The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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NOW AND THEN. |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
260
NOW AND THEN.
Now is a constant warning stroke
Beat by the ceaseless clock of Time,
A voice our wisdom to evoke,
A mandate solemnly sublime;
It bids us keep the soul awake,
To do the best our means allow,
To toil for truth and virtue's sake,
And make the effort Now.
Beat by the ceaseless clock of Time,
A voice our wisdom to evoke,
A mandate solemnly sublime;
It bids us keep the soul awake,
To do the best our means allow,
To toil for truth and virtue's sake,
And make the effort Now.
Now is the watchword of the wise,
And often wins its wondrous way
Through hosts of dangers in disguise,
That wait to baffle and betray.
The specious Then doth oft deceive,
Brings pain of heart, and gloom of brow;
But would we some good work achieve,
Let's make the effort Now.
And often wins its wondrous way
Through hosts of dangers in disguise,
That wait to baffle and betray.
The specious Then doth oft deceive,
Brings pain of heart, and gloom of brow;
But would we some good work achieve,
Let's make the effort Now.
Now gilds the banner of the brave,
And Prudence wears it on her breast;
That talisman has power to save
From vain remorse and sad unrest.
Then leads us by an easy reign,
And breaks our well-intentioned vow:
But would we earn some sterling gain,
Let's make the effort Now.
And Prudence wears it on her breast;
That talisman has power to save
From vain remorse and sad unrest.
Then leads us by an easy reign,
And breaks our well-intentioned vow:
But would we earn some sterling gain,
Let's make the effort Now.
261
Then may not come,—but Now is here,
All ready at our own right hand,
Perhaps with aspect half austere,
Yet prompt to help, if we command:
Strive with it, and its blessings fall,
Like sweet fruit from a laden bough;
But we must feed on husks of gall,
If we neglect the Now.
All ready at our own right hand,
Perhaps with aspect half austere,
Yet prompt to help, if we command:
Strive with it, and its blessings fall,
Like sweet fruit from a laden bough;
But we must feed on husks of gall,
If we neglect the Now.
In youth, if just ambition fire,
And seem to lift the soul on wings;
If the heart glow with pure desire
For worthy and exalted things;—
Wait not, but rouse your latent power,
Nor shrink your purpose to avow;
The only safe, propitious hour,
Is the fresh foremost Now.
And seem to lift the soul on wings;
If the heart glow with pure desire
For worthy and exalted things;—
Wait not, but rouse your latent power,
Nor shrink your purpose to avow;
The only safe, propitious hour,
Is the fresh foremost Now.
In manhood, with our passions strong,
Oft hard to conquer or to guide,
If some insidious power of wrong
Has drawn our faltering feet aside,—
Sorrows will come, regrets and fears
Will make the humbled spirit bow;
But, to atone for wasted years,
Let's seek the right, and Now.
Oft hard to conquer or to guide,
If some insidious power of wrong
Has drawn our faltering feet aside,—
Sorrows will come, regrets and fears
Will make the humbled spirit bow;
But, to atone for wasted years,
Let's seek the right, and Now.
If 'mid the world's rude shock and strife,
Thou hast no sense of things divine,
No longing for the holier life,—
Oh, what a priceless loss is thine!
If thou wouldst hope, strength, comfort find,
God's oracle will teach thee how:
Go, with a meek, inquiring mind,
And hear its voices Now.
Thou hast no sense of things divine,
No longing for the holier life,—
Oh, what a priceless loss is thine!
If thou wouldst hope, strength, comfort find,
God's oracle will teach thee how:
Go, with a meek, inquiring mind,
And hear its voices Now.
262
Procrastination, foe to bliss,
Curse far more baneful than it seems,
What treasure we have lost by this,
In vain and unsubstantial dreams!
From this dear moment, let us start
With brave endeavour, righteous vow:
Up, drooping soul! up, languid heart!
And seize the golden Now!
Curse far more baneful than it seems,
What treasure we have lost by this,
In vain and unsubstantial dreams!
From this dear moment, let us start
With brave endeavour, righteous vow:
Up, drooping soul! up, languid heart!
And seize the golden Now!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |