University of Virginia Library

Luther is dead! and like the Church's knell
Sounds the sad tale in Europe's startled ear:
Princes are thrill'd with consternation's throe,
And trembles now the Reformation's ark!
But, turn we most to see Melancthon's tear
Sacred as ever dropp'd from friendship's eye.
Nations alone the great Reformer knew,
But he the Man had loved, and mourn'd him thus
As David over Jonathan bemoan'd,
Passing the grief of woman! 'Twas th' eclipse
Of earth's best sunshine, when his Luther died:
For years had tried them with severest test,
And at each close, more fervidly in faith
Had left them: therefore, what but soothing Heaven
The dismal tumult of his harrow'd mind
Can hush, and soften into sacred calm?
Theirs was a friendship, which no earthly soil
Can generate; from heavenly seed it sprang,
And bloom'd unwither'd, 'mid the blight and blast
Of cold earth's changes. Each to each a grace
Imparted, which, apart, they did not wield.
Their light was varied but their love was one;
And the mild discord of commingled souls
In friendship made the harmony more sweet:
While o'er the failings of their mutual hearts
A garment of sweet charity was thrown,
To hide them. Thus, harsh Luther in some mood
Tempestuous, when a lawless rage ran high,
From mild Melancthon forced no bitter tone;
For soon that tempest of a moment sank
To loving silence; forth the rainbow smiled!
And rich good humour cast its rosy gleam
O'er the brief gloom a frowning word begot.
And thus 'twill ever be, when hearts are true
As tender: frankly bold, and freely plain,
'Tis not in nature when by Christ endow'd,
A smile forgiving from a fault confest
To hide, since love is here our holy creed:
And kindness forms a talismanic key,
Opening the heart well-lock'd to all beside.

Luther is dead, and lone Melancthon weeps;
And, reader! hast thou no responsive tear
With his to mingle? Is thy gone career
Tombless? And over no departed friend
Heaves the green turf? Or is thy present hung
With no sad cypress for a perish'd joy,
Or faded dear ones, into dust relapsed?
Alas! the heart's Necroplis is filled
With many a tomb by Mem'ry's votive hand:
And, where is he, that prodigy of joy
In age partaking all his childhood had
Of household-blessing, or parental bliss?
Oh! long ere wintry years the head have hoar'd,
Or thoughts their furrows in the forehead plough'd
Eternity with time at least divides
Our friendships. Heaven has oft the better half
Of hopes which brighten'd, or of hearts that blest
Our Life's fair morning! Soon the world grows strange;
And bleak and barren do our pathways grow
As more and more they wind us to the grave.
And well, if friendship only be the loss
We suffer; oft, our noblest feelings die;
The heart is bankrupt, though the head be rich,
While all those young simplicities of soul
Which lay on character's expanding buds
Like drops of morning, in their freshness bright,
Exhale, and leave an autumn-waste behind.

Not such were thine, Melancthon! Round thy grief
A radiant hope of sweet re-union there,
In that high world of fearlessness and truth
Where all of heavenly which on earth we lose
Again shall greet us, and a glory wear
Perfect and bright, beyond our purest mind
Below to witness. There, shall friend with friend
And babe with mother, son with sire, renew
In blest revival, unforgotten love.
Partings below will soon to meetings turn,
And serve, as foils, to set their gladness off
Hereafter, when the soul's embraces blend.
And there are moments, mystical as deep,
When time anticipates eternity,
Making the Easter of our mem'ry bright
Rise on the heart, with resurrection-bloom.
Bodied and bodiless can thus converge
Whene'er to worship at The Throne we bow,
Or sigh, or speak some lonely prayer of love.
Soothed by soft dreams of well-remember'd times,
There round that Centre of our common Lord
The dear and dead ones of the heart revive;
Inhale together a surpassing peace,
And bathe their spirits in one blended joy
Supernal: friendships thus in soul remain,
When tombs have swallow'd all the senses clasp'd.
So can the living with the dead commune,
And rob the grave of half its vict'ry here,
While love in Christ by sainted hearts is proved
On earth the brightest, as in heaven the best.