Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
Hartenus, etc.
|
|
|
|
|
 | Ballads for the Times |  |
191
Hartenus, etc.
PUBLISHED IN 1848.
The New Year.
The old man he is dead, young heir,
And gone to his long account;
Come, stand on his hearth, and sit in his chair,
And into his saddle mount!
And gone to his long account;
Come, stand on his hearth, and sit in his chair,
And into his saddle mount!
The old man's face was a face to be fear'd,
But thine both loving and gay;
O who would not choose for that stern white beard,
A bright young cheek alway?
But thine both loving and gay;
O who would not choose for that stern white beard,
A bright young cheek alway?
The old man he had outlived them all,
His friends, he said, were gone;
But hundreds are wassailing now in the hall,
And true friends every one!
His friends, he said, were gone;
But hundreds are wassailing now in the hall,
And true friends every one!
The old man moan'd both sore and long
Of pleasures past, he said;
But pleasures to come are the young heir's song,
The living, not the dead!
Of pleasures past, he said;
But pleasures to come are the young heir's song,
The living, not the dead!
The old man babbled of old regrets,
Alack! how much he owed:
But the young heir has not a feather of debts
His heart withal to load!
Alack! how much he owed:
But the young heir has not a feather of debts
His heart withal to load!
192
The old man used to shudder, and seem
Remembering secret sin;
But the happy young heir is as if in a dream,
Paradise all within!
Remembering secret sin;
But the happy young heir is as if in a dream,
Paradise all within!
Alas! for the old man,—where is he now?
And fear for thyself, young heir;
For he was innocent once as thou,
As ruddy and blythe and fair:
And fear for thyself, young heir;
For he was innocent once as thou,
As ruddy and blythe and fair:
Reap wisdom from his furrow'd face,
Cull counsel from his fear;
O speed thee, young heir, in gifts and in grace,
And blessings on thee,—New Year!
Cull counsel from his fear;
O speed thee, young heir, in gifts and in grace,
And blessings on thee,—New Year!
All's for the best!
All's for the best! be sanguine and cheerful,
Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise,
Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful,
Courage for ever is happy and wise:
All for the best,—if a man would but know it
Providence wishes us all to be blest,
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Heaven is gracious, and—All's for the best!
Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise,
Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful,
Courage for ever is happy and wise:
All for the best,—if a man would but know it
Providence wishes us all to be blest,
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Heaven is gracious, and—All's for the best!
All for the best! set this on your standard,
Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love,
Who to the shores of Despair may have wander'd,
A waywearied swallow, or heartstricken dove:
All for the best!—be a man but confiding,
Providence tenderly governs the rest,
And the frail bark of His creature is guiding
Wisely and warily all for the best.
Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love,
Who to the shores of Despair may have wander'd,
A waywearied swallow, or heartstricken dove:
193
Providence tenderly governs the rest,
And the frail bark of His creature is guiding
Wisely and warily all for the best.
All for the best! then fling away terrors,
Meet all your fears and your foes in the van,
And in the midst of your dangers or errors
Trust like a child, while you strive like a man:
All's for the best!—unbiass'd, unbounded,
Providence reigns from the East to the West;
And, by both wisdom and mercy surrounded,
Hope and be happy that All's for the best!
Meet all your fears and your foes in the van,
And in the midst of your dangers or errors
Trust like a child, while you strive like a man:
All's for the best!—unbiass'd, unbounded,
Providence reigns from the East to the West;
And, by both wisdom and mercy surrounded,
Hope and be happy that All's for the best!
The Riddle read.
World of sorrow, care, and change,
Even to myself I seem,
As adown thy vale I range,
Wandering in a dream:
All things are so strange.
Even to myself I seem,
As adown thy vale I range,
Wandering in a dream:
All things are so strange.
For, the dead who died this day,
Fair and young, or great and good,
Though we mourn them, where are they?
—With those before the flood;
Equally past away!
Fair and young, or great and good,
Though we mourn them, where are they?
—With those before the flood;
Equally past away!
194
Living hearts have scantly time
To feel some other heart most dear,
Scarce can love the love sublime
Unselfishly sincere,—
Death nips it in its prime!
To feel some other heart most dear,
Scarce can love the love sublime
Unselfishly sincere,—
Death nips it in its prime!
Minds have hardly power to learn
How much there is to know aright,
Can dimly through the mist discern
Some little glimpse of light,—
The order is, Return!
How much there is to know aright,
Can dimly through the mist discern
Some little glimpse of light,—
The order is, Return!
Willing hands but just begin
Wisely to work for God and man,
And some poor wages barely win
As one who well began,—
The Master calls, Come in!
Wisely to work for God and man,
And some poor wages barely win
As one who well began,—
The Master calls, Come in!
Well,—this is well: for well begun
Is all the good man here may do;
He cannot hope to see half done;
A furlong is crept through,
And lo, the goal is won!
Is all the good man here may do;
He cannot hope to see half done;
A furlong is crept through,
And lo, the goal is won!
This is the life of sight and sense,
And other brighter lives depend
On all we here can just commence;
But long before an end
God calls His servant hence.
And other brighter lives depend
On all we here can just commence;
But long before an end
God calls His servant hence.
Take courage, courage: not in vain
The Ruler hath appointed thus;
Account it neither grief nor pain
His mercy spareth us—
It is the labourer's gain.
The Ruler hath appointed thus;
Account it neither grief nor pain
His mercy spareth us—
It is the labourer's gain.
195
Here we begin to love and know;
And when God's willing grace perceives
The plant of Heav'n hath roots to grow,
He plucks the ranker leaves,
And doth transplant it so!
And when God's willing grace perceives
The plant of Heav'n hath roots to grow,
He plucks the ranker leaves,
And doth transplant it so!
Old Haunts.
FOR MUSIC.
I love to linger on my track
Wherever I have dwelt and parted,
In after years to loiter back,
And feel as once I felt,—young-hearted!
My foot falls lightly on the sward
Yet leaves a deathless dint behind it,
With tenderness I still regard
Its unforgotten print, to find it!
Wherever I have dwelt and parted,
In after years to loiter back,
And feel as once I felt,—young-hearted!
My foot falls lightly on the sward
Yet leaves a deathless dint behind it,
With tenderness I still regard
Its unforgotten print, to find it!
Old places have a charm for me
The new can ne'er attain, for ever,
Old faces—how I long to see
Those looks that here can greet me never!
Yet, these are gone:—while all around
Is changing with each changing hour,
I'll anchor on the solid ground
And root my memories there in power!
The new can ne'er attain, for ever,
Old faces—how I long to see
Those looks that here can greet me never!
Yet, these are gone:—while all around
Is changing with each changing hour,
I'll anchor on the solid ground
And root my memories there in power!
196
The Battle of Roleia.
A Military Ballad.
Ye children of the veterans
Who fought for faithless Spain,
And for ungrateful Portugal
Pour'd out their blood like rain,—
Come near me, and hear me,
For I would tell you well
How gallantly your fathers fought,
Or gloriously they fell!
Who fought for faithless Spain,
And for ungrateful Portugal
Pour'd out their blood like rain,—
Come near me, and hear me,
For I would tell you well
How gallantly your fathers fought,
Or gloriously they fell!
I sing Roleia's bloody strife,
The first of many frays,
When iron Wellesley led us on
Invincible always;
Roleia gay and evergreen,
Festoon'd with vines and flowers,
Roleia, scorch'd and blood-bedew'd,—
And half that blood was ours!
The first of many frays,
When iron Wellesley led us on
Invincible always;
Roleia gay and evergreen,
Festoon'd with vines and flowers,
Roleia, scorch'd and blood-bedew'd,—
And half that blood was ours!
The seventeenth of August
It shone out bright and clear,
And still we press'd the Frenchman's flank,
And hung upon his rear;
From Brilos and Obidos
Had we driven the bold Laborde,
And now among the mountain rocks
We sought him with the sword!
It shone out bright and clear,
And still we press'd the Frenchman's flank,
And hung upon his rear;
From Brilos and Obidos
Had we driven the bold Laborde,
And now among the mountain rocks
We sought him with the sword!
197
All golden is the plain with wheat,
All purple are the hills
With luscious vineyards ripe and sweet,
And laced with crystal rills;
Yet must the rills run down with gore,
The corn be trampled red,
Before Roleia's threshing-floor
Is glutted with her dead!
All purple are the hills
With luscious vineyards ripe and sweet,
And laced with crystal rills;
Yet must the rills run down with gore,
The corn be trampled red,
Before Roleia's threshing-floor
Is glutted with her dead!
O cheerily the bugles spoke,
And all our hearts beat high
When over Monte Junto broke
The sun upon the sky;
Right early from Obidos
We gladly sallied then
A goodly host, in columns three,
Of fourteen thousand men.
And all our hearts beat high
When over Monte Junto broke
The sun upon the sky;
Right early from Obidos
We gladly sallied then
A goodly host, in columns three,
Of fourteen thousand men.
Brave Ferguson led on the left,
And Trant the flanking right,
With iron Arthur in the midst,
The focus of the fight;
And fast by Wellesley's gallant side
The Craufurd rode amain,
And Hill, the British soldier's pride,
And Nightingale, and Fane.
And Trant the flanking right,
With iron Arthur in the midst,
The focus of the fight;
And fast by Wellesley's gallant side
The Craufurd rode amain,
And Hill, the British soldier's pride,
And Nightingale, and Fane.
Crouching like a tiger,
In his high and rocky lair,
The Frenchman howl'd and show'd his teeth
And—wish'd he wasn't there;
For Craufurd, Hill, and Nightingale
Flew at him as he lay,
And up our gallant fellows sprang
As bloodhounds on the prey.
In his high and rocky lair,
The Frenchman howl'd and show'd his teeth
And—wish'd he wasn't there;
198
Flew at him as he lay,
And up our gallant fellows sprang
As bloodhounds on the prey.
And look! we hunt the bold Laborde
To Zambugeira's height,—
While Trant with Fane and Ferguson
Outflank him left and right;
And then with cheers we charge the front,
With cheers the foe reply,—
No child's play was that battle brunt,
We swore to win or die!
To Zambugeira's height,—
While Trant with Fane and Ferguson
Outflank him left and right;
And then with cheers we charge the front,
With cheers the foe reply,—
No child's play was that battle brunt,
We swore to win or die!
Rattled loud the muskets' roar,—
We struggled man to man,—
The rugged rocks were wash'd in gore,
With gore the gullies ran!
Fiercely through those mountain paths
Our bloody way we force,—
And find in strength upon the heights
The Frenchman, foot and horse:
We struggled man to man,—
The rugged rocks were wash'd in gore,
With gore the gullies ran!
Fiercely through those mountain paths
Our bloody way we force,—
And find in strength upon the heights
The Frenchman, foot and horse:
Ah, then, my Ninth, and Twenty-ninth,
Your courage was too hot,
For down on your disorder'd ranks
Secure they pour the shot;
But all their horse and foot and guns
Could never make you fly,—
The losing Frenchman fights and runs,
But Britons fight—and die!
Your courage was too hot,
For down on your disorder'd ranks
Secure they pour the shot;
But all their horse and foot and guns
Could never make you fly,—
The losing Frenchman fights and runs,
But Britons fight—and die!
199
Up to the rescue, Ferguson!
And keep the hard-fought hill;
Their chiefs are pick'd off, one by one,
And lo, they rally still;
They rally, and rush stoutly on,—
The bold Laborde gives way,—
The day is lost! the day is won!
And ours is the day!
And keep the hard-fought hill;
Their chiefs are pick'd off, one by one,
And lo, they rally still;
They rally, and rush stoutly on,—
The bold Laborde gives way,—
The day is lost! the day is won!
And ours is the day!
Then well retreating sage and slow
Alternately in mass
With charging horse, the wily foe
Gains Runa's rocky pass;
And left us thus Roleia's field,
With other fields in store,
Vimiera, Torres Vedras,
And half a hundred more!
Alternately in mass
With charging horse, the wily foe
Gains Runa's rocky pass;
And left us thus Roleia's field,
With other fields in store,
Vimiera, Torres Vedras,
And half a hundred more!
Retrospect.
How many years are fled,—
How many friends are dead:
Alas, how fast
The past hath past,—
How speedily life hath sped!
How many friends are dead:
Alas, how fast
The past hath past,—
How speedily life hath sped!
Places, that knew me of yore,
Know me for theirs no more;
And sore at the change
Quite strange I range
Where I was at home before.
Know me for theirs no more;
And sore at the change
Quite strange I range
Where I was at home before.
200
Thoughts and things each day
Seem to be fading away;
Yet this is, I wot,
Their lot to be not
Continuing in one stay.
Seem to be fading away;
Yet this is, I wot,
Their lot to be not
Continuing in one stay.
A mingled mesh it seems
Of facts and fancy's gleams;
I scarce have power
From hour to hour
To separate things from dreams.
Of facts and fancy's gleams;
I scarce have power
From hour to hour
To separate things from dreams.
Darkly, as in a glass,
Like a vain shadow they pass;
Their ways they wend
And tend to an end,
The goal of life, alas!
Like a vain shadow they pass;
Their ways they wend
And tend to an end,
The goal of life, alas!
Alas? and wherefore so,—
Be glad for this passing show;
The world and its lust
Back must to their dust
Before the soul can grow.
Be glad for this passing show;
The world and its lust
Back must to their dust
Before the soul can grow.
Expand, my willing mind,
Thy nobler life to find,
Thy childhood leave
Nor grieve to bereave
Thine age of toys behind.
Thy nobler life to find,
Thy childhood leave
Nor grieve to bereave
Thine age of toys behind.
201
The Early Gallop.
At five on a dewy morning,
Before the blazing day,
To be up and off on a high-mettled horse
Over the hills away,—
To drink the rich sweet breath of the gorse
And bathe in the breeze of the Downs,
Ha! man, if you can, match bliss like this
In all the joys of towns!
Before the blazing day,
To be up and off on a high-mettled horse
Over the hills away,—
To drink the rich sweet breath of the gorse
And bathe in the breeze of the Downs,
Ha! man, if you can, match bliss like this
In all the joys of towns!
With glad and grateful tongue to join
The lark at his matin hymn,
And thence on faith's own wing to spring
And sing with Cherubim!
To pray from a deep and tender heart,
With all things praying anew,
The birds and the bees, and the whispering trees,
And heather bedropt with dew,—
To be one with those early worshippers
And pour the carol too!
The lark at his matin hymn,
And thence on faith's own wing to spring
And sing with Cherubim!
To pray from a deep and tender heart,
With all things praying anew,
The birds and the bees, and the whispering trees,
And heather bedropt with dew,—
To be one with those early worshippers
And pour the carol too!
Then, off again with a slacken'd rein,
And a bounding heart within,
To dash at a gallop over the plain,
Health's golden cup to win!
This, this is the race for gain and grace
Richer than vases and crowns;
And you that boast your pleasures the most
Amid the steam of towns,
Come, taste true bliss in a morning like this,
Galloping over the Downs!
And a bounding heart within,
To dash at a gallop over the plain,
Health's golden cup to win!
This, this is the race for gain and grace
Richer than vases and crowns;
And you that boast your pleasures the most
Amid the steam of towns,
Come, taste true bliss in a morning like this,
Galloping over the Downs!
203
Waterloo.
A Ballad for the Soldier.
Thermopylae and Cannæ
Were glorious fields of yore,
Leonidas and Hannibal
Right famous evermore;
But we can claim a nobler name
A field more glorious too,
The chief who thus achieved for us
Victorious Waterloo.
Were glorious fields of yore,
Leonidas and Hannibal
Right famous evermore;
But we can claim a nobler name
A field more glorious too,
The chief who thus achieved for us
Victorious Waterloo.
Let others boast of Cæsar's host
Led on by Cæsar's skill,
And how fierce Attila could rout,
And Alaric could kill,—
But we—right well, O hear me tell
What British troops can do,
When marshall'd by a Wellington
To win a Waterloo!
Led on by Cæsar's skill,
And how fierce Attila could rout,
And Alaric could kill,—
But we—right well, O hear me tell
What British troops can do,
When marshall'd by a Wellington
To win a Waterloo!
O for a Pindar's harp to tune
The triumphs of that day!
O for a Homer's pictured words
To paint the fearful fray!—
Alas, my tongue and harp illstrung
In feeble tones and few,
Hath little skill—yet right good-will
To sing of Waterloo.
The triumphs of that day!
O for a Homer's pictured words
To paint the fearful fray!—
Alas, my tongue and harp illstrung
In feeble tones and few,
Hath little skill—yet right good-will
To sing of Waterloo.
Then gather round, my comrades,
And hear a soldier tell
How full of honour was the day
When—every man did well!
And though a soldier's speech be rough,
His heart is hot and true
While thus he tells of Wellington
At hard-fought Waterloo.
And hear a soldier tell
How full of honour was the day
When—every man did well!
205
His heart is hot and true
While thus he tells of Wellington
At hard-fought Waterloo.
Sublimely calm, our iron Duke,
A lion in his lair,
Waited and watch'd with sleepless eye
To see what France would dare,
Nor deign'd to stir from Brussels
Until he surely knew
The foe was rushing on his fate
At chosen Waterloo.
A lion in his lair,
Waited and watch'd with sleepless eye
To see what France would dare,
Nor deign'd to stir from Brussels
Until he surely knew
The foe was rushing on his fate
At chosen Waterloo.
What? should the hunter waste his strength
Nor hold his good hounds back
Before he knows they near the foes
And open on the track?
No: let “surprise” blight Frenchmen's eyes,
For truly they shall rue
The giant skill that, stern and still,
Drew them to Waterloo!
Nor hold his good hounds back
Before he knows they near the foes
And open on the track?
No: let “surprise” blight Frenchmen's eyes,
For truly they shall rue
The giant skill that, stern and still,
Drew them to Waterloo!
Hotly the couriers gallop up
To Richmond's festive scene,—
Alone, alone the chieftain stood
Undaunted and serene;
Ready, ready,—staunch and steady,—
And forth the orders flew
That march'd us off to Quatre Bras,
And whelming Waterloo.
To Richmond's festive scene,—
Alone, alone the chieftain stood
Undaunted and serene;
Ready, ready,—staunch and steady,—
And forth the orders flew
That march'd us off to Quatre Bras,
And whelming Waterloo.
206
Begin, begin with Quatre Bras,
That twinborn field of flame,
Where many a gallant deed was done
By many a gallant name;
That battle-field, which seem'd to yield
An earnest and review
Of all that British courage dared
And did at Waterloo.
That twinborn field of flame,
Where many a gallant deed was done
By many a gallant name;
That battle-field, which seem'd to yield
An earnest and review
Of all that British courage dared
And did at Waterloo.
We heard from far old Blucher's guns,
At Ligny's blazing street,
And hurried on to Weimar's aid,
Right glad the foe to meet;
A score of miles to Quatre Bras;
But still to arms we stood
And cheerly rush'd without a pause
To win the Boissy wood:
At Ligny's blazing street,
And hurried on to Weimar's aid,
Right glad the foe to meet;
A score of miles to Quatre Bras;
But still to arms we stood
And cheerly rush'd without a pause
To win the Boissy wood:
Then, just like cowards, three to one,
Before we could deploy,
To crush us, Ney and Excelmans
Flew down with fiendish joy;
But stout we stood in hollow squares,
And fought, and kept the ground,
While lancer spears and cuirassiers
Were charging us all round!
Before we could deploy,
To crush us, Ney and Excelmans
Flew down with fiendish joy;
But stout we stood in hollow squares,
And fought, and kept the ground,
While lancer spears and cuirassiers
Were charging us all round!
Aye, aye, my men, we battled then
Like wolves and bears at bay,
And thousands there among the dead
With sable Brunswick lay:
And back to back in that attack
The ninety-second fought,—
And “steadily” the twenty-eighth
Behaved as Britons ought.
Like wolves and bears at bay,
And thousands there among the dead
With sable Brunswick lay:
207
The ninety-second fought,—
And “steadily” the twenty-eighth
Behaved as Britons ought.
Then up came Maitland with the guards,
Hurrah! they clear the wood;
But still the furious Frenchman charged,
And still we stoutly stood,
Till gentle night drew on, and that
Drew off the treacherous Ney,
For when the morning dimly broke
—The fox had stole away!
Hurrah! they clear the wood;
But still the furious Frenchman charged,
And still we stoutly stood,
Till gentle night drew on, and that
Drew off the treacherous Ney,
For when the morning dimly broke
—The fox had stole away!
Thus much, my lads, for Quatre Bras;
And now for Waterloo,
Where skill and courage did it all,
With God's good help in view!
For we were beardless raw recruits,
And they, more numerous far,
Were fierce mustachioed mighty men,
The veterans of war.
And now for Waterloo,
Where skill and courage did it all,
With God's good help in view!
For we were beardless raw recruits,
And they, more numerous far,
Were fierce mustachioed mighty men,
The veterans of war.
The God of battles help'd us soon,
As godless France drew nigh,
—It was the great eighteenth of June,
The sun was getting high;—
And suddenly two hundred guns
At once with thundering throats
Peal'd out their dreadful overture
In deep volcano notes!
As godless France drew nigh,
—It was the great eighteenth of June,
The sun was getting high;—
And suddenly two hundred guns
At once with thundering throats
Peal'd out their dreadful overture
In deep volcano notes!
208
Then, by ten thousands, horse and foot,
Came on the foaming Gaul,
And still with bristling front we stood
As solid as a wall:
And stout Macdonnell's Hougoumont,
The centre of the van,
Was storm'd and storm'd and storm'd—in vain,
—He held it like a man!
Came on the foaming Gaul,
And still with bristling front we stood
As solid as a wall:
And stout Macdonnell's Hougoumont,
The centre of the van,
Was storm'd and storm'd and storm'd—in vain,
—He held it like a man!
O who can count the myriad deeds
That hundreds did in fight?
Ponsonby falls, and Picton bleeds,
And—both are quench'd in night:
And many a hero subaltern
And hero private too
Beat Ajax and Achilles both
In winning Waterloo!
That hundreds did in fight?
Ponsonby falls, and Picton bleeds,
And—both are quench'd in night:
And many a hero subaltern
And hero private too
Beat Ajax and Achilles both
In winning Waterloo!
What shall I say on that dread day
Of Ferrier and his band?
Ten times he chased the foes away,
And charged them sword in hand;
Six of those ten he led his men
With blood upon his brow,—
And weakly in the eleventh died
To live in glory now!
Of Ferrier and his band?
Ten times he chased the foes away,
And charged them sword in hand;
Six of those ten he led his men
With blood upon his brow,—
And weakly in the eleventh died
To live in glory now!
Or, give a stave to Shaw the brave,
—In death the hero sleeps,—
Hemm'd by a score, he knock'd them o'er,
And hew'd them down in heaps;
Till, wearied out, the lion stout
Beset as by a pack
Of hungry hounds, fell full of wounds,
But none upon his back!
—In death the hero sleeps,—
Hemm'd by a score, he knock'd them o'er,
And hew'd them down in heaps;
209
Beset as by a pack
Of hungry hounds, fell full of wounds,
But none upon his back!
And Halkett then before his men
Dash'd forward and made prize
(While both the lines for wonderment
Could scarce believe their eyes)
Of a gaily-plumed French general
Haranguing his array,
—But Halkett caught him, speech and all,
And bore him right away!
Dash'd forward and made prize
(While both the lines for wonderment
Could scarce believe their eyes)
Of a gaily-plumed French general
Haranguing his array,
—But Halkett caught him, speech and all,
And bore him right away!
Thee too, De Lancey, generous chief,
For thee a niche be found,—
Wounded to death, he scorn'd relief
Whilst others bled around:
And D'Oyley and Fitzgerald died,
Just as the day was won,—
And Gordon by his general's side—
The side of Wellington!
For thee a niche be found,—
Wounded to death, he scorn'd relief
Whilst others bled around:
And D'Oyley and Fitzgerald died,
Just as the day was won,—
And Gordon by his general's side—
The side of Wellington!
And Somerset and Uxbridge then
Gave each a limb to death;
Curzon and Canning cheer'd their men
With their last dying breath;
And gallant Miller stricken sore
With fainting utterance cries,
“Bring me my colours! wave them o'er
Your colonel till he dies!”
Gave each a limb to death;
Curzon and Canning cheer'd their men
With their last dying breath;
And gallant Miller stricken sore
With fainting utterance cries,
“Bring me my colours! wave them o'er
Your colonel till he dies!”
210
Then furious wax'd the Emperor
That Britons wouldn't run,
“Les bêtes, pourquoi ne fuient-ils pas?
Et donc, ce Vellington?”
But Vellington still holds his own
For eight red hours and more,
“Why comes not Marshal Blucher down?
—Ha!—there's his cannons' roar,—
That Britons wouldn't run,
“Les bêtes, pourquoi ne fuient-ils pas?
Et donc, ce Vellington?”
But Vellington still holds his own
For eight red hours and more,
“Why comes not Marshal Blucher down?
—Ha!—there's his cannons' roar,—
“Up, guards, and at them! charge!”—the word
Like forkèd lightning passes,
And lance, and bayonet, and sword
Rush on in glittering masses!
Back, back, the surging columns roll
In terrified dismay,
And onward shout against the rout
The conquerors of the day!
Like forkèd lightning passes,
And lance, and bayonet, and sword
Rush on in glittering masses!
Back, back, the surging columns roll
In terrified dismay,
And onward shout against the rout
The conquerors of the day!
O now, the tide of battle,
Is turn'd to seas of blood,
When case and grape-shot rattle
Among the multitude,
And Fates, led on by Furies,
Destroy the flying host,
And Chaos mated with Despair
Makes all the lost most lost!
Is turn'd to seas of blood,
When case and grape-shot rattle
Among the multitude,
And Fates, led on by Furies,
Destroy the flying host,
And Chaos mated with Despair
Makes all the lost most lost!
