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 | The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware |  |
205
SEASONS OF PRAYER.
December, 1826.
To prayer, to prayer;—for the morning breaks,
And Earth in her Maker's smile awakes.
His light is on all below and above,—
The light of gladness, and life, and love.
O, then, on the breath of this early air,
Send upward the incense of grateful prayer.
And Earth in her Maker's smile awakes.
His light is on all below and above,—
The light of gladness, and life, and love.
O, then, on the breath of this early air,
Send upward the incense of grateful prayer.
To prayer;—for the glorious sun is gone,
And the gathering darkness of night comes on;
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows
To shade the couch where his children repose.
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright,
And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of night.
And the gathering darkness of night comes on;
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows
To shade the couch where his children repose.
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright,
And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of night.
To prayer;—for the day that God has blest
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest.
It speaks of creation's early bloom;
It speaks of the Prince who burst the tomb.
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers,
And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours.
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest.
It speaks of creation's early bloom;
It speaks of the Prince who burst the tomb.
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers,
And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours.
There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes,
For her new-born infant beside her lies.
O hour of bliss! when the heart o'erflows
With rapture a mother only knows.
Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer;
Let it swell up to Heaven for her precious care.
For her new-born infant beside her lies.
206
With rapture a mother only knows.
Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer;
Let it swell up to Heaven for her precious care.
There are smiles and tears in that gathering band,
Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand.
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,
As the bride bids parent and home farewell!
Kneel down by the side of the tearful fair,
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer.
Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand.
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,
As the bride bids parent and home farewell!
Kneel down by the side of the tearful fair,
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer.
Kneel down by the sinner's dying side,
And pray for his soul through Him who died.
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow;
O, what are earth and its pleasures now?
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?
And pray for his soul through Him who died.
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow;
O, what are earth and its pleasures now?
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?
Kneel down at the couch of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in his eye that upward bends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air;
For his last thoughts are God's, his last words prayer.
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in his eye that upward bends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air;
For his last thoughts are God's, his last words prayer.
The voice of prayer at the sable bier!
A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer.
It commends the spirit to God who gave;
It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave;
It points to the glory where He shall reign,
Who whispered, “Thy brother shall rise again.”
A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer.
It commends the spirit to God who gave;
It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave;
It points to the glory where He shall reign,
Who whispered, “Thy brother shall rise again.”
207
The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise,
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise,
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.
Awake, awake! and gird up thy strength
To join that holy band at length!
To Him who unceasing love displays,
Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise,—
To Him thy heart and thy hours be given;
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven.
To join that holy band at length!
To Him who unceasing love displays,
Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise,—
To Him thy heart and thy hours be given;
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven.
208
GREENOUGH'S STATUES OF THE CHERUB AND CHILD.
“QUÆ NUNC ABIBIS IN LOCA?”
Child.
Whither now, sweet spirit, say?
Whither tends our lengthening way?
Sun on sun, and star on star,
We have left behind us far,
Till my awed and raptured mind
Longs a resting-place to find.
Shall these wonders never end?
Whither do we yet ascend?
Cherub.
Gentle brother, onward yet;
Higher wonders must be met.
All these blazing worlds are dim
To the light that mantles Him,—
Him, who calls thee—with his own—
To the bliss before his throne.
There are all the pure in heart;
There the loving never part.
Thither pain nor sorrow come;
Happy brother, welcome home!
209
TO MARY.
October 2, 1833.
The forms they love, let others deck
In robes of rich resplendent fold;
Fling chains of pearl around the neck,
And tip the graceful ear with gold;
And bid the costly bawbles tell
How strong the heart's affections swell.
In robes of rich resplendent fold;
Fling chains of pearl around the neck,
And tip the graceful ear with gold;
And bid the costly bawbles tell
How strong the heart's affections swell.
But she, whose presence cheers my life,
Whose moral beauty makes my pride,
Far lovelier as the trusted wife
Than when the lovely trusting bride,—
Jewels are no interpreter
Of what the husband feels for her.
Whose moral beauty makes my pride,
Far lovelier as the trusted wife
Than when the lovely trusting bride,—
Jewels are no interpreter
Of what the husband feels for her.
I see her, on this joyful day,
The idol of her happy home,
Whose grateful inmates kneel and pray
That Heaven would bless for years to come,—
Long years of bright rejoicing life,—
This honored mother, friend, and wife.
The idol of her happy home,
Whose grateful inmates kneel and pray
That Heaven would bless for years to come,—
Long years of bright rejoicing life,—
This honored mother, friend, and wife.
210
Wealth has no gifts for such a day;
Words try their feeble strength in vain;—
Yet some slight token may convey
The feelings it cannot explain.
Mother,—this simple token take,
And prize it for a father's sake.
Words try their feeble strength in vain;—
Yet some slight token may convey
The feelings it cannot explain.
Mother,—this simple token take,
And prize it for a father's sake.
211
TO THE URSA MAJOR.
1825.
With what a stately and majestic step
That glorious constellation of the north
Treads its eternal circle! going forth
Its princely way amongst the stars in slow
And silent brightness. Mighty one, all hail!
I joy to see thee on thy glowing path
Walk, like some stout and girded giant—stern,
Unwearied, resolute,—whose toiling foot
Disdains to loiter on its destined way.
The other tribes forsake their midnight track,
And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave;
But thou dost never close thy burning eye,
Nor stay thy steadfast step; but on, still on,
While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds
Slumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds.
The near horizon tempts to rest in vain.
Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit
Thy long-appointed watch; but, sleepless still,
Dost guard the fixed light of the universe,
And bid the North forever know its place.
That glorious constellation of the north
Treads its eternal circle! going forth
Its princely way amongst the stars in slow
And silent brightness. Mighty one, all hail!
I joy to see thee on thy glowing path
Walk, like some stout and girded giant—stern,
Unwearied, resolute,—whose toiling foot
Disdains to loiter on its destined way.
The other tribes forsake their midnight track,
And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave;
But thou dost never close thy burning eye,
Nor stay thy steadfast step; but on, still on,
While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds
Slumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds.
The near horizon tempts to rest in vain.
Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit
Thy long-appointed watch; but, sleepless still,
Dost guard the fixed light of the universe,
And bid the North forever know its place.
Ages have witnessed thy devoted trust,
Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God
Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven,
And echoed from the outer spheres that bound
The illimitable universe, thy voice
Joined the high chorus; from thy radiant orbs
The glad cry sounded, swelling to His praise
Who thus had cast another sparkling gem,
Little, but beautiful, amid the crowd
Of splendors that enrich his firmament.
As thou art now, so wast thou then the same.
Ages have rolled their course, and Time grown gray;
The earth has gathered to her womb again,
And yet again, the myriads that were born
Of her—uncounted, unremembered tribes.
The seas have changed their beds; the eternal hills
Have stooped with age; the solid continents
Have left their banks; and man's imperial works,—
The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung
Their haughty honors in the face of heaven,
As if immortal,—have been swept away,
Shattered and mouldering, buried and forgot.
But time has shed no dimness on thy front,
Nor touched the firmness of thy tread; youth, strength,
And beauty still are thine—as clear, as bright,
As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth,
Beautiful offspring of his curious skill,
To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim
The eternal chorus of eternal Love.
Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God
Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven,
212
The illimitable universe, thy voice
Joined the high chorus; from thy radiant orbs
The glad cry sounded, swelling to His praise
Who thus had cast another sparkling gem,
Little, but beautiful, amid the crowd
Of splendors that enrich his firmament.
As thou art now, so wast thou then the same.
Ages have rolled their course, and Time grown gray;
The earth has gathered to her womb again,
And yet again, the myriads that were born
Of her—uncounted, unremembered tribes.
The seas have changed their beds; the eternal hills
Have stooped with age; the solid continents
Have left their banks; and man's imperial works,—
The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung
Their haughty honors in the face of heaven,
As if immortal,—have been swept away,
Shattered and mouldering, buried and forgot.
But time has shed no dimness on thy front,
Nor touched the firmness of thy tread; youth, strength,
And beauty still are thine—as clear, as bright,
As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth,
Beautiful offspring of his curious skill,
To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim
The eternal chorus of eternal Love.
I wonder as I gaze. That stream of light,
Undimmed, unquenched,—just as I see it now,—
Has issued from those dazzling points, through years
That go back far into eternity.
Exhaustless flood! forever spent, renewed
Forever! Yea, and those refulgent drops,
Which now descend upon my lifted eye,
Left their far fountain twice three years ago.
While those winged particles, whose speed outstrips
The flight of thought, were on their way, the earth
Compassed its tedious circuit round and round,
And, in the extremes of annual change, beheld
Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom.
So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve!
So vast the void through which their beams descend!
Undimmed, unquenched,—just as I see it now,—
Has issued from those dazzling points, through years
That go back far into eternity.
Exhaustless flood! forever spent, renewed
Forever! Yea, and those refulgent drops,
Which now descend upon my lifted eye,
213
While those winged particles, whose speed outstrips
The flight of thought, were on their way, the earth
Compassed its tedious circuit round and round,
And, in the extremes of annual change, beheld
Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom.
So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve!
So vast the void through which their beams descend!
Yea, glorious lamps of God! He may have quenched
Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night
Rest on your spheres; and yet no tidings reach
This distant planet. Messengers still come
Laden with your far fire, and we may seem
To see your lights still burning; while their blaze
But hides the black wreck of extinguished realms,
Where anarchy and darkness long have reigned.
Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night
Rest on your spheres; and yet no tidings reach
This distant planet. Messengers still come
Laden with your far fire, and we may seem
To see your lights still burning; while their blaze
But hides the black wreck of extinguished realms,
Where anarchy and darkness long have reigned.
Yet what is this, which to th' astonished mind
Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought
Confounds? A span, a point, in those domains
Which the keen eye can traverse. Seven stars
Dwell in that brilliant cluster, and the sight
Embraces all at once; yet each from each
Recedes, as far as each of them from earth.
And every star from every other burns
No less remote. From the profound of heaven,
Untravelled even in thought, keen, piercing rays
Dart through the void, revealing to the sense
Systems and worlds unnumbered. Take the glass,
And search the skies. The opening skies pour down
Upon your gaze thick showers of sparkling fire—
Stars, crowded, thronged, in regions so remote
That their swift beams—the swiftest things that be—
Have travelled centuries on their flight to earth.
Earth, sun, and nearer constellations! what
Are ye, amid this infinite extent
And multitude of God's most infinite works!
Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought
Confounds? A span, a point, in those domains
Which the keen eye can traverse. Seven stars
Dwell in that brilliant cluster, and the sight
Embraces all at once; yet each from each
Recedes, as far as each of them from earth.
And every star from every other burns
No less remote. From the profound of heaven,
Untravelled even in thought, keen, piercing rays
Dart through the void, revealing to the sense
Systems and worlds unnumbered. Take the glass,
And search the skies. The opening skies pour down
Upon your gaze thick showers of sparkling fire—
Stars, crowded, thronged, in regions so remote
That their swift beams—the swiftest things that be—
Have travelled centuries on their flight to earth.
214
Are ye, amid this infinite extent
And multitude of God's most infinite works!
And these are suns!—vast, central, living fires,—
Lords of dependent systems, kings of worlds
That wait as satellites upon their power,
And flourish in their smile. Awake, my soul,
And meditate the wonder! Countless suns
Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds!
Worlds—in whose bosoms living things rejoice,
And drink the bliss of being from the fount
Of all-pervading Love. What mind can know,
What tongue can utter, all their multitudes!
Thus numberless in numberless abodes!
Known but to thee, blest Father! Thine they are,
Thy children, and thy care—and none o'erlooked
Of thee!—no, not the humblest soul, that dwells
Upon the humblest globe, which wheels its course
Amid the giant glories of the sky,
Like the mean mote that dances in the beam
Amongst the thousand mirrored lamps, which fling
Their wasteful splendor from the palace wall.
None, none escape the kindness of thy care;
All compassed underneath thy spacious wing,
Each fed and guided by thy powerful hand.
Lords of dependent systems, kings of worlds
That wait as satellites upon their power,
And flourish in their smile. Awake, my soul,
And meditate the wonder! Countless suns
Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds!
Worlds—in whose bosoms living things rejoice,
And drink the bliss of being from the fount
Of all-pervading Love. What mind can know,
What tongue can utter, all their multitudes!
Thus numberless in numberless abodes!
Known but to thee, blest Father! Thine they are,
Thy children, and thy care—and none o'erlooked
Of thee!—no, not the humblest soul, that dwells
Upon the humblest globe, which wheels its course
Amid the giant glories of the sky,
Like the mean mote that dances in the beam
Amongst the thousand mirrored lamps, which fling
Their wasteful splendor from the palace wall.
None, none escape the kindness of thy care;
All compassed underneath thy spacious wing,
Each fed and guided by thy powerful hand.
Tell me, ye splendid orbs! as from your thrones
Ye mark the rolling provinces that own
Your sway—what beings fill those bright abodes?
How formed, how gifted? what their powers, their state,
Their happiness, their wisdom? Do they bear
The stamp of human nature? Or has God
Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forms
And more celestial minds? Does Innocence
Still wear her native and untainted bloom?
Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad,
And sowed corruption in those fairy bowers?
Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire?
And Slavery forged his chains, and Wrath, and Hate,
And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust,
Leagued their base bands to tread out light and truth,
And scatter wo where Heaven had planted joy?
Or are they yet all Paradise, unfallen
And uncorrupt? existence one long joy,
Without disease upon the frame, or sin
Upon the heart, or weariness of life—
Hope never quenched, and age unknown,
And death unfeared; while fresh and fadeless youth
Glows in the light from God's near throne of Love?
Ye mark the rolling provinces that own
Your sway—what beings fill those bright abodes?
How formed, how gifted? what their powers, their state,
Their happiness, their wisdom? Do they bear
The stamp of human nature? Or has God
Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forms
And more celestial minds? Does Innocence
215
Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad,
And sowed corruption in those fairy bowers?
Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire?
And Slavery forged his chains, and Wrath, and Hate,
And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust,
Leagued their base bands to tread out light and truth,
And scatter wo where Heaven had planted joy?
Or are they yet all Paradise, unfallen
And uncorrupt? existence one long joy,
Without disease upon the frame, or sin
Upon the heart, or weariness of life—
Hope never quenched, and age unknown,
And death unfeared; while fresh and fadeless youth
Glows in the light from God's near throne of Love?
Open your lips, ye wonderful and fair!
Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds
Unfold!—No language? Everlasting light,
And everlasting silence?—Yet the eye
May read and understand. The hand of God
Has written legibly what man may know—
The glory of the Maker. There it shines
Ineffable, unchangeable; and man,
Bound to the surface of this pigmy globe,
May know and ask no more. In other days,
When death shall give th' encumbered spirit wings,
Its range shall be extended; it shall roam,
Perchance, amongst those vast, mysterious spheres;
Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each,
Familiar with its children—learn their laws,
And share their state, and study and adore
The infinite varieties of bliss
And beauty, by the hand of Power divine
Lavished on all its works. Eternity
Shall thus roll on with ever-fresh delight;
No pause of pleasure or improvement; world
On world still opening to th' instructed mind
An unexhausted universe, and time
But adding to its glories; while the soul,
Advancing ever to the Source of light
And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns
In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss.
Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds
Unfold!—No language? Everlasting light,
And everlasting silence?—Yet the eye
May read and understand. The hand of God
Has written legibly what man may know—
The glory of the Maker. There it shines
Ineffable, unchangeable; and man,
Bound to the surface of this pigmy globe,
May know and ask no more. In other days,
When death shall give th' encumbered spirit wings,
Its range shall be extended; it shall roam,
Perchance, amongst those vast, mysterious spheres;
Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each,
Familiar with its children—learn their laws,
And share their state, and study and adore
The infinite varieties of bliss
And beauty, by the hand of Power divine
216
Shall thus roll on with ever-fresh delight;
No pause of pleasure or improvement; world
On world still opening to th' instructed mind
An unexhausted universe, and time
But adding to its glories; while the soul,
Advancing ever to the Source of light
And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns
In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss.
