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MR. NOBLE’S POEM 
 
 BEFORE 
 
 THE HOUSE OF CONVOCATION 
 
 OF 
 
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 (Triniti) CoTUflf, 
 
 1 857 . 
 

 
 
 
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 A POEM, 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE 
 
 THE HOUSE OF CONVOCATION 
 
 OF 
 
 ®rinit|r (ff-olltg*, 
 
 Wednesday, July 15 , 1857 . 
 
 ' <“ 
 
 
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 BY THE REV. LOUIS L. NOBLE, M. A. 
 
 RECTOR OF TRINITY CHURCH, FREDONIA, N. Y. 
 
 HARTFORD: 
 
 PRESS OF CASE, LOCKWOOD AND COMPANY. 
 
 1857. 
 
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 The Rev. A. F. OLMSTED, 
 
 0! Society Hill, S. C. 
 
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POEM. 
 
 I. 
 
 Far away in fair New England, on the gentle sloping hills, 
 Lived Colonus in the dwelling deep embow’d in maple 
 
 shades. 
 
 Round it lay the grounds paternal, lilied ponds, and pebbly 
 rills : 
 
 Pines, and drooping elms, and orchards, folded in the 
 
 grassy glades. 
 
 Early was he wedded to the fairest of New England’s 
 
 maids : 
 
 Love and holiness of heart she brought him on the marriage 
 day: 
 
 Gentleness of spirit was the jewel in her glossy braids : 
 Rosy faces, silvery voices, round the table, out at play, 
 Made the year melodeous, blooming, made the months the 
 month of May. 
 
 II. 
 
 When the snow-drifts from the pastures melted in the April 
 rain, 
 
 In their whiteness lay the fleecy flocks upon the flowery 
 
 green ; 
 
 July heard the mowers in the meadows, saw the yellow 
 grain; 
 
 August prop’d the boughs; September shook them of their 
 
 crimson sheen; 
 
6 
 
 At the fireside, in the garner, winter sang the golden 
 
 mean; 
 
 Quiet Sundays listen’d to the honey’d hive, and cooing dove, 
 To the sounding steeple, lofty poplars peeping out between, 
 Calling households up to worship, and the saving word of 
 love, 
 
 And the poor and weary to the hearing of the home above. 
 
 III. 
 
 On the mountains, near the azure, airy lines of beauty lay; 
 Down upon the ancient forests cliffs of hoary granite 
 
 frown’d; 
 
 O’er their shaggy bosoms wander calm and tempest night 
 and day ; 
 
 In their ragged chasms torrents white and angry whirl 
 
 and bound ; 
 
 Through a rocky gorge, terrific, rough, a stately river 
 
 wound, 
 
 Glassing in its lucid blackness scowling crag and evergreen; 
 Moving with majestic stillness through the solitude 
 
 ' profound; 
 
 Sweeping through the fields in graceful windings, — the 
 broader scene, 
 
 Endless brightness,—soothing, endless music to the day 
 serene. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Blowing from the blue Atlantic, breezes fann’d the balmy 
 morn; 
 
 Scatter’d bloom and pollen; sprinkled moisture on the 
 
 grass and flowers; 
 
 Breath’d refreshing round the reapers ; cool’d the workers in 
 the corn : 
 
 Lights and shadows play’d upon the clover in the leafy 
 
 bowers, 
 
7 
 
 Deftly weaving there their dapple carpet through the 
 
 sunny hours: 
 
 Softly silken mists, the mountain’s shining flocks, went up 
 on high ; 
 
 Creeping round the waterfalls and ledges, where the 
 
 hemlock towers; 
 
 Leaving snowy locks upon the pointed spruces,—passing by 
 Pinnacle and peak to pasture on the sunshine in the sky. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Blowing from the blue Atlantic, bringing murmurs, spreading 
 motion, 
 
 Breezes roll’d the billows from the far horizon to the shore: 
 Rocky headlands met them, beat them, boldly beat them back 
 to ocean; 
 
 Field and woodland feel the angry conflict, vales resound 
 
 the roar: 
 
 When the green battalions charged the precipices steep 
 
 and hoar, 
 
 Rushing on their solid bucklers, worn from many an ancient 
 year, 
 
 Smiting hard their rugged helmets, moveless, firm 
 
 forevermore, 
 
 Bravely crag and cliff received them, each upon his granite 
 spear; 
 
 Pierc’d them, toss’d them into brightness, plung’d them into 
 blackness drear. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Where the castled gates were tumbled in the tide, a shatter’d 
 heap, 
 
 Bursting on the hollow gloom and terror of the hidden 
 
 night, 
 
 Far into the horrid caverns rush’d the lions of the deep, 
 Flashing with phosphoric glory, shaggy, fleec’d with 
 
 sparkling light: 
 
 
8 
 
 Hark, redoubling thunders ! See the carnage of the billowy 
 
 fight! 
 
