The Demon of Destiny And Other Poems. By John Galt |
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| LACHRYMALS. |
 | The Demon of Destiny |  |
89
LACHRYMALS.
AN INVALID'S ASSOCIATIONS.
While, all alone, I hopeless sighing sit,
Rapt in the trances of a pensive fit,
Methinks sad symbols of my life appear
In the unfoldings of the rolling year.
Rapt in the trances of a pensive fit,
Methinks sad symbols of my life appear
In the unfoldings of the rolling year.
What time the spring peeps wistful from the wood,
And love with gambols cheers the field and flood,
Youth comes again, by placid mem'ry brought,
Gay with the hopes that garland joyous thought.
But as the rainbow of the vernal skies,
Away, away, the beauteous phantom flies;
Flowers are but weeds, my aching spirit says,
Dull as the sunshine of these bedrid days.
And love with gambols cheers the field and flood,
Youth comes again, by placid mem'ry brought,
Gay with the hopes that garland joyous thought.
But as the rainbow of the vernal skies,
Away, away, the beauteous phantom flies;
Flowers are but weeds, my aching spirit says,
Dull as the sunshine of these bedrid days.
When as a wreck, a cumb'rer of the ground,
Borne to the shore, and on its margin found,
As if, respited from my ceaseless pain,
To see the summer's gorgeous pomp again;
Full soon the sense that there I useless lie
The solace mars of smiling Deity.
Borne to the shore, and on its margin found,
As if, respited from my ceaseless pain,
To see the summer's gorgeous pomp again;
Full soon the sense that there I useless lie
The solace mars of smiling Deity.
Even gen'rous Autumn yields but anguish now,
In all presented by the loaded bough;
For in her perishable gifts the mind
Can but a type of fickle fortune find.
Yes! all the fruit around the orchard rife
Remind of blights in the fair May of life.
In all presented by the loaded bough;
For in her perishable gifts the mind
Can but a type of fickle fortune find.
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Remind of blights in the fair May of life.
When yellow leaves are rustling sere and free,
And birds swing chitt'ring on the rocking tree,—
While storms are coming in the pride of might,
Like hostile foemen rushing from the height,—
Stern winter bids accorded torrents blare
Their dismal dirges to delight Despair,
And spreads o'er Nature, lying stiff below,
The solemn, seamless, winding sheet of snow.
And birds swing chitt'ring on the rocking tree,—
While storms are coming in the pride of might,
Like hostile foemen rushing from the height,—
Stern winter bids accorded torrents blare
Their dismal dirges to delight Despair,
And spreads o'er Nature, lying stiff below,
The solemn, seamless, winding sheet of snow.
31st Oct., 1836.
TO COL. H---.
Dear H---, what storms and showers
Have pelted both since morning hours,
And still, when day is almost done,
Black clouds hang o'er the setting sun,—
At least to me—oh! long to you
May health the zest of life renew:
That's if you like its doubtful shine,—
A gloomy gloaming now is mine.
Have pelted both since morning hours,
And still, when day is almost done,
Black clouds hang o'er the setting sun,—
At least to me—oh! long to you
May health the zest of life renew:
That's if you like its doubtful shine,—
A gloomy gloaming now is mine.
How brightly once to both the day
Unfolded blossoms when 'twas May;
But now November scowls at me,
And shatter'd droops the leafless tree.
No fruit e'er set, some baleful blast
Blighting my buds still with'ring past.
Unfolded blossoms when 'twas May;
But now November scowls at me,
And shatter'd droops the leafless tree.
No fruit e'er set, some baleful blast
Blighting my buds still with'ring past.
Strange fate!—whate'er I thought might bring
A harvest rich, though late the spring,—
Others still found true prophecy,
But my reward—lo, where I lie!
I ne'er suggested ought that fail'd;
What hopes were mine!—not one avail'd.
A harvest rich, though late the spring,—
Others still found true prophecy,
But my reward—lo, where I lie!
I ne'er suggested ought that fail'd;
What hopes were mine!—not one avail'd.
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Nor profits it that I may dare
The keenest quest; disease and care
Can only prompt a wish to rest,—
What can be found is in my breast!
Superb with “mine integrity,”
I can deride at destiny,
But why of wounds and harms thus tell?
I only meant to say, true friend in need, farewell!
The keenest quest; disease and care
Can only prompt a wish to rest,—
What can be found is in my breast!
Superb with “mine integrity,”
I can deride at destiny,
But why of wounds and harms thus tell?
I only meant to say, true friend in need, farewell!
April, 1837.
CANADIAN RECOLLECTIONS.
I
At pensive eve, what time the sunPeep'd through the trees, his journey done,
I lov'd to walk the greenwood still,—
Where gloom seems silence visible,—
And note the fading hues of light,
My heart partaking, too, of night.
II
When flowers, that in the noonbeam shoneWith colours like my hopes, were gone,
Oft in the twilight of the wood,
I own'd that aw'd prophetic mood,
Which sees the future as a dream,
And life a shadow'd woodland stream.
III
Till through the boughs I chanced to seeThe heavenly orb's bright revelry,
And felt assured, however late,
That time would be my advocate,
And make my aims, despite my fear,
As stars from darkness come, appear.
May, 1837.
92
ROSNEATH.
Rosneath! Rosneath! among thy sylvan bowers,When life was hope, and footfalls fell on flowers,
With truant feet I roving loved to roam,
The future freedom, and my bondage home.
Ah, never more must I partake thy breeze!—
My limbs remind me of thy beauteous trees
Stirred by the wind, shaking, but cannot move—
My uselessness all as a widow's love!
How like thy shades my pensive memory grieves—
Thy shades so sadly strewn with fallen leaves,
Types of the hopes that all so fruitless fell,—
Oh! sweet Rosneath, a long, long, long farewell!
1837.
THE STARS.
A Soliloquy in Bed.
Stars! Stars!—now I remember what they were:The beauteous daisies of the heavenly plain,—
So like the jewels in Aurora's hair,
Far brighter, far than these sad drops of pain.
Alas! my memory begins to fade,
And years have gone since moon and stars I saw,—
Why does not all the mind own the same law?
The pictures of my youth are undecay'd;
The stars and eyes of friends are all no more!—
Pshaw, I but dream, friends will be by and by;
For, when I rise, the day will soon restore
The cheerful sunbeam of the friendly eye.
Ah, never more shall I unaided rise,
Till the last trumpet startles from the skies.
1837.
93
RUMINATION.
Repress, oh! repress, irresponsible God,
The fears that are mine when the storms are abroad;
When nature's black mortcloth, night, mantles the earth;
When burghers sit cowering, yet safe, on the hearth;
When the stars are conceal'd, as if Providence then
Had shut all its eyes on the perils of men;
For lone in the trances of care and annoy
I see, as in vision, my venturesome boy.
The fears that are mine when the storms are abroad;
When nature's black mortcloth, night, mantles the earth;
When burghers sit cowering, yet safe, on the hearth;
When the stars are conceal'd, as if Providence then
Had shut all its eyes on the perils of men;
For lone in the trances of care and annoy
I see, as in vision, my venturesome boy.
He's far and forlorn in the aisles of the wood;
Around him is winter and hoar solitude;
Above, on a broken bough, frantic and fast,
Wild Danger swings headlong, defying the blast;
While, like an assassin, the flood on the ground
Is stealthily nearing, and nearing him round.
Around him is winter and hoar solitude;
Above, on a broken bough, frantic and fast,
Wild Danger swings headlong, defying the blast;
While, like an assassin, the flood on the ground
Is stealthily nearing, and nearing him round.
Sometimes the apocalypse dismaller looms.—
He sits by red embers more fearful than glooms—
The flap of the tempest provokes them to blaze—
And flames in his hovel devour and amaze,
Till hutless, dejected, he wanders away,
And lost in the forest, lies stiffen'd to clay.
Repress, oh! repress, irresponsible Heaven,
My fears for his fate that to Thee has been given.