217
SONNET
ON THE COMPLETION OF NOYES S TRANSLATION OF THE PROPHETS.
November, 1837.
In rural life, by Jordan's fertile bed,The holy prophets learned of yore to sing;
The sacred ointment bathed a ploughman's head,
The shepherd boy became the minstrel king.
And he who to our later ears would bring
The deep, rich fervors of their ancient lays,
Should dwell apart from man's too public ways,
And quaff pure thoughts from Nature's quiet spring.
Thus hath he chose his lot, whom city pride
And college hall might well desire to claim;
With sainted seers communing side by side,
And freshly honoring their illustrious name.
He hears them in the field at eventide,
And what their spirit speaks his lucid words proclaim.
218
THE DWELLING-PLACE OF GOD.
August 17, 1813.
God dwells in heaven: he rules above,
In everlasting might,
Beyond where stars their courses move,
In uncreated light.
In everlasting might,
Beyond where stars their courses move,
In uncreated light.
God dwells in hell: his vengeance there
Gleams through the black abode;
The realms of anguish and despair
Confess the present God.
Gleams through the black abode;
The realms of anguish and despair
Confess the present God.
God dwells on earth; and all around
We view his wondrous power;
His terrors in the thunder sound,
His mercies in the shower.
We view his wondrous power;
His terrors in the thunder sound,
His mercies in the shower.
When man erects a house of prayer,
There God resides within,
To witness every feeling there,
And pardon every sin.
There God resides within,
To witness every feeling there,
And pardon every sin.
But most of all the Lord resides
Within an humble mind;
The worth that modest merit hides
His grace is sure to find.
Within an humble mind;
The worth that modest merit hides
His grace is sure to find.
219
By pious men he may be found,
And every where adored;
Where'er they tread is holy ground,
A temple to the Lord.
And every where adored;
Where'er they tread is holy ground,
A temple to the Lord.
O, let me find thee every where—
Around me, and within!
Be every day a day of prayer,
And pure from every sin.
Around me, and within!
Be every day a day of prayer,
And pure from every sin.
220
HYMN,
ON REVELATION IV. 2, 3; XV. 3.
1823.
Around the throne of God
The host angelic throngs;
They spread their palms abroad,
And shout perpetual songs.
Him first they own,
Him last and best;
God ever blest,
And God alone.
The host angelic throngs;
They spread their palms abroad,
And shout perpetual songs.
Him first they own,
Him last and best;
God ever blest,
And God alone.
Their golden crowns they fling
Before his throne of light,
And strike the rapturous string,
Unceasing, day and night:
“Earth, heaven, and sea,
Thy praise declare;
For thine they are,
And thine shall be.
Before his throne of light,
And strike the rapturous string,
Unceasing, day and night:
“Earth, heaven, and sea,
Thy praise declare;
For thine they are,
And thine shall be.
“O holy, holy Lord,
Creation's sovereign King!
Thy majesty adored
Let all creation sing;
Who wast, and art,
And art to be;
Nor time shall see
Thy sway depart.
Creation's sovereign King!
Thy majesty adored
Let all creation sing;
221
And art to be;
Nor time shall see
Thy sway depart.
“Great are thy works of praise,
O God of boundless might!
All just and true thy ways,
Thou King of saints, in light!
Let all above,
And all below,
Conspire to show
Thy power and love.
O God of boundless might!
All just and true thy ways,
Thou King of saints, in light!
Let all above,
And all below,
Conspire to show
Thy power and love.
“Who shall not fear thee, Lord,
And magnify thy name?
Thy judgments, sent abroad,
Thy holiness proclaim.
Nations shall throng
From every shore,
And all adore
In one loud song.”
And magnify thy name?
Thy judgments, sent abroad,
Thy holiness proclaim.
Nations shall throng
From every shore,
And all adore
In one loud song.”
While thus the powers on high
Their swelling chorus raise,
Let earth and man reply,
And echo back the praise;
His glory own,
First, last, and best,
God ever blest,
And God alone.
Their swelling chorus raise,
Let earth and man reply,
And echo back the praise;
His glory own,
First, last, and best,
God ever blest,
And God alone.
222
SONG.
CLASS MEETING, AUGUST 25, 1813.
Tune, Sandy and Jenny.
Come, classmates and friends, as ye mingle once more,
Renew all the feelings so oft felt before;
Return from your wanderings on life's weary main,
And join the glad circle of friendship again.
Renew all the feelings so oft felt before;
Return from your wanderings on life's weary main,
And join the glad circle of friendship again.
The world we have seen is cold, wayward, and strange;
It asks all our time, and gives little exchange:
Then gladly we cast all its troubles away,
And welcome the meeting of friendship to-day.
It asks all our time, and gives little exchange:
Then gladly we cast all its troubles away,
And welcome the meeting of friendship to-day.
Smooth down the rough wrinkles of care on your brow;
From your eye dash the tear-drop of bitterness now;
Every cloud from the spirits be banished away,
And joy gild the moment of meeting to-day.
From your eye dash the tear-drop of bitterness now;
Every cloud from the spirits be banished away,
And joy gild the moment of meeting to-day.
Has your lot, since we parted, been sad and distressed?
Has your eye lost its lustre, your bosom its rest?
You here shall rekindle its happiest ray,
And pillow your bosom on friendship to-day.
Has your eye lost its lustre, your bosom its rest?
You here shall rekindle its happiest ray,
And pillow your bosom on friendship to-day.
But if Fortune has clothed in her brightness your head,
And sunshine and flowers decked the path that you tread,
Then bring your bright garlands, your treasures display,
To gladden the meeting of friendship to-day.
And sunshine and flowers decked the path that you tread,
223
To gladden the meeting of friendship to-day.
How oft have we crowded this table around,
And pledged the high cup in festivity crowned!
To-day the same board shall its treasures display,
The same cup of feeling be mingled to-day.
And pledged the high cup in festivity crowned!
To-day the same board shall its treasures display,
The same cup of feeling be mingled to-day.
And the taste of the wine, from this goblet of love,
Shall cling to our lips, and shall never remove;
Our cheeks the warm glow shall forever retain,
And bring back the thought of this meeting again.
Shall cling to our lips, and shall never remove;
Our cheeks the warm glow shall forever retain,
And bring back the thought of this meeting again.
Then pledge Alma-Mater—our joy, and our pride!
We have drunk at her bosom, we've walked at her side:
Our warmest affections we ever will pay,
And live to her honor:—we pledge it to-day.
We have drunk at her bosom, we've walked at her side:
Our warmest affections we ever will pay,
And live to her honor:—we pledge it to-day.
224
HYMN FOR EASTER.
1817.
[_]
There is a very animated air and chorus, which I have heard sung with great delight, adapted to a triumphant song on the overthrow of the Egyptians—
“Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!Jehovah hath triumphed! his people are free!”
The following lines, to the same tune, are more suitable to Christian worship. They are particularly adapted to Easter Day.
Lift your loud voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot die!
Vain were the terrors that gathered around him,
And short the dominion of death and the grave;
He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound him,
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save.
Loud was the chorus of angels on high—
“The Savior hath risen, and man shall not die!”
For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot die!
Vain were the terrors that gathered around him,
And short the dominion of death and the grave;
He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound him,
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save.
Loud was the chorus of angels on high—
“The Savior hath risen, and man shall not die!”
Glory to God, in full anthems of joy!
The being he gave us death cannot destroy!
Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow,
If tears were our birthright, and death were our end;
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend.
Lift, then, your voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die!
The being he gave us death cannot destroy!
Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow,
If tears were our birthright, and death were our end;
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend.
Lift, then, your voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die!
225
A POEM,
PRONOUNCED AT CAMBRIDGE, FEBRUARY 23, 1815, AT THE CELEBRATION OF PEACE BETWEEN THE UNITED STATES AND GREAT BRITAIN.
Once more we meet in peace; the storm has passed,
And cheerful suns ascend our skies at last;
The heavy cloud has rolled its gloom away,
And all the prospect brightens into day.
How glad the promise to our country given!
Lo, Peace descends, in angel form, from heaven,
And the dark train of misery and despair
Vanish, like misty forms of morning air.
Where late anxiety and gloom were seen
To cloud the brow, and agitate the mien,—
Where our sad fates, as slowly they unrolled,
Appalled alike the timid and the bold,—
Returning hope has marked the scene with joy,
And mirth and gladness every heart employ;
Joy on the tongue, and rapture in the eye,
The eager shout mounts upward to the sky!
Hark! the glad bell, the deep-mouthed cannon, sounds;
The city shakes, and every hill resounds.
Yes, we may well rejoice, and well repair,
With praise, to Him who heard our anxious prayer.
Let the loud anthem fill, with joyful strain,
These walls, that heard our burdened souls complain.
Glory to God be given!—the God of peace,
Who bids our fears subside, our troubles cease.
He sent confusion—and the nation mourned;
He smiled—the star of happiness returned.
The cloud that veiled us was our Father's hand;
The beams that cheer us shine at his command.
Then, as the fabled harp its warblings woke,
When on its strings the ray of morning broke,
So let our hearts respond the touch of Heaven;
So let our earliest hours to praise be given.
And cheerful suns ascend our skies at last;
The heavy cloud has rolled its gloom away,
And all the prospect brightens into day.
How glad the promise to our country given!
Lo, Peace descends, in angel form, from heaven,
And the dark train of misery and despair
Vanish, like misty forms of morning air.
Where late anxiety and gloom were seen
To cloud the brow, and agitate the mien,—
Where our sad fates, as slowly they unrolled,
Appalled alike the timid and the bold,—
Returning hope has marked the scene with joy,
And mirth and gladness every heart employ;
Joy on the tongue, and rapture in the eye,
The eager shout mounts upward to the sky!
226
The city shakes, and every hill resounds.
Yes, we may well rejoice, and well repair,
With praise, to Him who heard our anxious prayer.
Let the loud anthem fill, with joyful strain,
These walls, that heard our burdened souls complain.
Glory to God be given!—the God of peace,
Who bids our fears subside, our troubles cease.
He sent confusion—and the nation mourned;
He smiled—the star of happiness returned.
The cloud that veiled us was our Father's hand;
The beams that cheer us shine at his command.
Then, as the fabled harp its warblings woke,
When on its strings the ray of morning broke,
So let our hearts respond the touch of Heaven;
So let our earliest hours to praise be given.
Yes, we have cause of joy! O, need I say
How great the boon we celebrate to-day?
Need I the sufferings of the past recall?
Need I—O would I could!—recount them all?
Look first abroad—scan Europe's history o'er;
There the wild flood has wasted every shore.
For twice ten years the threatening tumult spread,
While Nature languished, and her beauty fled.
War drove his iron car from land to land,
And scattered rage and ruin from his hand;
Pale Europe trembled with the cannon's roar,
And helpless anguish wailed on every shore.
Destroying armies, here, triumphant passed;
There, houseless wanderers shuddered in the blast;
Here, wasted fields were burdened with the slain;
There, prostrate cities smoked upon the plain.
“When, when,” we cried, “will ruin's work be done?
When shall the world behold a quiet sun?
O, when shall winds untainted move the tree,
And bloodless rivers mingle with the sea?
When shall the glutted vulture quit the plain,
And the dove wave her peaceful wings again?”
But long in vain we wished, in vain we sought;
Still thousands mourned—for still th' ambitious fought.
“Enough,” we cried, “have tears and treasures flowed;
Enough have earth and ocean drunk of blood.”
But still the breeze confusion's accents bore,
And every wave came crimsoned to the shore;
Now the loud shouts of victory rent the air,
And now were heard the moanings of despair.
How great the boon we celebrate to-day?
Need I the sufferings of the past recall?
Need I—O would I could!—recount them all?
Look first abroad—scan Europe's history o'er;
There the wild flood has wasted every shore.
For twice ten years the threatening tumult spread,
While Nature languished, and her beauty fled.
War drove his iron car from land to land,
And scattered rage and ruin from his hand;
Pale Europe trembled with the cannon's roar,
And helpless anguish wailed on every shore.
Destroying armies, here, triumphant passed;
There, houseless wanderers shuddered in the blast;
Here, wasted fields were burdened with the slain;
There, prostrate cities smoked upon the plain.
227
When shall the world behold a quiet sun?
O, when shall winds untainted move the tree,
And bloodless rivers mingle with the sea?
When shall the glutted vulture quit the plain,
And the dove wave her peaceful wings again?”
But long in vain we wished, in vain we sought;
Still thousands mourned—for still th' ambitious fought.
“Enough,” we cried, “have tears and treasures flowed;
Enough have earth and ocean drunk of blood.”
But still the breeze confusion's accents bore,
And every wave came crimsoned to the shore;
Now the loud shouts of victory rent the air,
And now were heard the moanings of despair.
But Heaven at length, to save a sinking world,
The restless conqueror from his chariot hurled;
Doomed, as he trod the northern plain, to know
“A horrid climate,” and a horrid foe.
How short the reign! how sudden was the fall!
Europe once scarce sufficed—Elba is now his all!
Th' astonished nations, roused from long dismay,
Gazed with dread wonder as he passed away;
With doubting eyes surveyed the scene a while,
And smiled—and wondered they were free to smile;
And now look back as on a meteor's flight,
The transient terror of a troubled night.
The restless conqueror from his chariot hurled;
Doomed, as he trod the northern plain, to know
“A horrid climate,” and a horrid foe.
How short the reign! how sudden was the fall!
Europe once scarce sufficed—Elba is now his all!
Th' astonished nations, roused from long dismay,
Gazed with dread wonder as he passed away;
With doubting eyes surveyed the scene a while,
And smiled—and wondered they were free to smile;
And now look back as on a meteor's flight,
The transient terror of a troubled night.
The tyrant fell: his baleful influence o'er,
The morn of quiet dawned on Europe's shore;
Contending nations rested from their arms,
And wives and mothers hushed their wild alarms.
No more their cities trembled to the gun;
No more the battle-cloud eclipsed the sun;
The voice of mirth succeeds the harsh dispute,
And yields the warrior-trumpet to the lute.
No more by virgin hands are garlands twined
To shade the hero's brow, his temples bind;
But softest flowers are gathered for the fair,
To wreathe in bands of joy the flowing hair;—
Garlands, to crown the happy—not the brave;
To grace the dance—not wither on the grave.
See, the glad ray across the ocean streams!
Our hills are brightened by the joyous beams.
Arise, my country—join the general voice—
Wake the deep echoes—bid thy sons rejoice!
The clouds have passed, the tempest-thunders cease,
And hope's gay rainbow gilds the sky of peace.
Lo, on all sides the kindling raptures spread,
Beam on the brow, and lift the buoyant tread.
Hark! on the wind what joyful accents rise!
See, novel splendors light the evening skies!
The flag streams proudly to the favoring gale,
And Commerce wide unfurls her swelling sail.
Our eagle, quenched the lightning of his eye,
Floats with unmoving wing along the sky;
Far from his grasp the bloody arrows thrown,
His talons wield the olive-branch alone.
O, happy rescue from the ills that wait
On war's tumultuous and uncertain state!
O, happy rescue from the fearful train,
That thickened round, of wretchedness and pain!
Look back, and see the evils that were near—
The dangers, sufferings, poverty, and fear.
Drained was the public purse,—the credit gone,—
And private want urged public ruin on.
Who then the deep despondency could chase,
The settled sadness of the patriot's face?
Who could dispel the darkness of the breast,
And lay its chill and torturing fears to rest,
When the sick heart beheld its prospects droop,
And courage fainted on the tomb of hope?
The past—how sad the marks of woe it bore!
How blank the dreary waste that stretched before!
The morn of quiet dawned on Europe's shore;
Contending nations rested from their arms,
And wives and mothers hushed their wild alarms.
No more their cities trembled to the gun;
No more the battle-cloud eclipsed the sun;
228
And yields the warrior-trumpet to the lute.