 See the light-wing’d surf upon the reef!—upon the shoals 
 abreast the land! 
 
 Tossing sheaves of briny splendour, twisting jewel’d wreaths 
 
 of white, 
 
 Swiftly wheel the crested squadrons green and lustrous to 
 the strand: 
 
 Lo, they perish ! in their glory perish, on the trembling sand ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thus in view of mountain sunsets, and the booming breakers’ 
 foam, 
 
 Lapp’d in strong and beauteous nature, bosom’d in the 
 
 bounteous year, 
 
 Lay that old New England Homestead, stood the brown 
 paternal home, 
 
 Ever to his fathers precious, ever to Colonus dear. > 
 
 From a restless spirit, or ambition, what has he to fear ? 
 
 Generations labour’d on those pleasant acres ; would not 
 he ? 
 
 Cheerful, happy in the present, hopeful of the future, 
 
 here,. 
 
 Marks of noble patience left they, from the mountains to 
 the sea: 
 
 Would not he, or they, work on content, brave-hearted, 
 fearless, free ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 “ Would or would not,” was no question with Colonus. 
 Home, with him, 
 
 Was no mere convenience, soulless, hollow shell to turn 
 
 the shower; 
 
 Wood and stone to ward the wind and sunshine, warm a 
 chilly limb ; 
 
 Transient pleasure’s cold pavilion, passion’s perishable 
 
 bower; 
 
 < 
 
9 
 
 No mere hostelry to feed and sleep in, for an idle hour ; 
 
 Place of sale and barter, lightly to be bought itself, and 
 sold ; 
 
 Not a castle whence to sally, in the war for place and 
 
 power ; 
 
 In the graceless contest with the hard and heartless world for 
 gold ; 
 
 Where to doze in luxury, in poverty to sour or mould. 
 
 IX. 
 
 “Would, or would not,” was no question with Colonus. 
 Home, with him, 
 
 Was, in sooth, no mere convenience, Shell or Shield from 
 
 heat or shower; 
 
 But the ordinance of Mercy, when were placed the Cherubim 
 
 At the gates of Eden, and our parents, in that mournful 
 
 hour, 
 
 • 7 
 
 Enter’d first the waste of thorns, first knew the smiling 
 
 skies to lower: 
 
 Holy ground, where Jacob slumber’d ; saw the Angels go 
 and come : 
 
 Tent or dwelling near the tabernacle of Jehovah’s power, 
 
 Where we make, and worship daily, with our children, as we 
 roam, 
 
 Winding through this wilderness, slowly traveling to the 
 promis’d home: 
 
 X. 
 
 Sacred fold, where youth, protected from the lion, wolf and 
 leopard, 
 
 Meekly trusting, loving, fearing the paternal will and 
 
 power, 
 
 Hears the call, and learns to follow lovingly the heavenly 
 Shepherd: 
 
 Dear tradition, of the olden speaking every vocal bower ; 
 
 2 
 
 X 
 
10 
 
 Love and tenderness departed looking every tearful flower : 
 Palm and fountain in the desert, whence the heated sands we 
 roam; 
 
 Whither for refreshing weary we return: God’s blessed 
 
 dower: 
 
 Pledge and token of the peerless, priceless heritage to come : 
 Omen of enduring substance; symbol of eternal home. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Lightly o’er Colonus rolled the quiet waves of ripening 
 years, 
 
 Tinging hue and lustre in the ruddy cheek and raven 
 
 hair: 
 
 Still he sees the mountain sunset, still the sounding ocean 
 hears, 
 
 Musing in the tender twilight under antique maples 
 
 there. 
 
 Of the changes and the chances of the world he had his 
 
 share: 
 
 Children, come from God, to God returning early, left their 
 traces 
 
 Round the bosom’s living fountains; footprints of their 
 
 beauty rare 
 
 On the stainless lilies ; sweet memorials of their cherub faces 
 Where the loveliness of sunlight and of moonlight soft 
 embraces, 
 
 XII. 
 
