that surrounds? And shall I question his behest — Nor deem that what he wills is best, Whose love so much abounds? Around us raging storms career, The tainted atmosphere to clear, And nature’s tone re-spring: The lightnings flash, the thunders roar, The lurid clouds their torrents pour ; But blessings with them bring. THE PURPOSES OF AFFLICTION. 217 So whirlwind strife involves the soul, And sorrow’s billows o’er us roll, And doubts and fears arise ; And disappointments thickly strew The desert way we must pursue Aneath inclement skies. And, hope immerged in frowning clouds, A cheerless gloom the heavens enshrouds And blots the face of day But courage, O my soul! be thine, Acknowledge the decree divine, Nor succumb to dismay. Though rude thy buffettings may be, Their province is to work in thee The purposes of grace ; And chastisements, in mercy given, Thereby we are full often driven To seek the Saviour’s face. At ease in our possessions, we, From sorrow and affliction free, Our horns lift up on high ; But when the storms of life prevail, And all our earthly comforts fail, Our hearts within us die. 218 THE PURPOSES OF AFFLICTION. And well for him, whose spirit broke, Submissively who owns the stroke; Despairingly nor mourns : He in the whirlwind hears the cry, That bids him fix his hopes on high, And at the summons turns. And happy who accepted is ! Amid the wrecks of mundane bliss, He dries the bitter tear. His losses are eternal gain, And sure and certain hopes sustain Him while he sojourns here. His heart by grace divine refined, On things above enfixed his mind, To him on earth are given, Joys, which are to the world unknown, Nor subject to its wanton frown, — The antepasts of Heaven, And be it mine, submissive still, To suffer all liis gracious will, Whate’er my portion be : Stayed on the promise — at the last, When all the storms of life are past, A rest remains for me. 219 STANZAS. Abject, and mean, and earth thy bed, Sackcloth thy covering of shame, Mortal! where are thy footsteps sped; Whither of passion art thou led, Whose frenzies reason may not tame? Hurried along the devious way, One continuity of gloom ; Far in the maze of sense astray, Where impulse prompts the vain assay , Each step accelerates thy doom. Ah ! child of folly, slack thy speed, Stay but a moment thy career ; To yon illumed page give heed, Where even he that runs may read, And the still voice of wisdom hear. List to the words of life which there, In gentle accents, tell of peace ; Nor more the outcast’s impress bear, Nor longer vengeful judgments dare : Oh ! list ; and from thy wanderings cease. 220 STANZAS. And from the dust uplift thy eyes, A light upon thy soul shall break, Whose brightness hellish gloom defies ; And, gazing on the opening skies, Thou shalt to righteousness awake. Nor more let passion thee incline, The day of mercy to abuse ; Cast all thy care on strength divine, So joy for mourning shall be thine, And oil of gladness thee suffuse. How happy, who betimes attend Unto instruction’s warning voice! The turmoils of their passions end, And they, as upward they ascend, In hopes of perfect bliss rejoice. 221 REDEMPTION. The mighty theme resound from earth to heaven: Let wondering seraphs silently adore. How vast the price for mortals’ ransom given ! Angels desire to scan the hidden lore Of man’s redemption; but cherubic power, Though as a sunbeam practised to discern, To such sublime of knowledge may not soar : Nor endless ages may the mystery learn: Hear it, O Heavens! and Earth the praise return! He, who the Father’s express image bore, And whom empyrean myriads adore, Immanuel his glory laid aside; And man with man a servant’s form he wore, And for rebellious mortals suffered, bled, and died. “Mors mortis morti mortem Nisi dedisset morte, iEternum vitae janua Fuisset clausa aeternum.” TRANSLATION. Unless the death of death, Our God’s eternal son, Had, by his sacrificial act, O’er death the victory won, The gates of endless life To man had still been closed, Whose entrance adamantine bars For ever had opposed. 222 HOPE. Illusory and vain the charms Which mundane hope displays ; With rapture which the bosom warms, Or with foreboded ills alarms, As bright or quenched her rays. And it is all a feverish glow The wayward soul that thrills, As, expectation high, or low, Ascendant joy or sorrow now, Life’s changeful cup upfils. How disappointment quick succeeds Each fondly cherished hope ! Which on to-morrow richly feeds ; That period come, alas ! she bleeds, And her fair pinions droop. Dupes of to-morrow mortals are Through long protracted years : We cherish with assiduous care The seeds of joy our bosoms bear, Whose blossoms mildew sears. And wherefore thus ? ye sages say, In moral lore enskilled ; Why so enchequered is our way, And life so like an April day, With storm and sunshine filled. HOPE, 223 But, ah ! your boasted wisdom fails. And all your powers are vain ; For wherefore evil man assails, Supernal light alone avails, The mystery to explain. And turn we to the sacred page, By power divine unsealed ; Which may it all our thoughts engage, Where truths unknown to ancient sage, Are open and revealed. And there we learn what sin has wrought — Creation’s fearful doom : — Into the world destruction brought, And therefore with corruption fraught, And wrapped in Stygian gloom. And hence with feelings dread opprest, And strange misgivings filled, Until of earthly thoughts divest, It is in vain to seek a rest, Whereon our hopes to build. Hope, in this world, in clouded skies, A feeble ray bestows ; But when we from the dust arise, And unto Heaven uplift our eyes, In full effulgence glows. 224 RESIGNATION. With anxious thoughts and cares opprest, Ah ! whither turns my wayward mind ; My louring skies with gloom invest, Where shall I rest and refuge find ? It is not in sublunar things To sooth the soul’s acerbity ; From higher sources peace upsprings, And, O my God, I turn to thee. In thee alone is sovereign strength Whereon my weakness I may stay, And, murmuring thoughts subdued at length, I, at thy footstool humbly pray. Thou only canst the soul release When of the things of sense in thrall ; And to the spirit whisper peace And bid me care relinquish all. At thy decision I repined, And mourned my lot, and deemed severe The portion thou hast me assigned — My pilgrimage in sorrow here. RESIGNATION. 225 But to the fount of truth I speed, Where all thy wonders are portrayed ; And mercy is the theme I read, Which is in judgment there displayed. To thy all seeing eye revealed, Mayhap destruction crossed my path ; And where the danger lay concealed, Thou turnedst me thence — but not in wrath. For though severe the mandate seemed Back to the wilderness which sped ; And hard my portion though I deemed, Mid dreary wilds ’twas mercy led. Thee in thy judgments I peruse, And own thou dost in all things well ; Nor more the hitter cup refuse, Nor at thy chaste nings rebel. For, wiser than the sons of men, Or angel-hosts which thee surround, Kind when thou makest whole again, Nor less so when thy quivers wound. And in my lot I calmly stand, And on thy promises rely ; In all things trust thy guiding hand, Assured thy help is always nigh. 2Q6 THE CHRISTIAN’S HOPE. Celestial hope ! thy soul encheering beam, Full oft illumes the darksome Yale of life ; Whose rugged wilds with gladness even gleam, And seem with pleasance and enjoyment rife. The while beneath thy influence they glow, We deem not sin and death are latent there ; Which Heaven in mercy often doth allow, Lest changeless gloom amid we should despair. But nor enduring are the joys of earth, However pure the sources whence they rise ; Here ruthless storms and tempests rude have birth, And louring clouds deform the fairest skies. Soon overshadowed is the brightest scene. Nor seldom hope withdraws her influence; Nor will her brighter glories supervene, Until we rise above the mists of sense. the Christian’s hope 227 And, ah ! the raptures which inspire the breast, As her more broad and more effulgent ray, Reposes on the regions of our rest, Where raging storms no more the soul dismay. We have no need, as they of hope bereft, Earth’s blasted joys uncomforted to mourn ; Far higher sources of delight are left, And to the distant hills our hearts we turn. And the fair prospect, in her loftiest flight, Conception fails e’en faintly to portray, Where hope concentrates her unsullied light, In consummation quenched alone whose ray. There let the way-worn Christian fix his eyes, Where are his treasure and eternal home; In certain hope triumphant scale the skies, Where an inviting Saviour bids him come. 228 INVOCATION. Come, Holy Spirit ! quickening fire ! Immanuel’s promise thou ; With sacred Wisdom me inspire — Thy life and light bestow. Along the pastures of the word, By living waters lead ; And of their redolence afford, My hungry soul to feed. Open my sin beclouded eyes, Succeeding mists remove ; Before me let thy goodness rise, And manifest thy love. ’Tis thine alone the power to give Thy word to comprehend ; Though dead the letter — it shall live, And light on me descend. INVOCATION. And in the word thy glory seen, I own the power divine : Nor doubts nor fears can supervene I claim the promise mine. Man of his wisdom vainly boasts, Which only leads astray ; In refuges of lies he trusts, And turns from truth away. Come, then, O soul reviving fire ! And me with life instil ; With wisdom from above inspire, And teach me all thy will. 230 GOD THE ONLY SOURCE OF HAPPINESS. ’Tis in the courts of God we find, That happiness and peace of mind, We anxiously desire : Where else upon this barren ground, Where no uncloying good is found, May we to bliss aspire ? The world in all its charms survey, Of pomp, parade, and pleasure gay : And say, what is the sum ? It is but emptiness and grief ; Nor to the soul affords relief, The evil day when come. A bruised reed, which whoso trust, Are quickly humbled in the dust ; They sink to rise no more : Its boastful smile nor long will last, The fond illusion soon is past, And clouds and darkness lour. GOD THE ONLY SOURCE OF HAPPINESS. f231 And all its honors are in vain, Nor can the fainting mind sustain, With sorrow when we cope ; And wealth is but a paltry thing, And can no lasting comfort bring, Or raise the fallen hope. For to attain the toys of life, Full oft provokes to petty strife ; And riches when possest, Or to retain, or to increase, Deprive the mind of rest and peace, And leave the soul unblest. The dance and all its phantom joys, And all the arts which mirth employs, Will please but for awhile : Soon will they lose the fancied charm, Soon will they cease the heart to warm , Nor more the sense beguile. Destruction in diseases foul, Lurks in the brightly mantling bowl, And at the festal board ; And where in meretricious guise, Vice leads her victims to despise^ The hair-impending sword. Q 2 232 GOD THE ONLY SOURCE OF HAPPINESS. In these for happiness we seek, But, ah ! the blooms we hence bespeak, Own not sublunar skies ; From earth upsprung and sense the root, Death and destruction are the fruit, Which from indulgence rise. And these we falsely pleasure style, And fondly hasten on the while, The apex of our fate ; And as our courses downward tend, We nor consider in the end What fearful ills await. But in the light of truth surveyed, Their fond illusions quickly fade, Nor longer lead astray : Wealth, honor, and the joys of earth, Of wisdom taught, we learn their worth As trifles of a day. And, foiled in these, if hence we rise, And to the hills uplift our eyes, To God for refuge fly ; We, in his presence blest, shall find That health of soul and peace of mind, For which on earth we sigh. RELIANCE ON THE PROMISES OF GOD. 233 Nor more with heavy thoughts oppressed, We have a foretaste of the rest, That will our portion be, When all the things of time shall end, And we in upward flights ascend, The land of light to see. RELIANCE ON THE PROMISES OF GOD. When I by worldly cares am vexed, And unbelieving fears perplexed, To Heaven I lift my eyes ; And He who reigns supremely there, Will surely hear my humble prayer, And for my help arise. For none may call on him in vain ; Whenever we on earth complain, He hears the humblest cry : There’s an assurance on record, That they who wait upon the Lord, Will find him ever nigh. 284 THE BLESSINGS OF HUMILITY. Above yon azure, where are spread Unnumbered suns through space that glow ; Where light ineffable is shed, And the creation’s first born bow ; — Where cherubim his throne surround, The High and Mighty One abides : — And yet on earth his place is found ; He with his contrite ones resides. Proclaim we then his truth and grace, Of boundless mercy that proceed, And which our weary souls solace, And well supply our every need. Tis he has called us, by his Son, To seek a city out of sight, Whither our willing footsteps run, In paths illumed with gospel light. THE BLESSINGS OF HUMILITY. 235 And he upholds, and he spreads A table in this wilderness : The influence of his spirit sheds, Us, while on pilgrimage, to bless. Still in the dust would we remain, And humbly own him all in all, So shall he lift us up again, And to his arms of mercy call. And saved from evil and from sin, We fear not the avenging rod ; But feel the spirit’s cry within, And call him Father, Lord, and God. Such honor theirs who humbly fear ; By whom the Saviour’s merits owned : As kings and priests accounted here, And soon to be with glory crowned. And soon above yon azure skies, Amid that bright seraphic throng, By mercy saved, they — glorious — rise, And join the everlasting song. CHRIST OUR REFUGE. Benighted in life’s devious vale, Onward with doubtful steps I rove ; Now hopes elate, now fears assail, Fully my faithfulness to prove. But why — why should my heart misgive, Howe’er oppressed by grief and care ? Doth not the Saviour ever live, For me to pour effectual prayer ? When on the raging billows borne, And in their fierce contentions tost ; Or cast upon the beach folorn, And every mundane comfort lost ; CHRIST OUR REFUGE. .237 Tis then my heart may triumph most, When he his power for me displays ; Nor longer I of wisdom boast, While he appoints and guides my ways. And when the clouds of darkness spread* And unbelieving fears oppress, The influence of his love is shed, To cheer the dreary wilderness. On him my refuge and defence, With love whose arms encompass me, I cast myself in confidence, From sorrow and temptation free. And light around my path is shed, And consolation richly flows ; And all my dread forebodings fled, With joy my raptured bosom glows. THE CHRISTIAN’S HAVEN. Brief is the term allotted man, In darkness soon that ends : And yet on life’s contracted span, What consequence impends ! Our moments swiftly speed away, An overwhelming tide : In vain we plead; they will not stay, But onward, onward glide. And on the ceaseless current cast, To unknown worlds we tend, Where joy eternally will last, Or hope in darkness end the Christian’s haven. 239 Upon the rolling billows borne, Death fills the crowding sail, And from life’s seemly haven torn, We drive before the gale. And brightly though the ocean smiles, Tis but a transient gleam, Which fond expectancy beguiles, With dreams that phantoms teem. Soon raging eddies thwart our way, Or in dark waves we sink : To incidental ills a prey, The dregs of woe we drink. But need we in the deep remain, Which dangers thickly strew ? Ah ! no : our hearts revive again ; Our haven is in view. And while we toil with wary skill , And most assiduous care, To counteract opposing ill , The breaches to repair. We to our sure munition speed, To Christ for refuge fly, In our extremity and need, Whose aid is always nigh. 240 the Christian’s haven. He will afford a safe retreat, When high the surges swell, Against our bark or foaming beat, Or down the deep impel. When over ocean’s wide extent The winged tempest hies, And lurid clouds their fury vent, And billows greet the skies — The elemental war may rage, And angry thunders roll ; Who doth our confidence engage, Their fury will control. *241 NEW YEAR BELLS. Sweet Bells, that sound the march of Time, And usher in a coming year, Your soothful melancholy chime, I love, and yet I grieve to hear. Another year your music tells Numbers with those beyond the flood ; And how the bosom fondly swells, As ye another year prelude. But mindful of the summons due, I retrospect the fleeted past ; And, ah ! how dread is the review Of shadowy blanks around me cast. Time, which nor gold nor silver buys, Has been afforded me in vain ; And on the blessing as it flies, The anxious futile gaze I strain. 