He sits by red embers more fearful than glooms—
The flap of the tempest provokes them to blaze—
And flames in his hovel devour and amaze,
Till hutless, dejected, he wanders away,
And lost in the forest, lies stiffen'd to clay.
Repress, oh! repress, irresponsible Heaven,
My fears for his fate that to Thee has been given.
February 1, 1838.
TO THE PRIMROSE.
Methinks a smile of conscious helplessnessBeams from the primrose in its mossy nook,
As orphan maiden thinks, when shelterless,
Of sire or frere, a spoiler to rebuke.
The rose is fenc'd with many a warding thorn;
The lily stars in gardens safely vie;
And the free daisy of the summer morn,
Beholds the sun with a confiding eye;
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Lingers sequester'd in the dewy shade.
Sweet modest flower! and hast thou, too, discern'd
The half of merit upon praise depends;
And in the hazel bower dejected learn'd
That all must pine who cannot count on friends?
ODE,
Suggested by the ignominious attack on Canada by a gang of Thieves and Burglars.
I
Britannia! glory of the earth!Serene, sublime, determin'd stand;
Whate'er of wisdom shows in worth,
Be ever thine, God-gifted land!
Boon of the world, like life and light,
Where Liberty's the slave of Right.
II
Law, child of Right, still reign in thee,And Justice, joined with Mercy, smile
Before her throne; Security
Will then reward thy aims and toil:
That, that alone, can freedom give,
For but the safe in freedom live.
III
Though in their forest-wilds at will,Th' unbridl'd may careering bound,
Be thine, to law submissive still,
In fenced pastures ever found.
Isle of the free! be thine the might,
That's bold in battle—but for Right!
95
IV
And never may—oh! never, never—Thy sons, in error, think the sin—
That power or valour e'er may sever
Honour from Right, or Cunning win.
There is no sov'reignty but mind:
Be thine the reason of mankind.
April, 1838.
THE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY.
High was the holiday in Heaven, when all the sons of God
That ward to note the acts of States, assembled from abroad;
Each brought the rubrick of his charge, exultingly and bright,
The red days of all trophied years of glory and of might.
That ward to note the acts of States, assembled from abroad;
Each brought the rubrick of his charge, exultingly and bright,
The red days of all trophied years of glory and of might.
With lowly mein, but reverent pride, they gave the records in,
And all the holy angels stood, as fiends at the first sin,
Aw'd, fearing woe; but soon they heard a seraph's solemn voice:
“Almighty God approves the rolls, the world amends, rejoice.”
And all the holy angels stood, as fiends at the first sin,
Aw'd, fearing woe; but soon they heard a seraph's solemn voice:
“Almighty God approves the rolls, the world amends, rejoice.”
Vast Heaven resounded with a shout, and jubilant the blest,
Te deum sung—the psalm that's sung, when the oppress'd resist,
And then arose a chorus strain of infinite acclaim,
As if th' eternal host around could own the sense of fame.
Te deum sung—the psalm that's sung, when the oppress'd resist,
And then arose a chorus strain of infinite acclaim,
As if th' eternal host around could own the sense of fame.
96
“At Moscow the indignant Russ, terrific with his wrongs,
Did hurl the patriotic torch, his meed courageous songs;
And when was told the British gift, that bought the negro's chain,
Atlantine Freedom hung her head, and blush'd with selfdisdain.”
Did hurl the patriotic torch, his meed courageous songs;
And when was told the British gift, that bought the negro's chain,
Atlantine Freedom hung her head, and blush'd with selfdisdain.”
With stern sublimity serene, bright millions brighten'd then,
For all “the sworded seraphim” are pleased with gen'rous men.—
O England! Queen of noble hearts, great parent of the free,
Boon to mankind! be ever first, till freemen drain the sea.
For all “the sworded seraphim” are pleased with gen'rous men.—
O England! Queen of noble hearts, great parent of the free,
Boon to mankind! be ever first, till freemen drain the sea.
[_]
The self-immolation of Moscow, and the mode in which the British slaves were emancipated, are perhaps two of the most magnanimous acts in the history of the world.
| The Demon of Destiny | |