 In the smiling pinks and pansies, in the lone complaining 
 brooks, 
 
 In melodious warbling o’er their dreamless slumber in the 
 
 grave, 
 
 The remembrance of their voices and their sinless lives and 
 looks: 
 
 Children, not so favour’d haply, bidden to remain and 
 
 brave 
 
 
11 
 
 Trouble’s dark and tangled woodlands, and temptation’s 
 
 perilous wave, 
 
 Grew to comely sons and daughters, giving wondrous 
 strength and grace— 
 
 Giving to the household what paternal love from heaven 
 
 would crave : 
 
 Sinking by their lonely worship, meekly, in one warm 
 embrace, 
 
 Nature, neighbors, hearth and altar, home and God’s still 
 
 dwelling place. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But whate’er of change and chances, rolling ’neatli the feet 
 of God, 
 
 Further and yet further fell their billowy forces from the 
 
 heart; 
 
 Sprinkling only harmless spray, where often waves had lash’d 
 the sod; 
 
 Multiplying peace and pouring softer balm on every smart; 
 Giving life a mellower coloring, hues above the power of 
 
 art; 
 
 Making home the dearer in its mosses, and its.deepening 
 brown; 
 
 Eloquently telling, what no common language can impart, 
 How that home-life is the true life,—quiet seed-time of 
 
 renown, 
 
 With an earnest of the harvest, Hopes of an unfading crown : 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Telling that there is in listless leisure, hunting pleasure 
 brief; 
 
 That there is in endless seeking, restless roving to be blest, 
 Less of dignity and gladness, more of labour, care and 
 grief, 
 
 Than in common toil and suffering of the lowliest home 
 
12 
 
 Telling lofty truth, in nature, and the written word confest, 
 That if action makes love conquer, art succeed, ambition 
 climb, 
 
 There is sacred strength in stillness, and majestic might in 
 
 rest; 
 
 That if motion hath its beauty, its necessity, and time, 
 
 There is grandeur in the tranquil; in repose the true 
 sublime. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Hark, the gale upon the mighty deep dark rolling ! Through 
 the night, 
 
 Forward moves the storm, loud speaking, wing’d with 
 
 blackness, plumed with fire, 
 
 Madly walking the proud billows, stepping on their fury 
 white: 
 
 O’er the crisped edges, down the darkness of abysses dire. 
 
 Peril frantic flees, entangled in her terrible attire. 
 
 Lo, the morn, the rosy, breathless morn, is moving o’er the 
 deep! 
 
 Silence hears afar the still, small music of her holy lyre : 
 
 Art thou there, Almighty, that thy seas this glorious Sabbath 
 keep ? 
 
 How divine the stillness of the oceap ! How sublime the 
 sleep ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Hark, the rash tornado in the temples of unchanging green ! 
 Roaring, bow their leafy battlements, and bend the 
 
 rustling towers ; 
 
 Crash the countless arches, snap the column, massy pillars 
 lean ; 
 
 Through the mazy aisles, upon the smoke and thunder of 
 
 the showers, 
 
13 
 
 Wild confusion, thousand-footed, follows; shattering ruin 
 
 scours. 
 
 Lo, the calm! along the firmament how beautiful her feet! 
 Passing beautiful upon the peaceful woods the shining 
 
 hours! 
 
 Waters in the still magnificence their solemn cymbals beat; 
 Solitude and awful gloom their silent psalm of rest repeat. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 What in all this tumult is there, what in these terrific throes, 
 But the passion and the labour with the tranquil to be blest? 
 Thus all deep-most voices ever sound the grandeur of repose, 
 And all mighty motions magnify the excellence of rest. 
 Sober wings, in silence folded, safety find in secret nest; 
 Fast the plumy ostrich o’er the desert from the Arab speeds ; 
 Brilliant pinions on the breezes tempt the arrow to the 
 
 breast; 
 
 Feeds the timid hare in covert, straying o’er the lea she 
 bleeds. 
 
 Of the saving health of stillness nature endless lecture 
 reads.— 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Endless lecture, that the beauty of all being upon earth,— 
 That the rare perfection of all life and effort here below, 
 Flourish in the sacred calmness of some central heart and 
 hearth; 
 
 In the sweet sereneness of the genial dwelling bud and 
 
 blow ;— 
 
 That all restlessness is but impatience perfect rest to 
 
 know ;— 
 
 That confusion fades in order as to water fades the foam ;— 
 That all discontent and longing, and all hasting to and fro, 
 All unsettling of old feelings, all farewells afar to roam, 
 
 Is but hot excitement in the hunt for some completer home. 
 
14 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Look, New England, westward! Lo, thy stalwart sons and 
 rosy daughters 
 
 Leave behind the Alleghanies,—far and forward speed 
 
 amain,— 
 
 Take the rivers, mighty rivers,—furrow fields of emerald 
 waters,— 
 
 Search the winding vallies,—wander over grassy slope and 
 
 plain,— 
 
 Pierce the forest,—wake the solitude, and break its gloomy 
 
 reign,— 
 
 Dot the verdant, changeless billows of the prairie, boundless, 
 lone;— 
 
 Red Apaches, fleet Camanches, wheel upon their wild 
 
 domain, 
 
 Wheel, and flee before them,—still beyond await them waste 
 unknown: 
 
 Virgin empires, climates, all the vast, wide continent they 
 own. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Tell me wherefore all this movement? Why this eager, 
 restless range? 
 