242 NEW YEAR BELLS. Beyond recall the moment lied, How deeply sounds the solemn peal ! But on the future light is shed, And gladsome feelings o’er me steal. For as ye also heralds are Of moments that may be in store, Of wisdom taught, I may repair The errors that have gone before. Thus while ye sound a solemn truth, Your fitful changes yet beguile, With joy that wreathe the brow of youth, And raise the cheerful-hopeful smile. Time fleets — the sage assures well ; Time comes — hope triumphs in the breast; And we the evil thought repel, Presuming we may yet be blest. And from the past a lesson they Who humbly take, will surely find The path to truth that leads the way — To happiness and peace of mind. 243 “ TEMPOS FUGIT.” Time, thy fleetness I proclaim, Lightning winged thou flashest bye But a moment is thy gleam, We turn — thou art not nigh. Ah! how rapid is thy flight — Onward sped in mid career ! Still , thy passage is so light, We scarcely mark thee near. Yet upon thy wings are borne, Principalities and power; — Worlds thy victor-car adorn — Suns before thee lour. All the tribes of flesh and blood To thy sway subjected are : Who so wary to elude — So strong thy might to dare ? Now the strong-one feels thy stroke — Now the feeble infant sighs — Now the sage’s dream is broke — The babbling idiot dies. TEMPUS FUGIT. *244 Soon th) T harvest’s gathered in ; Brief the space thou dost allow : Scarcely we to live begin, Ere in the dust we bow. Ah ! the madness prompts us then To abuse our transient guest : — Cease from folly, sons of men! The fugitive arrest. We of strength but vainly boast; Soon it withers like the grass : In the things of sense we trust, Which quickly from us pass. Short our longest day will prove, — Life’s whole aggregate, a span; Yet within its space is wove The destiny of man. Lay we then the truth to heart, — Time how speedy in its flight; And be it our wiser part, The boon to use aright. Then shall we rejoice at last, All our toils and conflicts o’er When the rush of years is past And time shall be no more. *445 ADDRESSED TO MR. AND MRS. *** ON THE DEATH OF. A BELOVED CHILD. Me nor obtrusive deem, whose heart With softest sympathies is stirred ; Who, for your wound, would balm impart, Drawn from that living fount — the Word, Which for instruction Heaven bestows, And whence our consolation flows. Nor light the griefs which you oppress; In anguish you the dead deplore, Nor ought your sorrows may redress ; Or to your arms the lost restore, Which, most you dearly prized, to claim Insidiously the spoiler came. R 246 ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHILD. The dear one fondly was caressed, Your love almost idolatry ; Now to a mother's bosom pressed, Now fondled on a father’s knee : And all the wiles that childhood grace So lately were your hearts’ solace. And, ah ! the recollections rise, And from you wring the hitter tear ; For soon the sweet illusion flies, And the realities appear ; And desolate in heart you mourn, And vainly wish for a return. But judge not harshly of the blow, In mercy doubtless which is given, Your fondly cherished hopes laid low, Affection’s ties asunder riven : Your darling snatched from earth away, Soon as began to dawn her day. In all our wanderings below, With strange incertitudes opprest, What evil is we scarcely know, Nor what for us may be the best ; What seems to us with flowers strown, With thorns and briars is o’ergrown. ON’ THE DEATH OF A BELOVED CHILD. 247 And well for us a guiding hand Full oft on our behalf appears ; Whose eye the future can command, For us in mercy interferes : And what we deem a stroke severe, May prove our chiefest blessing here. So then could you the veil upraise, Which hides our mortal destinies, The song of gratitude and praise, Would from your thankful hearts arise : Your choice of deepest woe the spring, Whilst crosses sweetest comforts bring. And to your well instructed eyes, Bright are the prospects that unfold ; In blissful mansions of the skies, Mid throngs cherubic you behold, Your loved- one safely landed there, Where wiped from every face the tear. Escaped from suffering and from sin — Whate’er her lot had been below — - With Christ eternally shut in, No evil can she ever know : Who only knows for us to choose Has early ta’en her to repose. r 2 248 THE PLEASURES OF RETIREMENT. O ! mine be the woodlands where solitude reigns, And the wild cooing dove to its lover complains, Where, beneath the cool shade of umbrageous boughs. I, to care unsubjected, in quiet repose. Escaped for a moment the turmoils of life, With care and anxiety ever so rife, And which, at the best unprolific of joy, With wrinkles invest him whose thoughts they employ. To sylvan abodes the contented retires, Or where the wide landscape wild fancy inspires ; And from cities remote, all whose follies resigned, Tranquillity, pleasure, and wisdom we find. THE PLEASURES OF RETIREMENT. 249 Yon meandering streamlet, whose murmurs invite To stroll on its margin, does much more delight, Than the mart’s busy hum, where, intent upon gain, The bard’s simple joys sons of commerce disdain. When nature her vernal adornments assumes, And when the soft zephyrs waft o’er me perfumes, Around me the campaign, or valley, and hill, And streamlets whence sweetness and plenty distil ; From the canopied heavens the while, on my head The sun’s chastened influence gently is shed, And the feathery choirs, in livery gay, In harmony joining rejoice in whose ray ; I heed not the grandeur, the pomp and parade, And splendour wherewith high descent is arrayed : Or cumber of riches, or burden of state, However the boast of the wealthy and great. Content — which delights in the humble retreat, Where virtue, the graces, and innocence meet, — Their charms all unfolding — admonishes me, Life’s turmoil, and strife, and vexation to flee. Or at least only meet them as need may require, Whose promptings my heart may they ever inspire, So that to the shade when for refuge I haste, The sweets of enjoyment I fully may taste. 250 THE PLEASURES OF RETIREMENT. Say what is the world, its parade, and its pleasures, And princely investitures, greatness, and treasures ? Content nor be in them, misnomers are they, Which only the children of folly bewray. Whose portion the world, for them nature in vain The mountain upheaves, or outstretches the plain : Green hills or rich valleys no feelings excite, Rural scenery, sounds, or enjoyments delight. To conservate wealth every thought is employed, Which, though in possession, is never enjoyed ; For this with desires unsated they burn, And joys more abiding ungratefully spurn. Hence, therefore, the care which the worldling beguiles; Heaven e’er on the lowly benignantly smiles : By trifles unmoved, and my trust aid divine, Content and tranquillity ever are mine. 251 HOME. Who, exiles of fortune, reluctantly roam, Or summoned by business or pleasure from home ; What e’er the occasion that calls them away— Or joy be their portion, or sorrows dismay ; Mid the turmoils of thought which their bosoms endure How cheering to them is that bright cynosure, Where kindred and friends who are dear to the heart The smile of regard and affection impart. And where is the victim of fortune bereft, Nor parent, nor kindred, nor lover has left ? Or frenzied his glance, or vacant his stare, The stamp of an outcast his forehead will bear. Home is a palladium sacred to peace, The world laid aside, where the mind has release : On life’s dread arena we toil and we strive ; But home is the charm will the spirits revive. 