 | English melodies |  |
227
2. PART SECOND. SONGS AND LYRICAL PIECES
NEVER BEFORE COLLECTED.
232
THE WIDOWED MOTHER.
She sat beside the abbey-gate,—
The sun was setting fast;
Its light play'd in her baby's face!
Her own was overcast!
“Oh! smile not here, my baby dear!
Smile not, while I deplore;
And seek relief in tears of grief,
For him who is no more!”
The sun was setting fast;
Its light play'd in her baby's face!
Her own was overcast!
“Oh! smile not here, my baby dear!
Smile not, while I deplore;
And seek relief in tears of grief,
For him who is no more!”
The clouds lay turning to the west
Their gold and crimson rim;
And still—as if the babe they blest—
Threw golden smiles on him!
“Oh! change that brow, my baby now,
Or turn thy gaze from me;
I cannot bear, 'midst all my care,
Thy little smiles to see!
Their gold and crimson rim;
And still—as if the babe they blest—
Threw golden smiles on him!
“Oh! change that brow, my baby now,
Or turn thy gaze from me;
I cannot bear, 'midst all my care,
Thy little smiles to see!
233
“Some pity take for his dear sake,
Who lov'd thee whilst he'd breath;
And told thee this with his last kiss,
And clung to thee in death!”
But still that ray in golden play
Around the baby crept;
And still 'twould smile, though all the while,
The widow'd mother wept!
Who lov'd thee whilst he'd breath;
And told thee this with his last kiss,
And clung to thee in death!”
But still that ray in golden play
Around the baby crept;
And still 'twould smile, though all the while,
The widow'd mother wept!
234
I HATE THOSE WILD SPIRITS.
I hate those wild spirits that either are crowing,
As if of the sun they had more than their share,
More boisterous far than a nor-wester blowing,
Or sunk in the uttermost depths of despair.
Give me the firm nature that, tranquil and fearless,
Some hope 'midst the tide of misfortune can find;
Not too sanguine to-day, nor to-morrow too cheerless,
But reason the rudder that governs the mind.
As if of the sun they had more than their share,
More boisterous far than a nor-wester blowing,
Or sunk in the uttermost depths of despair.
Give me the firm nature that, tranquil and fearless,
Some hope 'midst the tide of misfortune can find;
Not too sanguine to-day, nor to-morrow too cheerless,
But reason the rudder that governs the mind.
Those weathercock-feelings that ever seem fated
To change their direction whatever winds draw;
One moment depress'd, in another elated—
Now led by a feather, now lost by a straw;
Give me the true heart upon which there's reliance,
Ere known what the hour's passing humour may plan;
One that laughs at slight cares, or can bid them defiance,
And bear his misfortunes, erect, like a man.
To change their direction whatever winds draw;
One moment depress'd, in another elated—
Now led by a feather, now lost by a straw;
235
Ere known what the hour's passing humour may plan;
One that laughs at slight cares, or can bid them defiance,
And bear his misfortunes, erect, like a man.
236
STARS ON THE RIVER.
Stars on the river
Night swiftly clears,—
Blest be the Giver
Of eve and her spheres!
Blest be the river
In moonlight that rolls!
Hope's spirit ever
Thus beam on our souls!
Night swiftly clears,—
Blest be the Giver
Of eve and her spheres!
Blest be the river
In moonlight that rolls!
Hope's spirit ever
Thus beam on our souls!
Dew on the roses:
I've shaken each crest,
One now reposes
All warm on my breast;
Would we might waken
From life's weary woes
With tears as swift shaken
As dews from the rose!
I've shaken each crest,
One now reposes
All warm on my breast;
Would we might waken
From life's weary woes
With tears as swift shaken
As dews from the rose!
237
Cares may have bound us—
Why thus repine?
Love is around us,
With all things divine:
Words never stated
The love by Him given
Who earth first created,
Then—wreath'd it with heaven.
Why thus repine?
Love is around us,
With all things divine:
Words never stated
The love by Him given
Who earth first created,
Then—wreath'd it with heaven.
238
TEMPERANCE SONG.
Let the Sun be thy nectar!
Drink deep of its beams;
Let the greensward of nature
Thy banquet hall be!
Fill thy spirit with sunlight,—
'Tis richer than streams
Of the wine-flowing goblet,
And better for thee!—
Drink deep of its beams;
Let the greensward of nature
Thy banquet hall be!
Fill thy spirit with sunlight,—
'Tis richer than streams
Of the wine-flowing goblet,
And better for thee!—
Let the Sun be thy nectar;
'Tis next to divine!
Where's a vintage more golden
To gladden thine eyes?
What's the charm of the goblet,
The grace of the vine,
Compared to a banquet
Thus brought from the skies?
'Tis next to divine!
Where's a vintage more golden
To gladden thine eyes?
What's the charm of the goblet,
The grace of the vine,
Compared to a banquet
Thus brought from the skies?
239
Oh! air of the mountain!
Best wine of the world!—
Enrich'd with the sweetness
Of nature alone,—
I drink of thy spirit,
With sun-gems impearl'd;
And challenge Man's vintage
To equal thine own!
Best wine of the world!—
Enrich'd with the sweetness
Of nature alone,—
I drink of thy spirit,
With sun-gems impearl'd;
And challenge Man's vintage
To equal thine own!
242
OH! IT WAS IN THE MOONLIGHT.
Oh! it was in the moonlight
We two walk'd forth alone;
The silvery softness woo'd us
With magic of its own!
The Moon, as if she lov'd us,
Seem'd with us gliding on;
And blended in her holy light
Our shadows into one.
We two walk'd forth alone;
The silvery softness woo'd us
With magic of its own!
The Moon, as if she lov'd us,
Seem'd with us gliding on;
And blended in her holy light
Our shadows into one.