 Merely for the love of sowing, do they sow the fruitless field ? 
 
 Merely, 0 romantic multitudes, the appetite for change ? 
 
 Or by some mysterious impulse driven, by some curse 
 
 defiled, 
 
 Hating home and country, do they flee, like Judah’s 
 
 deathless child ? 
 
 Tell me by what potent spirit prompted ? by what fire possest ? 
 
 By what hope inspired, enkindled? by what glittering 
 
 prize beguil’d ? 
 
 ’Tis the sleepless passion for some lasting, some more perfect 
 rest: 
 
 Happier dwellings, some fair Paradise about the golden west. 
 
15 
 
 XXI. 
 
 So serenely the pure home-life lived Colonus, till the thought 
 Was no more a startling, but a welcome thought, that he 
 
 was old. 
 
 Counted he his locks their whiteness from some coming 
 glories caught, 
 
 As the mountains catch their paleness, and the clouds their 
 
 early gold, 
 
 From the splendours which behind Atlantic waves their 
 
 gates unfold: 
 
 From some fast approaching stillness came the calmness of his 
 breast,— 
 
 Came the sweetness of all nature, that calm sweetness all 
 
 untold, 
 
 In the breaking of the morning, in the twilight of the west, 
 Showing to the soul and senses symptoms of immortal rest. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 So Colonus lived serenely, lived sublimely, till he felt 
 
 All the fullness of the blessing of that calm New England 
 
 home ;— 
 
 Till he felt, that, if the Angels dwell among us, there they 
 dwelt, 
 
 And come hither, bright and fragrant from God’s presence 
 
 there they come ; 
 
 Waiting in the stillness motionless, and in the silence dumb ; 
 Shedding lustre in the wine cup, radiance on the nuptial 
 guest; 
 
 Sprinkling babes with soft effulgence, joyous youth with 
 
 rosy bloom: 
 
 Touching with celestial brightness tenderly the mourners 
 breast, 
 
 When they gently take the parting spirit to its peaceful rest. 
 
16 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 So Colonus lived serenely, lived divinely, till he slept; 
 
 Going out upon a tide of love into the awful night. 
 
 Stately men and graceful women o’er his placid features wept, 
 Joyful in the trust, that he with Christ was walking, 
 
 clothed in white ; 
 
 Waiting with departed saints, and resting in eternal light. 
 In the ground they laid him, looking for that perfect life to 
 come; 
 
 Looking for that final coming, coming terrible and bright. 
 When the sleeping bodies of the faithful quit the tranquil 
 tomb, 
 
 And undying rise with glory to one everlasting home. 
 
 XXIY. 
 
 Far away in fair New England, on the gently sloping hills, 
 Stands the dwelling of Colonus, deep embower’d in maple 
 
 shades ' 
 
 Overlooking lands ancestral, lilied ponds, and glittering rills ; 
 Pines, and arching elms and orchards, folding in the 
 
 fragrant glades. 
 
 Gather they from time to time, the fairest of New England 
 
 maids; 
 
 Coming to the olden home, and keeping jocund holiday : 
 
 In their looks are health and pleasure, grace upon their 
 
 ' glossy braids: 
 
 Rosy faces, silvery voices, round the tables, out at play, 
 
 Make the time melodious, blooming, make the hours the 
 hours of May. 
 
 V 
 
IT 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Cherish, 0 New England, cherish ever these thy rural homes. 
 Garnished by their velvet meadows, by their broad embowering 
 
 trees : 
 
 Leave to those who love them, who revere and love, these 
 happy domes: 
 
 Let their childhood see the daisies ; smell the clover of the 
 
 leas; 
 
 Look from out the mountain windows; play along the 
 
 breaking seas ; 
 
 Feel the stillness of the Lords-Day; blossoms pluck the 
 graves above ; 
 
 Twine their memories with the winding, willowy brooks, 
 
 the birds and bees: 
 
 Round the festive fire be Fancy, Mirth, Affection, interwove : 
 Leave, with home, the love of home and homestead : all is 
 less than love. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Cherish we the Christain home, the old New England home 
 forever ! 
 
 Ever live its true idea ! On the heart its picture wear ! 
 Perish all the precious grace and lovely fashion of it never ! 
 0 to joy and sorrow sacred, consecrate to love and prayer, 
 Lose we not the inspirations of its pure and peaceful air ! 
 Nature’s genial inspirations, nature in her breadth and bloom ; 
 But, with rein upon the spirit strong the restless world to 
 
 dare, 
 
 Faithful, fearless in the tempest, patient, hopeful in the gloom, 
 Look for fields and shades immortal, and the home beyond 
 the Tomb. 
 
 & 
 
.