No more by virgin hands are garlands twined
To shade the hero's brow, his temples bind;
But softest flowers are gathered for the fair,
To wreathe in bands of joy the flowing hair;—
Garlands, to crown the happy—not the brave;
To grace the dance—not wither on the grave.
See, the glad ray across the ocean streams!
Our hills are brightened by the joyous beams.
Arise, my country—join the general voice—
Wake the deep echoes—bid thy sons rejoice!
The clouds have passed, the tempest-thunders cease,
And hope's gay rainbow gilds the sky of peace.
Lo, on all sides the kindling raptures spread,
Beam on the brow, and lift the buoyant tread.
Hark! on the wind what joyful accents rise!
See, novel splendors light the evening skies!
The flag streams proudly to the favoring gale,
And Commerce wide unfurls her swelling sail.
Our eagle, quenched the lightning of his eye,
Floats with unmoving wing along the sky;
Far from his grasp the bloody arrows thrown,
His talons wield the olive-branch alone.
O, happy rescue from the ills that wait
On war's tumultuous and uncertain state!
O, happy rescue from the fearful train,
That thickened round, of wretchedness and pain!
Look back, and see the evils that were near—
The dangers, sufferings, poverty, and fear.
Drained was the public purse,—the credit gone,—
And private want urged public ruin on.
229
The settled sadness of the patriot's face?
Who could dispel the darkness of the breast,
And lay its chill and torturing fears to rest,
When the sick heart beheld its prospects droop,
And courage fainted on the tomb of hope?
The past—how sad the marks of woe it bore!
How blank the dreary waste that stretched before!
But yet some gleams of glory rushed between,
And threw a dazzling brightness on the scene.
Whose heart was still, that heard the deeds of might—
Th' unequalled grandeur of our ocean fight?
Who felt not proud, when each returning wave
Rolled home a glorious tribute to the brave?
Who felt not proud, th' ennobling tale to tell—
“Our fathers' spirits in their children dwell”?
Who but the ardor of the contest knows,
From the high opening to the signal close—
From Hull's first flash, that woke th' astonished main,
To the last peal, that echoed on Champlain?
Ye gallant few, that trod the mighty deep,
Enough is done; now let your terrors sleep;
Sleep—like your native ocean—still, yet dread.
Its spirit slumbers—but it is not dead;
Be the calm moved, again its fury roars,
Raves to the blast, and dashes to the shores.
But now enough; retire, your country's pride;
Fame shouts your honors loud, and spreads them wide;
Enjoy the sounds upon a tranquil main,
Nor ask the triumph of the fight again.
Hushed be the war-storm on the sea and lake;
Long hushed the passions that its rage would wake.
And threw a dazzling brightness on the scene.
Whose heart was still, that heard the deeds of might—
Th' unequalled grandeur of our ocean fight?
Who felt not proud, when each returning wave
Rolled home a glorious tribute to the brave?
Who felt not proud, th' ennobling tale to tell—
“Our fathers' spirits in their children dwell”?
Who but the ardor of the contest knows,
From the high opening to the signal close—
From Hull's first flash, that woke th' astonished main,
To the last peal, that echoed on Champlain?
Ye gallant few, that trod the mighty deep,
Enough is done; now let your terrors sleep;
Sleep—like your native ocean—still, yet dread.
Its spirit slumbers—but it is not dead;
Be the calm moved, again its fury roars,
Raves to the blast, and dashes to the shores.
But now enough; retire, your country's pride;
Fame shouts your honors loud, and spreads them wide;
Enjoy the sounds upon a tranquil main,
Nor ask the triumph of the fight again.
Hushed be the war-storm on the sea and lake;
Long hushed the passions that its rage would wake.
230
And hail the flag that waves upon our shore;
Proud let it wave—and wave forevermore.
True, in the northern war it bowed its head,
Its stars were clouded, and their lustre fled.
Our capital beheld its deep disgrace;
Hide, ye that saw it, hide your blushing face.
Americans! and see your city fired!
O, who were they that saw it—and retired?
But stay—for those that bade the eagle roam
May well be found a feeble guard at home.
But plant the standard where are men to fight,
Ne'er shall it droop in war, or trail in flight.
It must not flutter in a foreign air—
A freeman's arm is weak and nerveless there;
And freedom's star alike its beam denies
To him who fights for conquest, and who flies.
But range our soldiers on their native soil,
They fear no danger, and they shun no toil;
They wait th' assault in thick and firm array,
Lift the high hand, and scatter wide dismay.
Such there have been, who met the fierce attack,
Rushed on opposing troops, and drove them trembling back.
And such, had rash invasion touched our coast,
Such would have been our hardy yeomen's boast;
They, like our sires, had bid the invaders know
Columbia bears no laurel for a foe.
Proud let it wave—and wave forevermore.
True, in the northern war it bowed its head,
Its stars were clouded, and their lustre fled.
Our capital beheld its deep disgrace;
Hide, ye that saw it, hide your blushing face.
Americans! and see your city fired!
O, who were they that saw it—and retired?
But stay—for those that bade the eagle roam
May well be found a feeble guard at home.
But plant the standard where are men to fight,
Ne'er shall it droop in war, or trail in flight.
It must not flutter in a foreign air—
A freeman's arm is weak and nerveless there;
And freedom's star alike its beam denies
To him who fights for conquest, and who flies.
But range our soldiers on their native soil,
They fear no danger, and they shun no toil;
They wait th' assault in thick and firm array,
Lift the high hand, and scatter wide dismay.
Such there have been, who met the fierce attack,
Rushed on opposing troops, and drove them trembling back.
And such, had rash invasion touched our coast,
Such would have been our hardy yeomen's boast;
They, like our sires, had bid the invaders know
Columbia bears no laurel for a foe.
But, ah! how poor the boast, to say we dared!
How small the glory, to the woe compared!
What boots it that the banners of our foe
Hang in our halls, a proud, imposing show,
If blood and tears the gaudy trophies steep,
To tell how many bled, how many weep!
Or that the laurel shades us, since it grows
In chief luxuriance where the brave repose?
Say, will its leaves assuaging balm impart
To ease the anguish of the wounded heart?
Say, will the honors, that on fame attend,
Console the widow, or restore the friend?
In victory's day, the shout is all we hear;
The sob of sorrow reaches not the ear.
The dazzling pomp is all that meets the light;
The toil, the suffering, is concealed from sight.
But could we tell how vast th' amount of woe—
Behold the wounded, and their tortures know—
Go to the chamber where the widow sighs,
And see the orphans' tears, and hear their cries—
Mark all the frantic transports of despair,
The piercing shriek, the mingled curse and prayer—
O, we should bleed at heart, when Victory's voice
Rang through the crowd, and bade the land rejoice;
Should shrink with shuddering from war's iron sound,
And tread its proudest trophies to the ground.
How small the glory, to the woe compared!
What boots it that the banners of our foe
Hang in our halls, a proud, imposing show,
If blood and tears the gaudy trophies steep,
To tell how many bled, how many weep!
231
In chief luxuriance where the brave repose?
Say, will its leaves assuaging balm impart
To ease the anguish of the wounded heart?
Say, will the honors, that on fame attend,
Console the widow, or restore the friend?
In victory's day, the shout is all we hear;
The sob of sorrow reaches not the ear.
The dazzling pomp is all that meets the light;
The toil, the suffering, is concealed from sight.
But could we tell how vast th' amount of woe—
Behold the wounded, and their tortures know—
Go to the chamber where the widow sighs,
And see the orphans' tears, and hear their cries—
Mark all the frantic transports of despair,
The piercing shriek, the mingled curse and prayer—
O, we should bleed at heart, when Victory's voice
Rang through the crowd, and bade the land rejoice;
Should shrink with shuddering from war's iron sound,
And tread its proudest trophies to the ground.
Then hail, sweet Peace, man's high, yet injured friend!
No gloomy terrors on thy steps attend;
No forms of woe, no demons armed with wrath,
But quiet, hope, and plenty wait thy path.
War wastes around him with consuming breath;
Our comforts fade, our friendships sink in death.
He treads along a track of living fire,
And science, arts, and happiness expire.
Demon, be gone! we hate thy savage mien;—
But Peace, sweet nymph, be thou our lovely queen.
Come, soothe our sorrows with thy cheerful song;
Bring all thy blessings, and continue long.
Lo, Plenty springs beneath thy verdant tread,
And Art, reviving, lifts to heaven her head.
White o'er the billows moves th' adventurous sail,
And riches pour to land with every gale.
The city sees its splendid domes increase,
With all the grandeur and the fame of Greece;
The country smiles in richer verdure crowned,
While cheerful toil and rustic mirth resound;
And Science sees her favorite mansions rise,
Till Harvard's turrets tremble in the skies;
Till other Miltons stretch a loftier flight,
And other Newtons tread new fields of light.
No gloomy terrors on thy steps attend;
No forms of woe, no demons armed with wrath,
But quiet, hope, and plenty wait thy path.
War wastes around him with consuming breath;
Our comforts fade, our friendships sink in death.
He treads along a track of living fire,
And science, arts, and happiness expire.
Demon, be gone! we hate thy savage mien;—
But Peace, sweet nymph, be thou our lovely queen.
Come, soothe our sorrows with thy cheerful song;
Bring all thy blessings, and continue long.
232
And Art, reviving, lifts to heaven her head.
White o'er the billows moves th' adventurous sail,
And riches pour to land with every gale.
The city sees its splendid domes increase,
With all the grandeur and the fame of Greece;
The country smiles in richer verdure crowned,
While cheerful toil and rustic mirth resound;
And Science sees her favorite mansions rise,
Till Harvard's turrets tremble in the skies;
Till other Miltons stretch a loftier flight,
And other Newtons tread new fields of light.
Hail, hail, the distant beauty of our land,
That Hope has pictured with a glowing hand!
Roll on, ye happy years, in rapture roll;
Pour all your promise on th' impatient soul—
The brilliant promise of a lovelier day,
Of purer light, and clear, unclouded ray.
Fathers, your sons shall then in virtues shine,
That raise the human nearer the divine.
Mothers, your daughters, more accomplished then,
Shall smile with sweeter smiles on worthier men.
Then public good, on private virtue built,
Shall stand unmoved by vice, unstained by guilt.
Then, guided by the wisdom from above,
We all shall harmonize in perfect love;
Shall cast the trophies of our wars away,
And nobler honors to the world display.
That Hope has pictured with a glowing hand!
Roll on, ye happy years, in rapture roll;
Pour all your promise on th' impatient soul—
The brilliant promise of a lovelier day,
Of purer light, and clear, unclouded ray.
Fathers, your sons shall then in virtues shine,
That raise the human nearer the divine.
Mothers, your daughters, more accomplished then,
Shall smile with sweeter smiles on worthier men.
Then public good, on private virtue built,
Shall stand unmoved by vice, unstained by guilt.
Then, guided by the wisdom from above,
We all shall harmonize in perfect love;
Shall cast the trophies of our wars away,
And nobler honors to the world display.
233
LINES FOR MUSIC.
IMITATED FROM THE GERMAN WORDS TO A CANON FOR THREE VOICES, BY J. H. C. BOMHARDT.
November, 1837.
The day of life is not all desolate;Paternal Love o'er all presideth;
And though the doubting heart
May mourn when hopes depart,
Serenely Faith amid the storm abideth.
The darkest clouds of Fate
Are bright when Love confideth.
234
TO E. A. W.,
ON HER MARRIAGE.
Concord, N. H., August 22, 1831.
Absent! We are not absent, dear.
Of all the happy throng you see,
Not one in spirit is more near,
Or breathes a heartier wish, than we.
So take our kiss, and with it share
A brother's sister's love and prayer.
Of all the happy throng you see,
Not one in spirit is more near,
Or breathes a heartier wish, than we.
So take our kiss, and with it share
A brother's sister's love and prayer.
May He who blessed your early lot
With all that makes a happy home,
O'erwatch, with equal love, the spot
That waits your life in years to come.
Trust Him,—let weal or woe betide;—
Trust;—and what can you ask beside?
With all that makes a happy home,
O'erwatch, with equal love, the spot
That waits your life in years to come.
Trust Him,—let weal or woe betide;—
Trust;—and what can you ask beside?
235
HYMN,
FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH.
April, 1839.
Tune, Lyons.
We rear not a temple, like Judah's of old,
Whose portals were marble, whose vaultings were gold;
No incense is lighted, no victims are slain,
No monarch kneels praying to hallow the fane.
Whose portals were marble, whose vaultings were gold;
No incense is lighted, no victims are slain,
No monarch kneels praying to hallow the fane.
More simple and lowly the walls that we raise,
And humbler the pomp of procession and praise,
Where the heart is the altar whence incense shall roll,
And Messiah the King who shall pray for the soul.
And humbler the pomp of procession and praise,
Where the heart is the altar whence incense shall roll,
And Messiah the King who shall pray for the soul.
O Father, come in! but not in the cloud
Which filled the bright courts where thy chosen ones bowed;
But come in that spirit of glory and grace,
Which beams on the soul and illumines the race.
Which filled the bright courts where thy chosen ones bowed;
But come in that spirit of glory and grace,
Which beams on the soul and illumines the race.
O, come in the power of thy life-giving Word,
And reveal to each heart its Redeemer and Lord;
Till Faith bring the peace to the penitent given,
And Love fill the air with the fragrance of heaven.
And reveal to each heart its Redeemer and Lord;
Till Faith bring the peace to the penitent given,
And Love fill the air with the fragrance of heaven.
236
The pomp of Moriah has long passed away,
And soon shall our frailer erection decay;
But the souls that are builded in worship and love
Shall be temples to God, everlasting above.
And soon shall our frailer erection decay;
But the souls that are builded in worship and love
Shall be temples to God, everlasting above.
237
THANKSGIVING SONG.
November, 1840.
Tune, Sandy and Jenny.
Come, uncles and cousins; come, nieces and aunts;
Come, nephews and brothers,—no wonts and no cants:
Put business, and shopping, and school-books away;
The year has rolled round;—it is Thanksgiving-day.
Come, nephews and brothers,—no wonts and no cants:
Put business, and shopping, and school-books away;
The year has rolled round;—it is Thanksgiving-day.
Come home from the college, ye ringlet-haired youth,
Come home from your factories, Ann, Kate, and Ruth;
From the anvil, the counter, the farm come away;
Home, home, with you, home;—it is Thanksgiving-day.
Come home from your factories, Ann, Kate, and Ruth;
From the anvil, the counter, the farm come away;
Home, home, with you, home;—it is Thanksgiving-day.
The table is spread, and the dinner is dressed;
The cooks and the mothers have all done their best:
No caliph of Bagdad e'er saw such display,
Or dreamed of a treat like our Thanksgiving-day.
The cooks and the mothers have all done their best:
No caliph of Bagdad e'er saw such display,
Or dreamed of a treat like our Thanksgiving-day.
Pies, puddings, and custards, pigs, oysters, and nuts,—
Come forward and seize them, without ifs or buts;
Bring none of your slim, little appetites here;—
Thanksgiving-day comes only once in a year.
Come forward and seize them, without ifs or buts;
Bring none of your slim, little appetites here;—
Thanksgiving-day comes only once in a year.
238
Thrice welcome the day in its annual round!
What treasures of love in its bosom are found!
New England's high holiday, ancient and dear!
'Twould be twice as welcome, if twice in a year.
What treasures of love in its bosom are found!
New England's high holiday, ancient and dear!
'Twould be twice as welcome, if twice in a year.
Now children revisit the darling old place,
And brother and sister, long parted, embrace;
The family ring is united once more,
And the same voices shout at the old cottage door.
And brother and sister, long parted, embrace;
The family ring is united once more,
And the same voices shout at the old cottage door.
The grandfather smiles on the innocent mirth,
And blesses the Power that has guarded his hearth;
He remembers no trouble, he feels no decay,
But thinks his whole life has been Thanksgiving-day.
And blesses the Power that has guarded his hearth;
He remembers no trouble, he feels no decay,
But thinks his whole life has been Thanksgiving-day.