Our shadows into one, my dear,
As if the heavens above
Beheld our hearts and knew, though two,
They were made one by love!
The music of the silvery night
Enchanted all our way:
The very earth seem'd dress'd in white,
As for our bridal day!
As if the heavens above
Beheld our hearts and knew, though two,
They were made one by love!
The music of the silvery night
Enchanted all our way:
The very earth seem'd dress'd in white,
As for our bridal day!
243
As for our bridal day, my love,
The earth this gladness bore;
For us the graceful trees and flowers
Their whitest favours wore!
And like an augury of love
To last till life had gone,
Our shadows in the Moon's sweet light,
Our hearts and souls seem'd one.
The earth this gladness bore;
For us the graceful trees and flowers
Their whitest favours wore!
And like an augury of love
To last till life had gone,
Our shadows in the Moon's sweet light,
Our hearts and souls seem'd one.
244
AN EMBLEM.—A LONELY CLOUD.
“Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”
A lonely cloud, as eve began,
Its quiet rest did take,
As graceful as a sleeping swan
Upon a moonlit lake:
One star, companion of the west,
Shone 'mid that cloudy sphere,
Like hope, within a human breast,
When sorrow darkens near!
Its quiet rest did take,
As graceful as a sleeping swan
Upon a moonlit lake:
One star, companion of the west,
Shone 'mid that cloudy sphere,
Like hope, within a human breast,
When sorrow darkens near!
And oh! methought, for all our woes
A lesson here is given:
Would man might thus his griefs repose
Upon the breast of heaven—
Look upward to that realm afar
When worldly cares have birth,
And rest his hope on God's own star—
And take his heart from earth!
A lesson here is given:
Would man might thus his griefs repose
Upon the breast of heaven—
Look upward to that realm afar
When worldly cares have birth,
And rest his hope on God's own star—
And take his heart from earth!
247
TAKE THE WORLD AS IT IS.
Take the world as it is!—there are good and bad in it—
And good and bad will be from now to the end;
And they, who expect to make saints in a minute,
Are in danger of marring more hearts than they'll mend.
If ye wish to be happy ne'er seek for the faults,
Or you're sure to find something or other amiss;
'Mid much that debases, and much that exalts,
The world's not a bad one if left as it is!
And good and bad will be from now to the end;
And they, who expect to make saints in a minute,
Are in danger of marring more hearts than they'll mend.
If ye wish to be happy ne'er seek for the faults,
Or you're sure to find something or other amiss;
'Mid much that debases, and much that exalts,
The world's not a bad one if left as it is!
Take the world as it is!—if the surface be shining,
Ne'er rake up the sediment hidden below!
There's wisdom in this, but there's none in repining
O'er things which can rarely be mended, we know.
There's beauty around us, which let us enjoy;
And chide not, unless it may be with a kiss;
Though Earth's not the Heaven we thought when a boy,
There's something to live for, if ta'en as it is!
Ne'er rake up the sediment hidden below!
There's wisdom in this, but there's none in repining
O'er things which can rarely be mended, we know.
There's beauty around us, which let us enjoy;
And chide not, unless it may be with a kiss;
Though Earth's not the Heaven we thought when a boy,
There's something to live for, if ta'en as it is!
248
Take the world as it is!—with its smiles and its sorrow,
Its love and its friendship—its falsehood and truth—
Its schemes that depend on the breath of to-morrow!
Its hopes which pass by like the dreams of our youth—
Yet, oh! whilst the light of affection may shine,
The heart in itself hath a fountain of bliss!
In the worst there's some spark of a nature divine,
And the wisest and best take the world as it is.
Its love and its friendship—its falsehood and truth—
Its schemes that depend on the breath of to-morrow!
Its hopes which pass by like the dreams of our youth—
Yet, oh! whilst the light of affection may shine,
The heart in itself hath a fountain of bliss!
In the worst there's some spark of a nature divine,
And the wisest and best take the world as it is.
249
THE SUN THAT WARMS.
The Sun that warms the fading flower,
May cheer, not change, its doom;
May stay its fate for one brief hour,
But ne'er restore its bloom!
So when the wither'd heart receives
The light of love too late,
Its charm awhile the wreck relieves,
But cannot change its fate!
May cheer, not change, its doom;
May stay its fate for one brief hour,
But ne'er restore its bloom!
So when the wither'd heart receives
The light of love too late,
Its charm awhile the wreck relieves,
But cannot change its fate!
That heart, if yesterday caress'd,
Perchance had 'scap'd decay!
That smile, which yesterday had blest,
Comes all in vain to-day!
Then, oh! Love's vow of honour keep—
Nor let Affection wait;
For vain repentance—vain to weep,
When kindness comes too late!
Perchance had 'scap'd decay!
That smile, which yesterday had blest,
Comes all in vain to-day!
Then, oh! Love's vow of honour keep—
Nor let Affection wait;
For vain repentance—vain to weep,
When kindness comes too late!
252
A MORN OF LOVE.
The sun arose, 'mid clouds withdrawn,
In golden haze, in amber-mist;
The mountains in the gradual dawn
Blush'd as the god their foreheads kiss'd.
In golden haze, in amber-mist;
The mountains in the gradual dawn
Blush'd as the god their foreheads kiss'd.
The spirit of the morning threw
A holiness where'er we trod;
And every drop of perfect dew
Enshrin'd an image of the god.
A holiness where'er we trod;
And every drop of perfect dew
Enshrin'd an image of the god.
Oh! thus, I sigh'd, as bears the dew
The presence of yon orb divine,
So shrines my heart a form as true,
And that blest form, dear maid, is thine.
The presence of yon orb divine,
So shrines my heart a form as true,
And that blest form, dear maid, is thine.
253
In sweet confusion stood she by,
With modest air, abash'd and meek;
The blushes of the eastern sky
Had left their throne to grace her cheek.