Woe, woe! thou caitiff-hero,
Thou Emperor—and slave,
Why didst not thou, too, nobly bleed
With those devoted brave?
No, no,—the coward's thought was self,
And “Suave qui peut” his cry,
And verily at Waterloo
Did Great Napoleon die!
Thou Emperor—and slave,
Why didst not thou, too, nobly bleed
With those devoted brave?
211
And “Suave qui peut” his cry,
And verily at Waterloo
Did Great Napoleon die!
He died to fame, while yet his name
Was on ten thousand tongues
That trusted him, and pray'd to him
And—cursed him for their wrongs!
O noble souls! Imperial Guard,
Had your chief been but true,
Ye would have stood and stopp'd the rout
At crushing Waterloo!
Was on ten thousand tongues
That trusted him, and pray'd to him
And—cursed him for their wrongs!
O noble souls! Imperial Guard,
Had your chief been but true,
Ye would have stood and stopp'd the rout
At crushing Waterloo!
Still as they fled from Wellington
To Blucher's arms they flew;
These two made up the Quatre Bras
To clutch a Waterloo!
Ha! Blucher's Prussian vengeance
Was fully sated then,
When hated France upon the field
Left forty thousand men.
To Blucher's arms they flew;
These two made up the Quatre Bras
To clutch a Waterloo!
Ha! Blucher's Prussian vengeance
Was fully sated then,
When hated France upon the field
Left forty thousand men.
Thus, comrades, hath a soldier told
What Wellington's calm skill,
When help'd by troops of British mould
And God's almighty will,
Against a veteran triple force
On battle-field can do:—
Then, three times three for Wellington,
The Prince of Waterloo!
What Wellington's calm skill,
When help'd by troops of British mould
And God's almighty will,
Against a veteran triple force
On battle-field can do:—
Then, three times three for Wellington,
The Prince of Waterloo!
212
All's right.
FOR MUSIC.
O never despair at the troubles of life,
All's right!
In the midst of anxiety, peril, and strife,
All's right!
The cheerful philosophy never was wrong
That ever puts this on the tip of my tongue,
And makes it my glory, my strength, and my song,
All's right!
All's right!
In the midst of anxiety, peril, and strife,
All's right!
The cheerful philosophy never was wrong
That ever puts this on the tip of my tongue,
And makes it my glory, my strength, and my song,
All's right!
214
The Pilot beside us is steering us still,
All's right!
The Champion above us is guarding from ill,
All's right!
Let others who know neither Father nor Friend
Go trembling and doubting in fear to the end,—
For me, on this motto I gladly depend,
All's right!
All's right!
The Champion above us is guarding from ill,
All's right!
Let others who know neither Father nor Friend
Go trembling and doubting in fear to the end,—
For me, on this motto I gladly depend,
All's right!
Farley Heath,
Near Guildford, Surrey.
Many a day have I whiled away
Upon hopeful Farley-heath,
In its antique soil digging for spoil
Of possible treasure beneath;
For celts, and querns, and funereal urns,
And rich red Samian ware,
And sculptured stones, and centurions' bones
May all lie buried there!
Upon hopeful Farley-heath,
In its antique soil digging for spoil
Of possible treasure beneath;
For celts, and querns, and funereal urns,
And rich red Samian ware,
And sculptured stones, and centurions' bones
May all lie buried there!
How calmly serene, and glad have I been
From morn till eve to stay,
My Surrey serfs turning the turfs
The happy live long day;
With eye still bright, and hope yet alight,
Wistfully watching the mould
As the spade brings up fragments of things
Fifteen centuries old!
From morn till eve to stay,
My Surrey serfs turning the turfs
The happy live long day;
217
Wistfully watching the mould
As the spade brings up fragments of things
Fifteen centuries old!
Pleasant and rare it was to be there
On a joyous day of June,
With the circling scene all gay and green
Steep'd in the silent noon;
When beauty distils from the calm glad hills,—
From the downs and dimpling vales;
And every grove, lazy with love,
Whispereth tenderest tales!
On a joyous day of June,
With the circling scene all gay and green
Steep'd in the silent noon;
When beauty distils from the calm glad hills,—
From the downs and dimpling vales;
And every grove, lazy with love,
Whispereth tenderest tales!
O then to look back upon Time's old track
And dream of the days long past,
When Rome leant here on his sentinel spear
And loud was the clarion's blast—
As wild and shrill from Martyrs'-hill
Echoed the patriot-shout,
Or rush'd pell-mell with a midnight yell
The rude barbarian rout!
And dream of the days long past,
When Rome leant here on his sentinel spear
And loud was the clarion's blast—
As wild and shrill from Martyrs'-hill
Echoed the patriot-shout,
Or rush'd pell-mell with a midnight yell
The rude barbarian rout!
Yes; every stone has a tale of its own,
A volume of old lore;
And this white sand from many a brand
Has polish'd gouts of gore;
When Holmbury-height had its beacon light,
And Cantii held old Leith,
And Rome stood then with his iron men
On ancient Farley-heath!
A volume of old lore;
And this white sand from many a brand
Has polish'd gouts of gore;
When Holmbury-height had its beacon light,
And Cantii held old Leith,
And Rome stood then with his iron men
On ancient Farley-heath!
218
How many a group of that exiled troop
Have here sung songs of home,
Chaunting aloud to a wondering crowd
The glories of old Rome!
Or lying at length have bask'd their strength
Amid this heather and gorse,
Or down by the well in the larch-grown dell
Water'd the black war-horse!
Have here sung songs of home,
Chaunting aloud to a wondering crowd
The glories of old Rome!
Or lying at length have bask'd their strength
Amid this heather and gorse,
Or down by the well in the larch-grown dell
Water'd the black war-horse!
Look, look! my day-dream right ready would seem
The past with the present to join,—
For see! I have found in this rare ground
An eloquent green old coin,
With turquoise rust on its Emperor's bust—
Some Cæsar, august Lord,
And the legend terse, and the classic reverse,
“Victory, valour's reward!—”
The past with the present to join,—
For see! I have found in this rare ground
An eloquent green old coin,
With turquoise rust on its Emperor's bust—
Some Cæsar, august Lord,
And the legend terse, and the classic reverse,
“Victory, valour's reward!—”
Victory,—yes! and happiness
Kind comrade, to me and to you,
When such rich spoil has crown'd our toil
And proved the day-dream true;
With hearty acclaim how we hail'd by his name
The Cæsar of that coin,
And told with a shout his titles out
And drank his health in wine!
Kind comrade, to me and to you,
When such rich spoil has crown'd our toil
And proved the day-dream true;
With hearty acclaim how we hail'd by his name
The Cæsar of that coin,
And told with a shout his titles out
And drank his health in wine!
And then how blest the noon-day rest
Reclined on a grassy bank,
With hungry cheer and the brave old beer
Better than Odin drank;
And the secret balm of the spirit at calm,
And poetry, hope, and health,—
Aye, have I not found in that rare ground
A mine of more than wealth!
Reclined on a grassy bank,
With hungry cheer and the brave old beer
Better than Odin drank;
219
And poetry, hope, and health,—
Aye, have I not found in that rare ground
A mine of more than wealth!
The Heart's Husband.
FOR MUSIC.
Go, leave me to weep for the years that are past,For my youth, and its friends, and its pleasures all dead,
My spring and my summer are fading too fast,
And I long to live over the days that are fled;
It is not for sorrows or sins on my track
That I mournfully cast my fond yearnings behind,—
—Ah no,—from affection I love to look back,
It is only my Heart that has wedded my Mind.
220
Though loving, be strong as a King in his pride,
And ever command that all weakness depart
From the realm that he rules in the soul of his bride;
For what, if all time and all pleasures decay?
My Mind is myself, an invincible chief,—
Like a child's broken toys are the years past away,
And my Heart half-ashamed has forgotten her grief.
The Happy Man.
A man of no regrets
He goes his sunny way,
Owing the past no load of debts
The present cannot pay:
He wedded his first love
Nor loved another since;
He sets his nobler hopes above;
He reigns in joy a Prince!
He goes his sunny way,
Owing the past no load of debts
The present cannot pay:
He wedded his first love
Nor loved another since;
He sets his nobler hopes above;
He reigns in joy a Prince!
A man of no regrets,
He hath no cares to vex,
No secret griefs, nor mental nets
Nor troubles to perplex:
Forgiveness to his sin,
And help in every need,
Blessings around, and peace within,
Crown him a King indeed!
He hath no cares to vex,
No secret griefs, nor mental nets
Nor troubles to perplex:
Forgiveness to his sin,
And help in every need,
Blessings around, and peace within,
Crown him a King indeed!
A man of no regrets,
Upon his Empire free
The sun of gladness never sets,—
Then who so rich as he?
Yea, God upon my heart
Hath pour'd all blessings down:
Then yield to Him, with all thou art,
The homage of thy crown!
Upon his Empire free
The sun of gladness never sets,—
Then who so rich as he?
Yea, God upon my heart
Hath pour'd all blessings down:
Then yield to Him, with all thou art,
The homage of thy crown!
223
Heraldic.
High in Battle's antler'd hall,
Ancient as its Abbey wall
Hangs a helmet, brown with rust,
Cobweb'd o'er, and thick in dust;
High it hangs, 'mid pikes and bows,
Scowling still at spectral foes,
Proud and stern, with visor down,
And fearful in its feudal frown.
Ancient as its Abbey wall
Hangs a helmet, brown with rust,
Cobweb'd o'er, and thick in dust;
High it hangs, 'mid pikes and bows,
Scowling still at spectral foes,
Proud and stern, with visor down,
And fearful in its feudal frown.
When I saw, what ail'd thee, heart,
Wherefore should I stop, and start?—
That old helm, with that old crest,
Is more to me than all the rest;
Batter'd, broken, though it be,
That old helm is all to me.
Wherefore should I stop, and start?—
That old helm, with that old crest,
Is more to me than all the rest;
Batter'd, broken, though it be,
That old helm is all to me.
Yon black greyhound know I well:
Many a tale hath it to tell
How in troublous times of old
Sires of mine, with bearing bold,
Bearing bold, but much mischance,
Sway'd the sword, or poised the lance,—
Much mischance, desponding still,
They fought and fell, foreboding ill.
Many a tale hath it to tell
How in troublous times of old
Sires of mine, with bearing bold,
Bearing bold, but much mischance,
Sway'd the sword, or poised the lance,—
Much mischance, desponding still,
They fought and fell, foreboding ill.
And their scallop, gules with blood,
Fess'd amid the azure flood,
Show'd the pilgrim, slain afar
Over the sea in Holy War;
While that faithful greyhound black
Vainly watch'd the wild boar's track,
And the legend and the name
Proved all lost but hope and fame,—
Tout est perdu, fors l'honneur,
Mais “L'Espoir est ma force” sans peur.
Fess'd amid the azure flood,
224
Over the sea in Holy War;
While that faithful greyhound black
Vainly watch'd the wild boar's track,
And the legend and the name
Proved all lost but hope and fame,—
Tout est perdu, fors l'honneur,
Mais “L'Espoir est ma force” sans peur.
Threnos.
Vanity, vanity! dead hopes and fears,
Dim flitting phantoms of departed years,
Unsatisfying shadows, vague and cold,
Of thoughts and things that made my joys of old,
Sad memories of the kindly words and ways
And looks and loves of friends in other days,—
Alas! all gone,—a dream, a very dream,
A dream is all you are, and all you seem!
Dim flitting phantoms of departed years,
Unsatisfying shadows, vague and cold,
Of thoughts and things that made my joys of old,
Sad memories of the kindly words and ways
And looks and loves of friends in other days,—
Alas! all gone,—a dream, a very dream,
A dream is all you are, and all you seem!
O life, I do forget thee: I look back,
And lo, the desert wind has swept my track:
I stand upon this bare and solid ground
And, strangely waken'd, wonder all around;
How came I here? and whence? and whither tend?
Speak, friend!—if death and time have spared a friend:
Behold, the place that knew me well of yore
Knoweth me not; and that familiar floor
Where all my kith and kin were wont to meet
Is now grown strange, and throng'd by other feet.
And lo, the desert wind has swept my track:
I stand upon this bare and solid ground
And, strangely waken'd, wonder all around;
How came I here? and whence? and whither tend?
Speak, friend!—if death and time have spared a friend:
Behold, the place that knew me well of yore
Knoweth me not; and that familiar floor
Where all my kith and kin were wont to meet
Is now grown strange, and throng'd by other feet.
225
O soul, my soul, consider thou that spot,
Root there thy gratitude, and leave it not;
Still let remembrance, with a swimming eye,
Live in those rooms, nor pass them coldly by;
Still let affection cling to those old days,
And, yearning fondly, paint them bright with praise:
O once my home—with all thy blessings fled,
O forms and faces—gather'd to the dead,
O scenes of joy and sorrow—faded fast!
—How hollow sound thy footsteps, ghostlike past!
An aching emptiness is all thou art,
A famine hid within the cavern'd heart.
Root there thy gratitude, and leave it not;
Still let remembrance, with a swimming eye,
Live in those rooms, nor pass them coldly by;
Still let affection cling to those old days,
And, yearning fondly, paint them bright with praise:
O once my home—with all thy blessings fled,
O forms and faces—gather'd to the dead,
O scenes of joy and sorrow—faded fast!
—How hollow sound thy footsteps, ghostlike past!
An aching emptiness is all thou art,
A famine hid within the cavern'd heart.
Thou changeless One,—how blest to have no change,—
Only with Thee, my God, I feel not strange:
Thou art the same for ever and for aye,—
To-morrow and to-day as yesterday,
Thou art the same,—a tranquil Present still;
There I can hide, and bless Thy sovereign will:
Yea, bless Thee, O my Father, that Thy love
Call'd in an instant to the bliss above
From ills to come and grief and care and fear
Thy type to me, most honour'd and most dear!
O true and tender spirit, pure and good,
So vext on earth and little understood,
Thy gentle nature was not fit for strife,
But quail'd to meet the waking woes of life;
And therefore God Our Father kindly made
Thy sleep a death, lest thou shouldst feel afraid!
Only with Thee, my God, I feel not strange:
Thou art the same for ever and for aye,—
To-morrow and to-day as yesterday,
Thou art the same,—a tranquil Present still;
There I can hide, and bless Thy sovereign will:
Yea, bless Thee, O my Father, that Thy love
Call'd in an instant to the bliss above
From ills to come and grief and care and fear
Thy type to me, most honour'd and most dear!
O true and tender spirit, pure and good,
So vext on earth and little understood,
Thy gentle nature was not fit for strife,
But quail'd to meet the waking woes of life;
And therefore God Our Father kindly made
Thy sleep a death, lest thou shouldst feel afraid!
226
The Dead.
A DIRGE.
I love the dead!
The precious spirits gone before,
And waiting on that peaceful shore
To meet with welcome looks
and kiss me yet once more.
The precious spirits gone before,
And waiting on that peaceful shore
To meet with welcome looks
and kiss me yet once more.
I love the dead!
And fondly doth my fancy paint
Each dear one, wash'd from earthly taint,
By patience and by hope
made a most gentle saint.
And fondly doth my fancy paint
Each dear one, wash'd from earthly taint,
By patience and by hope
made a most gentle saint.
O glorious dead!
Without one spot upon the dress
Of your ethereal loveliness,
Ye linger round me still
with earnest will to bless.
Without one spot upon the dress
Of your ethereal loveliness,
Ye linger round me still
with earnest will to bless.
Enfranchised dead!
Each fault and failing left behind
And nothing now to chill or bind,
How gloriously ye reign
in majesty of mind!
Each fault and failing left behind
And nothing now to chill or bind,
How gloriously ye reign
in majesty of mind!
O royal dead!
The resting, free, unfetter'd dead,
The yearning, conscious, holy dead,
The hoping, waiting, calm,
the happy changeless dead!
The resting, free, unfetter'd dead,
The yearning, conscious, holy dead,
The hoping, waiting, calm,
the happy changeless dead!
I love the dead!
And well forget their little ill,
Eager to bask my memory still
In all their best of words
and deeds and ways and will.
And well forget their little ill,
Eager to bask my memory still
In all their best of words
and deeds and ways and will.
227
I bless the dead!
Their good, half choked by this world's weeds,
Is blooming now in heavenly meads,
And ripening golden fruit
of all those early seeds.
Their good, half choked by this world's weeds,
Is blooming now in heavenly meads,
And ripening golden fruit
of all those early seeds.
I trust the dead!
They understand me frankly now,
There are no clouds on heart or brow,
But spirit, reading spirit,
answereth glow for glow.
They understand me frankly now,
There are no clouds on heart or brow,
But spirit, reading spirit,
answereth glow for glow.
I praise the dead!
All their tears are wiped away,
Their darkness turn'd to perfect day,—
How blessed are the dead,
how beautiful be they!
All their tears are wiped away,
Their darkness turn'd to perfect day,—
How blessed are the dead,
how beautiful be they!
O gracious dead!
That watch me from your paradise
With happy tender starlike eyes,
Let your sweet influence rain
me blessings from the skies.
That watch me from your paradise
With happy tender starlike eyes,
Let your sweet influence rain
me blessings from the skies.
Yet, helpless dead,
Vainly my yearning nature dares
Such unpremeditated prayers;—
All vain it were for them;
as even for me theirs.
Vainly my yearning nature dares
Such unpremeditated prayers;—
All vain it were for them;
as even for me theirs.
Immortal dead!
Ye in your lot are fix'd as fate
And man or angel is too late
To beckon back by prayer
one change upon your state.
Ye in your lot are fix'd as fate
And man or angel is too late
To beckon back by prayer
one change upon your state.
228
O, godlike dead,
Ye that do rest, like Noah's dove,
Fearless I leave you to the love
Of Him who gave you peace,
to bear with you above!
Ye that do rest, like Noah's dove,
Fearless I leave you to the love
Of Him who gave you peace,
to bear with you above!
And ye, the dead,
Godless on earth, and gone astray,
Alas, your hour is past away,—
The Judge is just; for you
it now were sin to pray.
Godless on earth, and gone astray,
Alas, your hour is past away,—
The Judge is just; for you
it now were sin to pray.
Still, all ye dead,
First may be last and last be first,—
Charity counteth no man curst,
But hopeth still in Him
whose love would save the worst.
First may be last and last be first,—
Charity counteth no man curst,
But hopeth still in Him
whose love would save the worst.
Therefore, ye dead,
I love you, be ye good or ill,
For God, our God, doth love me still,
And you He loved on earth
with love that nought could chill.
I love you, be ye good or ill,
For God, our God, doth love me still,
And you He loved on earth
with love that nought could chill.
And some, just dead,
To me on earth most deeply dear,
Who loved and nursed and blest me here,
I love you with a love
that casteth out all fear:
To me on earth most deeply dear,
Who loved and nursed and blest me here,
I love you with a love
that casteth out all fear:
Come near me, Dead!
In spirit come to me, and kiss,—
No!—I must wait awhile for this:
A few, few years or days,
And I too feed on bliss!
In spirit come to me, and kiss,—
No!—I must wait awhile for this:
A few, few years or days,
And I too feed on bliss!
229
The Thanks of Parliament to Wellington and his Army.
Outspake a nation's voice,
Concentred in her king,
While cannons roar, and hearts rejoice,
And all the steeples ring:
Concentred in her king,
While cannons roar, and hearts rejoice,
And all the steeples ring:
Outspake old England then
By prelates and by peers:
By all her best and wisest men,
Her sages and her seers—
By prelates and by peers:
By all her best and wisest men,
Her sages and her seers—
Old England and her pair
Of sisters, north and west,
The comely graces, fresh and fair,
Who charm the world to rest.
Of sisters, north and west,
The comely graces, fresh and fair,
Who charm the world to rest.
All honour to the brave!
The living and the dead,
Who only fought to bless and save,
And crush the hydra's head:
The living and the dead,
Who only fought to bless and save,
And crush the hydra's head:
All honour and all thanks
To every mother's son,
Saxon, or Celt, or Gael, or Manx,
Who fought with Wellington!
To every mother's son,
Saxon, or Celt, or Gael, or Manx,
Who fought with Wellington!
For heroes were they all,
To conquer or to die,
By Ahmednuggra's bastion'd wall,
Or desperate Assye:
To conquer or to die,
By Ahmednuggra's bastion'd wall,
Or desperate Assye:
230
And, heroes still, they strive
Against the dangerous Dane,
When France stirr'd up the northern hive,
To sting us on the main:
Against the dangerous Dane,
When France stirr'd up the northern hive,
To sting us on the main:
All heroes, heroes still,
For Lusitania's right;
By red Roleia's hard-fought hill,
And Vimiera's fight:
For Lusitania's right;
By red Roleia's hard-fought hill,
And Vimiera's fight:
And stout the heroes stood
On Talavera's day;
And wrote their conquering names in blood,
At Salamanca's fray:
On Talavera's day;
And wrote their conquering names in blood,
At Salamanca's fray:
Still heroes, on they went
O'er Cuidad's gory fosse,
And stern Sebastian's battlement,
And thundering Badajoz:
O'er Cuidad's gory fosse,
And stern Sebastian's battlement,
And thundering Badajoz:
And, heroes ever, taught
Old Soult to fly and yield,
Shouting “Victory” as they fought
On red Vittoria's field;
Old Soult to fly and yield,
Shouting “Victory” as they fought
On red Vittoria's field;
And, heroes aye, they flew
To Orthez, conquering yet;
Until, at whelming Waterloo,
The Frenchman's sun had set!
To Orthez, conquering yet;
Until, at whelming Waterloo,
The Frenchman's sun had set!
Then, thanks! thou glorious chief,
And thanks! ye gallant band,
Who, under God, to man's relief
Stretch'd out the saving hand:
And thanks! ye gallant band,
Who, under God, to man's relief
Stretch'd out the saving hand:
231
All Britain thanks you well,
By peasant, peer, and king;
To all who fought for us, or fell,
Immortal honours bring!
By peasant, peer, and king;
To all who fought for us, or fell,
Immortal honours bring!
Peal fast the merry chime,
And bid the cannon roar
In praise of heroes, whom all time
Shall cherish evermore!
And bid the cannon roar
In praise of heroes, whom all time
Shall cherish evermore!
To Laura.
(From Petrarch.)
My Laura, my love, I behold in thine eyes
Twin daystars that Mercy has given,
To teach me on earth to be happy and wise
And guide me triumphant to heaven!
Twin daystars that Mercy has given,
To teach me on earth to be happy and wise
And guide me triumphant to heaven!
Their lessons of love through a lifetime have taught
My bosom thy pureness and sweetness;
They have roused me to virtue, exalted my thought,
And made my celestial meetness.
My bosom thy pureness and sweetness;
They have roused me to virtue, exalted my thought,
And made my celestial meetness.
They have shed on my heart a delightful repose;
All else it hath barr'd from its portal;
So deeply the stream of my happiness flows,
I know that my soul is immortal.
All else it hath barr'd from its portal;
So deeply the stream of my happiness flows,
I know that my soul is immortal.
232
No Surrender!
FOR MUSIC.
Ever constant, ever true,
Let the word be, No surrender:
Boldly dare and greatly do!
This shall bring us bravely through,
No surrender, No surrender!
And though Fortune's smiles be few
Hope is always springing new
Still inspiring me and you
With a magic—No surrender!
Let the word be, No surrender:
Boldly dare and greatly do!
This shall bring us bravely through,
No surrender, No surrender!
And though Fortune's smiles be few
Hope is always springing new
Still inspiring me and you
With a magic—No surrender!
Nail the colours to the mast,
Shouting gladly, No surrender!
Troubles near are all but past—
Serve them as you did the last,
No surrender, No surrender!
Though the skies be overcast
And upon the sleety blast
Disappointments gather fast,
Beat them off with No surrender!
Shouting gladly, No surrender!
Troubles near are all but past—
Serve them as you did the last,
No surrender, No surrender!
Though the skies be overcast
And upon the sleety blast
Disappointments gather fast,
Beat them off with No surrender!
Constant and courageous still,
Mind, the word is No surrender;
Battle, though it be uphill,
Stagger not at seeming ill,
No surrender, No surrender!
Hope,—and thus your hope fulfil,—
There's a way where there's a will,
And the way all cares to kill
Is to give them—No surrender!
Mind, the word is No surrender;
Battle, though it be uphill,
Stagger not at seeming ill,
No surrender, No surrender!
Hope,—and thus your hope fulfil,—
There's a way where there's a will,
And the way all cares to kill
Is to give them—No surrender!
236
Neuer mind!
Soul, be strong, whate'er betide,
God himself is guard and guide,—
With my Father at my side,
Never mind!
God himself is guard and guide,—
With my Father at my side,
Never mind!
Clouds and darkness hover near,
Men's hearts failing them for fear,
But be thou of right good cheer,
Never mind!
Men's hearts failing them for fear,
But be thou of right good cheer,
Never mind!
Come what may, some work is done,
Praise the Father through the Son,
Goals are gain'd and prizes won,
Never mind!
Praise the Father through the Son,
Goals are gain'd and prizes won,
Never mind!
And if now the skies look black,
All the past behind my back
Is a bright and blessed track;
Never mind!
All the past behind my back
Is a bright and blessed track;
Never mind!
Stand in patient courage still,
Working out thy Master's will,
Compass good, and conquer ill;
Never mind!
Working out thy Master's will,
Compass good, and conquer ill;
Never mind!
Fight, for all their bullying boast,
Dark temptation's evil host,
This is thy predestined post;
Never mind!
Dark temptation's evil host,
This is thy predestined post;
Never mind!
237
Be then tranquil as a dove;
Through these thunder-clouds above
Shines afar the heaven of love;
Never mind!
Through these thunder-clouds above
Shines afar the heaven of love;
Never mind!
The Cromlech du Tus, Guernsey.
Hoary relic, stern and old,—
Heaving huge above the mould
Like some mammoth, lull'd to sleep
By the magic-murmuring deep
Till those grey gigantic bones
Gorgon-time hath frown'd to stones,—
Who shall tell thine awful tale,
Massy Cromlech, at “The Vale?”
Ruthless altar, hungry tomb!
Superstition's throne of gloom,
Where in black sepulchral state
High the hooded Spectre sate
Terrible and throng'd by fears
Brooding for a thousand years
As a thunder-cloud above
All that wretched men may love,—
Is there no grim witness near
That shall whisper words of fear,
Every brother's heart to thrill,
Every brother's blood to chill,
While thy records are reveal'd
And thy mysteries unseal'd?—
Lift, with Titan toil and pain,
Lift the lid by might and main,—
Lift the lid and look within
On—this charnel-house of Sin!
O twin brethren, how and when
Dwelt ye in this rocky den?
Rise, dread martyrs! for your bones
Chronicle these Cromlech-stones;
Rise, ye grisly, ghastly pair,
—Skeletons! how came ye there—
Kneeling starkly side by side
More like life than those who died?
More like life?—O what a spell
Of horror cowers in that cell!
More like life!—Alive they went
Into that stone tenement,
Bound as in religious ease
Meekly kneeling on their knees,
And the cruel thongs confined
All but the distracted mind
That with terror raved to see
Woe! how slow such death would be:
Woe! how slow and full of dread:
Pining, dying, but not dead,—
Pining, dying in the tomb,
Drown'd in gulfs of starving gloom,
With corruption, hideous fear,
Creeping noiselessly more near,
While the victims slowly died
Link'd together side by side
Till in manacled mad strife
Both had struggled out of life!
Heaving huge above the mould
Like some mammoth, lull'd to sleep
By the magic-murmuring deep
Till those grey gigantic bones
Gorgon-time hath frown'd to stones,—
Who shall tell thine awful tale,
Massy Cromlech, at “The Vale?”
Ruthless altar, hungry tomb!
Superstition's throne of gloom,
Where in black sepulchral state
High the hooded Spectre sate
Terrible and throng'd by fears
Brooding for a thousand years
As a thunder-cloud above
All that wretched men may love,—
Is there no grim witness near
That shall whisper words of fear,
Every brother's heart to thrill,
Every brother's blood to chill,
While thy records are reveal'd
And thy mysteries unseal'd?—
238
Lift the lid by might and main,—
Lift the lid and look within
On—this charnel-house of Sin!
O twin brethren, how and when
Dwelt ye in this rocky den?
Rise, dread martyrs! for your bones
Chronicle these Cromlech-stones;
Rise, ye grisly, ghastly pair,
—Skeletons! how came ye there—
Kneeling starkly side by side
More like life than those who died?
More like life?—O what a spell
Of horror cowers in that cell!
More like life!—Alive they went
Into that stone tenement,
Bound as in religious ease
Meekly kneeling on their knees,
And the cruel thongs confined
All but the distracted mind
That with terror raved to see
Woe! how slow such death would be:
Woe! how slow and full of dread:
Pining, dying, but not dead,—
Pining, dying in the tomb,
Drown'd in gulfs of starving gloom,
With corruption, hideous fear,
Creeping noiselessly more near,
While the victims slowly died
Link'd together side by side
Till in manacled mad strife
Both had struggled out of life!
239
Yea: some idol claim'd the price
Of this living sacrifice;
Some grim demon's dark high priest
Bound these slaves for Odin's feast,
Offering up with rites of hell
Human pangs to Thor or Bel!—
Of this living sacrifice;
Some grim demon's dark high priest
Bound these slaves for Odin's feast,
Offering up with rites of hell
Human pangs to Thor or Bel!—
Christians, ponder on these bones;
Kneel around the Cromlech-stones:
Kneel and thank our God above
That His name, His heart is Love:
That His thirst is—not for blood
But—for joy and gratitude;
That He bids no soul be sad
But is glad to make us glad;
That He loves not man's despair,
But delights to bless his prayer!
Kneel around the Cromlech-stones:
Kneel and thank our God above
That His name, His heart is Love:
That His thirst is—not for blood
But—for joy and gratitude;
That He bids no soul be sad
But is glad to make us glad;
That He loves not man's despair,
But delights to bless his prayer!
My Children.—1845.
My little ones, my darling ones, my precious things of earth,
How gladly do I triumph in the blessing of your birth;
How heartily for praises, and how earnestly for prayers,
I yearn upon your loveliness, my dear delightful cares!
How gladly do I triumph in the blessing of your birth;
How heartily for praises, and how earnestly for prayers,
I yearn upon your loveliness, my dear delightful cares!
O children, happy word of peace, my jewels and my gold,
My truest friends till now, and still my truest friends when old,
I will be everything to you, your playmate and your guide,
Both Mentor and Telemachus for ever at your side!
My truest friends till now, and still my truest friends when old,
I will be everything to you, your playmate and your guide,
Both Mentor and Telemachus for ever at your side!
240
I will be everything to you, your sympathising friend,
To teach and help and lead and bless and comfort and defend;
O come to me and tell me all, and ye shall find me true,
A brother in adversity to fight it out for you!
To teach and help and lead and bless and comfort and defend;
O come to me and tell me all, and ye shall find me true,
A brother in adversity to fight it out for you!
Yea, sins or follies, griefs or cares, or young affection's thrall,
Fear not, for I am one with you, and I have felt them all;
I will be tender, just, and kind, unwilling to reprove,
I will do all to bless you all by wisdom and by love.
Fear not, for I am one with you, and I have felt them all;
I will be tender, just, and kind, unwilling to reprove,
I will do all to bless you all by wisdom and by love.
My little ones, delighted I review you as ye stand
A pretty troop of fairies and young cherubs hand in hand,
And tell out all your names to be a dear familiar sound
Wherever English hearths and hearts about the world abound.
A pretty troop of fairies and young cherubs hand in hand,
And tell out all your names to be a dear familiar sound
Wherever English hearths and hearts about the world abound.
My eldest, of the speaking eyes, my Ellin, nine years old,
Thou thoughtful good example of the loving little fold,
My Ellin, they shall hear of thee, fair spirit, holy child,
The truthful and the well-resolved, the liberal and the mild.
Thou thoughtful good example of the loving little fold,
My Ellin, they shall hear of thee, fair spirit, holy child,
The truthful and the well-resolved, the liberal and the mild.
And thee, my Mary, what of thee?—the beauty of thy face?
The coyly-pretty whims and ways that ray thee round with grace?
—O more than these; a dear warm heart that still must thrill and glow
With pure affection's sunshine, and with feeling's overflow!
The coyly-pretty whims and ways that ray thee round with grace?
—O more than these; a dear warm heart that still must thrill and glow
With pure affection's sunshine, and with feeling's overflow!
Thou too, my gentle five-year-old, fair Margaret the pearl,
A quiet sick and suffering child, sweet patient little girl,—
Yet gay withal and frolicsome at times wilt thou appear,
And like a bell thy merry voice rings musical and clear.
A quiet sick and suffering child, sweet patient little girl,—
Yet gay withal and frolicsome at times wilt thou appear,
And like a bell thy merry voice rings musical and clear.
241
And next my Selwyn, precious boy, a glorious young mind,
The sensitive, the passionate, the noble, and the kind,
Whose light-brown locks bedropt with gold, and large eyes full of love,
And generous nature mingle well the lion and the dove.
The sensitive, the passionate, the noble, and the kind,
Whose light-brown locks bedropt with gold, and large eyes full of love,
And generous nature mingle well the lion and the dove.
The last, an infant toothless one, now prattling on my knee,
Whose bland benevolent soft face is shining upon me;
Another silver star upon our calm domestic sky,
Another seed of happy hope, dropt kindly from on high.
Whose bland benevolent soft face is shining upon me;
Another silver star upon our calm domestic sky,
Another seed of happy hope, dropt kindly from on high.
A happy man,—be this my praise,—not riches, rank, or fame,
A happy man, with means enough,—no other lot or name;
A happy man, with you for friends, my children and my wife,—
—Ambition is o'ervaulted here in all that gladdens life!
A happy man, with means enough,—no other lot or name;
A happy man, with you for friends, my children and my wife,—
—Ambition is o'ervaulted here in all that gladdens life!
A Debt of Love.—1838.
Thou, more than all endear'd to this glad heartBy gentle smiles, and patience under pain,
I bless my God, and thee, for all thou art,
My crowning joy, my richest earthly gain!
To thee is due this tributary strain
For all the well-observed kind offices
That spring spontaneous from a heart, imbued
With the sweet wish of living but to please;
Due for thy liberal hand, thy frugal mind,
Thy pitying eye, thy voice for ever kind,
For tenderness, truth, confidence,—all these:
My heaven-blest vine, that hast thy tendrils twined
Round one who loves and won thee, not unsued,
Accept thy best reward,—thy husband's gratitude.
242
Henry de B. T.—1847.
Hail then a sixth! my doubly triple joy,Another blessing in a third-born boy,
Another soul by generous Favour sent
To teach and train for heaven through content,
Another second-self with hopes like mine
In better worlds beyond the stars to shine,
Another little hostage from above
The pledge and promise of Our Father's love!
God guard the babe: and cherish the young child;
And bless the boy with nurture wise and mild;
And lead the lad; and yearn upon the youth;
And make the man a man of trust and truth;
Through life and death uphold him all his days,
And then translate him to Thyself with praise!
245
Errata.
AN AUTHOR'S COMPLAINT.
O friends and brothers, judge me not unheard;Make not a man offender for a word:
For often have I noted seeming fault
That harm'd my rhymes, and made my reasons halt,
Whilst all that error was some printer's sloth,
Who scorning rhyme and reason slew them both:
Be ye then liberal to your far-off friend,
Where garbled, guess him; and where maim'd amend;
Trust him for wit, when types have marr'd the word,
And wisdom too, where only blockheads err'd.
246
Venus.
Thou lover of the blaze of Mars,
Come out with me to-night,
For I have found among the stars
A name of nobler light.
Come out with me to-night,
For I have found among the stars
A name of nobler light.
Thy boast is of the unconquer'd Mind,
The strong, the stern, the still;
Mine of the happier Heart, resign'd
To Wisdom's holy will.
The strong, the stern, the still;
Mine of the happier Heart, resign'd
To Wisdom's holy will.
They call my star by beauty's name,
The gentle Queen of Love;
And look! how fair its tender flame
Is flickering above:
The gentle Queen of Love;
And look! how fair its tender flame
Is flickering above:
O star of peace, O torch of hope,
I hail thy precious ray
A diamond on the ebon cope
To shine the dark away.
I hail thy precious ray
A diamond on the ebon cope
To shine the dark away.
Within my heart there is no light
But cometh from above,
I give the first watch of the night
To the sweet planet, Love:
But cometh from above,
I give the first watch of the night
To the sweet planet, Love:
The star of Charity and Truth,
Of cheerful thoughts and sage,
The lamp to guide my steps in youth
And gladden mine old age!
Of cheerful thoughts and sage,
The lamp to guide my steps in youth
And gladden mine old age!
247
O brother, yield: thy fiery Mars
For all his mailèd might
Is not so strong among the stars
As mine, the Queen of night:
For all his mailèd might
Is not so strong among the stars
As mine, the Queen of night:
A Queen to shine all nights away,
And make the morn more clear,
Contentment gilding every day,—
—There is no twilight here!
And make the morn more clear,
Contentment gilding every day,—
—There is no twilight here!
Yes; in a trial world like this
Where all that comes—is sent,
Learn how divine a thing it is
To smile and be content!
Where all that comes—is sent,
Learn how divine a thing it is
To smile and be content!
“The warm young Heart.”
FOR MUSIC.
A beautiful face, and a form of grace
Were a pleasant sight to see,
And gold, and gems, and diadems,
Right excellent they be:
But beauty and gold, though both be untold,
Are things of a worldly mart,
The wealth that I prize, above ingots or eyes,
Is a heart,—a warm young heart!
Were a pleasant sight to see,
And gold, and gems, and diadems,
Right excellent they be:
But beauty and gold, though both be untold,
Are things of a worldly mart,
The wealth that I prize, above ingots or eyes,
Is a heart,—a warm young heart!
248
O face most fair, shall thy beauty compare
With affection's glowing light?
O riches and pride, how pale ye beside
Love's wealth, serene and bright!
I spurn thee away, as a cold thing of clay,
Though gilded and carved thou art,
For all that I prize, in its smiles and its sighs,
Is a heart—a warm young heart!
With affection's glowing light?
O riches and pride, how pale ye beside
Love's wealth, serene and bright!
I spurn thee away, as a cold thing of clay,
Though gilded and carved thou art,
For all that I prize, in its smiles and its sighs,
Is a heart—a warm young heart!
To Cidli, asleep.
She slumbers.—O blessed sleep, rain from thy wings
Thy life-giving balm on her delicate frame;
And send thou from Eden's ambrosial springs
A few flashing drops of their crystallous flame,—
Thy life-giving balm on her delicate frame;
And send thou from Eden's ambrosial springs
A few flashing drops of their crystallous flame,—
Then spread them, soft painter, upon her white cheek
Where sickness hath eaten the roses away;
Love's gentle refresher, Care's comforter meek,
Thou moon of sweet blessings, pour down the kind ray—
Where sickness hath eaten the roses away;
Love's gentle refresher, Care's comforter meek,
Thou moon of sweet blessings, pour down the kind ray—
To smile on my Cidli: she slumbers: be still,
Hush'd be thy soft-flowing notes, O my lyre,
Thy laurels mine anger shall scathe and shall kill,
If idly thou waken my sleeping desire.
Hush'd be thy soft-flowing notes, O my lyre,
Thy laurels mine anger shall scathe and shall kill,
If idly thou waken my sleeping desire.
249
Alfred,
Born at Wantage, in Berkshire, Oct. 25, 849.
Come, every trueborn Englishman! come Anglo-Saxons all!
I wake a tune to-day to take and hold your hearts in thrall;
I sing The King, the Saxon king, the glorious and the great,
The root and spring of everything we love in Church and State.
I wake a tune to-day to take and hold your hearts in thrall;
I sing The King, the Saxon king, the glorious and the great,
The root and spring of everything we love in Church and State.
'Tis just a thousand years to-day,—Oh! years are swift and brief,—
Since erst uprose in majesty the daystar of our Chief,
Since Wantage bred a wondrous child, whom God hath made the Cause
Of half the best we boast in British liberties and laws.
Since erst uprose in majesty the daystar of our Chief,
Since Wantage bred a wondrous child, whom God hath made the Cause
Of half the best we boast in British liberties and laws.
Last-born of royal Ethelwolf, he left his island home,
Ulysses-like, to study men and marvels in old Rome;
And, thence in wrath returning, overthrew the pirate Dane,
And, young as Pitt, at twenty-two, began a Hero's reign.
Ulysses-like, to study men and marvels in old Rome;
And, thence in wrath returning, overthrew the pirate Dane,
And, young as Pitt, at twenty-two, began a Hero's reign.
Oh! Guthran swore, and Hubba smote, and sturdy Hinguar storm'd,
And still like locusts o'er the land the red marauders swarm'd;
But Alfred was a David, to scatter every foe,—
The shepherd, psalmist, warrior, king, unblamed in weal and woe.
And still like locusts o'er the land the red marauders swarm'd;
But Alfred was a David, to scatter every foe,—
The shepherd, psalmist, warrior, king, unblamed in weal and woe.
Aye, hiding with the herdsman, or harping in the camp,
Or earnestly redeeming time beneath the midnight lamp,
Or ruling on his quiet throne, or fighting in the fen,
Our Alfred was indeed an Agamemnon, king of Men!
Or earnestly redeeming time beneath the midnight lamp,
Or ruling on his quiet throne, or fighting in the fen,
Our Alfred was indeed an Agamemnon, king of Men!
Unshrinking champion of the Right, in patriot strength he stood,—
Declare it, threescore fields of fight! and mark it down in blood:
Unflinching chief, unerring judge, he stoutly held the helm,—
Tell out those thirty years of praise, all Albion's happy realm!
Declare it, threescore fields of fight! and mark it down in blood:
Unflinching chief, unerring judge, he stoutly held the helm,—
Tell out those thirty years of praise, all Albion's happy realm!
250
A Solomon for wisdom's choice,—that he loved learning well
Let Oxford chimes with grateful voice from all their turrets tell;
A Numa, and Justinian too, let every parish sound
His birthday on the merry bells through all the country round!
Let Oxford chimes with grateful voice from all their turrets tell;
A Numa, and Justinian too, let every parish sound
His birthday on the merry bells through all the country round!
A Nestor, while in years a youth, he taught as Plato taught,
A Constantine, a Washington, he fought as Scipio fought,
A Wellington,—his laurell'd sword with Peace was glory-gilt,
And Nelson's earliest wooden walls of Alfred's oaks were built!
A Constantine, a Washington, he fought as Scipio fought,
A Wellington,—his laurell'd sword with Peace was glory-gilt,
And Nelson's earliest wooden walls of Alfred's oaks were built!
O gallant Britons, bless the God who gave you such a prince,
His like was never known before, nor ever hath been since,
The fountain of your liberties, your honours and your health,
The mountain of your sturdy strength, the Ophir of your wealth.
His like was never known before, nor ever hath been since,
The fountain of your liberties, your honours and your health,
The mountain of your sturdy strength, the Ophir of your wealth.
And now, arouse thee, Royal Ghost! in majesty look round;
On every shore, in every clime, thy conquering sons are found;
By kingdoms and dominions, by continents and isles,
The Anglo-Saxon realm is fifty hundred thousand miles!
On every shore, in every clime, thy conquering sons are found;
By kingdoms and dominions, by continents and isles,
The Anglo-Saxon realm is fifty hundred thousand miles!
Aye, smile on us, and bless us in thy loftiness of love,—
The name of Anglo-Saxon is all other names above,
By peoples and by nations, by tribe and sept and clan,
Two hundred millions claim it in the family of Man!
The name of Anglo-Saxon is all other names above,
By peoples and by nations, by tribe and sept and clan,
Two hundred millions claim it in the family of Man!
They claim it, and they claim Thee too, their father and their king!
O mighty Shade! behold the crowds who claim thy sheltering wing:
Thou hast o'ershadow'd, like an Alp, the half of this broad earth,
And where thy shadow falls is Light, and Anglo-Saxon worth!
O mighty Shade! behold the crowds who claim thy sheltering wing:
Thou hast o'ershadow'd, like an Alp, the half of this broad earth,
And where thy shadow falls is Light, and Anglo-Saxon worth!
The energy, the daring, the cheerfulness, the pride,
The stalwarth love of freedom, with Religion well allied,
The trust in God for ever, and the hope in Man for time,
These characters they learnt of thee, and stand like thee sublime.
The stalwarth love of freedom, with Religion well allied,
The trust in God for ever, and the hope in Man for time,
These characters they learnt of thee, and stand like thee sublime.
251
Where'er thy gracious children come, a blessing there they bring,
The sweet securities of Home around that place they fling,
Warm Comfort, and pure Charity, and Duty's bright blue eye,
And Enterprize, and Industry, are stars upon that sky!
The sweet securities of Home around that place they fling,
Warm Comfort, and pure Charity, and Duty's bright blue eye,
And Enterprize, and Industry, are stars upon that sky!
Stout Husbandry amid those fields with soft Contentment meets,
And honest Commerce, early up, is stirring in those streets;
And all the glories of the sword, and honours of the pen,
Make us the Wonder of the world, the Cynosure of men!
And honest Commerce, early up, is stirring in those streets;
And all the glories of the sword, and honours of the pen,
Make us the Wonder of the world, the Cynosure of men!
And, hark! upon my harp and tongue a sweeter note of praise,
How should a Saxon leave unsung what best he loves always?
O dearer, deeper, nobler songs to thrill the heart and mind,—
The crown of womanhood belongs to English womankind!
How should a Saxon leave unsung what best he loves always?
O dearer, deeper, nobler songs to thrill the heart and mind,—
The crown of womanhood belongs to English womankind!
Young maiden, modest as the morn, yet glowing like the noon,
True wife, in placid tenderness as lustrous silver moon,
Dear mother, loving unto death and better loved than life,
Where can the wide world match me such a mother, maid, or wife?
True wife, in placid tenderness as lustrous silver moon,
Dear mother, loving unto death and better loved than life,
Where can the wide world match me such a mother, maid, or wife?
Fair Athelswytha, Alfred's own, is still your spirit's queen,
The faithful, the courageous, the tender, the serene,
The pious heroine of home, the solace, friend, and nurse,
The height of self-forgetfulness, the climax of all verse!
The faithful, the courageous, the tender, the serene,
The pious heroine of home, the solace, friend, and nurse,
The height of self-forgetfulness, the climax of all verse!
And now, Great Alfred's countrymen and countrywomen all,—
Victoria! Albert! graciously regard your minstrel's call!
Up, royal, gentle, simple folk! up first, ye men of Berks!
And give a nation's monument to Alfred's mighty works!
Victoria! Albert! graciously regard your minstrel's call!
Up, royal, gentle, simple folk! up first, ye men of Berks!
And give a nation's monument to Alfred's mighty works!
In Anglo-Saxon majesty, simplicity and strength,
O children, build your Father's tomb, for very shame at length:
The birthday of your king has dawn'd a thousand times this day,
It must not die before you set your seal to what I say!
O children, build your Father's tomb, for very shame at length:
The birthday of your king has dawn'd a thousand times this day,
It must not die before you set your seal to what I say!
252
The Order of Alfred.—1849.
Alfred the Great upon his thousandth year!—
Who would not give him honour far and near?
Where is the mind of Anglo-Saxon mould
Unstirr'd by those brave memories of old,
When the seed-acorn of our English oak
First from the soil with stubborn sinews broke,
Put forth its towering leader, and, ere long,
Grew like a giant, lusty, straight, and strong,
Up to the zenith flung its leafy crown,
Down—to the centre struck its taproot—down,
Clung to the very ribs of mother earth,
Her sturdy son, her never-dying birth,
And now, more vigorous for a thousand years,
Has overgrown a brace of hemispheres!
Who would not give him honour far and near?
Where is the mind of Anglo-Saxon mould
Unstirr'd by those brave memories of old,
When the seed-acorn of our English oak
First from the soil with stubborn sinews broke,
Put forth its towering leader, and, ere long,
Grew like a giant, lusty, straight, and strong,
Up to the zenith flung its leafy crown,
Down—to the centre struck its taproot—down,
Clung to the very ribs of mother earth,
Her sturdy son, her never-dying birth,
And now, more vigorous for a thousand years,
Has overgrown a brace of hemispheres!
O royal Alfred, look on me thy son,
Thy faithful Abdiel, if thine only one!
In thee the Saxon David I behold,
Meek as the lamb and as the lion bold,
Tinged with some fault as may become a man,
But doing yet the best a mortal can,
In weal and woe the bright exemplar still
To kings who compass good and combat ill.
Fear'd by thy foes, as by thy friends admired,
And changing foes to friends with love inspired,
Great in adversity, but greater far
In the full blaze of fortune's favouring star,
All things to all men was thy bright career,
A man for saints to love, and fiends to fear!
Thy faithful Abdiel, if thine only one!
In thee the Saxon David I behold,
Meek as the lamb and as the lion bold,
Tinged with some fault as may become a man,
But doing yet the best a mortal can,
In weal and woe the bright exemplar still
To kings who compass good and combat ill.
Fear'd by thy foes, as by thy friends admired,
And changing foes to friends with love inspired,
Great in adversity, but greater far
In the full blaze of fortune's favouring star,
253
A man for saints to love, and fiends to fear!
For, well I wot thy greatness of old time,
Well do I note that greatness still sublime:
From thee, as root, old England's glory grew,
Thee the first-fruit, and trunk, and acorn too.
Father and founder of this ruling race,
King in all climes, and priests in every place,—
Lawgiver, statesman, teaching now as then,
For ever living in the hearts of men,
Thee may thy children title, as they can,
The pattern prince, the model Englishman!
Well do I note that greatness still sublime:
From thee, as root, old England's glory grew,
Thee the first-fruit, and trunk, and acorn too.
Father and founder of this ruling race,
King in all climes, and priests in every place,—
Lawgiver, statesman, teaching now as then,
For ever living in the hearts of men,
Thee may thy children title, as they can,
The pattern prince, the model Englishman!
Through thee, fair Order rested on the land,
Mercy and Justice walking hand in hand;
Each village church is thine, with all its good;
Each hamlet stands where at thy word it stood:
Merchants, who waft your venture on the breeze,
He gave you first the freedom of the seas;
Sailors, ten centuries our British boast,
He sent you first afloat on every coast;
Yeomen, who guard your homes and their increase,
He arm'd your prowess, and decreed your peace;
Soldiers, whose valour rings from pole to pole,
Your glory dates from Alfred's royal soul!
Mercy and Justice walking hand in hand;
Each village church is thine, with all its good;
Each hamlet stands where at thy word it stood:
Merchants, who waft your venture on the breeze,
He gave you first the freedom of the seas;
Sailors, ten centuries our British boast,
He sent you first afloat on every coast;
Yeomen, who guard your homes and their increase,
He arm'd your prowess, and decreed your peace;
Soldiers, whose valour rings from pole to pole,
Your glory dates from Alfred's royal soul!
And where was Oxford with her beacon light
Before this meteor blazed upon the night?
Before his mind, illumining the world,
Flash'd o'er the nations like a flag unfurl'd,
And princely gifts, as well as student-toil,
Fed learning's golden lamp with midnight oil!
Remember, London! once so desolate,
Through him, thine Ezra, thou art grown so great;
Sing, ye dark places of the land made fair,
For Nehemiah breathed in Alfred there!
Before this meteor blazed upon the night?