Then praise for the past and the present we sing,
And trustful await what the future may bring:
Let doubt and repining be banished away,
And the whole of our lives be a Thanksgiving-day.
And trustful await what the future may bring:
Let doubt and repining be banished away,
And the whole of our lives be a Thanksgiving-day.
239
HYMN.
FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION AT HARVARD COLLEGE,
September 7, 1836.
Give praise to the God of our fathers! give praise!
At the shrine where they worshiped devoutly adore;
Kneel down, as they knelt in their perilous days,
His goodness to bless, and his favor implore.
At the shrine where they worshiped devoutly adore;
Kneel down, as they knelt in their perilous days,
His goodness to bless, and his favor implore.
For “Christ and the Church” they resisted and fled,
His cross for their banner, his word for their guide;
On a new world the broad light of Freedom they shed,
And poured through the wilderness Truth's living tide.
His cross for their banner, his word for their guide;
On a new world the broad light of Freedom they shed,
And poured through the wilderness Truth's living tide.
Then rose the high temple, the home of the soul,
And the proud hall of Science, the strength of the state,
That Religion and Letters might join to control
The hearts of the young, and the toils of the great.
And the proud hall of Science, the strength of the state,
That Religion and Letters might join to control
The hearts of the young, and the toils of the great.
We praise thee, O God, for the days that are gone;
We surrender the future in faith to thy hand;
O, cloud not the hope of our new-risen dawn,
O, pour the full sunlight of day on our land!
We surrender the future in faith to thy hand;
O, cloud not the hope of our new-risen dawn,
O, pour the full sunlight of day on our land!
240
ODE, ON OCCASION OF THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF HARVARD COLLEGE,
September 7, 1836.
Fling wide the temple door!
The altar and the choir prepare!
Let the high chant and solemn prayer
Their holy raptures pour.
For, lo, in festal pomp arrayed,
Forth issuing from their classic shade,
The sons of Science crowd the sacred floor.
The altar and the choir prepare!
Let the high chant and solemn prayer
Their holy raptures pour.
For, lo, in festal pomp arrayed,
Forth issuing from their classic shade,
The sons of Science crowd the sacred floor.
O, meetly to the house of praise
The fair and ancient mother goes,
And on Religion's altar lays
The offering due to Him who all bestows.
Grateful Memory brings her treasures,
Gathered through the centuries gone;
Hope, in sweet, prophetic measures,
Hastens brighter ages on.
The solemn rites let Heaven with favor crown;
The praise receive, nor on the vision frown.
The fair and ancient mother goes,
And on Religion's altar lays
The offering due to Him who all bestows.
Grateful Memory brings her treasures,
Gathered through the centuries gone;
Hope, in sweet, prophetic measures,
Hastens brighter ages on.
The solemn rites let Heaven with favor crown;
The praise receive, nor on the vision frown.
241
Barbarian darkness dwelt
In hopeless night upon the land;
Till England's Pilgrims touched the strand,
And in the forest knelt.
Then light broke in; the kindling dawn
Blushed on mountain, grove, and lawn;
They planted round their growing home
The classic lights of Greece and Rome;
On every hill-top bade to shine
The blesséd cross of Palestine,—
Blended beams of heaven and earth!
Like morning on the mountains spread,
A bright and genial day they shed,
And called the glories of New England forth.
In hopeless night upon the land;
Till England's Pilgrims touched the strand,
And in the forest knelt.
Then light broke in; the kindling dawn
Blushed on mountain, grove, and lawn;
They planted round their growing home
The classic lights of Greece and Rome;
On every hill-top bade to shine
The blesséd cross of Palestine,—
Blended beams of heaven and earth!
Like morning on the mountains spread,
A bright and genial day they shed,
And called the glories of New England forth.
Exalt their honored name!
Heroic founders of the state!
Inscribe their titles with the great,
Who live in deathless fame!
Nor last upon th' immortal scroll
Young Harvard's modest worth enroll;
Let his own halls resound with loud acclaim!
Heroic founders of the state!
Inscribe their titles with the great,
Who live in deathless fame!
Nor last upon th' immortal scroll
Young Harvard's modest worth enroll;
Let his own halls resound with loud acclaim!
Through languid years of pain and gloom,
He faded slow, and early died;
Passed from the altar to the tomb,
And wrought in death the work that life denied.
Stranger in the infant nation
Where he lingered but to die,
Visions of its exaltation
Dawned on his believing eye.
Cheered by the view, serenely smiled the youth,
And gave his little all to Christ and Truth.
He faded slow, and early died;
Passed from the altar to the tomb,
And wrought in death the work that life denied.
Stranger in the infant nation
Where he lingered but to die,
Visions of its exaltation
Dawned on his believing eye.
Cheered by the view, serenely smiled the youth,
And gave his little all to Christ and Truth.
242
O, from that little rill
What soul-enlivening waters flowed,
What peace and hope to man's abode,
What joy to Zion's hill!
As when along the desert land,
Smitten by the prophet's hand,
The rock its gushing torrent sent
To bless the tribes where'er they went.
What soul-enlivening waters flowed,
What peace and hope to man's abode,
What joy to Zion's hill!
As when along the desert land,
Smitten by the prophet's hand,
The rock its gushing torrent sent
To bless the tribes where'er they went.
The years are passed, the fathers gone;
But still the fertile flood rolls on:
Free and glorious be its flow,—
A boundless wave of life and youth,—
Till knowledge, liberty, and truth,
Restore lost Eden to our world below.
But still the fertile flood rolls on:
Free and glorious be its flow,—
A boundless wave of life and youth,—
Till knowledge, liberty, and truth,
Restore lost Eden to our world below.
243
HYMN IN SICKNESS.
March, 1836.
Father, thy gentle chastisement
Falls kindly on my burdened soul;
I see its merciful intent,
To warn me back to thy control;
And pray, that, while I kiss the rod,
I may find perfect peace with God.
Falls kindly on my burdened soul;
I see its merciful intent,
To warn me back to thy control;
And pray, that, while I kiss the rod,
I may find perfect peace with God.
The errors of my heart I know;
I feel my deep infirmities;
For, often, virtuous feelings glow,
And holy purposes arise,
But, like the morning clouds decay,
As empty, though as fair, as they.
I feel my deep infirmities;
For, often, virtuous feelings glow,
And holy purposes arise,
But, like the morning clouds decay,
As empty, though as fair, as they.
Forgive the weakness I deplore;
And let thy peace abound in me,
That I may trust my heart no more,
But wholly cast myself on thee.
O, let my Father's strength be mine,
And my devoted life be thine.
And let thy peace abound in me,
That I may trust my heart no more,
But wholly cast myself on thee.
O, let my Father's strength be mine,
And my devoted life be thine.
244
ANTI-SLAVERY SONG.
February, 1843.
Tune, Wild Hunt of Lutzow.
The Pilgrims are launched on the wild winter main,
Their bark on the foam madly tossing:
The tempest is high; but its threats they disdain;
They are fleeing from Tyranny's sceptre and chain;
It is Liberty's sea they are crossing.
Loud rings their cry o'er the stormy wave—
“Freedom! Death or freedom!
Freedom, or ocean our grave!”
Their bark on the foam madly tossing:
The tempest is high; but its threats they disdain;
They are fleeing from Tyranny's sceptre and chain;
It is Liberty's sea they are crossing.
Loud rings their cry o'er the stormy wave—
“Freedom! Death or freedom!
Freedom, or ocean our grave!”
Borne high on the breath of the soft summer gale,
The slave-ship is proudly careering;
What sights of despair and what voices of wail,
What anguish and madness beneath that fair sail,
To hopeless captivity steering!
Hark! hark! from the black-hold the stifled cry—
“Freedom! Death or freedom!”
Hear how it pierces the sky!
The slave-ship is proudly careering;
What sights of despair and what voices of wail,
What anguish and madness beneath that fair sail,
To hopeless captivity steering!
Hark! hark! from the black-hold the stifled cry—
“Freedom! Death or freedom!”
Hear how it pierces the sky!
In the darkness and rain of the chill autumn night,
The slave from the cane-field is striding;
Through hunger and hardship he urges his flight;
Nor perils dismay him, nor blood-hounds affright,
By the north star his weary feet guiding.
Help, help for him—answer his eager cry—
“Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!”
Tell him that rescue is nigh.
The slave from the cane-field is striding;
Through hunger and hardship he urges his flight;
Nor perils dismay him, nor blood-hounds affright,
245
Help, help for him—answer his eager cry—
“Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!”
Tell him that rescue is nigh.
Up, up with your banners to honor the brave!
O'er your forefathers' tombs be they flying!
And hail to the hero, though black and a slave,
Who shrinks from oppression, but fears not the grave,
And throws off his fetters by dying.
Join—join in the shout that he flings on high,
“Freedom! Death or freedom!”
Join—'twas your forefathers' cry!
O'er your forefathers' tombs be they flying!
And hail to the hero, though black and a slave,
Who shrinks from oppression, but fears not the grave,
And throws off his fetters by dying.
Join—join in the shout that he flings on high,
“Freedom! Death or freedom!”
Join—'twas your forefathers' cry!
246
FOR MR. EMERSON'S ORDINATION.
March, 1829.
“PREACHING PEACE BY JESUS CHRIST”
How beautiful the feet of those
Who publish peace from Heaven!
How glad the tidings they disclose
From Him to save us given!
Glory to God! Good will to men,
And peace on earth, attend his reign.
Who publish peace from Heaven!
How glad the tidings they disclose
From Him to save us given!
Glory to God! Good will to men,
And peace on earth, attend his reign.
The world was dark with woe and strife;
Pain, sin, and death, bore sway;
And souls, ordained to nobler life,
In guilt and bondage lay.
His word went forth—earth's evils cease,
And ransomed spirits rest in peace.
Pain, sin, and death, bore sway;
And souls, ordained to nobler life,
In guilt and bondage lay.
His word went forth—earth's evils cease,
And ransomed spirits rest in peace.
That peace which earth can never give,
And never take away,
Shall conquer time and death, and live
Through heaven's eternal day.
Praise to the Lord, whose boundless grace
Redeems and saves our sinful race.
And never take away,
Shall conquer time and death, and live
Through heaven's eternal day.
Praise to the Lord, whose boundless grace
Redeems and saves our sinful race.
247
THE CHURCH AT EAST LEXINGTON.
May, 1842.
The Follen Church—how beautiful it stands,Graceful and calm in that sequestered nook!
How doth a blessing from its placid look
Flow o'er the hamlet and its fertile lands!
Fit monument to him who placed it there;
Whose soul—all truth, benignity, and grace—
Beamed forth in benedictions, from a face
Where might and sweetness met in union rare.
O light of love, too early quenched in death!—
Yet, as that fane, though crumbled to the ground,
Would still survive, in sacred influence round,
So flows, and shall, from him a quickening breath:
Death to the good man is but life's extension;
Earth mourns his loss; Heaven joys in his ascension.
248
FOR FAST-DAY.
1813.
Great King of all, our nation's God,
O, hear thy people's suppliant cry;
We bow beneath thy angry rod,
We raise to thee the tearful eye.
O, hear thy people's suppliant cry;
We bow beneath thy angry rod,
We raise to thee the tearful eye.
Dark tempests brood upon our land,
And sorrow sits on every face;
O, may we own thy chastening hand!
O, may we seek and find thy grace!
And sorrow sits on every face;
O, may we own thy chastening hand!
O, may we seek and find thy grace!
Thy favor, Lord, had raised us high—
High as our loftiest hopes could soar;
But humbled now in dust we lie,
And peace and glory are no more.
High as our loftiest hopes could soar;
But humbled now in dust we lie,
And peace and glory are no more.
For we abused the gifts of Heaven,
Consumed thy bounties on our lust,
Despised the word thy grace had given,
And trod thy promise in the dust.
Consumed thy bounties on our lust,
Despised the word thy grace had given,
And trod thy promise in the dust.
Lord, we with penitence confess;
We own thy grace, our sins we own;
Deign yet to turn, receive, and bless,
Nor drive thy children from thy throne.
We own thy grace, our sins we own;
Deign yet to turn, receive, and bless,
Nor drive thy children from thy throne.
249
THE INCOMPREHENSIBILITY OF DEITY.
LINES SUGGESTED BY THE FOLLOWING WORDS: “O MON FILS, ADOREZ DIEU ET NE CHERCHEZ PAS À LE CONNAÎTRE.”........ANACHARSIS.
1811.
God is a spirit, great and just;
We his dependent creatures are:
His pleasure called us from the dust;
His goodness keeps us, and his care.
We his dependent creatures are:
His pleasure called us from the dust;
His goodness keeps us, and his care.
He dwells enthroned in light on high;
He lives throughout the boundless whole;
Invisible to mortal eye,
Unsearchable by human soul.
He lives throughout the boundless whole;
Invisible to mortal eye,
Unsearchable by human soul.
To feeble man 'twas never given
The great mysterious One to know,
To scan the Majesty of heaven,
Or make his essence known below.
The great mysterious One to know,
To scan the Majesty of heaven,
Or make his essence known below.
Enough for us, his sovereign word
Reveals him as the God of love,
The just, the ever-gracious Lord,
Who can but righteousness approve;—
Reveals him as the God of love,
The just, the ever-gracious Lord,
Who can but righteousness approve;—
250
Unfolds his blissful heaven above,
And glory for his children there;
While those who slight his offered love
Shall sink to darkness and despair.
And glory for his children there;
While those who slight his offered love
Shall sink to darkness and despair.
There, also, is enough revealed,
To guide us in the way we go;
And what his wisdom has concealed
Might be but misery to know.
To guide us in the way we go;
And what his wisdom has concealed
Might be but misery to know.
O, then adore th' eternal Mind
With wonder, gratitude, and fear;
Nor seek, what man may never find,
The knowledge of his essence here.
With wonder, gratitude, and fear;
Nor seek, what man may never find,
The knowledge of his essence here.
251
ON OPENING OUR ORGAN,
November 9, 1822.
Tune, Great Milton.
All nature's works His praise declare,
To whom they all belong;
There is a voice in every star,
In every breeze a song.
Sweet music fills the world abroad
With strains of love and power;
The stormy sea sings praise to God,
The thunder and the shower.
To whom they all belong;
There is a voice in every star,
In every breeze a song.
Sweet music fills the world abroad
With strains of love and power;
The stormy sea sings praise to God,
The thunder and the shower.
To God the tribes of ocean cry,
And birds upon the wing;
To God the powers that dwell on high
Their tuneful tribute bring.
Like them let man the throne surround,
With them loud chorus raise,
While instruments of loftier sound
Assist his feeble praise.
And birds upon the wing;
To God the powers that dwell on high
Their tuneful tribute bring.
Like them let man the throne surround,
With them loud chorus raise,
While instruments of loftier sound
Assist his feeble praise.
Great God, to thee we consecrate
Our voices and our skill;
We bid the pealing organ wait
To speak alone thy will.
O, teach its rich and swelling notes
To lift our souls on high;
And while the music round us floats,
Let earth-born passion die.
Our voices and our skill;
We bid the pealing organ wait
To speak alone thy will.
252
To lift our souls on high;
And while the music round us floats,
Let earth-born passion die.
253
OUR SOCIETY'S AUTHORS.
READ TO THE Φ. Β. Κ. AFTER THE ANNUAL DINNER,
August 29, 1839.
I speak you no speech, and I sing you no song,
And I hope not to keep you a minute too long;
I but rise to propose that you drink, as a toast,
“Our Society's Authors;”—not one,—but a host.
And I hope not to keep you a minute too long;
I but rise to propose that you drink, as a toast,
“Our Society's Authors;”—not one,—but a host.
I premise, that perhaps you're not fully aware—
Though I am—how many and noted they are.
Of those, in whose honors our land is so happy,
How many belong to the Phi Beta Kappa!
To recite all their names I by no means insist;
'Twere a little too long for a post-dinner list.
I leave out each annual poet and orator:
That catalogue doubtless we all have memoriter.