252 HOME. Who is not enamoured of home and its shade ? The grave and the gay, the thoughtless and staid, The low and the lofty to circles retreat, With the ties of affection and nature replete. The thunder of war fills the soldier with ire, With triumphs and conquests whose soul is on fire, But home is his centre, and softened his heart, He longs for the time from the field to depart. And so the rough sailor, who furrows the main, Still thinks with regret of his dear native plain ; And rude though the tempest and many his toils, The pleasing remembrance his spirit beguiles. The statesman who toils at the helm of affairs, The merchant whose brow is beclouded with cares, The peasant who labors, the artist who glows, All welcome this haven of love and repose. And swelling with malice the worldling may rage, And envy whose virulence nought may assuage, Their shafts we defy when to home we retreat, Nor fear an invasion where friends only meet. Home ! ever delightful though never so poor ; Nor grandeur, nor wealth may aspire to more : A boon not exclusively known to the great, Whose sweetness the humblest may participate. A CALL TO INDUSTRY. Thou, who thy time, the boon of Heaven, And surest blessing to thee given, From morning’s dawn to parting day, Consumest in idle dreams away ; Sluggard ! from off thy couch arise, And haste to greet the morning skies ; Industry’s forth and bids prepare, For wholesome toil and needful care. Forth and observe the careful ants Wisely provide for future wants, Who, ere the harvest month is out, Actively range the fields about. Or ere depart serener skies, Or winter’s darkling clouds arise, Or from the north stern Boreas blows, And storm and tempest round him throws, 254 A CALL TO INDUSTRY. Assiduously they drag the grain, Heedless the while of toil and pain ; And with sufficiency in store, Tranquilly wait the winter o’er. Hence scorn not wisdom to acquire Like them to usefulness aspire ; In cheerful toil the day be spent, The while on coming years intent, For which with carefulness provide, While health and vigour thee abide. Now let industry nerve thy arm, And ardent toil thy bosom warm ; Thy little increase husband well, Which in the end a tale will tell, And in the smile of providence, Ensure thee humble competence. And when thy head is wintered o’er, And health and vigour are no more, And loosed the cord and broke the bowl, And closed the windows of thy soul ; Then shall thy youthful care be owned, Thy age with peace and plenty crowned ; Thy feet he gathered up in peace, When comes the summons of release. 255 THE &TORK, The blithesome tenants of the air, Of wilder instinct taught, For man’s instruction, truths declare, With soundest wisdom fraught. Obedient to a sovereign hand, They never rebels prove ; But prompt to utter the command, From instinct never rove : Whilst of imperial reason led, Full oft is man astray; Whose soul on husks is vilely fed, And under passion’s sway. The fowl and brute, or tame — or wild — * A changeless law is theirs : By boastful error oft beguiled, Man of the right despairs. 256 THE STORK. Lift up the eye — where yonder steers The stork its steady flight, And which the filial burden bears ; And marvel at the sight. When age their parents’ wings impairs, And in their flight they fail, As mindful ’twere of former cares Their instincts thus prevail. Not left neglected and forlorn, To pine in want and pain, The aged on their wings upborne, Their native heavens regain ! And gladly the appointed task Is by the young discharged; Nor, whence their virtue, vainly ask But be thy heart enlarged. More wise than they, own the reproof, Instruction thence receive, Nor from thy parents stand aloof, But all their wants relieve. Be it thy unaffected care, When health and vigour cease, With their infirmities to bear, And close their eyes in peace. THE STORK. 257 So may the blessing from on high Thy little household fill ; Concord and love thy dwelling nigh, Each bosom fondly thrill: So may a child or friend be thine Thy hoary hairs to smooth, To pour the balm, the oil and wine Thy years’ decline to soothe. And after long and honored days, The bourne of life when past, Thy song of rapture it will raise, To meet them at the last. Where for them, here who faithful are, Preserved by power divine, The Saviour doth a place prepare, Whose glories ne’er decline. 258 LINES WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF ST. STEPHEN^ CHURCH, AT KIRKSTALL, BEING STRUCK BY LIGHTNING, WHICH OCCURRED ON THE 29TH APRIL, 1833. What voice is that from heaven’s high cope, In mighty thunders breaks, At whose dread sound the nations droop, And earth astounded quakes? It is Jehovah’s awful voice, And which proclaims him near, In whom the righteous may rejoice, But sinners quail with fear. Borne on the cherub's tempest wing, He visits terrene skies ; Lightnings around him radience fling, The storm before him flies. LINES ON KIRKSTALL CHURCH. 259 Because of sin the Lord comes down, Whose cry ascends on high : And who may dare his wrathful frown — Or stand when he is nigh ? We own thee, O thou Sovereign Lord! Thy presence we adore ; Broke thy commands, abused thy word, We deprecate thy power. Our sin hath multiplied to heaven, Nor have we duly mourned ; Against thy judgments we have striven, And all thy mercies spurned. And for thy broken statutes, hence Thy fearful thunders drop ; Thy judgments at thy house commence — And where shall vengeance stop? But turn us, Lord, in mercy turn; Now may we hear the rod : Nor further let thy anger burn, Thou sin avenging God. And may we prize the day of grace, Thou dost in mercy give ; And may we seek thy smiling face, Return, repent, and live. THE CONSOLATION.* A flic’s fair and sunny region, Contrast of its moral gloom, Evil, whose dread name is legion, There restrainlessly doth roam ; Yet my birth-place and my dwelling Still my day dreams it inspires And against my fate rebelling, There I turn with fond desires. Borne from thence by lawless power, Still I shudder at the thought, Of the dark mysterious hour, My captivity which wrought : Still the lurid flame’s ascending, Lays my home in ruins low ; Still my kindred’s blood is blending, Made by ruthless hands to flow. * This was written at the request of an aged friend as a counterpart for “Cowper’s Complaint” which she had worked on muslin. THE CONSOLATION. By the oppressor overtaken, Now I feel the captive’s chain — Memory, thou dost thus awaken All my former woe and pain : But it may not be disclosed What thy blood stained rolls present Woes to which e’en yet exposed, Language may not give them vent. Strength by toil incessant wasted, Broken slumber’s scarce renew, When again to labor hasted, Long ere past the morning’s dew. And the lash by tyrants wielded, Oft remorselessly applied; Though to it submission yielded Pity sternly is denied. Time nor season toil assuages, Burning suns the strength consume And when loud the tempest rages, Still exposure is my doom. But above the oppressor’s chiding Is no voice of mercy heard? In the shade of woe abiding, Still is hope to be deferred? s THE CONSOLATION. 