University of Virginia Library

LINES WRITTEN AFTER READING A MS. POEM BY --- ---. 1841.

Thy thoughts still teem with all things, high and bright,
Thou lov'st fair nature, in her power and might,
Thou lift'st thy voice to speak in her deep praise
Two different Spirits rule thy bright young days!—
How different!—one still points and prompts on high,
And one leads every dream from yon fair sky,—
One seems the Soul of Truth, and Light, and Power,
And One, the Phantom of Life's worldlier hour.
Yet say I not—give ear to my faint voice,
I dare not hope, that this, might prompt thy choice,
Nor bid I thee to mark each lettered page,
That rolls the tide of truth from age to age!
Take thy fair Thoughts for Counsellors!—the best,
The clear, proud promptings of thine own young breast!
Whate'er thou dost on earth, I know and see,
Must bear the stamp of thy high heart, and free!
I know whate'er thou dost, beneath the sun,
Must be enthusiastically done;
The strength of zeal with such a fiery flow,
Still bids thy rushing fancy, soar and glow,
And sets,—while full and high thy life-pulse plays,
Thy young imaginations all ablaze;—
Aye!—thou hailest Nature, in her power and might,
And all the Heaven within her, meets thy sight!—
And canst thou slight her spells?—Canst turn away
From Her magnificently-proud array?—
Canst shut thy soul against her?—and disown
Thine own high worship at her Starry Throne?—
The Power is thine to bid her breathe and blaze,
Through Painting's hues, or Poetry's deep lays;—
Still thou hast the envied power to bid her shine,
In conscious colours,—or the living line!
Some may have far less blame, in whose cold mind,
No glorious light, burns deathlessly enshrined!
But thou!—thine every noble thought in time,
Shall trumpet stern reproach,—and speak of crime!
The crime of self-neglect!—thou must not turn,
From those high thoughts, that in thee live and burn,
The quick Life lightens through thy veins!—for thee
No medium, and no stagnant pause may be.
Speak!—were it not a shame,—a strange, foul blot,—
If thou shouldest be so high,—and yet art not?
Too noble is thy mind, to be thus driven,
From every path, that leads to Light and Heaven,
Thou need'st no judges but the thoughts within,
High trumpets!—heard through all Life's pealing din,
The Avengers or the Exalters they must be,
Strong in their towering immortality!—
Two Destinies dispute thy bright young days,
One high and glorious!—meet for pride and praise,—
One dull and earthly-tainted!—choose between!
But canst thou to the vain and worldly lean?
Oh!—answer it to that still mounting mind,
That chained and checked, would yet leave Earth behind!
Born thus to be a child of Light and Song,
Say,—Should'st thou scorn thy doom, and cling to wrong?
How oft have I, and others, listening found,
What power hath zeal, that never knew a bound!—
What power to animate, convince, surprise,
And wing the hour with triumph as it flies;
How oft have loftiest sentiments inspired,
From lips, Enthusiasm's self hath fired!
Genius hath hailed and claimed thee for her own,
Her glorious light far round Her son is thrown.
Canst thou resign that empire vast and proud,
Of Thought, and Will, and Mind,—too vainly bowed,
To all the idols of Life's common crowd?
Then never dare, thus let high feelings start,
Like giants—to reveal thy true, deep heart!
Nor let those noble impulses have power
To sway and guide thee, in thy brighter hour;
Hide,—hide thy better nature in the shade,
'Tis all too sad, to see its truth displayed,—
Too sad!—when after-hours the proof still bring,
That best thou lov'st to check its glorious spring!
That best thou lov'st to wrong its priceless trust,
And stoop its winged ambition, to the dust!
Hide it from us,—and from thyself,—at least,
And shroud those useless fires, from thy breast,
That light it,—but to perish and to pale,
As thou would'st wish to fall,—and choose to fail!—
Aye!—hide the lofty heart,—the aspiring soul,—
If these must sink beneath a dark controul,
Nor let us hail such stars,—if born to set,—
If so much hope, must bring so much regret!
Yet no! it shall not be! avert it, thou,—
By all that soars most noble in thee,—now!
Now vindicate thyself, thy mind, thy heart,
Tread the fair path, and act the firmer part,
O'er all the Present fling such floods of light,
That even Thy Past's worst, darkest clouds grow bright!