I leave out the Philistine phalanx of editors,
Accounting them rather our debtors than creditors.
And I silently pass, to save patience and time,
All mere pamphleteers, both in prose and in rhyme.
I propose but the bonos, meliores, et pessimos,
Who appear in octavos and large duodecimos.
(And thus I escape all allusion to self;
For no big book of mine burdens any one's shelf.)
Though I am—how many and noted they are.
Of those, in whose honors our land is so happy,
How many belong to the Phi Beta Kappa!
To recite all their names I by no means insist;
'Twere a little too long for a post-dinner list.
I leave out each annual poet and orator:
That catalogue doubtless we all have memoriter.
I leave out the Philistine phalanx of editors,
Accounting them rather our debtors than creditors.
And I silently pass, to save patience and time,
All mere pamphleteers, both in prose and in rhyme.
I propose but the bonos, meliores, et pessimos,
Who appear in octavos and large duodecimos.
(And thus I escape all allusion to self;
For no big book of mine burdens any one's shelf.)
254
First, gravely we fill, with our waters or wines.
To the names of the gravest—our brother Divines.
And, beginning at home, I produce on the scene
Our brother the Editor,—no more the Dean,—
Whose two ample octaves, erelong to be five,
Are enough to make any man's memory thrive;—
Then Norton, the critic, sagacious, profound,
The fervent cloud-hater, who builds on firm ground;
And Harris, whose learned work, prized at a high rate,
Has twice been purloined by a base British pirate;
Our modest translator of prophecy, Noyes,
And the other translators, whose versions rejoice
The students that plod through the tomes of Mosheim,
Or seek the Eclectic, or love German rhyme;
Then Burnap and Furness—each one with a volume;
And Jenks, too,—with quarto, close printed and solemn;
And Dewey, whose travels and sermons are fame;
And Channing, the shout of whose eloquent name,
As a dear benediction or proud acclamation,
Rings loud from the echoes of every known nation.
To the names of the gravest—our brother Divines.
And, beginning at home, I produce on the scene
Our brother the Editor,—no more the Dean,—
Whose two ample octaves, erelong to be five,
Are enough to make any man's memory thrive;—
Then Norton, the critic, sagacious, profound,
The fervent cloud-hater, who builds on firm ground;
And Harris, whose learned work, prized at a high rate,
Has twice been purloined by a base British pirate;
Our modest translator of prophecy, Noyes,
And the other translators, whose versions rejoice
The students that plod through the tomes of Mosheim,
Or seek the Eclectic, or love German rhyme;
Then Burnap and Furness—each one with a volume;
And Jenks, too,—with quarto, close printed and solemn;
And Dewey, whose travels and sermons are fame;
And Channing, the shout of whose eloquent name,
As a dear benediction or proud acclamation,
Rings loud from the echoes of every known nation.
Fill, next, to the Lawyers, whose regal delight
Is in extra-sized octaves, bound neatly in white.
And here,—as before,—to begin with a resident,
We drink to the Author, the Judge, and our President;
Felix prole Librum—and each one a star,
Cœlicolæ omnes—all lights of the bar.
And around him arranged, lo! an eminent band,
Of Sullivan, Pickering, Phillips, and Rand,
And others demanding our hearty applause,
Who honor their country by serving her laws.
Is in extra-sized octaves, bound neatly in white.
And here,—as before,—to begin with a resident,
We drink to the Author, the Judge, and our President;
Felix prole Librum—and each one a star,
Cœlicolæ omnes—all lights of the bar.
And around him arranged, lo! an eminent band,
Of Sullivan, Pickering, Phillips, and Rand,
And others demanding our hearty applause,
Who honor their country by serving her laws.
In order of merit and honor next follow
The diploma'd disciples of healing Apollo:—
Men as scanty in books as they're various in humors;—
From Warren, who prints about heart-pains and tumors,
To Oliver's treatise of learned Physiology,
And Bigelow's Botany, Flora, Technology.
The diploma'd disciples of healing Apollo:—
255
From Warren, who prints about heart-pains and tumors,
To Oliver's treatise of learned Physiology,
And Bigelow's Botany, Flora, Technology.
Now, leaving the learned professions, our glass
Let us fill to the more MISCELLANEOUS CLASS.
First, honor, and laud, as are due, let us render
To the Governor's volume of eloquent splendor.
From one of the name pass we on the other,
And quaff to the author of “Europe,” his brother;
And since all are brothers alike at this board,
I venture to mention “Palmyra” restored.
Then defer not the notice to one moment later,
Of those in the precincts of fair Alma Mater;—
Her Hedge, Farrar, Webster, and Cleaveland, and Peirce,
Whose labors can hardly be hitched into verse,—
Philosophical titles, euphonious in science,
But setting the Muse and her rhymes at defiance;—
And him who once lectured in old Harvard Hall,
But doffed the Professor at Madison's call,—
That true “old man eloquent,”—Adams,—in age
Filling up the strong lines of the Lecturer's page.
Let us fill to the more MISCELLANEOUS CLASS.
First, honor, and laud, as are due, let us render
To the Governor's volume of eloquent splendor.
From one of the name pass we on the other,
And quaff to the author of “Europe,” his brother;
And since all are brothers alike at this board,
I venture to mention “Palmyra” restored.
Then defer not the notice to one moment later,
Of those in the precincts of fair Alma Mater;—
Her Hedge, Farrar, Webster, and Cleaveland, and Peirce,
Whose labors can hardly be hitched into verse,—
Philosophical titles, euphonious in science,
But setting the Muse and her rhymes at defiance;—
And him who once lectured in old Harvard Hall,
But doffed the Professor at Madison's call,—
That true “old man eloquent,”—Adams,—in age
Filling up the strong lines of the Lecturer's page.
Then those who have TRAVELLED o'er mountain and main;
In Italy Lyman, and Cushing in Spain,
And Bigelow, roving from Scotland to Parthia,
And Devens, six weeks at the Vineyard of Martha.
In Italy Lyman, and Cushing in Spain,
And Bigelow, roving from Scotland to Parthia,
And Devens, six weeks at the Vineyard of Martha.
Of Poets—our own—who have printed their tomes,
We all have known Mellen, and all laughed with Holmes.
We boast that the nervous and fanciful powers
Of Dana, the Idle Man, also, are ours;
And Bryant—the world never rings to his fame,
But our bosoms beat high to a brother's fair name.
We all have known Mellen, and all laughed with Holmes.
We boast that the nervous and fanciful powers
Of Dana, the Idle Man, also, are ours;
256
But our bosoms beat high to a brother's fair name.
Of Historians next, lo! the lengthening procession:
First, Bradford, Old Colony's honest expression;
Then Allen, whose ardor no industry dims,
With his five hundred Lives, and his six hundred Hymns;
Then the many fair writers in Sparks's Biography,
First trying their hands in small historiography;
As Upham, the eloquent champion of Vane;
And Peabody, guessing the matter out plain;
And Francis, portraying, as true pen should paint,
The career of the Indians' apostle and saint.
Next Quincy, who wrote his great father's career,
And has added his mother's within the last year;
Then Irving, who brings to his volumes of truth
The grace that adorned the light tales of his youth;
And Sparks, with his chapters transparent as day,
Inflexibly true, like the man they display;
And Bancroft, laborious, brilliant, and terse,
Enrobing grave truth in the diction of verse.
And Prescott, so favored beyond poet's dream,
To find, and then equal, that great epic theme.
When the nation's historical fame they discuss,
We will claim that that “thunder” belongs all to us.
First, Bradford, Old Colony's honest expression;
Then Allen, whose ardor no industry dims,
With his five hundred Lives, and his six hundred Hymns;
Then the many fair writers in Sparks's Biography,
First trying their hands in small historiography;
As Upham, the eloquent champion of Vane;
And Peabody, guessing the matter out plain;
And Francis, portraying, as true pen should paint,
The career of the Indians' apostle and saint.
Next Quincy, who wrote his great father's career,
And has added his mother's within the last year;
Then Irving, who brings to his volumes of truth
The grace that adorned the light tales of his youth;
And Sparks, with his chapters transparent as day,
Inflexibly true, like the man they display;
And Bancroft, laborious, brilliant, and terse,
Enrobing grave truth in the diction of verse.
And Prescott, so favored beyond poet's dream,
To find, and then equal, that great epic theme.
When the nation's historical fame they discuss,
We will claim that that “thunder” belongs all to us.
Thus far of the living. But let me pass on
To utter the eminent names that are gone.
They speak, though they live not; their tones and their looks
Come back with their souls, when we turn to their books.
Thus Tudor, Pierce, Frisbie, and Thacher, still live;
Dehon, Haven, Stearns, and the Abbotts survive;
Amidst us do Parker and Bancroft still stand,
And Bowditch and Buckminster hallow our band.
To utter the eminent names that are gone.
They speak, though they live not; their tones and their looks
Come back with their souls, when we turn to their books.
Thus Tudor, Pierce, Frisbie, and Thacher, still live;
Dehon, Haven, Stearns, and the Abbotts survive;
257
And Bowditch and Buckminster hallow our band.
Then pledge we in love, without fear or misgiving,
To the fame of the dead, and the hopes of the living.
We are proud of their works, we are proud of their number;
Their honor is ours, and our love shall not slumber.
Let Fame sound her trumpet, and tell to the breeze,
And the breeze to the nations o'er mountains and seas,
That our ancient fraternity, headed by Story,
Quaffs to its authors the wine-cup of glory.
To the fame of the dead, and the hopes of the living.
We are proud of their works, we are proud of their number;
Their honor is ours, and our love shall not slumber.
Let Fame sound her trumpet, and tell to the breeze,
And the breeze to the nations o'er mountains and seas,
That our ancient fraternity, headed by Story,
Quaffs to its authors the wine-cup of glory.
258
HYMN,
FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION IN HINGHAM,
September 28, 1835.
Tune, St. Martin's.
We praise the Lord, who o'er the sea
Our exiled fathers led,
And on them in the wilderness
His light and glory shed.
In want and fear, for many a year,
They spread their scanty board;
Yet loud and strong their grateful song
The Giver's hand adored.
Our exiled fathers led,
And on them in the wilderness
His light and glory shed.
In want and fear, for many a year,
They spread their scanty board;
Yet loud and strong their grateful song
The Giver's hand adored.
Two hundred years have passed away;
The desert frowns no more;
And glory, such as Judah knew,
Crowns hill-side, vale, and shore.
Then louder still, o'er plain and hill,
Send forth the shout of praise,
And bid it run from sire to son,
Through all succeeding days.
The desert frowns no more;
And glory, such as Judah knew,
Crowns hill-side, vale, and shore.
Then louder still, o'er plain and hill,
Send forth the shout of praise,
And bid it run from sire to son,
Through all succeeding days.
259
HYMN,
FOR THE GRADUATING CLASS OF THE DIVINITY SCHOOL,
July, 1842.
Tune, Portuguese Hymn
Farewell, dear scenes of study and devotion,
Shades of the soul, in saintly musing trod;
Where, far from earth, and rude life's vain commotion,
We walked in truth's bright beam,
And drank of faith's pure stream,
And sought a true alliance with the Son of God.
Shades of the soul, in saintly musing trod;
Where, far from earth, and rude life's vain commotion,
We walked in truth's bright beam,
And drank of faith's pure stream,
And sought a true alliance with the Son of God.
Those precious days of preparation ended,
Trembling our steps forsake the cherished sod;
Like Him, on whom the anointing dove descended,
We stand at life's broad gate,
And, looking upward, wait
The unction that shall seal us for the church of God.
Trembling our steps forsake the cherished sod;
Like Him, on whom the anointing dove descended,
We stand at life's broad gate,
And, looking upward, wait
The unction that shall seal us for the church of God.
Sin, sloth, and self, abjured before the altar,
With fresh resolve our pilgrim path we plod;
Help, Lord, from heaven, that ne'er our feet may falter;
But gird our steadfast youth
With boldness, love, and truth,
And fill our trusting bosoms with the peace of God.
With fresh resolve our pilgrim path we plod;
Help, Lord, from heaven, that ne'er our feet may falter;
But gird our steadfast youth
With boldness, love, and truth,
And fill our trusting bosoms with the peace of God.
260
We fear no conflicts with Christ's banner o'er us;
We dread no ill beneath our Shepherd's rod;
His strength and peace, his cross and heaven, before us,
Shall arm our feeble faith,
And quell the darts of death,
And win immortal succor through the grace of God.
We dread no ill beneath our Shepherd's rod;
His strength and peace, his cross and heaven, before us,
Shall arm our feeble faith,
And quell the darts of death,
And win immortal succor through the grace of God.
Glory and honor be to Him forever,
Who aids and cheers us with auspicious nod;
To him be consecrate all high endeavor;
For him all toils be done,
For him all trophies won,
Till grace shall crown our souls before the throne of God.
Who aids and cheers us with auspicious nod;
To him be consecrate all high endeavor;
For him all toils be done,
For him all trophies won,
Till grace shall crown our souls before the throne of God.
261
TO MARY,
ON HER BIRTHDAY.
Fairfield, Conn., October 2, 1828.
“The dawn is overcast; the morning lowers,
And heavily in clouds brings on the day;”
The roads are miry with continued showers,
And rain and mud deter me from my way;
And yet to me it all looks fair and bright,
For on this day my Mary saw the light.
And heavily in clouds brings on the day;”
The roads are miry with continued showers,
And rain and mud deter me from my way;
And yet to me it all looks fair and bright,
For on this day my Mary saw the light.
Many returns to you of this sweet day!
And each return more happy than the last!
Peace to your heart, as thoughtful you survey
The various fortunes of the checkered past;
And bright and glorious be the visions given
That clothe your coming years in hues of heaven.
And each return more happy than the last!
Peace to your heart, as thoughtful you survey
The various fortunes of the checkered past;
And bright and glorious be the visions given
That clothe your coming years in hues of heaven.
262
SONG,
FOR THE ABBOT FESTIVAL,
Exeter, N. H., August 23, 1838.
Tune, Sandy and Jenny.
From the highways and byways of manhood we come,
And gather like children about an old home;
We return from life's weariness, tumult, and pain,
Rejoiced in our hearts to be schoolboys again.
And gather like children about an old home;
We return from life's weariness, tumult, and pain,
Rejoiced in our hearts to be schoolboys again.
The senator comes from the hall of debate,
The governor steps from the high chair of state,
The judge leaves the bench to “the law's wise delay,”
Rejoiced to be schoolboys again for a day.
The governor steps from the high chair of state,
The judge leaves the bench to “the law's wise delay,”
Rejoiced to be schoolboys again for a day.
The parson his pulpit has left unsupplied,
The doctor has put his old sulky aside,
The lawyer his client has turned from the door,
And all are of Exeter,—schoolboys once more.
The doctor has put his old sulky aside,
The lawyer his client has turned from the door,
And all are of Exeter,—schoolboys once more.
O, glad to our eyes are these dear scenes displayed,
The halls where we studied, the fields where we strayed;
There is change, there is change; but we will not deplore;
Enough that we feel ourselves schoolboys once more.
The halls where we studied, the fields where we strayed;
There is change, there is change; but we will not deplore;
Enough that we feel ourselves schoolboys once more.
263
Enough that once more our old master we meet,
The same as of yore when we sat at his feet;
Let us place on his brow every laurel we've won,
And show that each pupil is also a son.
The same as of yore when we sat at his feet;
Let us place on his brow every laurel we've won,
And show that each pupil is also a son.
And when to the harsh scenes of life we return,
Our hearts with the glow of this meeting shall burn;
Its calm light shall cheer till earth's school time is o'er,
And prepare us in heaven for one meeting more.
Our hearts with the glow of this meeting shall burn;
Its calm light shall cheer till earth's school time is o'er,
And prepare us in heaven for one meeting more.
264
HYMN.
FAMILY MEETING.
August 20, 1835.
In this glad hour, when children meet,
And home with them their children bring,
Our hearts with one affection beat,
One song of praise our voices sing.
And home with them their children bring,
Our hearts with one affection beat,
One song of praise our voices sing.