203 Hark ! a Saviour interposes, Sends me messages of love ; Bonds more dire than these unlooses, Bids me all his mercy prove. Tells me with his blood he bought me; Though an outcast calls me his : Welcome then the chain which brought me, To partake the Christian’s bliss. In these realms, or else detested, Jesu’s messagers proclaim, To the soul in sin arrested, All the sweets of Jesu’s name. I no more, my lot bewailing, In captivity repine ; Faith triumphantly prevailing, Jesus whispers — I am thine. And what blessings still are given ! Further mercies are in store : Bright my promises af heaven — What may I desire more? Trumpet tongued, o’er ocean breaking, Britain’s voice proclaims us free; Britain in her strength awaking, Breaks the bonds of slavery. THE CHRISTIAN’S CONSOLATION. In fierce temptation’s dreadful hour. The enemy of souls, Too watchful ever to devour, His floods upon me rolls ; And in the fearful whirlpool tost, His feeble prostrate prey, My rudder and my anchor lost, And haulsers torn away ; E’en now I perish in despair,— But, ah ! a beacon bright Looms through the dark tempestuous air, And cheers me with its light. And aid is nigh : — a Saviour’s hand Is interposed for me ; He speaks and at his high command, Destruction sets me free : 04 the Christian’s consolation. For though upon the foaming wave, I hang in dire suspense, His power omnipotent can save, And snatch me even thence. He bids the greedy sea restore, The storms of sorrow cease ; The howling tempest raves no more, And all is joy and peace. To him I’ll turn, to him I’ll cry, And pour my soul in prayer, And to his arms of mercy fly, And find a refuge there. Nor will he e’er reject my plea, The blood himself has spilt ; From every sin he’ll set me free, And wash away my guilt. And he will joy for mourning give, All fear and sorrow quell ; And at the last my soul receive, With him in bliss to dwell. 265 ON THE STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. More to be desired are they than gold, yea than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. Psalm xix. 10. Search, said the living word, the scriptures o’er ; Eternal life in them ye think ye have : And they are they which testify my power, To kill and make alive, destroy and save. Ah, pleasing task, the search for truth divine ! To trace the source whence streams of life begin ; To bear the gem forth of its ocean mine, Beamed with the effulgence of its origin. How shrinks Golconcla’s lesser diamond blaze ! Nor Indiana’s pearl therewith compares : Mere scintillations are their brightest rays, Whilst wisdom’s pearl supernal splendour wears. 266 ON THE STUDY OF THE SCBITTUBES. Let others anxious after much increase, Their canvass spread for other climes to speed, At Moloch’s shrine to sacrifice their peace, And for the love of gold to toil and bleed. Far other cares engage my anxious thought : All price exceeding is the boon I seek : With silver nor with heaps of gold tis bought ; Nor human language may its value speak. Where then the treasure ? where may it be found ? The word is nigh me, even on my lip : And may the blessing to my heart be bound ; Nor, life enduring, may I let it slip. Here from the law to human weakness given, Into my soul effused the living word, Blessed with the welcome influence of Heaven, The spirit’s kindly silent voice is heard. And hope it breathes ; and whispers all is peace * And sure the haven of eternal rest, Where the yet captive spirit finds release, With the full vision of its Saviour blest. A PORTRAITURE. The cynic muse whose is the falcon’s eye, Her neigbours’ parts or foibles to descry, For upward flight, her touring pinion plumes, The steady gaze and watchful mood assumes ; Ready to pounce upon and bear away, Soon as appeareth her accustomed prey. And who is he ? her talons even courts, And fearlessly aneath her eyry sports ; The fate inviting over him that pends, And which ere long in direful swoop descends : But whom with recklessness she may not tear, By mercy taught forbearance and to spare. Full well is known that quick discerning eye, Which ’tis no easy matter to pass by ; For, sentry like, thought’s portals it commands, And, as in dread of gantlopes, wakeful stands : A PORTRAITURE. 1268 Nor ought may enter unexamined there, Though warily its vigilance we dare. And if vain folly raise the dauntless front — Exposure daring, fearless of the brunt — Or puerile or bold her errors be, Or which are tissued with iniquity. Caught in the fact — the lash is quick applied, And scarce restrained although peccavi cried ; And if mayhap with him disposed to try The battle of his withering scrutiny, Presumption too, not easily dismayed, Of borrowed plumage promptly disarrayed, And, all his fancied glories vanished clean, Is in his native impotency seen. As various characters before him rise, They may not palm on him the specious guise. All their pretensions it is his to test, And of their flimsy coverings divest, Whilst with the ready tongue that never spares His doubts and his misgivings he declares : He questions this, or that in doubt involves, Or those vain phantasies at once dissolves, Or slyly asks that such be made more plain , The whys and wherefores anxious to obtain. Unpractised he in the deceit of schools, — And spurning even their prudential rules, Which to observe, with him were truly vain, The thoughts that rise unmindful to retain ; And which too oft are in the bosom hid, To utterance by courtesy forbid, A FROTRAITURE . Which, manfully avowed, full often might To erring friends demonstrate what is right. And yet the mind, whose sole delight it seems To render null its neighbours well built schemes, And of the dreams illusive hope inspires, The baseless fabrics lengths and breadths requires And whose suspicions soon anon upstirred, Still closely questions whatsoever heard Amid pretending crowds, who, weak and vain, Of error fond, straightforward truth disdain ; And, lost themselves in labyrinthal ways, The stern inspector’s cautious views dispraise, Who, every shade of action noting down, Deception visits with severest frown : We may not therefore, fro ward though it be, Deem it deficient as to charity ; For reasons powerful may be adduced Why plainest proofs may sometimes be refused, And proud pretence is oft disguised so well, That which is her or truth is hard to tell. The world is all deception; and there’s need We should not lightly on its dictum feed, But its reports with care suspicious hear, And falsehood and perversion ever fear ; For caution though it often breeds offence, With its defaults we better may dispense, Than fond credulity’s — so soon deceived — With whom as truth all is alike believed. 270 A PORTRAITURE. Full oft the quarry lawful may appear, And scarcely may the muse her power forbear, In loftier flights or lowly ambuscade, To sport the satire or the gasconade Against offenders chastisement who need, And who nor other modes of vengeance heed : And unrestricted whither she may rove, In airy flights her strength of wing to prove, From hill, or valley, wood, morass, or stream, Or beetling rock, to snatch the straying game ; Still would she justly portion all their due, Nor with fierce talons all alike pursue. So then a truce to what may adverse seem, Or virtue running into the extreme, To those reproof resentfully who bear, Or to the weak too oft offensive are : And failings scarcely ceasing yet to mourn, To virtue’s side we therefore, fondly turn, That always doth more fair and bright appear, Seen through the medium of a falling tear, Around each object lucid charms that throws, As dew beneath the radiant sunbeam glows. And see the man of froward self divest, Of the right mind, and heart, and lip posses t, Devoting all his powers and energies Upon the shrine the gift that sanctifies : — Such is the power of all sufficient grace. Whose saving influence we attempt to trace, A PORTRAITURE. 