Before his mind, illumining the world,
Flash'd o'er the nations like a flag unfurl'd,
And princely gifts, as well as student-toil,
Fed learning's golden lamp with midnight oil!
254
Through him, thine Ezra, thou art grown so great;
Sing, ye dark places of the land made fair,
For Nehemiah breathed in Alfred there!
And see, how Science at his fostering voice
With sister Art could at their task rejoice:
Never, since Alfred was a king of men
Has honour gilt the pencil or the pen
With half the richness of that generous age
When he stood by the student or the sage;
Never has King, or Queen, or Royal Prince,
To his true nobles been an Alfred since!
With sister Art could at their task rejoice:
Never, since Alfred was a king of men
Has honour gilt the pencil or the pen
With half the richness of that generous age
When he stood by the student or the sage;
Never has King, or Queen, or Royal Prince,
To his true nobles been an Alfred since!
Aye; and to these, the Lawgiver, the King,
The statesman, chieftain, patron, everything,
Under whose laws we live, whose light yet shines,
Whose character with England's intertwines,—
Add the calm virtues of a Christian mind,
The glorious will and power to bless mankind,
The guileless heart scarce mix'd with worldly leaven,
The meekness of a sainted child of heaven,
And tell me, Earth our Mother, where and when
Hadst thou another such a man of men?
The statesman, chieftain, patron, everything,
Under whose laws we live, whose light yet shines,
Whose character with England's intertwines,—
Add the calm virtues of a Christian mind,
The glorious will and power to bless mankind,
The guileless heart scarce mix'd with worldly leaven,
The meekness of a sainted child of heaven,
And tell me, Earth our Mother, where and when
Hadst thou another such a man of men?
Yea! for his greatness, faintly seen from far,
Is as the glimmering greatness of a star
Which common ignorance, with vacant stare,
Sees as a petty spangle shining there!
Yea! for his glory, like the noonday sun,
So little praised by that it shines upon,
Has lighten'd church and state in every way,
And men think nothing of the common day!
To us he was, as to the Hebrew stock
Stood father Abraham, both root and rock,
To us the Noah of our shipwreck'd helm,
The Adam of this Anglo-Saxon realm!
Is as the glimmering greatness of a star
Which common ignorance, with vacant stare,
Sees as a petty spangle shining there!
Yea! for his glory, like the noonday sun,
So little praised by that it shines upon,
Has lighten'd church and state in every way,
And men think nothing of the common day!
255
Stood father Abraham, both root and rock,
To us the Noah of our shipwreck'd helm,
The Adam of this Anglo-Saxon realm!
Forgetful Britain! haste, redeem the day,
Before this grand occasion dies away:
There yet is time one trophied Praise to rear
To Alfred's honour on his thousandth year,
Better than statues or a tardy tomb
To one who lives beyond the crack of doom,
A Praise like him to live, and be, and grow
In hearts that still for God and goodness glow,
A Praise, where Alfred's own example stood,
Himself the paragon of all things good.
Before this grand occasion dies away:
There yet is time one trophied Praise to rear
To Alfred's honour on his thousandth year,
Better than statues or a tardy tomb
To one who lives beyond the crack of doom,
A Praise like him to live, and be, and grow
In hearts that still for God and goodness glow,
A Praise, where Alfred's own example stood,
Himself the paragon of all things good.
Stablish, O Queen! a new found honour here,
King Alfred's Order on his Thousandth Year;
For peaceful merit of whatever kind,
The duteous martyr, or the master-mind,
For keen invention, and for high-toned art,
For every excellence of head and heart,
For wit and wisdom, holiness and skill,
For Man's and Woman's God-devoted will,
For all things wise, and generous, and good,
Stablish this seal of England's gratitude!
King Alfred's Order on his Thousandth Year;
For peaceful merit of whatever kind,
The duteous martyr, or the master-mind,
For keen invention, and for high-toned art,
For every excellence of head and heart,
For wit and wisdom, holiness and skill,
For Man's and Woman's God-devoted will,
For all things wise, and generous, and good,
Stablish this seal of England's gratitude!
Let Alfred's badge,—his collar, bâton, star,
Decorate Worth, more worth than that of War:
The pure and patient labourers for truth,
Neglected Mentors of our wayward youth;
The pastor, and the poet, and the sage,
Forgotten comforters from youth to age;
The good physician, quick to cheat the grave
Of dying want, whom skill and science save;
The poor man's advocate; the outcast's friend,
Who heals the wounds that woes unkindly rend;
The Hero, whatsoe'er his rank or name,
Who does his duty well, and finds it fame;
And the wise phalanx of untitled men
Who wield with giant force the generous pen,
And do more good through all creation still
Than cut-and-dried diplomacy does ill:
O, there are many who would scorn to share
The bloodstain'd ribbon with those courtiers there,
Many, who marvel that for peace and worth
Is dealt a badge most worthless upon earth!
Decorate Worth, more worth than that of War:
The pure and patient labourers for truth,
Neglected Mentors of our wayward youth;
The pastor, and the poet, and the sage,
Forgotten comforters from youth to age;
256
Of dying want, whom skill and science save;
The poor man's advocate; the outcast's friend,
Who heals the wounds that woes unkindly rend;
The Hero, whatsoe'er his rank or name,
Who does his duty well, and finds it fame;
And the wise phalanx of untitled men
Who wield with giant force the generous pen,
And do more good through all creation still
Than cut-and-dried diplomacy does ill:
O, there are many who would scorn to share
The bloodstain'd ribbon with those courtiers there,
Many, who marvel that for peace and worth
Is dealt a badge most worthless upon earth!
True: these have their Reward, more glorious far,—
And take small comfort from a tinsel star:
Yet, for the good encouragement of all,
God's creature, Honour, is a mighty call;
And none may scorn, however pure or wise,
Such earthly symbol of a heavenly prize,
Because our Sovereign's praise betokens thus
The praise of God, Her Sovereign, upon us!
And take small comfort from a tinsel star:
Yet, for the good encouragement of all,
God's creature, Honour, is a mighty call;
And none may scorn, however pure or wise,
Such earthly symbol of a heavenly prize,
Because our Sovereign's praise betokens thus
The praise of God, Her Sovereign, upon us!
So then, let Alfred's bright Memorial be
A smile reflected, Gracious Queen, from Thee!
A smile on merit, wheresoever found,
Topping the clouds or cowering on the ground,—
An honour, which the Good, though poor, may gain,
And Evil in high places seek in vain,
A wise new bulwark to our Church and State,
King Alfred's Order for the Good and Great!
A smile reflected, Gracious Queen, from Thee!
A smile on merit, wheresoever found,
Topping the clouds or cowering on the ground,—
An honour, which the Good, though poor, may gain,
And Evil in high places seek in vain,
A wise new bulwark to our Church and State,
King Alfred's Order for the Good and Great!
257
The Day of a Thousand Years!
849. October 25, 1849.
To-day is the day of a thousand years!
Bless it, O brothers, with heart-thrilling cheers!
Alfred for ever!—to-day was He born,
Daystar of England to herald her morn,
That, everywhere breaking and brightening soon,
Sheds on us now the full sunshine of noon,
And fills us with blessing in Church and in State,
Children of Alfred, the Good and the Great!
Chorus,—
Bless it, O brothers, with heart-thrilling cheers!
Alfred for ever!—to-day was He born,
Daystar of England to herald her morn,
That, everywhere breaking and brightening soon,
Sheds on us now the full sunshine of noon,
And fills us with blessing in Church and in State,
Children of Alfred, the Good and the Great!
Hail to his Jubilee Day,
The Day of a thousand years!
Anglo-Saxons!—In love are we met,
To honour a name we can never forget!
Father, and Founder, and King of a race
That reigns and rejoices in every place,—
Root of a tree that o'ershadows the earth,
First of a Family blest from his birth,
Blest in this stem of their strength and their state,
Alfred the Wise, and the Good, and the Great!
Chorus,—
To honour a name we can never forget!
Father, and Founder, and King of a race
That reigns and rejoices in every place,—
Root of a tree that o'ershadows the earth,
First of a Family blest from his birth,
Blest in this stem of their strength and their state,
Alfred the Wise, and the Good, and the Great!
Hail to his Jubilee Day,
The Day of a thousand years!
Children of Alfred, from every clime,
Your glory shall live to the deathday of Time!
And then in bliss shall ever expand
O'er measureless realms of the Heavenly Land!
For you, like him, serve God and your Race,
And gratefully look on the birthday of Grace.—
Then honour to Alfred! with heart-stirring cheers!
To-day is the Day of a thousand years!
Chorus,—
Your glory shall live to the deathday of Time!
And then in bliss shall ever expand
O'er measureless realms of the Heavenly Land!
For you, like him, serve God and your Race,
And gratefully look on the birthday of Grace.—
Then honour to Alfred! with heart-stirring cheers!
To-day is the Day of a thousand years!
Hail to his Jubilee Day,
The Day of a thousand years!
258
The Memorial Window
Of the Anglo-Saxon Race. An Illustration.
Honour and Arms! The seals of Grace
upon this oriel glow;
Arms, as when brothers may embrace,
and not to fight a foe;
The arms of peace, heraldic arms,
with blazon richly dight,
Made gorgeous with chivalric charms,
and gilt with glory's light!
upon this oriel glow;
Arms, as when brothers may embrace,
and not to fight a foe;
The arms of peace, heraldic arms,
with blazon richly dight,
Made gorgeous with chivalric charms,
and gilt with glory's light!
Honour and Arms! O brethren dear,
I see your flashing eyes,
I feel your true hearts hurrying near
from all outlandish skies,
To bask one hour in one dear spot,
the kernel of your love,
In poor old England unforgot,
the blest of God above!
I see your flashing eyes,
I feel your true hearts hurrying near
from all outlandish skies,
To bask one hour in one dear spot,
the kernel of your love,
In poor old England unforgot,
the blest of God above!
Centre of all, Britannia's shield
in praise unsullied shines,
Rose, shamrock, thistle, round its field
a wreath of beauty twines;
Sweet Erin's harp of melody,
with Scotia's canton fair,
And thine own royal lions three
majestic roaming there.
in praise unsullied shines,
Rose, shamrock, thistle, round its field
a wreath of beauty twines;
Sweet Erin's harp of melody,
with Scotia's canton fair,
And thine own royal lions three
majestic roaming there.
261
Next, to thy right, a mighty son,
a stalwarth giant grown,
A wanton and a truant one,
and yet a child to own!
The sturdy stripes,—the glittering stars,
long may they blaze above,
Not on the bloody helm of Mars,
but in the crown of love!
a stalwarth giant grown,
A wanton and a truant one,
and yet a child to own!
The sturdy stripes,—the glittering stars,
long may they blaze above,
Not on the bloody helm of Mars,
but in the crown of love!
Nearer thy heart another stands,
a twin, but one in two,
And bringing homage with both hands
from one wide heart most true,
Stern Caledonia's thistly praise
reveals her hardy child,
Where Canada's mild beaver strays
to stock the western wild.
a twin, but one in two,
And bringing homage with both hands
from one wide heart most true,
Stern Caledonia's thistly praise
reveals her hardy child,
Where Canada's mild beaver strays
to stock the western wild.
Shining above, in orient light
the morning sun upsoars,—
Hindústan's elephantine might
is shadow'd on those shores;
Their luscious fruits of tropic toil
the sea-girt Indies breed,
And forth from Afric's southern soil
springs Anglo-Saxon seed.
the morning sun upsoars,—
Hindústan's elephantine might
is shadow'd on those shores;
Their luscious fruits of tropic toil
the sea-girt Indies breed,
And forth from Afric's southern soil
springs Anglo-Saxon seed.
Beneath old Britain's blazon fair
Australia's emu stands,
And kangaroos are skipping there
on rich unpeopled lands;
New Zealand's war-boat paddles fast;
and Borneo's royal ship
Makes many a pirate scuffling past
beware “the Badger's” grip!
Australia's emu stands,
And kangaroos are skipping there
on rich unpeopled lands;
262
and Borneo's royal ship
Makes many a pirate scuffling past
beware “the Badger's” grip!
Old Egbert's cross in golden light
is shining over all,
And, on its right, no viper's bite
harms Malta's holy Paul;
While huge Gibraltar's rock outstands,
for bristling cannon cleft,
Like Hercules with Samson's hands
to pillar up the left.
is shining over all,
And, on its right, no viper's bite
harms Malta's holy Paul;
While huge Gibraltar's rock outstands,
for bristling cannon cleft,
Like Hercules with Samson's hands
to pillar up the left.
Below, with praise each lesser star
in mingled lustre smiles,
The storm-swept Falklands seen afar
and soft Ionian Isles,
With dark Sierra's libell'd beach,
And Mandarin'd Hong Kong,
And all who speak in English speech,
or sing an English song.
in mingled lustre smiles,
The storm-swept Falklands seen afar
and soft Ionian Isles,
With dark Sierra's libell'd beach,
And Mandarin'd Hong Kong,
And all who speak in English speech,
or sing an English song.
O heralds! when and where before
were Earth's true honours seen,
In brightness and in beauty more
than on this Gothic screen?