With modest air, abash'd and meek;
The blushes of the eastern sky
Had left their throne to grace her cheek.
Still not in these spoke Hope alone,
But in her eyes where Truth was born:
Oh! never heart of man had known
So fair a love, so sweet a morn!
But in her eyes where Truth was born:
Oh! never heart of man had known
So fair a love, so sweet a morn!
254
MILDLY, OH! MOON OF NIGHT.
Mildly, oh! Moon of Night,
Walk'st thou the skies;
As if beneath thy light
No grief could rise!
As if thy beauty there
Shed sweetness everywhere;
As life ne'er lodg'd with care,
Sorrow, and sighs!
Walk'st thou the skies;
As if beneath thy light
No grief could rise!
As if thy beauty there
Shed sweetness everywhere;
As life ne'er lodg'd with care,
Sorrow, and sighs!
Shine where thou wilt, fair Moon,
Still must thou see
Love's roses all too soon
Lost from life's tree:
Hopes which have pass'd away,
Friendships that liv'd a day!
When Love and Hope decay,
What must life be?
Still must thou see
Love's roses all too soon
Lost from life's tree:
Hopes which have pass'd away,
Friendships that liv'd a day!
When Love and Hope decay,
What must life be?
255
ALONE AT EVE.
Alone at eve, when all is still—
And memory turns to other years,
How oft our weary hearts we fill
With feeling's dark and bitter tears:
The friendships of our youthful day—
The hopes, which time could ne'er fulfil,
And voices that have pass'd away,
Return at eve—when all is still!—
And memory turns to other years,
How oft our weary hearts we fill
With feeling's dark and bitter tears:
The friendships of our youthful day—
The hopes, which time could ne'er fulfil,
And voices that have pass'd away,
Return at eve—when all is still!—
When all is still except the breast
That wakes to long remember'd woe;
Of parted hopes, and hearts oppress'd,
And lov'd ones buried long ago!—
Yet solace may our spirits find,—
A star to light the darkest ill;
There's One the broken heart can bind—
Alone at eve—when all is still!
That wakes to long remember'd woe;
Of parted hopes, and hearts oppress'd,
And lov'd ones buried long ago!—
Yet solace may our spirits find,—
A star to light the darkest ill;
There's One the broken heart can bind—
Alone at eve—when all is still!
256
GILD YOUR FEATHERS.
Young Love but seldom ask'd advice,
And when he ask'd but seldom took it;
But he'd been humbled once or twice,
And his proud spirit could not brook it:
So he got Wisdom to impart
His care and counsel for all weathers;
Which was, to seek no maiden's heart,
Until he'd richly gilt his feathers!
And when he ask'd but seldom took it;
But he'd been humbled once or twice,
And his proud spirit could not brook it:
So he got Wisdom to impart
His care and counsel for all weathers;
Which was, to seek no maiden's heart,
Until he'd richly gilt his feathers!
Love smil'd; and soon his pinions bore
A golden blaze of beauty round him;
And maids, who'd scorn'd young Love before,
Now full of grace and sweetness found him!
Such taste—such spirit—such delight—
A wing to warm the worst of weathers.
Ha! ha! cried Love, but Wisdom's right—
There's nought like gilding well one's feathers.
A golden blaze of beauty round him;
And maids, who'd scorn'd young Love before,
Now full of grace and sweetness found him!
Such taste—such spirit—such delight—
A wing to warm the worst of weathers.
Ha! ha! cried Love, but Wisdom's right—
There's nought like gilding well one's feathers.
259
OH! ASK NOT IF I LOVE THEE WELL.
Oh! ask not if I love thee well,
For thou dost surely know,
It suits not maiden's lips to tell
They love—though it were so!
Thou with thine own wild doubts must cope;
I dare not say thou 'rt priz'd!—
Nor must I even bid thee hope,—
For Hope is Love disguis'd!
For thou dost surely know,
It suits not maiden's lips to tell
They love—though it were so!
Thou with thine own wild doubts must cope;
I dare not say thou 'rt priz'd!—
Nor must I even bid thee hope,—
For Hope is Love disguis'd!
For there are those who oft will slight,
And many that will scorn;
And love that seems so warm at night,
May die of cold ere morn!
Yet, if thou lov'st to sing to me,
Beside our village spring;
Go, take thy young lute from the tree—
And I will hear thee sing!
And many that will scorn;
And love that seems so warm at night,
May die of cold ere morn!
Yet, if thou lov'st to sing to me,
Beside our village spring;
Go, take thy young lute from the tree—
And I will hear thee sing!
260
Perchance I should not list those chords,
And this, too, may be wrong:
Yet surely if there's harm in words—
There is no harm in song!
And I will hear thee, as of yore,
Sing like a forest dove;
If thou wilt promise never more
To ask me if I love.
And this, too, may be wrong:
Yet surely if there's harm in words—
There is no harm in song!
And I will hear thee, as of yore,
Sing like a forest dove;
If thou wilt promise never more
To ask me if I love.
261
THE WORLD.
Want sense, and the world will o'erlook it;
Want feeling,—'t will find some excuse;
But if the world knows you want money,
You're certain to get its abuse:
The wisest advice in existence,
Is ne'er on its kindness to call;
The best way to get its assistance
Is—show you don't need it at all!
Want feeling,—'t will find some excuse;
But if the world knows you want money,
You're certain to get its abuse:
The wisest advice in existence,
Is ne'er on its kindness to call;
The best way to get its assistance
Is—show you don't need it at all!
“Man's the Gold!” said the bard, with a feeling
That still his discretion outran;
For each day of our life is revealing
The bard should have said,—“Gold is Man.”
Gold is genius, and greatness, and merit;
Want gold—you want all that gold brings!
But if fortune you only inherit,
The world will excuse other things.
That still his discretion outran;
For each day of our life is revealing
The bard should have said,—“Gold is Man.”
Gold is genius, and greatness, and merit;
Want gold—you want all that gold brings!
But if fortune you only inherit,
The world will excuse other things.
262
COLD BLOWS THE BLAST.
Cold blows the blast, though the summer is nigh;
Cold gleam the stars, and all pale as in tears;
But colder this heart in my bosom doth lie,—
This heart that should be in the spring of its years.
Cold gleam the stars, and all pale as in tears;
But colder this heart in my bosom doth lie,—
This heart that should be in the spring of its years.
Dark sets the storm over wild wood and field,
The herds to their wind-shaken solitude flee;
But darker the woes in my bosom conceal'd,
And wilder the fortune that waits upon me!
The herds to their wind-shaken solitude flee;
But darker the woes in my bosom conceal'd,
And wilder the fortune that waits upon me!
Sad as a wing-broken bird from its nest,
I wander the night, and no shelter I see;
But the chill pining heart of the bird shall find rest,
And sweet is the rest God will yet grant to me.
I wander the night, and no shelter I see;
But the chill pining heart of the bird shall find rest,
And sweet is the rest God will yet grant to me.
263
SPEED YOUR SAILS.
Speed your sails, ye Ships of England,
Crowd your colours to the mast,
Ye, that for a hundred winters,
Brav'd the billow and the blast;
Wreathe your gallant decks with roses—
Bid your loyalty be seen;
Let your vollied broadsides proudly,
And your voices, ringing loudly,
Swell the triumph of your queen!
Crowd your colours to the mast,
Ye, that for a hundred winters,
Brav'd the billow and the blast;
Wreathe your gallant decks with roses—
Bid your loyalty be seen;
Let your vollied broadsides proudly,
And your voices, ringing loudly,
Swell the triumph of your queen!
Front to front, ye hosts of England,
Flash your bayonets to the sky;
Ye, that 'mid the bolts of battle,
Bar'd your manly breasts to die,
Wreathe your conquering flag with roses—
Bid your loyalty be seen;
Let your drums and trumpets proudly
And your voices, soldiers, loudly
Sound the greatness of your queen!
Flash your bayonets to the sky;
Ye, that 'mid the bolts of battle,
Bar'd your manly breasts to die,
Wreathe your conquering flag with roses—
Bid your loyalty be seen;
Let your drums and trumpets proudly
And your voices, soldiers, loudly
Sound the greatness of your queen!
264
For the mighty throne of England
Never nobler sovereign knew,
Worthier as a wife and mother,
Unto every duty true!
So I wreathe my verse with roses,
Bid my loyalty be seen;
And in heart and feeling proudly,
And in song and music loudly—
Sing the Queen! God bless the Queen.
Never nobler sovereign knew,
Worthier as a wife and mother,
Unto every duty true!
So I wreathe my verse with roses,
Bid my loyalty be seen;
And in heart and feeling proudly,
And in song and music loudly—
Sing the Queen! God bless the Queen.
265
THE LADYE ARABELLE.
The hall is bright with song and light,
The dancers fair as youth can make them;
And fortune's bowers, so rich in flowers,
They seem but born to choose—and take them!
Yet, no! there's one who pines alone
Amid the joys that round her dwell—
She sits apart with aching heart—
The lovely Ladye Arabelle!
The dancers fair as youth can make them;
And fortune's bowers, so rich in flowers,
They seem but born to choose—and take them!
Yet, no! there's one who pines alone
Amid the joys that round her dwell—
She sits apart with aching heart—
The lovely Ladye Arabelle!
A voice is near that chills her ear—
A phantom-voice, for ever sighing,
“Rise, maiden, rise!—thy lover lies
Low on the forest pathway dying!
The hand that slew thy lover true
Now wears a ring, thou'lt know full well!”
—She's up and fled!—to find the dead!
The lovely Ladye Arabelle.
A phantom-voice, for ever sighing,
“Rise, maiden, rise!—thy lover lies
Low on the forest pathway dying!
The hand that slew thy lover true
Now wears a ring, thou'lt know full well!”
—She's up and fled!—to find the dead!
The lovely Ladye Arabelle.
266
All dark she found the forest ground—
The phantom-voice was still beside her;
Amidst the storm there gleam'd a form—
A spectre hand that seem'd to guide her!
A murder'd knight at morning light
Was found—but none, alas! may tell
The madd'ning care, the wild despair
Of lovely Ladye Arabelle.
The phantom-voice was still beside her;
Amidst the storm there gleam'd a form—
A spectre hand that seem'd to guide her!
A murder'd knight at morning light
Was found—but none, alas! may tell
The madd'ning care, the wild despair
Of lovely Ladye Arabelle.
267
IT IS BUT A COTTAGE.
It is but a cottage, but where is the heart
That would love not its home, be it ever so small?
There's a charm in that spot, which no words may impart,
Where the birds and the roses seem sweetest of all.
It is but a cottage, but still for a friend
There's a chair and whatever the table supplies.
To the mind that's content with what fortune may send,
Why a cot is a palace that monarchs might prize.
That would love not its home, be it ever so small?
There's a charm in that spot, which no words may impart,
Where the birds and the roses seem sweetest of all.
It is but a cottage, but still for a friend
There's a chair and whatever the table supplies.
To the mind that's content with what fortune may send,
Why a cot is a palace that monarchs might prize.
I envy no statesman his honours and fame,
The path of ambition is deck'd to ensnare,
The title most dear is a good honest name
And ambition may envy the man without care.
It is but a cottage, a slight little place
Scarce worthy the glance of a traveller's eyes;
But, oh! with content, and a friend's smiling face,
Why a cot is a palace that monarchs might prize.