271 The lofty thought which in subjection brings, And lowly lays the most exalted things. Who, once rebellious and with guilt imbued, Cancelled their sin and passions wild subdued, As humble vessels, they are prostrate laid Where are the wonders of the cross displayed : For, without strength, and help of man denied, The fallen to upraise, the Saviour died ; And from destruction’s brink in safety brought, Their hearts with rapturous grateful feelings fraught, They own obedience to his sovereign will, And joyfully his purposes fulfil. Nor need they to indulge the vain surmise, For who hath called them needful grace supplies. In Christ the helpless is no longer weak, The stammering tongue his praises learns to speak, More than the worldly wise the simple knows, And the cold heart with purest rapture glows ; And who has courage, who has power and strength, Unto the Saviour who submits at length, Tenfold in might his joyous way pursues, And all opposing enemies subdues, The while he owns the victory not his own, And at his Master’s feet presents the crown. And such is he who now employs my song, In will unpliant and in purpose strong, Oneness of aim his energies directs, And compromise with promptitude rejects: 27 2 A PORTRAITURE. His heart assured that he is in the right, Unmeaning doubts no more his fears excite; Nor from conviction is it his to stray — No sophist’s art may turn him thence away. But prone as nature is such gifts to spoil, And contact with the infectious world to soil, Which, of deception full, nor need surprise Disturb our minds if errors hence arise ; Still — in our humble judgments nor severe, We find that sympathy is wanting here. Our weaker fellows lenity demand, And frailty oft requires the gentle hand ; And soothful balms may well suffice to heal The ulcerous wounds which on the vitals steal, Whilst irritants which stronger minds nor move, As direful as is the disease may prove, Perfection — it is not for man to boast ; A mere approximation at the most, Or as it were, the promise or the germ Alone is ours — if absolute the term. So then the foible gladly we excuse, Nor to the worth remaining praise refuse — Especially, when probing deep, we find It nor results from apathy of mind; For let occasion make a clear demand ; His hand and heart responsively expand, And warmth there is, which, only fanned aright, May friendship’s glow and love’s soft flame excite. And be the power adored that grace bestows! Now holy fire in stones of darkness glows! A PORTRAITURE. 2 Inspiring heat the fervid bosom feels, The heart that softens, fashions, and anneals — A vessel made to do the master’s will, In suffering or in action perfect still. Such influence owning, nature’s gifts the same, ’Tis his to triumph in a Saviour’s name : And that one altar all he has receives, Which to the sacrifice rich savour gives. And mindful of the talent which he holds,* And in a napkin hot unwisely folds, Unto the work he puts the willing hand, And takes the conduct of the little hand, And which to lead where living waters flow, ’Tis all the pleasure he desires to know. Here then he moves within his proper sphere Nor his to succumb to enslaving fear Nor partial views to take of those who are Above, beneath him or with him on par — That is, according to the usual views, Which in the world it is our wont to use ; For in the sight of God full well we know, There are no great or little, high or low : Who, in the dust, as precious is his soul, As his whose office kingdoms to control. To all alike — entrusted to his care, The toil and hardships of the day who bear Or who from trials seem to be more free, — Faithful and true it is his wont to be. 274 A PORTRAITURE. Tis his reproof and counsel to afford, Drawn from a source divine — the living word ; Nor with unmeaning leniency he spares, But the dread message openly declares — Unless repentant death is the reward Of those who Mammon more than God regard. And far from him that strange morbidity, The while he doth his fellow’s danger see, And, with mistaken kindness, yet will tell Destruction’s votary that all is well, And with soft words compose the soul to sleep, And of its dreadful doom unconscious keep ; Fearing forsooth the plainness of his speech May in his little circle cause a breach. No — though his gladsome feelings may abound, When the o’erflowing class is gathered round, Far otherwise the word of life he learns, And all such unattempered mortar spurns : His maxim is, — let Truth alone prevail, Though earth’s foundations and the heaven’s should fail. And hear him when the contrite sinner mourns ; Or when the weary wanderer returns — A precious spoil, o’er which triumphant songs Burst forth from Christian and angelic tongues; Or when the doubtful, in a darksome hour, Pleads his un worthiness and want of powder; Or those beneath a load of grief who droop, And almost in despair relinquish hope; A PORTRAITURE. a Or the cold-hearted in the plain who stays, And lingeringly the call to flee obeys; Or when with vile and sacrilegious hands, Presumption at the altar shameless stands, And boasts his gifts, and ardent feelings feigns, And the more humble publican disdains; Or, when with pure and unaffected grace, With light, and love, and joy lit up the face, The lowly follower of the spotless lamb, Rejoices in the all-atoning name: In mental vision anxiously surveyed, And each condition in the balance weighed, Accordingly as every one requires, And wisdom from above his thoughts inspires, A word in season he to all imparts — To comfort and encourage broken hearts ; Who mourn in Zion — them to raise and cheer, And to the winds to bid them give their fear; The sinner rouse ; the sleeper to awake ; And urge the captive soul the chain to break ; And who are happy in the Saviour’s love, The fulness of redeeming grace to prove : Mindful the while to warn us not to trust In the weak arm whose origin is dust, Or by unaided efforts seek, to rise And grope our way to mansions in the skies, Which, who presumptuous, ventures to assay He of destruction is the certain prey. It is in strength divine alone we can Contest the weakness incident to man ; 276 A PORTRAITURE, And the proud reason we so fondly boast, A fragile thing, a bruised reed at most, In spite of all that moralists may say, Still leads us in the maze of sense astray, Until reclaiming grace the will subdues, The maker’s image in the soul renews, And passions strong, whose power we long have mourned, Into their proper channels have been turned ; Guided aright, their potent energies Will aid us in our progress to the skies ; And reason too, to earth no more confined, A higher office is to her assigned, The raptured soul in descants sweet to lead, And on supernal joys more richly feed. And thus renewed — the Ethiop dark no more, The loathsome leper cleansed from every sore, We then rejoice in Mary’s “better part,’-’ And give to God the lip, the life, the heart. And thus with careful hand he seeks to guide His little flock the living streams beside, Whose fertile waters gives the hay its bloom, The lily fairness and the rose perfume! Nor in his private course less earnest he Well to perform the law of charity; But of the secrets virtue would conceal With tell-tale gravity I’ll not reveal. Enough for him eternity will tell When, at the last pronouncing all is well, A ^PORTRAITURE . 277 To him, through grace, abundant entrance given, He is admitted to that blissful Heaven, Where, done his work, his tears all wiped away, Tis his to triumph in eternal day. Nor more in airy flights the errant muse, Her destined quarry playfully pursues ; And now ’tis her’s in quiet to descend, And sink the cynic in the humble friend. For, though severe the strain may be presumed, With truth my guide and by her light illumed, So far as the ability is mine, Unto her dictum I myself resign. And not in soothful eulogy alone Is the profundity of friendship shown; For oft, the blemish faithfully pourtrayed, Thereby the latent error may be frayed, And brighter aspects be elicited ; When, all the intervening shadows fled, Ere wont to intercept the light diwine, More lustrously the character may shine, With talents useful and with charms endued, Which are by all men with approval viewed ; And which besides a general applause, The more advance the Saviour’s sacred cause. And such the purpose of my feeble pen, If but successful, — oh, how happy! then I deem myself in an invested art, Which to my fellows service may impart. T 278 ACROSTICS. TO MISS JUDITH H. CRAGG, OF SKIPTON. Judge not with harshness what the muse would say, Unto thy name who dedicates the lay, Desirous to regard thee with respect, In wisdom’s ways the while she would direct Thy willing feet, wherein shouldst thou be found, How would thy peace and happiness abound. Hast thou not felt the power of Christ to bless ? And dost thou not the pearl of price possess ? Nor longer therefore fears thy mind molest, Nor strange misgivings agitate thy breast Assured, who for thee, suffered, bled, and died, He, through life’s tempests, will with thee abide : Christ in thy heart — triumphant be the strain ! Eestored to favour, need’st thou doubt again And though enchequered be thy lot in life, Grace shall sustain thee in the deadly strife. Go then rejoicing in thy appointed way, Ere long to triumph iti eternal day. ACROSTICS. 