Where Britain, like a mother hen,
is gathering to her wings
The world of Anglo-Saxon men,
creation's priests and kings!
were Earth's true honours seen,
In brightness and in beauty more
than on this Gothic screen?
Where Britain, like a mother hen,
is gathering to her wings
The world of Anglo-Saxon men,
creation's priests and kings!
263
A Call to poor Sempstresses.
Daughters of poverty, jaded and ill,
So vainly prolonging the strife,
How scarce for to-day, the day's task to fulfil,
And, as for to-morrow, despondingly still
In dread of the battle of life,—
So vainly prolonging the strife,
How scarce for to-day, the day's task to fulfil,
And, as for to-morrow, despondingly still
In dread of the battle of life,—
Toiling in pain for a pittance of bread,
Or starving, with nothing to do,
Friendless, and fever'd in heart and in head,
And longing for rest to lie down with the dead,
—A word, my poor sisters, with you!
Or starving, with nothing to do,
Friendless, and fever'd in heart and in head,
And longing for rest to lie down with the dead,
—A word, my poor sisters, with you!
There is a fair land in a sweet southern clime,
Another young England indeed,
Which God, in His providence working sublime,
Has kindly reserved till the fulness of time,
To succour His children in need;
Another young England indeed,
Which God, in His providence working sublime,
Has kindly reserved till the fulness of time,
To succour His children in need;
A happy new home, which He wills you to seek,
With plenty to have and to spare,
And hope in your bosom, and health on your cheek,
And human affections all eager to speak
Of tenderness waiting you there!
With plenty to have and to spare,
And hope in your bosom, and health on your cheek,
And human affections all eager to speak
Of tenderness waiting you there!
The valleys are rich, and the mountains are green,
And the woods in magnificent state
To the distant horizon o'ershadow the scene,
Where never till now Adam's footstep has been,
And Eve is delaying so late.
And the woods in magnificent state
To the distant horizon o'ershadow the scene,
Where never till now Adam's footstep has been,
And Eve is delaying so late.
264
Then, haste for your happiness,—joyfully haste
From perils and pains to be free;
For, Providence calls you to gladden the waste,
And freedom, and plenty, and pleasure to taste
In homes that are over the sea.
From perils and pains to be free;
For, Providence calls you to gladden the waste,
And freedom, and plenty, and pleasure to taste
In homes that are over the sea.
Our Thanksgiving Hymn.
November 15, 1849.
O Father of mercies, O Spirit of love,
O Son of the Blessed who reignest above,
Thou Good One, and Great One! in homage to Thee,
We bring the glad heart, and we bend the true knee.
O Son of the Blessed who reignest above,
Thou Good One, and Great One! in homage to Thee,
We bring the glad heart, and we bend the true knee.
Thy people would praise Thee, O Thou beyond praise!
For wondrous in love are Thy works and Thy ways;
Thy children would pour from the heart and the voice
Their psalm of thanksgiving in God to rejoice!
For wondrous in love are Thy works and Thy ways;
Thy children would pour from the heart and the voice
Their psalm of thanksgiving in God to rejoice!
Because Thou hast heard us! and answer'd the pray'r
We made in the season of death and despair;
Because over judgment, and terror, and pain,
Thy mercy hath triumph'd, and saved us again!
We made in the season of death and despair;
Because over judgment, and terror, and pain,
Thy mercy hath triumph'd, and saved us again!
Ah! well we remember how dark and how dread
The pestilence brooded o'er living and dead;
And can we forget with what mercy and might
The prayer which Thou blessest hath scatter'd the blight!
The pestilence brooded o'er living and dead;
And can we forget with what mercy and might
The prayer which Thou blessest hath scatter'd the blight!
Yet more! for the fulness of plenty and peace
Hath made us in wealth as in health to increase,
And so would we thank Thee, because Thou hast given
The fatness of earth, and the favour of heaven!
Hath made us in wealth as in health to increase,
And so would we thank Thee, because Thou hast given
The fatness of earth, and the favour of heaven!
Then, Father of mercies, accept what we bring,—
Our incense of praise to the Saviour and King!
Hosannah!—to Thee let us gratefully live,—
Hallelujah!—O Lord, when Thou hearest, forgive.
Our incense of praise to the Saviour and King!
Hosannah!—to Thee let us gratefully live,—
Hallelujah!—O Lord, when Thou hearest, forgive.
266
Acceptable Thanks!
A Sequel to “Our Thanksgiving Hymn.”
Thanksgiving! O brothers, how pleasant a thing
It is the glad anthem to raise
In deep adoration of Heaven's High King,
So far above blessing and praise!
It is the glad anthem to raise
In deep adoration of Heaven's High King,
So far above blessing and praise!
Thanksgiving! O children of God in all ranks,
How then shall we worthily give
A holy oblation, acceptable thanks,
To Him in whose favour we live?—
How then shall we worthily give
A holy oblation, acceptable thanks,
To Him in whose favour we live?—
By penitence, patience, contentment, and prayer,
By peace upon earth and goodwill,
By speeding the woes of affliction to share,
And hasting the hungry to fill:
By peace upon earth and goodwill,
By speeding the woes of affliction to share,
And hasting the hungry to fill:
By making, as masters, this Thanksgiving Day
A holiday, happy and true,
Not meanly withholding the journeyman's pay,
But giving it all as his due!
A holiday, happy and true,
Not meanly withholding the journeyman's pay,
But giving it all as his due!
By bringing an Englishman's home to the poor,
A home of clean comfort, and peace;
By driving disease and despair from his door,
And making his hardships to cease:
A home of clean comfort, and peace;
By driving disease and despair from his door,
And making his hardships to cease:
By Water, and Air,—the free bounties of Heaven;
By wise recreation and rest;
By fairly earn'd wages ungrudgingly given
For Labour,—the honest man's test!
By wise recreation and rest;
By fairly earn'd wages ungrudgingly given
For Labour,—the honest man's test!
267
O thus, if the rich for the poor man will move
To better his home and his hearth,—
O thus, if the poor his rich brother will love,
And honour his betters on earth,—
To better his home and his hearth,—
O thus, if the poor his rich brother will love,
And honour his betters on earth,—
Then God will be pleased! and this Thanksgiving Day
Will indeed be a Summer of days,
For Man will be gladden'd by Man as he may,
And God by acceptable praise!
Will indeed be a Summer of days,
For Man will be gladden'd by Man as he may,
And God by acceptable praise!
A Song.
Ah Memory! why reproach me so
With shadows of the past,
The thrilling hopes of long ago
That came and went so fast?
Ye tender tones of that dear voice,
Ye looks of those loved eyes,—
Return,—and bid my heart rejoice,
For true love never dies!
With shadows of the past,
The thrilling hopes of long ago
That came and went so fast?
Ye tender tones of that dear voice,
Ye looks of those loved eyes,—
Return,—and bid my heart rejoice,
For true love never dies!
Rejoice?—O word of hope! I may
When those indeed return;
For looks and tones so past away
In solitude I yearn!
Let others fancy I forget
The light of those dear eyes,—
I love,—O how I love thee yet!
For true love never dies.
When those indeed return;
For looks and tones so past away
In solitude I yearn!
Let others fancy I forget
The light of those dear eyes,—
I love,—O how I love thee yet!
For true love never dies.
Cheer up!
FOR MUSIC.
Never go gloomily, man with a mind!
Hope is a better companion than fear,
Providence, ever benignant and kind,
Gives with a smile what you take with a tear;
All will be right,
Look to the light,—
Morning is ever the daughter of night,
All that was black will be all that is bright,
Cheerily, cheerily then! cheer up!
Hope is a better companion than fear,
Providence, ever benignant and kind,
Gives with a smile what you take with a tear;
All will be right,
Look to the light,—
Morning is ever the daughter of night,
All that was black will be all that is bright,
Cheerily, cheerily then! cheer up!
270
Many a foe is a friend in disguise,
Many a sorrow a blessing most true,
Helping the heart to be happy and wise
With lore ever precious and joys ever new;
Stand in the van,
Strive like a man!
This is the bravest and cleverest plan,
Trusting in God, while you do what you can,
Cheerily, cheerily then! cheer up!
Many a sorrow a blessing most true,
Helping the heart to be happy and wise
With lore ever precious and joys ever new;
Stand in the van,
Strive like a man!
This is the bravest and cleverest plan,
Trusting in God, while you do what you can,
Cheerily, cheerily then! cheer up!
“Together.”
FOR MUSIC.
The elm-tree of old felt lonely and cold
When wintry winds blew high,
And, looking below, he saw in the snow
The ivy wandering nigh:
And he said, Come twine with those tendrils of thine
My scathed and frozen form,
For heart and hand together we'll stand
And mock at the baffled storm,
Ha, ha! Together.
When wintry winds blew high,
And, looking below, he saw in the snow
The ivy wandering nigh:
And he said, Come twine with those tendrils of thine
My scathed and frozen form,
For heart and hand together we'll stand
And mock at the baffled storm,
Ha, ha! Together.
And so when grief is withering the leaf
And checking hope's young flower,
And frosts do bite with their teeth so white
In disappointment's hour,
Though it might overwhelm either ivy or elm
If alone each stood the strife,
If heart and hand together they stand
They may laugh at the troubles of life,
Ha, ha! Together.
And checking hope's young flower,
And frosts do bite with their teeth so white
In disappointment's hour,
Though it might overwhelm either ivy or elm
If alone each stood the strife,
If heart and hand together they stand
They may laugh at the troubles of life,
Ha, ha! Together.
271
“The last Time.”
Another year? another year!
Who dare depend on other years?
The judgment of this world is near,
And all its children faint for fears:
Famine, pestilence, and war,
Mixt with praises, prayers, and tears,
Civil strife and social jar,
Spurr'd by pen, and stirr'd by sword,
Herald Him who comes from far
In Elijah's fiery car,
Our own returning Lord!
Who dare depend on other years?
The judgment of this world is near,
And all its children faint for fears:
Famine, pestilence, and war,
Mixt with praises, prayers, and tears,
Civil strife and social jar,
Spurr'd by pen, and stirr'd by sword,
Herald Him who comes from far
In Elijah's fiery car,
Our own returning Lord!
Look around,—the nations quail!
All the elements of ill
Crowd like locusts on the gale
And the dark horizon fill:
Woe to earth, and all her seed!
Woe they run to ruin still:—
He that runneth well may read
Texts of truth the times afford,
How, in earth's extremest need
Cometh, cometh soon indeed
Our own redeeming Lord!
All the elements of ill
Crowd like locusts on the gale
And the dark horizon fill:
Woe to earth, and all her seed!
Woe they run to ruin still:—
He that runneth well may read
Texts of truth the times afford,
How, in earth's extremest need
Cometh, cometh soon indeed
Our own redeeming Lord!
Lo, the marvels passing strange
Every teeming minute brings;
Daily turns with sudden change
The kaleidoscope of things;
But the Ruler, just and wise,
Orders all, as King of kings,—
Hark! His thunders shake the skies,
Lo! His vials are outpour'd!
Earth in bitter travail lies
And creation groans and cries
For our expected Lord!
Every teeming minute brings;
Daily turns with sudden change
The kaleidoscope of things;
274
Orders all, as King of kings,—
Hark! His thunders shake the skies,
Lo! His vials are outpour'd!
Earth in bitter travail lies
And creation groans and cries
For our expected Lord!
Stand in courage, stand in faith!
Tremble not as others may;
He that conquers hell and death
Is the friend of those who pray:
And in this world's destined woe
He will save his own alway
From the trial's furnace glow,—
Till the harvest all is stored,
Rescued from each earthly foe
And the terrible ones below
By our avenging Lord!
Tremble not as others may;
He that conquers hell and death
Is the friend of those who pray:
And in this world's destined woe
He will save his own alway
From the trial's furnace glow,—
Till the harvest all is stored,
Rescued from each earthly foe
And the terrible ones below
By our avenging Lord!
Yea, come quickly! Saviour, come!
Take us to thy glorious rest,
All thy children yearn for home,
Home, the heaven of thy breast!
Help, with instant gracious aid!
That in just assurance blest
We may watch,—nor feel afraid,
Every warning in thy word,
Signs and tokens all array'd
In proof of that for which we pray'd,
The coming of the Lord!
Take us to thy glorious rest,
All thy children yearn for home,
Home, the heaven of thy breast!
Help, with instant gracious aid!
That in just assurance blest
We may watch,—nor feel afraid,
Every warning in thy word,
Signs and tokens all array'd
In proof of that for which we pray'd,
The coming of the Lord!
275
A Greeting.
It were not well to vex thee with my praises,Yet am I quick to read thy gifts aright;
Loving, sincere, and wise,—in three best phases,
Young heart, I note thy characters of light:
Spirits are keen to make such instant guesses
For time is nothing to the Soul that lives;
Therefore my spirit thy good spirit blesses,
Therefore my Mind its cordial greeting gives,—
Its greeting?—of a moment, sad to tell,
For all my greeting is a true Farewell!
| Ballads for the Times | |