For all the faithful, loved and dear,
Whom thou so kindly, Lord, hast given;
For those who still are with us here,
And those who wait for us in heaven;—
Whom thou so kindly, Lord, hast given;
For those who still are with us here,
And those who wait for us in heaven;—
For every past and present joy,
For honor, competence, and health,
For hopes which time may not destroy,
Our soul's imperishable wealth;—
For honor, competence, and health,
For hopes which time may not destroy,
Our soul's imperishable wealth;—
For all, accept our humble praise;
Still bless us, Father, by thy love;
And when are closed our mortal days,
Unite us in one home above.
Still bless us, Father, by thy love;
And when are closed our mortal days,
Unite us in one home above.
265
HYMN,
AT THE ORDINATION OF MESSRS. BARNARD AND GRAY.
November 2, 1834.
Tune, Hotham.
“Feed my sheep,” the Saviour said
To the chosen of his love;
“Feed them with the living bread;
Guide them to the fold above.
Feed my lambs,” the Shepherd cried,
“Ere their tender hearts are cold,
Chilled with worldliness and pride,
Bring them safely to my fold.
To the chosen of his love;
“Feed them with the living bread;
Guide them to the fold above.
Feed my lambs,” the Shepherd cried,
“Ere their tender hearts are cold,
Chilled with worldliness and pride,
Bring them safely to my fold.
“Preach my gospel to the poor,
Sunk in earthly want and woe;
Give them treasures that endure,
Peace and heaven-born hope bestow.
At the hedges and highways,
Where in dust and sin they roam,
Loud the gospel summons raise,
Call the hapless wanderers home.”
Sunk in earthly want and woe;
Give them treasures that endure,
Peace and heaven-born hope bestow.
At the hedges and highways,
Where in dust and sin they roam,
Loud the gospel summons raise,
Call the hapless wanderers home.”
266
On the sacred errand bent,
Two and two they sallied forth;
Darkness vanished where they went;
Peace immortal dawned on earth.
In their holy steps to tread,
Other two we now ordain:
On their path thy glory shed;
Lord, their steadfast feet sustain.
Two and two they sallied forth;
Darkness vanished where they went;
Peace immortal dawned on earth.
In their holy steps to tread,
Other two we now ordain:
On their path thy glory shed;
Lord, their steadfast feet sustain.
Heralds to the young and low,
Give them words to touch and win;
Words to calm the sobs of woe,
Words to wake the sleep of sin.
Heralds of eternal truth,
Arm them with immortal love;
Spread thy shield around their youth,
Take their honored age above.
Give them words to touch and win;
Words to calm the sobs of woe,
Words to wake the sleep of sin.
Heralds of eternal truth,
Arm them with immortal love;
Spread thy shield around their youth,
Take their honored age above.
267
A CURE FOR SEA-SICKNESS:
LINES ON A NEW NOTION;
COMPOSED AT SEA,
Monday Night, April 6, 1829.
I sing the story of the ancient ark,—
That oarless, rudderless, and sailless bark,
Which through the deluge bore the holy clerk,
And saved the creatures in its chambers dark.
That oarless, rudderless, and sailless bark,
Which through the deluge bore the holy clerk,
And saved the creatures in its chambers dark.
The clouds collect; the various tribes embark;
The fountains of the deep break up,—and hark!
Above the matins of the early lark
The thunders toll. Beyond th' appointed mark
Of ocean's ancient shores, this great nearch
Rides o'er the ruins of earth's fertile park.
How sad the wide-spread ravage to remark!
Quenched of all earth-born life the moving spark!
And wrecks, and beasts, and human corses stark,
Throng round the life-boat of the patriarch.
The fountains of the deep break up,—and hark!
Above the matins of the early lark
The thunders toll. Beyond th' appointed mark
Of ocean's ancient shores, this great nearch
Rides o'er the ruins of earth's fertile park.
How sad the wide-spread ravage to remark!
Quenched of all earth-born life the moving spark!
And wrecks, and beasts, and human corses stark,
Throng round the life-boat of the patriarch.
The mouths roll on. He sends the dove to mark
Th' abating floods. And now they disembark:
Men kneel; the creatures leap, fly, scream, and bark;
And o'er them circles Mercy's radiant arc.
Th' abating floods. And now they disembark:
Men kneel; the creatures leap, fly, scream, and bark;
And o'er them circles Mercy's radiant arc.
268
THE VISION OF LIBERTY,
AN ODE, RECITED BEFORE THE PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY,
August 26, 1824.
[_]
The matter of the following lines is not a poetical invention, but the simple versification of what was actually dreamed about thirty years ago. The dreams were repeated to the writer by one who heard them at the time, and to whose recollection they were brought by the exhilarating events of the last week. An English lady residing in Hingham, about 1794, imagined that there stood before her a vast and venerable building, which, as she was looking at it, began to wax hot and red, and at length, as if with the violence of the heat, flew to pieces and disappeared; when on the spot where it had stood, appeared a beautiful female figure, whom she knew to be the goddess of Liberty. About the same time, a gentleman in Massachusetts saw in his dream a temple of wonderful magnificence and beauty. As he was approaching to enter it, a bell sounded from the dome with an uncommonly musical tone. He cast his eye up, and was surprised to see written upon it, in golden letters, the name of Fayette.
The irregular stanza was chosen simply because it seemed to offer fewest embarassments to a person writing in haste.
Is there some genial spirit of the night,
That rules the sleeping mind,
And pours within a more effectual light,
When the closed eye of sense is blind?
That rules the sleeping mind,
And pours within a more effectual light,
When the closed eye of sense is blind?
269
Is it some spirit, that, in vision,
The secrets of futurity betrays,
Unveiling those bright scenes Elysian,
That wait for man in better days?
The secrets of futurity betrays,
Unveiling those bright scenes Elysian,
That wait for man in better days?
Or it it but that Fancy strays
In bolder and prophetic ways,
When slumbering Reason drops her stern control;
And, from her ploding interference freed,
Resumes some native power to read
The unscaled records of Time's lengthening scroll?
In bolder and prophetic ways,
When slumbering Reason drops her stern control;
And, from her ploding interference freed,
Resumes some native power to read
The unscaled records of Time's lengthening scroll?
The evening heavens were calm and bright;
No dimness rested on the glittering light
That sparkled from that wilderness of worlds on high.
Those distant suns burned on with quiet ray;
The placid planets held their modest way;
And silence reigned profound o'er earth, and sea, and sky.
No dimness rested on the glittering light
That sparkled from that wilderness of worlds on high.
Those distant suns burned on with quiet ray;
The placid planets held their modest way;
And silence reigned profound o'er earth, and sea, and sky.
O, what an hour for lofty thought!
My! spirit burned within; I caught
A holy inspiration from the hour.
Around me man and nature slept;
Alone my solemn watch I kept,
Till morning dawned and Sleep resumed her power.
My! spirit burned within; I caught
A holy inspiration from the hour.
Around me man and nature slept;
Alone my solemn watch I kept,
Till morning dawned and Sleep resumed her power.
A vision passed upon my soul.
I still was gazing up to heaven,
As in the early hours of even;
I still beheld the planets roll,
And all those countless sons of light
Flame from the broad blue arch, and guide the moonless night;—
I still was gazing up to heaven,
As in the early hours of even;
I still beheld the planets roll,
And all those countless sons of light
Flame from the broad blue arch, and guide the moonless night;—
270
When, lo! upon the plain,
Just where it skirts the swelling main,
A massive castle, far and high,
In towering grandeur broke upon my eye.
Proud in its strength and years, the ponderous pile
Flung up its time-defying towers;
Its lofty gates seemed scornfully to smile
At vain assault of human powers,
And threats and arms deride.
Its gorgeous carvings of heraldic pride
In giant masses graced the walls above,
And dungeons yawned below.
Yet ivy there and moss their garlands wove,
Grave, silent chronicles of Time's protracted flow.
Just where it skirts the swelling main,
A massive castle, far and high,
In towering grandeur broke upon my eye.
Proud in its strength and years, the ponderous pile
Flung up its time-defying towers;
Its lofty gates seemed scornfully to smile
At vain assault of human powers,
And threats and arms deride.
Its gorgeous carvings of heraldic pride
In giant masses graced the walls above,
And dungeons yawned below.
Yet ivy there and moss their garlands wove,
Grave, silent chronicles of Time's protracted flow.
Bursting on my steadfast gaze,
See, within, a sudden blaze!
So small at first, the zephyr's lightest swell,
That scarcely stirs the pine-tree top,
Nor makes the withered leaf to drop,
The feeble fluttering of that flame would quell.
See, within, a sudden blaze!
So small at first, the zephyr's lightest swell,
That scarcely stirs the pine-tree top,
Nor makes the withered leaf to drop,
The feeble fluttering of that flame would quell.
But soon it spread—
Waving, rushing, fierce, and red—
From wall to wall, from tower to tower,
Raging with resistless power,
Till every fervent pillar glowed,
And every stone seemed burning coal,
Instinct with living heat, that flowed
Like streaming radiance from the kindled pole.
Waving, rushing, fierce, and red—
From wall to wall, from tower to tower,
Raging with resistless power,
Till every fervent pillar glowed,
And every stone seemed burning coal,
Instinct with living heat, that flowed
Like streaming radiance from the kindled pole.
Beautiful, fearful, grand,
Silent as death, I saw the fabric stand.
At length a crackling sound began;
From side to side throughout the pile it ran;
And louder yet, and louder grew,
Till now in rattling thunder peals it slew.
Huge shivered fragments from the pillars broke,
Like fiery sparkles from the anvil's stroke.
The shattered walls were rent and riven,
And piecemeal driven
Like blazing comets through the troubled sky.
'Tis done! What centuries had reared
In quick explosion disappeared,
Nor even its ruins met my wondering eye.
Silent as death, I saw the fabric stand.
271
From side to side throughout the pile it ran;
And louder yet, and louder grew,
Till now in rattling thunder peals it slew.
Huge shivered fragments from the pillars broke,
Like fiery sparkles from the anvil's stroke.
The shattered walls were rent and riven,
And piecemeal driven
Like blazing comets through the troubled sky.
'Tis done! What centuries had reared
In quick explosion disappeared,
Nor even its ruins met my wondering eye.
But in their place,—
Bright with more than human grace,
Robed in more than mortal seeming,
Radiant glory in her face,
And eyes with heaven's own brightness beaming—
Rose a fair, majestic form,
As the mild rainbow from the storm.
I marked her smile, I knew her eye;
And when, with gesture of command,
She waved aloft the cap-crowned wand,
My slumbers fled 'mid shouts of “Liberty!”
Bright with more than human grace,
Robed in more than mortal seeming,
Radiant glory in her face,
And eyes with heaven's own brightness beaming—
Rose a fair, majestic form,
As the mild rainbow from the storm.
I marked her smile, I knew her eye;
And when, with gesture of command,
She waved aloft the cap-crowned wand,
My slumbers fled 'mid shouts of “Liberty!”
Read ye the dream? and know ye not
How truly it unlocked the word of fate?
Went not the flame from this illustrious spot,
And spreads it not, and burns, in every state?
And when their old and cumbrous walls,
Filled with this spirit, glow intense,
Vainly they rear their impotent defence:—
The fabric falls!
How truly it unlocked the word of fate?
Went not the flame from this illustrious spot,
And spreads it not, and burns, in every state?
And when their old and cumbrous walls,
Filled with this spirit, glow intense,
Vainly they rear their impotent defence:—
The fabric falls!
272
That fervent energy must spread,
Till Despotism's towers be overthrown,
And, in their stead,
Liberty stand alone!
Till Despotism's towers be overthrown,
And, in their stead,
Liberty stand alone!
Hasten the day, just Heaven;
Accomplish thy design;
And let the blessings thou hast freely given
Freely on all men shine;
Till equal rights be equally enjoyed,
And human power for human good employed;
Till law, not man, the sovereign rule sustain,
And Peace and Virtue undisputed reign.
Accomplish thy design;
And let the blessings thou hast freely given
Freely on all men shine;
Till equal rights be equally enjoyed,
And human power for human good employed;
Till law, not man, the sovereign rule sustain,
And Peace and Virtue undisputed reign.
Again I slept; and where that maid had been,
Another temple rose upon the scene.
And O, what human words can render
Fitting tribute to the grace,
And the more than earthly splendor,
Of that bright and matchless place!
From thousand columns sprung the ample dome,
Of heaven's own form and heaven's own billiancy;
It seemed some glorious spirit's favorite home,
Breathing of love and pure tranquillity.
No proud defiance, frowning there,
Looked threat and insult on the gloomy air,
But quiet dignity in conscious strength reposed.
No arms, no guards, no dungeons deep and closed;
But open, free—like God's free day,
That shines and smiles on all with heaven-descended ray.
Another temple rose upon the scene.
And O, what human words can render
Fitting tribute to the grace,
And the more than earthly splendor,
Of that bright and matchless place!
From thousand columns sprung the ample dome,
Of heaven's own form and heaven's own billiancy;
It seemed some glorious spirit's favorite home,
Breathing of love and pure tranquillity.
No proud defiance, frowning there,
Looked threat and insult on the gloomy air,
But quiet dignity in conscious strength reposed.
No arms, no guards, no dungeons deep and closed;
But open, free—like God's free day,
That shines and smiles on all with heaven-descended ray.
Delighted and entranced,
I eagerly advanced
To enter and explore the glories there confined.
But suddenly, with tuneful stroke,
From the lofty dome a loud peal broke,
Flinging soft, silver tones upon the wind.
With strong, melodious swell,
Rung forth a magic chime, that fell
Like midnight music on the sleeper's ear,
Making it paradise to sleep and hear.
I eagerly advanced
273
But suddenly, with tuneful stroke,
From the lofty dome a loud peal broke,
Flinging soft, silver tones upon the wind.
With strong, melodious swell,
Rung forth a magic chime, that fell
Like midnight music on the sleeper's ear,
Making it paradise to sleep and hear.
That strange, mysterious sound,
Soft as the mellow horn'st most gentle note,
Seemed lightly on the buoyant winds to float,
And spread through all the world around.
O'er the mountain and the plain,
Beyond the desert and the main,
Wherever man is found,
Went forth that winning sound,
And breathed its summons in his raptured ear.
The tone went home to every heart;
It bade the thrilling tears of Freedom start,
And ransomed nations in her halls appear.
Soft as the mellow horn'st most gentle note,
Seemed lightly on the buoyant winds to float,
And spread through all the world around.
O'er the mountain and the plain,
Beyond the desert and the main,
Wherever man is found,
Went forth that winning sound,
And breathed its summons in his raptured ear.
The tone went home to every heart;
It bade the thrilling tears of Freedom start,
And ransomed nations in her halls appear.
My eager eyes I upward threw,
The wondrous instrument to view,
In which such piercing power and ravishing sweetness met;
And on its splendid form, behold,
Inscribed in living light and gold,
That all mankind might read—thy honored name, Fayette!
The wondrous instrument to view,
In which such piercing power and ravishing sweetness met;
And on its splendid form, behold,
Inscribed in living light and gold,
That all mankind might read—thy honored name, Fayette!
O for a tongue of fire, to tell
How gloriously the vision was fulfilled!
How, at the touch of Liberty's sweet bell,
The hearts of countless myriads have thrilled,
And Destiny her brightest page unfurled,
Roused by the spirit that had waked the world!
How gloriously the vision was fulfilled!
How, at the touch of Liberty's sweet bell,
The hearts of countless myriads have thrilled,
274
Roused by the spirit that had waked the world!
Even Europe loves the sweet and stirring note;
Southern Columbia rises at the call,
With kindling eye and tyrant-scorning tread;
And Greece calls back the spirits of her dead,
And bids her ancient banners float
Where Freedom's martyrs fell, and proudly still shall fall.
Southern Columbia rises at the call,
With kindling eye and tyrant-scorning tread;
And Greece calls back the spirits of her dead,
And bids her ancient banners float
Where Freedom's martyrs fell, and proudly still shall fall.