279 TO MR. AND MRS. RICHARD WATSON, ON THEIR MARRIAGE. Reserved my promise till your wedding day, In gladsome strain my peppercorn I pay, Cordially wishing you and your dear bride, Honeymoon bliss in every changing tide. As fortune often frowns, and soon anon, Restores her favour and us smiles upon, Down sink the spirits in our adverse state, And when we prosper are too much elate. Now should affection like mutations show ? Does reason plain such changefulness allow? So then I would the wiser course were yours ; And what the blessings heaven withholds or showers, Resolving all things in the will supreme, A prospect bright shall ever round you beam : Happiness, which the vulgar mind declares As only due to newly wedded pairs, No fleeting guest! shall still your steps attend, Nor cease through life your homestead to befriend. With full determination then prepared, As one in heart each other to regard, To God surrendering every wish and thought, So shall you safely on your way be brought, Of pure affection your allotted share, Nor intermission of its course a fear. t 2 280 ACROSTICS. TO ELIZABETH CARNELLA TAILOR, OF ALMONDBURY. Early in youth and ere thy prime is past, Let thy affections on the Lord be cast ; In Christ accepted and made truly free, Zealous for God, O ! mayst thou ever be: And then whatever trials be thy share, By grace divine enabled all to bear, Easy shall be the yoke wherewith invest, The burden light upon thy shoulders prest; Heaven too in prospect after all thy toil, Comfort supplies ’midst sorrow and turmoil. And who would therefore tarry in the plain? Buin is there, and human hopes are vain ; Nothing on earth deserves a passing thought; Ever too dearly are its pleasures bought. Let not its phantoms then which cross thy way, Lure thee from wisdom’s better path astray, And to the Lord surrendering all thy heart, The strength thou needest he will yet impart, And bring thee safely through the darksome hour, In which the tempter plies his utmost power; Lead thee in paths to perfect bliss which tend, Of which the worldling knows nor measure nor its end Reason too fails its weight to comprehend. ACROSTICS. 281 TO MR. AND MRS. JOHN WARD COWEY OF SHOTLEY BRIDGE, ON THEIR MARRIAGE. Joined in the silken bonds of love, O may you all its sweetness prove Happy, and in each other blessed, Nor of an adverse wish possessed. What therefore will such weal assure, And every needful good secure? Resolved on God to cast your care, Doubt not he will your lot prepare, And through each chequered scene of life, Now smiling, now involved in strife, Down in the vale, or on the hill, Each moment he’ll be with you still. Make then your peace with him — your friend, In him delight, on him depend, Leave all the things of sense behind, And here abiding refuge find. Christ in your hearts ! hence blessings flow, Of which the worldling cannot know, Which though the cup of grief be full, Elates with joy unspeakable; Yea, and in death will still sustain, And be your everlasting gain. ACROSTICS. 8*2 TO MY SISTER. My willing and obedient muse, Again the rhyming strain renews; Reproved as wanting in esteem, Yet prompt her failures to redeem. Respect then what my heart affirms, Inadequate although the terms ; Confined alone to wishes poor, How would I else thy bliss assure. And yet what simply bodes thy weal, Reject not as a thing unreal. Does not the wish suggest the prayer, Securing Heaven’s sufficient care? On this therefore thy hopes recline, Nor doubt that blessings will be thine. TO SARAH ANNE SMITH, OF HEAD1NGLEY. Salvation is a sweet and joyful sound, And in its proofs stupenduous and profound ; Resistles too the truth that God is love, And which the worldly wise may not disprove : How happy then herein who have a part, And to the Lord have given all their heart ! No toil o’ercomes them, nor afflictions vex, Nor thickly gathering cares their souls perplex Evenly borne above the floods of strife, Safely they pass each chequered scene of life. Mayst thou be of this source of peace possest, In Jesus find thy portion and thy rest, To whom thy every hope and fear refer — His hand is strength, his wisdom cannot err. ACROSTICS. 283 TO MRS. GRAY Supported in thy latter years’ decline And influenced thy heart by power divine, Redeeming mercy smiles benign on thee, And which is thine unmerited and free ; How grateful therefore should st thou ever be ! Go onward then and in the strength of grace, Run with increased delight thy Christian race, And Jesu’s infinite and boundless love, Yet shall thy comfort and thy solace prove. TO HANNAH MARIA BERRY, OF ALMONDBURY. How happy they, who in their early youth, Are led divinely to embrace the truth? Not theirs to taste the bitterness of sin, Nor feel the pangs of dire remorse within, Aroused betimes to shun reversioned wrath, Haply through grace they find the better path. May such, like Mary’s, be thy happy choice And mayst thou in redeeming love rejoice, Restored to favour through the Saviour’s plea, In him accepted and made truly free. And thus, nor misimproved thy day of grace, But promptly entered the appointed race, Each talent thine, a sacrifice complete, Return to him who gave, an offering meet; Remembering now before thou feel the rod, Youth is the time to give thyself to God, 2 gf ACROSTICS. TO MRS. WHITELEY. May every blessing thee attend, And mayst thou never want a friend, Ready to chase the starting tear, Thy joy to share, thy heart to cheer : Happy in what kind Heaven bestows, And from humanity that flows. When heaves with care thy anxious breast. Harrassed in mind, by fears opprest, Informed of that which grief allays. To things above thy mind upraise ; E’en then shall joy revisit thee, Laden and weary though thou be ; E’en then, if so grief nor removes, Yet, sanctified, a blessing proves. TO MISS MARY HOBSON OF MYTHOLM BRIDGE. Much hast thou seen of earthly things in all their varying forms, As summer brightly shone around or pelted wintry storms ; Resolved whatever were thy lot thy soul in peace to keep, Yet hast thou found there is no rest upon the heaving deep : Here thwarted are the best of plans, cross currents lead astray, Or raging tempests rise and blot from view the open- ing day. But let thy mind be fixed in God and on him cast thy care, So shall he hasten thy relief and thee through danger bear ; Of blessings too a portion give so far as life requires, Nor in the hour of death forsake but perfect thy desires- ACROSTICS. 285 TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES INGHAM SPENCER. Just entered on the stage of life his journey to commence, As quickly went the mandate forth, and he was sum- moned hence ; Made happy though in Jesu’s love, the kind release he hailed, Ere that through suffering extreme, his strength en- tirely failed: So is it said in holy writ, the righteous man beloved, In early prime of years cut off, from evil is removed ; Nor would we therefore dare complain, or question the behest, Grievous however be the stroke, since what God wills is best. Here then we rest, though nature may constrain the bitter tear, As oft recurs the thought, he had nor home nor kin- dred near: More soft the pillow we presume smoothed by a mother’s hand, So also that a father’s prayers more influence command : Prevented in his wished return across Atlanta’s main, Each wonted comfort sickness craves for them he sighed in vain; Not that he was alone, but still, a stranger’s kindest art, Could not supply a parent’s love or kindred balm im part : Escaped however all his toils, and nature’s trial o’er, Rest he has found where scattered friends unite to part no more. 286 ACROSTICS. TO MISS MARTHA ELIZABETH SMITH, OE HEADINGLEY. May Heaven uphold thee in thy way, — the slippery path of youth, — Around thee his protection cast, and guide thee in the truth ; Restored to favour through his grace, may light upon thee shine: The upper and the nether springs — their blessings all be thine. How happy in thy heritage, if such thy portion be ! And he who gave himself to death designs the whole for thee ; E’en now he waiteth to impart the fullness of his grace. Looks on thee that he may reveal the brightness of his face. In him thou mayst acceptance have, thy sins be cast behind ; Sealed is the promise, and who seek, in faith, shall surely find : A suffering life the Saviour led and bore a death of shame, By which he might thy wandering feet from error’s path reclaim. Escape is thine; for yet there is a day of hope and grace — To-day he’ll hearken to thy voice, and with his love embrace. He calls thee: hasten and obey, nor tarry in the plain: Salvation spurned, oh! say who can the load of guilt sustain? More promptly therefore fix thy choice, the Lord thy portion be, In faith the promises receive, and in the son be free : Then shall thy light on earth be seen which men shall glorify; Hereafter too, in Jesus blest, with him thou It reign on high. AC BOSTICS. 