The path of ambition is deck'd to ensnare,
The title most dear is a good honest name
And ambition may envy the man without care.
268
Scarce worthy the glance of a traveller's eyes;
But, oh! with content, and a friend's smiling face,
Why a cot is a palace that monarchs might prize.
269
LO! FROM THE EASTERN SKY.
Lo! from the eastern sky
Bright morn is breaking,
Songs sweetly float on high
Love's spirit waking:
Welcome this hour of praise,
Love and light blending;
Music with heaven's rays
Prayer-like ascending!
Bright morn is breaking,
Songs sweetly float on high
Love's spirit waking:
Welcome this hour of praise,
Love and light blending;
Music with heaven's rays
Prayer-like ascending!
Earth hath immortal wings
Hopefully given—
Guiding each thought that springs
Fondly to heaven:—
Blest be the streams that rove,
Fountain and river;
Nature's own voice of love
Singing for ever.
Hopefully given—
Guiding each thought that springs
Fondly to heaven:—
Blest be the streams that rove,
Fountain and river;
Nature's own voice of love
Singing for ever.
270
OH! IF BEAUTY WERE ALL.
Oh! if beauty were all that affection desir'd,
If the heart to mere feature might still remain true,
I could gaze on thy form, and deem nothing requir'd
To seal the sweet charm that thy gracefulness threw:—
But, alas! though the shrine be so brilliant to sight,
The mind's sweeter loveliness dwells in it not;
Like the flower on which Nature hath lavish'd her light,
But the charm most enduring—its fragrance—forgot!
If the heart to mere feature might still remain true,
I could gaze on thy form, and deem nothing requir'd
To seal the sweet charm that thy gracefulness threw:—
But, alas! though the shrine be so brilliant to sight,
The mind's sweeter loveliness dwells in it not;
Like the flower on which Nature hath lavish'd her light,
But the charm most enduring—its fragrance—forgot!
If the rose of thy cheek, love, might never decay,
Thy form all its radiant beauty retain—
If those eyes, that eclipse the clear azure of day,
As beaming, enchanting, might ever remain;—
Still, believe me, the shrine its adorers would lose—
'Tis Mind that alone is with constancy blest.
Oh! it is not the flower of the loveliest hues,
But the flower of most fragrance we wear on our breast!
Thy form all its radiant beauty retain—
If those eyes, that eclipse the clear azure of day,
As beaming, enchanting, might ever remain;—
271
'Tis Mind that alone is with constancy blest.
Oh! it is not the flower of the loveliest hues,
But the flower of most fragrance we wear on our breast!
272
HOPE.
Love's barque was wreck'd—and so the crew,
According to their rigid law,
One of their comrades, Hope, o'erthrew
Into the rolling waters blue;
Who, sinking, gasping—grasp'd a straw!
According to their rigid law,
One of their comrades, Hope, o'erthrew
Into the rolling waters blue;
Who, sinking, gasping—grasp'd a straw!
Love wept; and thought that life had set,
When thus poor drowning Hope he saw;
But soon they told him not to fret,—
'Twas not, they said, the first time yet,
That Hope had lived upon a straw!
When thus poor drowning Hope he saw;
But soon they told him not to fret,—
'Twas not, they said, the first time yet,
That Hope had lived upon a straw!
Scarce said, ere 'neath that stormy scope
Hope floated, 'midst the crew's applause;
And now, so common is the trope,
That people rarely think of Hope,
Unless, alas! they think of straws!
Hope floated, 'midst the crew's applause;
And now, so common is the trope,
That people rarely think of Hope,
Unless, alas! they think of straws!
273
THE HOUR OF LOVE.
The stars are climbing up the hill,
Like footsteps of the night;
And, like a child, the little rill
Runs whimpering out of sight.
It is an hour when love hath birth—
When hands and hearts are given;
An hour when stars are nearer earth,
And lovers nearer heaven!
Like footsteps of the night;
And, like a child, the little rill
Runs whimpering out of sight.
It is an hour when love hath birth—
When hands and hearts are given;
An hour when stars are nearer earth,
And lovers nearer heaven!
When visions of the future glow,
Despite the world's control;
And whispers musical and low
Steal softly o'er the soul!
An hour, all other moments worth,
That life hath ever given;
When heaven's own stars are nearer earth,
And lovers nearer heaven!
Despite the world's control;
And whispers musical and low
Steal softly o'er the soul!
An hour, all other moments worth,
That life hath ever given;
When heaven's own stars are nearer earth,
And lovers nearer heaven!
274
INDEPENDENCE.
Ye depend on one another
For each comfort ye enjoy;—
There is nought the heart can foster
That the heart may not destroy!
To every mind that ponders,
To every heart that feels,
There's not a day but something
This hidden truth reveals!
Thus—thus throughout creation
The links of life had birth;
Ye speak of Independence,—
There is no such thing on earth!
For each comfort ye enjoy;—
There is nought the heart can foster
That the heart may not destroy!
To every mind that ponders,
To every heart that feels,
There's not a day but something
This hidden truth reveals!
Thus—thus throughout creation
The links of life had birth;
Ye speak of Independence,—
There is no such thing on earth!
The seed of friendship blooms not;
No leaf can it impart,
Until it finds a welcome
In some congenial heart!
The light of Love can warm not
'Till found some kindred shrine,
And then it springs immortal,
And shows itself divine!—
Thus—thus throughout creation
The links of life had birth:
Ye speak of Independence,—
There is no such thing on earth!—
No leaf can it impart,
Until it finds a welcome
In some congenial heart!
275
'Till found some kindred shrine,
And then it springs immortal,
And shows itself divine!—
Thus—thus throughout creation
The links of life had birth:
Ye speak of Independence,—
There is no such thing on earth!—
276
WHEN LOVE WE SONG THE BEST.
When love we song the best?