O Greece, reviving Greece! thy name
Kindless the scholar's and the patriot's flame.
On thee our anxious eyes we bend.
For thee our earnest prayers ascend,
That never may thy lifted banner fall.
For thee, thine own strong eloquence
Pleads in Columbia's legislative hall.
And is there none to arm in thy defence?
No ardent, generous, devoted youth,
To pledge his fortunes and his truth,
And, nobly exiled, cross the wave,
To join th' oppressed and aid the brave?
Kindless the scholar's and the patriot's flame.
On thee our anxious eyes we bend.
For thee our earnest prayers ascend,
That never may thy lifted banner fall.
For thee, thine own strong eloquence
Pleads in Columbia's legislative hall.
And is there none to arm in thy defence?
No ardent, generous, devoted youth,
To pledge his fortunes and his truth,
And, nobly exiled, cross the wave,
To join th' oppressed and aid the brave?
Go forth, if such there be, go forth;
Stand by that nation in her second birth.
Coupled with her high cause, thy name,
Like his whose welcome presence draws
A nation's rapturous applause,
Shall ring through earth from sea to sea,
The favorite watchword of the free,
The purest shout of fame.
And when Time's slow and favoring hand
Restore the glories of that lovely land,
Thither, perchance, thy pilgrimage thou'lt take;
And while earth's older empires shake,
Receive the welcome of the new;
Which round thy steps in grateful shouts shall break,
Than those which follow kings—how heartier and more true!
Stand by that nation in her second birth.
Coupled with her high cause, thy name,
Like his whose welcome presence draws
A nation's rapturous applause,
Shall ring through earth from sea to sea,
The favorite watchword of the free,
The purest shout of fame.
And when Time's slow and favoring hand
Restore the glories of that lovely land,
275
And while earth's older empires shake,
Receive the welcome of the new;
Which round thy steps in grateful shouts shall break,
Than those which follow kings—how heartier and more true!
276
TO MRS. M. R. C. E., ON HER MARRIAGE,
December 6, 1832.
To guard the marriage ring,
Another ring I send:
Protector of that sacred thing,
About your finger let it cling,
And with its magic circle blend,
The image of your absent friend.
Another ring I send:
Protector of that sacred thing,
About your finger let it cling,
And with its magic circle blend,
The image of your absent friend.
To guard the marriage vow,
Another vow must bind—
To Him whose care and grace allow
The cheerful hopes that gladden now,
And in whose love the trusting mind
Its only deathless home can find.
Another vow must bind—
To Him whose care and grace allow
The cheerful hopes that gladden now,
And in whose love the trusting mind
Its only deathless home can find.
That heavenly love shall be
The strength to this of earth;
Shall guard its truth and purity,
From change, decay, and sorrow free,
And pour upon your humble hearth
A light of pure, celestial birth.
The strength to this of earth;
Shall guard its truth and purity,
From change, decay, and sorrow free,
And pour upon your humble hearth
A light of pure, celestial birth.
277
CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF THE BOSTON THURSDAY LECTURE,
October 17, 1833.
Like Israel's hosts to exile driven,
Across the flood the Pilgrims fled;
Their hands bore up the ark of Heaven,
And Heaven their trusting footsteps led,
Till on these savage shores they trod,
And won the wilderness for God.
Across the flood the Pilgrims fled;
Their hands bore up the ark of Heaven,
And Heaven their trusting footsteps led,
Till on these savage shores they trod,
And won the wilderness for God.
There, where their weary ark found rest,
Another Zion proudly grew,
In more than Judah's glory dressed,
With light that Israel never knew.
From sea to sea her empire spread,
Her temple heaven, and Christ her head.
Another Zion proudly grew,
In more than Judah's glory dressed,
With light that Israel never knew.
From sea to sea her empire spread,
Her temple heaven, and Christ her head.
Then let the grateful church, to-day,
Its ancient rite with gladness keep;
Our father's God! their children pray
Thy blessing, though the fathers sleep.
O bless! as thou hast blessed the past,
While earth, and time, and heaven shall last.
Its ancient rite with gladness keep;
Our father's God! their children pray
Thy blessing, though the fathers sleep.
O bless! as thou hast blessed the past,
While earth, and time, and heaven shall last.
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FOR AN ORDINATION.
March, 1829.
Tune, Old Hundred
O Thou, who on thy chosen Son
Didst send thy Spirit like a dove,
To mark the long-expected One,
And seal the Messenger of love,—
Didst send thy Spirit like a dove,
To mark the long-expected One,
And seal the Messenger of love,—
And, when the heralds of his name
Went forth his glorious truth to spread,
Didst send it down in tongues of flame,
To hallow each devoted head,—
Went forth his glorious truth to spread,
Didst send it down in tongues of flame,
To hallow each devoted head,—
So, Lord, thy servant now inspire
With holy unction from above;
Give him the tongue of living fire,
Give him the temper of the dove.
With holy unction from above;
Give him the tongue of living fire,
Give him the temper of the dove.
Lord, hear thy suppliant church to-day!
Accept our work, our souls possess.
'Tis ours to labor, watch, and pray;
Be thine to cheer, sustain, and bless.
Accept our work, our souls possess.
'Tis ours to labor, watch, and pray;
Be thine to cheer, sustain, and bless.
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DEDICATION AT LECHMERE POINT,
December 25, 1827.
Tune, Tolland.
O Thou, who for thyself didst raise
Creation's wondrous frame,
To be a temple to thy praise,
An altar to thy name,—
Creation's wondrous frame,
To be a temple to thy praise,
An altar to thy name,—
And yet art pleased to dwell below,
And there thy name record,
Where'er assembling mortals go,
To own their common Lord,—
And there thy name record,
Where'er assembling mortals go,
To own their common Lord,—
O, write thy name in favor here;
And, while we bend in prayer,
Lord, bid thy glorious cloud appear,
Thy presence to declare.
And, while we bend in prayer,
Lord, bid thy glorious cloud appear,
Thy presence to declare.
As in thy gracious courts above,
So in these courts below,
Reveal to every soul thy love,
And heavenly peace bestow.
So in these courts below,
Reveal to every soul thy love,
And heavenly peace bestow.
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Here may thy holy will be learned,
And here thy will be done;
Till all to truth and Heaven be turned
Through thy beloved Son,—
And here thy will be done;
Till all to truth and Heaven be turned
Through thy beloved Son,—
Till all who kneel in worship here,
Be faithfully prepared
In higher temples to appear,
Crowned with thy great reward.
Be faithfully prepared
In higher temples to appear,
Crowned with thy great reward.
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FOR THANKSGIVING.
1825.
Tune, Melton Mowbray.
Father of earth and heaven,
Whose arm upholds creation,
To thee we raise the voice of praise,
And bend in adoration.
We praise the Power that made us;
We praise the Love that blesses;
While every day that rolls away
Thy gracious care confesses.
Whose arm upholds creation,
To thee we raise the voice of praise,
And bend in adoration.
We praise the Power that made us;
We praise the Love that blesses;
While every day that rolls away
Thy gracious care confesses.
Life is from thee, blest Father;
From thee our breathing spirits;
And thou dost give to all that live
The bliss that each inherits.
Day, night, and rolling seasons,
And all that live embraces,
With bliss are crowned, with joy abound,
And claim our thankful praises.
From thee our breathing spirits;
And thou dost give to all that live
The bliss that each inherits.
Day, night, and rolling seasons,
And all that live embraces,
With bliss are crowned, with joy abound,
And claim our thankful praises.
Though trial and affliction
May cast their dark shade o'er us,
Thy love doth throw a heavenly glow
Of light on all before us.
That Love has smiled from heaven
To cheer our path of sadness,
And lead the way, through earth's dull day,
To realms of endless gladness.
May cast their dark shade o'er us,
Thy love doth throw a heavenly glow
Of light on all before us.
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To cheer our path of sadness,
And lead the way, through earth's dull day,
To realms of endless gladness.
That light of love and glory
Has shone through Christ the Savior,
The holy Guide who lived and died
That we might live forever.
And since thy great compassion
Thus brings thy children near thee,
May we to praise devote our days,
And love as well as fear thee.
Has shone through Christ the Savior,
The holy Guide who lived and died
That we might live forever.
And since thy great compassion
Thus brings thy children near thee,
May we to praise devote our days,
And love as well as fear thee.
And when death's final summons
From earth's dear scenes shall move us,—
From friends, from foes, from joys, from woes,
From all that know and love us,—
O, then, let hope attend us;
Thy peace to us be given;
That we may rise above the skies,
And sing thy praise in heaven.
From earth's dear scenes shall move us,—
From friends, from foes, from joys, from woes,
From all that know and love us,—
O, then, let hope attend us;
Thy peace to us be given;
That we may rise above the skies,
And sing thy praise in heaven.
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ON LAYING THE CORNER STONE OF THE THEOLOGICAL COLLEGE IN CAMBRIDGE,
July 6, 1825.
Tune, Old Hundred.
O Thou, in whom alone is found
The strength by which our toil is blest,
Upon this consecrated ground
Now bid thy cloud of glory rest.
The strength by which our toil is blest,
Upon this consecrated ground
Now bid thy cloud of glory rest.
In thy great name we place this stone;
To thy great truth these walls we rear:
Long may they make thy glory known,
And long our Savior triumph here.
To thy great truth these walls we rear:
Long may they make thy glory known,
And long our Savior triumph here.
And while thy sons, from earth apart,
Here seek the truth from heaven that sprung,
Fill with thy spirit every heart,
With living fire touch every tongue.
Here seek the truth from heaven that sprung,
Fill with thy spirit every heart,
With living fire touch every tongue.
Lord, feed thy church with peace and love;
Let sin and error pass away;
Till truth's full influence from above
Rejoice the earth with cloudless day.
Let sin and error pass away;
Till truth's full influence from above
Rejoice the earth with cloudless day.
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AT THE DEDICATION OF DIVINITY HALL.
1826.
With praise and prayer our gift we bring,
And consecrate to Power divine.
Great God, accept the offering,
And make it wholly, only thine.
And consecrate to Power divine.
Great God, accept the offering,
And make it wholly, only thine.
O that we may not look in vain
To see thy glory here displayed!
As when, within thine ancient fane,
Thy royal servant knelt and prayed,—
To see thy glory here displayed!
As when, within thine ancient fane,
Thy royal servant knelt and prayed,—
We kneel—we pray—with earnest voice;
Our fervent supplications swell;
Speak, Lord, and bid our souls rejoice
To know that here thy grace shall dwell.
Our fervent supplications swell;
Speak, Lord, and bid our souls rejoice
To know that here thy grace shall dwell.
O, let thy presence ne'er depart;
Far hence be earth and error driven;
Raise, warm, and sanctify each heart,
And teach pure lips to plead for heaven.
Far hence be earth and error driven;
Raise, warm, and sanctify each heart,
And teach pure lips to plead for heaven.
Here let the love of God engage
The spirit's purest, first desires;
While Truth unfolds her ample page,
And Zeal enkindles all her fires.
The spirit's purest, first desires;
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And Zeal enkindles all her fires.
Thus honoring, and like their Lord,
May gifted bands of teachers rise,
To bear his glorious name abroad,
And train immortals for the skies.
May gifted bands of teachers rise,
To bear his glorious name abroad,
And train immortals for the skies.
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THANKSGIVING SONG.
November, 1841.
I remember, I remember, when I was a little boy,
How the last week in November always filled my heart with joy;
For then Thanksgiving always came with every kind of pie,
And I for once could eat my fill, though father did sit by.
How the last week in November always filled my heart with joy;
For then Thanksgiving always came with every kind of pie,
And I for once could eat my fill, though father did sit by.
I remember, I remember, how on Monday they began
With rolling paste, and chopping meat, and buttering patty-pan;
And proud was I to pound the crackers, or to stone the plums,
Or crack the shagbarks with flat-irons that often cracked my thumbs.
With rolling paste, and chopping meat, and buttering patty-pan;
And proud was I to pound the crackers, or to stone the plums,
Or crack the shagbarks with flat-irons that often cracked my thumbs.
I remember, I remember, how the two next busy days
Kept the kitchen in an uproar, and the oven in a blaze;
Till all was done and cleared away by Wednesday's evening skies,
And the proud tea-table smoked with four premonitory pies.
Kept the kitchen in an uproar, and the oven in a blaze;
Till all was done and cleared away by Wednesday's evening skies,
And the proud tea-table smoked with four premonitory pies.
I remember, I remember, when the morning came at last,
How joyfully at breakfast I perceived it was not Fast;
But loaded plates and smoking bowls assailed our winking sight,
With “Johnny cakes” and chocolate hot, to whet the appetite.
How joyfully at breakfast I perceived it was not Fast;
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With “Johnny cakes” and chocolate hot, to whet the appetite.
I remember, I remember, when the dinner came at last,
How, like the kings of Banquo's race, the dishes came and passed:
The exhaustless line seemed threatening to run on till crack of doom,
While still a voice from every stomach cried, “There yet is room.”
How, like the kings of Banquo's race, the dishes came and passed:
The exhaustless line seemed threatening to run on till crack of doom,
While still a voice from every stomach cried, “There yet is room.”
I remember, I remember, how those lessons in gastronomy
Were sometimes mixed with questions upon Latin and astronomy,
And in geography how John did once, in accent murky,
Reply that Canaan was in Ham, and Paradise in Turkey.
Were sometimes mixed with questions upon Latin and astronomy,
And in geography how John did once, in accent murky,
Reply that Canaan was in Ham, and Paradise in Turkey.
I remember, I remember, then, how tight my jacket grew,
As if 'twould burst a button off with every breath I drew;
And so, to settle all, we boys kicked foot-ball down in town,
Or went to see the marksmen try to shoot the tied hens down.
As if 'twould burst a button off with every breath I drew;
And so, to settle all, we boys kicked foot-ball down in town,
Or went to see the marksmen try to shoot the tied hens down.
I remember, I remember—not—what happened after tea,
For we had then no grandfather whom we could go and see;
I only know we went to bed when nine o'clock was rung,
—And you had better do the same now that my song is sung.
For we had then no grandfather whom we could go and see;
I only know we went to bed when nine o'clock was rung,
—And you had better do the same now that my song is sung.
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THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES.
A POEM FOR MUSIC. In Two Parts.
“Blest pair of sirens, pledges of heaven's joy,
Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixed powers employ
With saintly shout and solemn jubilee.”......
Milton.
Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixed powers employ
With saintly shout and solemn jubilee.”......
Milton.
To SAMUEL A. ELIOT, Esq. PRESIDENT OF THE BOSTON ACADEMY OF MUSIC, THIS ATTEMPT TO DO SOMETHING FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE IMPORTANT OBJECT, TO WHICH HE HAS SO SUCCESSFULLY DEVOTED HIMSELF, IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND, H. WARE, Jr.
[_]
AUTHOR'S ADVERTISEMENT.
The Feast of Tabernacles was one of the three great festivals of the Jewish people. In many respects it was the most remarkable of the three, being celebrated with a pomp of ceremony which is said to have attracted to it the attention of heathen nations, beyond any other solemnity of their law. It took place in the
289
An attempt has been made, in the following pages, to produce a representation of the imposing scenes in the Temple on this day, which might be adapted to musical recitation and accompaniment. The work was undertaken and written with that view. The author has aimed to be generally faithful to the facts, as far as they are known, and has taken no liberties with the subject, excepting that he has not scrupulously adhered to what may be called its costume. He has freely drawn from those passages of the Old Testament which refer to this festival, but has not sought to confine himself to modes of thought and speech exclusively Jewish.
Music adapted to the work has been composed by Mr. Charles Zeuner, who has devoted to it his eminent genius and science, in a manner that cannot fail to gratify those who love the original and beautiful in his high art. Of this the public will soon have an opportunity to judge, as the piece is in preparation for public performance at the Odeon, by the choir of the Boston Academy of Music, and under the direction of the accomplished professors of that institution.