287 TO MISS ELIZABETH COWLING : AGED TEN YEARS. Each minute, Bessy, I advise should be with care employed ; Let not the moment as it flies be of improvement void : In useful tasks or healthful play ’tis needful to engage, So mayst thou cheerful spend the day. and well pre- pare for age. And from the path of truth nor swerve, to wisdom’s voice give ear; But chief of all thy Maker serve, thy fathers’ God revere. Earth nor produces lasting joys, her fairest blossoms droop ; The worm the sweetest bud destroys, and disappoints our hope : — How then can mortals trust in these, which even when possest, Can only for a moment please, and then their charms divest? Of all created things beware, so empty then and vain, With caution grasp thy wonted share and wishes vain restrain : Leave earthly vanities behind, to heaven direct thy way ; In God be all thy cares resigned, and he will be thy stay : Nor evil needst thou ever fear; he’ll shield thy head from woe, Give thee of life a foretast, here, and guide thee safely through. 288 ACROSTICS. TO MISS SARAH ANN SHEPHERD. So then the humble muse would fain Address thee in a blithesome strain, Regardless though the world may sneer, And my pretensions hardly bear ; Happy if thou but kindly own, And with thy smile my efforts crown. Now would I wish thee every joy, Nor whisper ought of an alloy ; Smooth be the path which thou must tread, Health on thy brow, and plenty spread, Each moment shielded from alarm, Protected by the Almighty’s arm. Hence wouldst thou such thy lot should be, E’en now learn thou to bow the knee, Regard with awe the Word of Truth, Depart not from the guide of youth. J. BUCKTON, PRINTER, BRIGGATE, LEEDS. 289 SUBSCRIBERS. The Right Hon. the EARL of CARLISLE. The Right Hon. the EARL FITZWILLIAM, 2 copies. The Right Hon. LORD WHARNCLIFFE. KIRKSTALL. Allen, Mr. Martin Bannister, Mr. John Bannister, Mr. Robert Barrett, Mr. George Barrett, Mr. John Barrett, Mr. Jon., junr. Beckett, W., Esq., M.P. 4 copies. Beech, Mr. R. A. Beecroft, G. S., Esq., 2 copies. Bishop, Edward, Esq. Blackett, Mr. John Bowers, Mr. James Buckley, Mr. Geo. Butler, A., Esq. Butler, J. O., Esq., 2 copies. Butler, T., Esq., 2 copies. Carr, Mr. G. S. Clayton, Miss Dickinson,. Mr. W. Dutton, Mr. Jas. Ellis, Mrs. Firth, W., Esq. Gay, Mr. R. Goodson, Mr. John, jun. Goodson, Mr. William Gott, John, Esq., Wither, 2 copies. Haresceugh, Mr. Jas. Hargrave, Miss Susanna Hargreave, John, Esq. 2 copies. Harrison, Mr. Benjamin Heptonstall, Mrs. Hudson, Miss Hudson, Mr. William Hutchinson, Mr. Jon. Jackson, Mr. Will. Killen, Mr. Abel Labron, John, Esq. Lowe, Mr. Edward Lunn, Mr. James Mathers, Mr. Jos. Musgrave, Sim., Esq., 4 copies. Nailor, Mr. Jas. Ogden, Mr. John Perkin, Mr. Jas. 290 SUBSCRIBERS. Perkin, Mr. John Pratt, Mr. Meredith Pratt, Mr. Robert Raistrick, Mr. Jos. Short, Rev. H. M., M.A. 2 copies. Slater, Mr. Robert Snowden, Mr. Jos. Stead, Mr. Simeon Tailor, Mr. Dowijem Tattersall, Will., Esq. TordofF, Mr. Thos. Watson, Mr. Jos. Watson, Mr. Thos. Webster, A., Esq. Willoughby, Mr. John Wood, John, Esq. HEADTNGLEY. Arundel, Samuel, Esq. Audus, Mrs. Bayldon, R., Esq. Brooke, Mr. B. Booth, Mr. Jas. W. Cooke, Mr. Charles F. Cooke, Mr. William Dewsbury, Robt., Esq. Dobson, Mr. Matt. Forrest, Mr. David Forster, John, Esq. Green, Miss Hayward, Geo., Esq. Hillas, Mr. John HinchlifFe, Geo., Esq. Holmes, Samuel, Esq. Lupton, Miss Marshall, J. G., Esq., M.P. 4 copies. Newsome, Reid, Esq. Oddy, Mr. William Raper, John, Esq. Rowling, Samuel, Esq. Scholefield, Wm., Esq. Shaw, John Hope, Esq. Smith, Mr. George Thompson, Mr. George Turner, Rev. James, B.A. Watson, Mrs. Williamson, Rev. W., M.A. Wilson, Mr. Frederick Wilson, Mr. John CHAPEL ALLERTON. Butterfield, Mr. Jos. Farrar, Mr. John Nailor, Mr. Joshua Thackrah, Mr. William BURLEY. Bretherwick, Mr. Thos. Cooper, Mr. John Crawshaw, Mr. Geo. Handley, Mr. Will. Hopps, Mr. Michael Horsman, Mr. John Lishman, Mr. M. Oates, Mrs. (Meanwood) Orman, Mr. Jos. Robinson, John, Esq. Servant, Miss M. Wainman, Mr. H. 2 copies. Whitham, Joseph, Esq. 2 copies. Whitham, Stephen, Esq. Whitham, Mr. John Wilkes, Mr. John Wright, Mr. Thos. ALMONDBURY. Berry, Mr. Gamaliel Cocker, Mr. B. (Launceston, Australia) Cocker, Mr. Jos. (Dewsbury) Cocker, Mr. W. Nobles, Mr. Godfrey SUBSCRIBERS. 291 DALTON. Beaumont, Mrs. John Tolson, James Esq., (late) Tolson, Mr. John Tolson, Miss Martha Tolson, Miss Eliza Sheard, Miss R. (Kirkheaton) WOODHOUSE. Garforth, Mrs. Heaps, Mr. George HOLBECK. Alderson, Miss Gott, Mr. Benjamin Parker, Mr. W. H. Wilkinson, Mr. H. THURSTONLAND. England, Mr. W. (Mytholm Bridge) Fearnlev, Mr. G. Hirst, Mr. Joseph 2 copies. Hobson, Miss (Mytholm Bridge) Johnson, Miss (New Mills) Moorhouse, — Esq. (Stony Bank) PONTEFRACT. Dewsbury, Mr. Thomas Johnson, Mr. William Johnson, Miss H. Kaye, Mr. John SCARBOROUGH. Reid, H., Esq. 4 copies. Whiteley, Mrs. HUDDERSFIELD. Beaumont, Mrs. 2 copies. Booth, Samuel, Esq. Haigh, Miss (New Street) Heaps, Thomas A. Esq. Jowette, Mr. Joseph Kaye, Joshua, Esq. Mallinson, William. Esq. Richardson, Mr. Thomas P. Schwann, Frederick, Esq. Shaw, Benjamin Lister, Esq. Swain, William, Esq. Tattersfield, Mr. John Tolson, Mr. John S. Webb, Thomas, Esq. Willans, William, Esq. BRADFORD. Barber, Mr. Thomas Bentham, Mr. Joseph Cupples, Mr. Alexander Haigh, W. R. Esq. Johnson, Mr. Edward Lowe, Mr. Robert Me Owen, Mr. G. M. Milner, Mr. Daniel Milner, Mr. John Mitchell, John, Esq. Moevike, Mr. Richardson, Mr. John Vickerman, Mr. John BRAMLEY. Smith, Mr. John Smith, Mr. William LEEDS. Allison, Mr. Auty, Mr. Charles Auty, Mr. George Brigg, John N. Esq. Brownbill, Mr. John Buckton, Mr. Joseph Cullingworth, Mr. George Dibbs, Mr. Thomas Dobson, Mr. William H. 292 SUBCMBERS.- Fieldhouse, Mr. John Fiyer, Mr. Frederick • Greenwood, Mr. J. Heaps, Mr. James Hook, Rev. W. F. D.D. Horton, Mr. George Jarvis, Mr. Henry I. Jefferson, Mr. John Johnson, Mr. John Mathers, Mrs. John Naylor, Miss Routledge, Mr. David Spencer, Mr. Ingham Sykes, Miss Tilburn, Mr. Tinsley, Mr Tottie, Thomas W. Esq. Wager, Mr. John Weston, Samuel, Esq. MANCHESTER. Clegge, Mr. George Clegge, Mr. William Nelson, J. E., Esq. Somers, Mr. Thomas Staley, Mr. William Woodhead, Godfrey, Esq. Crosall, Mr. J. W. (Bradford) Dal by, Mr. Sami. ,, Field, Mr. R. Mitchell, Mr. Geo. „ Mitchell, Mr. Henry ,, Ardlow, Mr. Joseph Bill, Mrs. C. H. (Clifton, near York) Bilton, Mr. E. (Meanwood) Brownbill,Mr. H. (Wakefield) Buttrey, J. A.Esq.,(Horsforth) Cragg, Miss J. H. (Skipton) Cowling, Mrs. Bicton (Devon) Clapham, Mr. E. (Wilsden) Haley, Mr. J. ( Stanningley) Lawrence, Mr. G. (East Kes- wick) Milner, Miss (Morley) Mitchell, Mr. Jno. (Fulneck) Raynar, Mr. Joseph (Pudsey) Taylor, Miss (Newport, Isle of Wight) Wilson, Mr. W. (Sunderland) Woodhead, Firth, Esq. (Liverpool) Bunting, Rev. W. M. Hannah, Rev. John, D.D. Leake, Rev. Robert Lord, Rev. W. M’ Aulay, Rev. Alex. Macdonald, Rev. G. B. Metliley, Rev. James Newstead, Rev. Robert J. BUCIvTON, PRINTER, BRIGGATE, LEEDS.