When the voice of home we hear,
When the day hath hied to rest,
And our friends are smiling near!
Then we turn the leaves of song,
Whilst our fingers touch the keys,
And the spirit wake that long
Hath enchanted hours like these!
Then love we song the best,
When the voice of home we hear,
When the day hath hied to rest,
And our friends are smiling near!
When the voice of home we hear,
When the day hath hied to rest,
And our friends are smiling near!
Then we turn the leaves of song,
Whilst our fingers touch the keys,
And the spirit wake that long
Hath enchanted hours like these!
Then love we song the best,
When the voice of home we hear,
When the day hath hied to rest,
And our friends are smiling near!
When love we song the best?
When congenial souls among,
Then each feeling truly blest
Loves the eloquence of song!
When, like living harps, our hearts
Beat harmoniously within;
And the spell which it imparts,
Makes all ranks of life akin;
Then love we song the best,
When the voice of home we hear,
When the day hath hied to rest,
And our friends are smiling near!
When congenial souls among,
Then each feeling truly blest
Loves the eloquence of song!
277
Beat harmoniously within;
And the spell which it imparts,
Makes all ranks of life akin;
Then love we song the best,
When the voice of home we hear,
When the day hath hied to rest,
And our friends are smiling near!
278
THOU DOST NOT LOVE ME.
Thou dost not love me! take away
Those arms that twine around me;
I thought thee true as tongue can say:
I think thee—what I've found thee.
Go, take to other maids thy kiss,
Nor deem of me so lowly,
That I could stoop my heart to this,
A love so false, unholy.
Those arms that twine around me;
I thought thee true as tongue can say:
I think thee—what I've found thee.
Go, take to other maids thy kiss,
Nor deem of me so lowly,
That I could stoop my heart to this,
A love so false, unholy.
I will not have thine arm so fond,
Nor hear thy tongue's deceiving!
Oh! what are words when all beyond
Is full of deepest grieving!
Take, take thy false, false kiss away,
Those eyes, those looks, that chill me;
I cannot, will not, dare not stay—
Thy falsehood else will kill me!
Nor hear thy tongue's deceiving!
Oh! what are words when all beyond
Is full of deepest grieving!
Take, take thy false, false kiss away,
Those eyes, those looks, that chill me;
I cannot, will not, dare not stay—
Thy falsehood else will kill me!
279
THE TRUMPET HAD SOUNDED.
The trumpet had sounded—
The drum beat to arms—
But he stay'd yet to bless her,
And swear by her charms,
That no foreign beauty,
Nor riches—nor power—
Should find him forgetting
His own English flower!
He kiss'd her fair ringlets,
One look—and away:—
He pass'd like the sunlight,
And dark grew the day!
The drum beat to arms—
But he stay'd yet to bless her,
And swear by her charms,
That no foreign beauty,
Nor riches—nor power—
Should find him forgetting
His own English flower!
He kiss'd her fair ringlets,
One look—and away:—
He pass'd like the sunlight,
And dark grew the day!
There was gleaming of falchion
To slay and deform;
There was hissing of bullet,
Like hail through the storm!
There was waving of standard—
And tossing of plume—
'Mid war-cry and death-cry
And battle's red gloom:
But the Victor triumphant
Return'd with proud name,
And the heart of a Princess
Was won by his fame!
To slay and deform;
There was hissing of bullet,
Like hail through the storm!
280
And tossing of plume—
'Mid war-cry and death-cry
And battle's red gloom:
But the Victor triumphant
Return'd with proud name,
And the heart of a Princess
Was won by his fame!
A war for a moment
His bosom assail'd,
'Twixt honour and riches!—
But honour prevail'd:
Still true to his station
And her he lov'd best,
The light of temptation
Grew dim in his breast:
And the Hero hath taken
His love's little hand,—
More bless'd than espousing
The queen of the land!
His bosom assail'd,
'Twixt honour and riches!—
But honour prevail'd:
Still true to his station
And her he lov'd best,
The light of temptation
Grew dim in his breast:
And the Hero hath taken
His love's little hand,—
More bless'd than espousing
The queen of the land!
281
CORONATION SONG.
Thou music of a nation's voice,
Thou grace of old Britannia's throne,
Thou light, round which all hearts rejoice,
God save and guard thee, England's own.
While thousand, thousand hearts are thine,
And Britain's blessing rests on thee,
Pure may thy crown, Victoria, shine—
And all thy subjects lovers be!
Thou grace of old Britannia's throne,
Thou light, round which all hearts rejoice,
God save and guard thee, England's own.
While thousand, thousand hearts are thine,
And Britain's blessing rests on thee,
Pure may thy crown, Victoria, shine—
And all thy subjects lovers be!
Come, wives! from cottage-home and field!
Come, daughters! oh, ye lovely, come!
Bid every tongue its homage yield,
Sound, trumpets, sound! and peal the drum!
God save the Queen, ring high, ye bells!
Swell forth a people's praise afar;
She's crown'd!—the acclaiming cannon tells—
The Queen! God save the Queen! Hurrah!
Come, daughters! oh, ye lovely, come!
Bid every tongue its homage yield,
Sound, trumpets, sound! and peal the drum!
God save the Queen, ring high, ye bells!
Swell forth a people's praise afar;
She's crown'd!—the acclaiming cannon tells—
The Queen! God save the Queen! Hurrah!
282
Long may she live, to prove the best
And noblest crown a Queen can wear,
Is that a people's love hath bless'd,
Whose happiness is in her care!
God bless the Queen! ring sweet, ye bells!
Swell forth old England's joy afar;
She's crown'd, the exulting cannon tells:—
The Queen! God bless the Queen! Hurrah!
And noblest crown a Queen can wear,
Is that a people's love hath bless'd,
Whose happiness is in her care!
God bless the Queen! ring sweet, ye bells!
Swell forth old England's joy afar;
She's crown'd, the exulting cannon tells:—
The Queen! God bless the Queen! Hurrah!
June, 1838.
283
I LOOK TO THE WEST.
I look to the West, where 'midst darkness and cold,
The sun hath descended, like sorrow, to rest;
And I tell my sad heart still some comfort to hold,
For a morn yet shall beam in that land of the blest.
The sun hath descended, like sorrow, to rest;
And I tell my sad heart still some comfort to hold,
For a morn yet shall beam in that land of the blest.
So I hush my sweet baby that shivering sleeps,
And think of the arms that await him above,
Though the tears of his mother congeal as she weeps,
No winter can enter God's kingdom of love.
And think of the arms that await him above,
Though the tears of his mother congeal as she weeps,
No winter can enter God's kingdom of love.
284
Thou sleep'st not, my father—who cast me away,
Thou sleep'st not, dear mother—who pray'd for thy child;
But long ere the cold wintry coming of day
The heart-broke shall sleep with her babe by her side.
Thou sleep'st not, dear mother—who pray'd for thy child;
But long ere the cold wintry coming of day
The heart-broke shall sleep with her babe by her side.
285
GOD MADE THE HEART.
God made the heart with every chord
Responsive to his love;
To cheer, to bless, and keep his word—
Like angel hearts above!
Responsive to his love;
To cheer, to bless, and keep his word—
Like angel hearts above!
'Twas made to feel for other's woe,
Life's sorrows to beguile;
To soothe the tears the wretched know,
And bid the mourner smile.
Life's sorrows to beguile;
To soothe the tears the wretched know,
And bid the mourner smile.
'Twas made to be the charm of earth,
Where all affections meet;
Where every human bliss hath birth,
And every hope is sweet.
Where all affections meet;
Where every human bliss hath birth,
And every hope is sweet.
286
'Twas form'd the weak and sad to aid,
To bid misfortune flee;
If Man ne'er marr'd what God had made,
How heavenly earth would be!
To bid misfortune flee;
If Man ne'er marr'd what God had made,
How heavenly earth would be!
287
COME, TELL ME THY SORROW.
Come, tell me thy sorrow, and if I can aid thee,
My heart and my purse are both thine to the end;
If not, seek support from the being that made thee,
But mourn not as if without solace, my friend.
Though the sky be now dark, there is hope for tomorrow,
A sunlight to come, which the morn may restore;
Then cheer! bid thy soul spring immortal o'er sorrow,
Thou hast one friend at least, if thou canst not find more.
My heart and my purse are both thine to the end;
If not, seek support from the being that made thee,
But mourn not as if without solace, my friend.
Though the sky be now dark, there is hope for tomorrow,
A sunlight to come, which the morn may restore;
Then cheer! bid thy soul spring immortal o'er sorrow,
Thou hast one friend at least, if thou canst not find more.
Ne'er fancy thine own disappointments are greater
Than theirs who seem right whatsoever they do;
Misfortune finds all either sooner or later;
Life's mourners are many—the mirthful are few.
Then vex not thy spirit with fears and surmises,
But wrestle with care, and thy firmness restore;
There's a star for thee yet, and, till brightly it rises,
Thou hast one friend at least, if thou canst not find more.
Than theirs who seem right whatsoever they do;
Misfortune finds all either sooner or later;
Life's mourners are many—the mirthful are few.
288
But wrestle with care, and thy firmness restore;
There's a star for thee yet, and, till brightly it rises,
Thou hast one friend at least, if thou canst not find more.
291
THE SWEETEST OF ALL.
Oh! sweet comes the grace of the young dewy morning,
As queen-like she steps from her cloud-pillar'd hall;
And lovely the rose-bud its wild home adorning,
But Love's modest bloom is the sweetest of all.
As queen-like she steps from her cloud-pillar'd hall;
And lovely the rose-bud its wild home adorning,
But Love's modest bloom is the sweetest of all.
And sweet is the glimpse of the moon o'er the ocean,
Whose rays, like a blessing, upon our path fall;
But the light that awakens the heart's first emotion,
Oh! Love's stolen glance is the sweetest of all.
Whose rays, like a blessing, upon our path fall;
But the light that awakens the heart's first emotion,
Oh! Love's stolen glance is the sweetest of all.
There's music in Nature, like deeper revealings
Of memories pass'd which her voice would recall;
There are tones that like angels may visit our feelings,
But Love's whisper'd word is the sweetest of all.
Of memories pass'd which her voice would recall;
There are tones that like angels may visit our feelings,
But Love's whisper'd word is the sweetest of all.
294
THE HEART AND ROSE.
Rose, with all thine odour fled,
Brightness lost, and beauty parted,
Drooping low thy tearful head,
Like one forlorn and broken-hearted:
Though the world refuse to see
What, alas! there's no concealing,
Still there's one can mourn for thee—
All are not alike unfeeling.
Brightness lost, and beauty parted,
Drooping low thy tearful head,
Like one forlorn and broken-hearted:
Though the world refuse to see
What, alas! there's no concealing,
Still there's one can mourn for thee—
All are not alike unfeeling.
Many a heart as full of tears
Bending lonely, none to guide it,
Soon as one kind hand appears,
Brighter hopes spring warm beside it.
'Tis not much the Rose requires,
With a word the Heart is healing:
Oh! the joy such act inspires!
What is life devoid of feeling?
Bending lonely, none to guide it,
Soon as one kind hand appears,
Brighter hopes spring warm beside it.
'Tis not much the Rose requires,
With a word the Heart is healing:
Oh! the joy such act inspires!
What is life devoid of feeling?
295
NAY, STAY, WE'LL HAVE MANY SONGS MORE.
Nay, stay; we'll have many songs more
As jovial still, ere we part,
For 'tis thus when our feelings run o'er
That we touch the true key to the Heart!
Besides 'tis so long since we met,
It were folly to hasten Time's flight,
No, stay—we'll have many songs yet,
Ere we whisper a word of “Good Night!”
As jovial still, ere we part,
For 'tis thus when our feelings run o'er
That we touch the true key to the Heart!
Besides 'tis so long since we met,
It were folly to hasten Time's flight,
No, stay—we'll have many songs yet,
Ere we whisper a word of “Good Night!”
The daughter of Cœlus, they say,
Her love to dark Erebus told;
And scatter'd such stars on her way,
That the god quite mistook them for gold!
But the gold he thought ever to claim,
With Morn died away from his sight;
Thus our joys will but vanish the same,
The moment we whisper “Good Night!”
Her love to dark Erebus told;
And scatter'd such stars on her way,
That the god quite mistook them for gold!
But the gold he thought ever to claim,
With Morn died away from his sight;
Thus our joys will but vanish the same,
The moment we whisper “Good Night!”
296
JOY.
Earth her summer wealth is bringing,
Every bough is, like a lyre,
Answering to the wind's low singing—
Sweet as bells from Fancy's spire!
Milder light is on the fountain,
Softer bloom upon the flower;
Joy comes dancing down the mountain,
Joy with roses wreathes the hour.
Every bough is, like a lyre,
Answering to the wind's low singing—
Sweet as bells from Fancy's spire!
Milder light is on the fountain,
Softer bloom upon the flower;
Joy comes dancing down the mountain,
Joy with roses wreathes the hour.
See the stars in golden dances
O'er the fields of azure glide;
See, the ocean soft advances—
Sparkling light with fairy tide:
Flowers with fond and gentle motion,
Leaves with grace no storms annoy;
All around—earth, heav'n, and ocean—
Feel the influence of Joy!
O'er the fields of azure glide;
See, the ocean soft advances—
Sparkling light with fairy tide:
Flowers with fond and gentle motion,
Leaves with grace no storms annoy;
All around—earth, heav'n, and ocean—
Feel the influence of Joy!
297
DESPAIR.
I had a dream of many lands,
A voyage fleet and far,
Beyond the waste and desert sands—
The light of sun or star:
I saw a fearful shape arise,
The spirit of Despair;
His awful head gloom'd 'mid the skies,
And clouds his footstools were!
A voyage fleet and far,
Beyond the waste and desert sands—
The light of sun or star:
I saw a fearful shape arise,
The spirit of Despair;
His awful head gloom'd 'mid the skies,
And clouds his footstools were!
The scars and furrows myriad years
Had branded on his head,
Were channels old of human tears
That from all time were shed:
His shadowy hands, from east to west,
Obscur'd the troubled air;
And nations saw in dread their guest,
And, shrieking, breath'd Despair!
Had branded on his head,
Were channels old of human tears
That from all time were shed:
His shadowy hands, from east to west,
Obscur'd the troubled air;
And nations saw in dread their guest,
And, shrieking, breath'd Despair!
298
The billows backward rag'd and roar'd,
One spring the Tempest took,
And flash'd around his lightning-sword,
Whilst hills and forests shook:
And, Nature, to whose gentle breast
All human griefs repair,
Could find no home for the oppress'd—
No refuge 'gainst “Despair!”
One spring the Tempest took,
And flash'd around his lightning-sword,
Whilst hills and forests shook:
And, Nature, to whose gentle breast
All human griefs repair,
Could find no home for the oppress'd—
No refuge 'gainst “Despair!”
301
MELANCHOLY.
Under the cypress shade
Near the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy:
All voices weary now—
All pleasures tire her;
Love cannot charm her brow—
Music inspire her!
No, 'neath the cypress shade,
By the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy.
Near the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy:
All voices weary now—
All pleasures tire her;
Love cannot charm her brow—
Music inspire her!
No, 'neath the cypress shade,
By the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy.
Still in the stars she reads
Sorrow and parting;
Still on the future feeds—
Drinks the tears starting:
Come, list the music light—
See, fairies tripping!
Gay nymphs o'er garlands bright
Sporting and skipping!—
No, 'neath the cypress shade
Near the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy.
Sorrow and parting;
Still on the future feeds—
Drinks the tears starting:
302
See, fairies tripping!
Gay nymphs o'er garlands bright
Sporting and skipping!—
No, 'neath the cypress shade
Near the wild holly,
Where her last hope is laid,
Mourns Melancholy.
303
HOPE.
I know he will return!
There's something in my heart—
A light, as of a star,
That dwells, like truth, apart!
A feeling to confide—
On what I scarce discern;
But oh! a voice within
Still says “He will return!”
There's something in my heart—
A light, as of a star,
That dwells, like truth, apart!
A feeling to confide—
On what I scarce discern;
But oh! a voice within
Still says “He will return!”
I dreamt an angel came,
With soft and starry wing,
That scatter'd bloom and joy
O'er every living thing.
Her breath was on my cheek—
Her whisper in mine ear;
Oh! angel words are sweet,
But none like Hope's to cheer!
With soft and starry wing,
That scatter'd bloom and joy
O'er every living thing.
Her breath was on my cheek—
Her whisper in mine ear;
Oh! angel words are sweet,
But none like Hope's to cheer!
304
She show'd me where his ship—
The ocean's glory—sail'd;
Where neither mist nor storm
Nor wintry wrath prevail'd:
So beauteous o'er the deep,
From gallant stem to stern,
I bless'd it in my sleep;—
Yes, Hope! he will return!
The ocean's glory—sail'd;
Where neither mist nor storm
Nor wintry wrath prevail'd:
So beauteous o'er the deep,
From gallant stem to stern,
I bless'd it in my sleep;—
Yes, Hope! he will return!
THE END.
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