It may be proper to remark, that the copy here given differs in many passages from that to be performed in the oratorio. It was convenient to the purposes of the composer to make variations and additions for the sake of the musical effect. As the author, however,
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- High Priest,
- Priests,
- Levites,
- Watchmen,
- Women,
- People.
PERSONS.
1. PART I.
THE MORNING SACRIFICE.
Watchman.
The morning dawns. Its first faint beams betray
Th' approaching sun, and bid the sleeping earth
Awake. O'er Olivet
The Mount of Olives was on the east side of the city, directly over against the Temple. Hebron lay to the south, at the distance of about twenty-five miles. One of the priests, here called a watchman for the sake of the scene, was appointed to watch for the first dawning of the day. On its approach he cried, “It is day.” “But is the heaven bright all up to Hebron?” was asked in reply.—
See Lightfoot's “Temple Service.”Tinging the thin clouds with a thousand hues.
It glances on the Temple's golden tiles
And Zion's palace roofs. The mists of night
Rise from the hills, like clouds of early incense,
And heaven's sweet warblers tune their morning hymn.
'Tis time for man to wake, and join the praise.
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The Mount of Olives was on the east side of the city, directly over against the Temple. Hebron lay to the south, at the distance of about twenty-five miles. One of the priests, here called a watchman for the sake of the scene, was appointed to watch for the first dawning of the day. On its approach he cried, “It is day.” “But is the heaven bright all up to Hebron?” was asked in reply.—
See Lightfoot's “Temple Service.”And call the servants of the altar forth.
'Tis light toward Hebron! Send the cry abroad.
Watchmen,
(one after another.)
'Tis light toward Hebron!
Watchman.
How beautiful the morning light
Breaks on the city as it sleeps!
Fair as His love, who, day and night,
His watch o'er favored Israel keeps.
Chorus of Watchmen.
Wake, Zion, wake! and bless the Power
That guards thee in the midnight hour.
Wake, Israel, wake! and homage pay
To Him whose love outshines the day.
Watchman.
See, from their sacred chambers issue forth
The priests. In flowing robes arrayed, they come
To wait around the altars, and renew
The Temple's daily pomp. Jehovah clothe
His servants with salvation! that his saints
May fill these holy courts with shouts of joy.
Priest.
Seven days the people, in their countless tents,—
Spread on the mountain-side and in the vale,
Stretched on the joyous house-tops, street by street,
And in Moriah's sacred courts,—have kept
The holy season. Solemn rite, by day,
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The circling hours; by night, the cloistered halls,
Bright with ten thousand lamps, have echoed back
The shouts and anthems of th' assembled tribes.
The final day has come, the day of chief
And holiest concourse. Let the trumpet sound,—
The consecrated trumpet,—to proclaim
The last, the great day of the festival.
Chorus of Priests and Watchmen.
Welcome the dawning light!
Welcome the joyous day!
Let Jacob's tribes again unite
To celebrate their ancient rite,
And grateful homage pay.
Wave the willow and the palm!
Bow the knee, and chant the psalm!
Throng the holy altar round!
Bid the lofty courts resound!
Priest.
When, from Egyptian bondage driven,
Our fathers sought their promised home,
For many a year offended Heaven
Condemned them in the wild to roam.
No house received their weary forms,
No city knew their way-worn feet;
In tents they braved the winter's storms,
In tents endured the summer's heat.
And now, in Judah's prosperous days,
Oft as the harvest month comes round,
Our humble tents and booths we raise,
And houseless, like our sires, are found.
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Their path o'er Jordan's wave we trace,
Till on these fruitful hills arose
Their heritage and resting-place.
Chorus.
Praise for that fruitful heritage!
Praise for that glorious resting-place!
The home and pride, through every age,
Of Zion's God and Israel's race.
High Priest.
Now let the morning sacrifice begin!
Fire the rich censer! Let the incense rise
In rolling clouds of fragrance, till it fill
The Holy Place, and with the clouds of heaven
Mingle its perfume. Bring the victims forth!
Bid the high altar blaze! And while its fires
Flash upward, brightening all the morning sky,
Ye white-robed Levites,
The music of the Temple was performed by a choir of Levites appointed for that purpose. In the reign of David, that monarch arranged this part of the service with great care, under the direction of three chiefs, Asaph, Heman, and Jeduthun. Their number at that time was two hundred and eighty-eight, and the accompanying instruments very various. The music began with the morning sacrifice, and continued during the whole time that the burnt-offering was consuming. 1 Chron. xv. 16–22; xxv. 1–7; 2 Chron. v. 11, 12; xxix. 25–28.
Exalt his name for whom these honors rise.
Strike all your strings! Breathe forth your loudest voice!
Wake, timbrel, harp, and lute! wake, psaltery, pipe,
And sackbut! cymbal, drum, and trumpet, wake!
Let Zion hear, and Israel's utmost shore;
Let farthest Gentile catch the sound, and know
That Jacob's God is God of earth and heaven.
Levites.
Glory to God! Bid the glad tribes rejoice!
Let earth and heaven reëcho to their voice!
Down with the idols that usurp his throne!
Exalt Jehovah, King and God alone!
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Praise Him who was, and is, and shall be evermore!
Voice
from among the multitude, (as in soliloquy).
How gloriously to heaven that odorous cloud
Rolls from the altar, brightening in the sun!
How like celestial harmony, that hymn,
Chanted by holy voices, peals along
Th' echoing porches! With the flame and song
Send up thy heart, O Israel, and be blest.
High Priest.
Children of Abraham! to the altar throng,
And add your voices to the Levite choir.
Fresh from the vintage and the harvest field,
Present your annual offering. Bow your souls,
Adoring; while your wives and children kneel,
Uplifting heart and voice in holy joy.
People.
We hear, and we obey.
From all the borders of the land,
Assembled at the call we stand,
And hail the festal day.
Before the altar humbly bowed,
We lift our thousand voices loud,
And grateful homage pay.
Let our anthem reach the skies!
Let our thanks accepted rise!
Voice.
From Carmel's fruitful mountain,
From Hebron's ancient towers,
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From Sharon's vale of flowers,—
People.
We come, we come, the harvest o'er,
To meet in Zion and adore.
Voice.
Lo! Ashur brings his treasures,
Drawn from the heaving main;
And Issachar his measures
Of life-sustaining grain.
People.
The varied gifts of Heaven we bring,
And pay our thanks to Israel's King.
Voice.
Lo! the vineyard's ripe donation!
Lo! the honey from the rock!
Lo! the olive's pure oblation!
Lo! the fleeces of the flock!
People.
Blessing, honor, glory, be,
Lord of life and love, to thee!
Voice.
Like a full, o'erflowing river,
Blessings from on high descend;
Glory to the bounteous Giver!
Glory, till the world shall end!
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Let our anthem reach the skies!
Let our thanks accepted rise!
Woman.
And hark, the sweet voices of Jacob's fair daughters
Join the high chorus of gladness and love;
From the hill-sides of Judah, from Galilee's waters,
They crowd to the courts of their Sovereign above.
Chorus of Women.
From our homes by the hill-side, our rest by the waters,
We crowd to the courts of our Sovereign above;
We bring the full hearts of wives, sisters, and daughters;
We join the high chorus of gladness and love.
All.
Join, every voice, in the rapturous chorus;
Swell the loud anthem of gladness and love;
For the blessings of Heaven spread around us and o'er us,
Shout to the praise of our Sovereign above.
High Priest.
Not unto us, O Lord, is glory due.
We are but dust and sin. The gifts, the grace,
The glory, all are thine. Be thine the praise!
All other gods are idols; human hands
Have made them, human folly serves. Our God,
Jehovah, lives. Earth, heaven, all things, he made;
He rules o'er all supreme. Praise him alone!
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Praise him alone!
Beyond the splendors of the sun,
He reigns eternal, glorious, one,
On no divided throne.
Round that throne what wonders meet!
Clouds, the dust beneath his feet;
Thunder, but his voice; and fire,
Angel of his love, or ire.
Raise the universal song!
Sound it, Zion, first and long!
Hosts of heaven, angelic choirs,
Strike it on your living lyres!
Sea, and earth, and skies, unite,
Sun, and moon, and stars of light!
Praise him, praise, with one accord!
Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!
2. PART II.
THE EVENING SACRIFICE.
High Priest.
Again lift up the voice! Wake, trump and harp!
Repeat the chorus of your sounding praise!
Let Asaph's tuneful choir the strain resume,
And Israel, with his thousand voices, sing
Praise to the Lord, whose mercy never fails!
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Praise to the Lord, whose mercy never fails!
High Priest.
Let Aaron, with his sons, repeat the song.
Choir of Priests and Levites.
Praise to the Lord, whose mercy never fails!
High Priest.
Let all who fear the Lord repeat the song.
People.
Praise to the Lord, whose mercy never fails!
All.
Praise! hallelujah! praise!
Adore his wondrous ways!
Ye tribes, prolong the grateful song,
And utter all his praise!
Priest.
Our fathers trusted in his name,
And leaned upon his hand;
He led them by his cloud and flame
To this the promised land.
All.
Praise, hallelujah, praise!
Priest.
When, pressed by fears and foes, they dwelt
In darkness and dismay,
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And turned their night to day.
All.
Praise, hallelujah, praise!
Priest.
And when, in mad and stubborn pride,
They rose against his word,
His mercy turned their sins aside,
His pitying grace restored.
All.
Praise, hallelujah, praise!
Adore his wondrous ways!
Ye tribes, prolong the grateful song,
And utter all his praise!
Power, grace, and majesty are his alone!
Send up the anthem to his heavenly throne!
High Priest.
'Tis done. The praise is said. Another rite
“This pouring out of water was used every day of the feast; and their rejoicing upon it was so great, that in all this feast, nay, in all their feasts throughout all the year, they had not the like. One of the priests, with a golden tankard, went to the fountain or pool of Siloam, and filled it there with water. He returned back again into the court through that which was called the water gate, and when he came there the trumpets sounded. He goeth up the side of the altar, where stood two basins, one with wine in it, and into the other he put the water, and he pours either the wine into the water or the water into the wine, and then pours them out by way of libation.”—
Lightfoot.Succeeds. Bring forth the sacred golden bowl;
And let th' appointed priest convey it down
To Siloa's hallowed fountain. Let him draw
The sparkling waters: and with cautious step,
In glad procession, bring them up the mount,
And bear them to the altar of the Lord.
Attend him, ye that will; and ye that will,
Abide, till, with loud trump, and echoing shout,
And waving palms, the absent throng return.
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They go; they pass the gates; the sacred courts
They leave; their distant tread dies on the ear.
Wait not in silence for their slow return;
But wake the echoes of the Holy Place
With song, and warble forth the coming rite.
Song, (Woman.)
Flow on, flow on, thou bright, clear stream!
Flow on, thou fair, perpetual fount!
Transparent as the sun's warm beam,
Bathe the stern foot of Judah's mount.
The sun above, thy waves below,
Unsullied shines, unsullied flow;
Thou as the crystal heavens art pure,
And like the heavens thou shalt endure.
Flow on, thou fair, perpetual fount!
Transparent as the sun's warm beam,
Bathe the stern foot of Judah's mount.
The sun above, thy waves below,
Unsullied shines, unsullied flow;
Thou as the crystal heavens art pure,
And like the heavens thou shalt endure.
The Temple crowns Moriah's height,
Thy waters murmur at its base;
That seems Jehovah's throne of light,
Thou his exhaustless fount of grace.
And when the emblems we would join
Of holy Love and Power divine,
We draw thy waters from their bed,
And pour them on the mountain's head.
Thy waters murmur at its base;
That seems Jehovah's throne of light,
Thou his exhaustless fount of grace.
And when the emblems we would join
Of holy Love and Power divine,
We draw thy waters from their bed,
And pour them on the mountain's head.
(Trumpet.)
Priest.
They come, they come; their signal notes resound;
Their steps approach; their gladdening songs draw near.
People,
(returning.)
Hosanna! hosanna! we bring the libation,
The waters that flow from the fount of salvation.
The people, during this ceremony, repeated Isaiah xii. 3: “With joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.” It is supposed to have been at this period in the solemnity, that our Lord, on the last day, the great day of the feast, stood and cried, saying, “If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink,” &c. John vii. 37, 38.
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Now let the sacred element be borne
To the high altar's top; there, with the wine
Already hallowed for the sacrifice,
Let it be mingled. With a reverent hand
With a reverent hand. It is said that, at the moment of pouring out the water, the people cried out to the priest, “Hold up your hand;” the reason of which was, that on a certain time there was one who poured it upon his feet; upon which the people pelted him with the pomecitrons which they carried in their hands during this festival, and in the disturbance a horn of the altar was broken.
Then pour the mixture out; while, flinging high
Their verdant palms, with solemn shout and song,
The people dance around their glorious shrine.
People.
Hosanna! hosanna! pour out the libation!
Glory and beauty, O altar, to thee!
With gladness we draw from the wells of salvation
Waters of life, ever flowing and free.
Glory and beauty, O altar, to thee!
With gladness we draw from the wells of salvation
Waters of life, ever flowing and free.
Joy to thee, joy to thee, life-giving river!
Glory and beauty, O altar, to thee!
The streams of salvation roll onward forever,—
Life to the universe, boundless and free.
Glory and beauty, O altar, to thee!
The streams of salvation roll onward forever,—
Life to the universe, boundless and free.
High Priest.
Now tell your children what this rite intends;
What mean these glowing forms, these words of joy.
Priest.
The prophet gave the blow;
Forth gushed the cool, refreshing wave,
The parched and perishing to save,
Far as its waters flow.
Recalled to life, the dying band
Pressed eager to the destined land.
Exodus xvii. 6. It is said, by some, that the unusual rejoicings which attended this festival were connected with the expectation of the Messiah's coming. “The Jews acknowledge,” says Lightfoot, “that their latter Redeemer is to procure water for them, as their former redeemer, Moses, had done.” Beausobre says, “The days of the Messiah were styled by the Jews the Feast of Tabernacles.”
Forth gushed the cool, refreshing wave,
The parched and perishing to save,
Far as its waters flow.
Recalled to life, the dying band
Pressed eager to the destined land.
302
So, in some latter day,
When Israel lies in woe and fear,
Her great Anointed shall appear,
To chase her dark dismay.
From Him a holier stream shall flow,
To save the world from darker woe.
When Israel lies in woe and fear,
Her great Anointed shall appear,
To chase her dark dismay.
From Him a holier stream shall flow,
To save the world from darker woe.
O, haste the glorious hour!
Haste, David's Son, illustrious King!
Come to thy waiting saints, and bring
Thy glory, peace, and power.
Hosanna! let the people cry;
Hosanna! earth and heaven reply.
Haste, David's Son, illustrious King!
Come to thy waiting saints, and bring
Thy glory, peace, and power.
Hosanna! let the people cry;
Hosanna! earth and heaven reply.
High Priest.
The day declines. The slow-descending sun
Casts lengthening shadows o'er the darkened vales.
Light up the temple! Through the pillared walks
Hang out the lamps,
“Dancing, music, and feasting were the accompaniments of this festival, together with such brilliant illuminations as lighted the whole city of Jerusalem.”—Horne.—It was a proverb among the Jews, “He that never saw the rejoicing of the pouring out of water, never saw rejoicing in his life.” It has not seemed necessary, however, to adhere strictly to the accounts we have received of the manner in which the festival was closed. Those who would make the comparison may be pleased to see the following passage from Lightfoot, the latter portion of which is translated from a rabbinical author.
“Towards night, they began the rejoicing for the pouring out or drawing of the water, which mirth they continued far in the night, every night of the feast. . . . . .
“The manner was thus:—
“They went into the court of the women, and there the women placed themselves upon balconies round about the court, and the men stood upon the ground. There were four candlesticks (or beacons, rather, I might call them) of an exceeding great bigness, and mounted on an exceeding great height, overtopping and overlooking the walls of the court and of the mountain of the house, at a great elevation; by every candlestick were four ladders set, by which four of the younger priests went up, having bottles in their hands, that contained a hundred and twenty logs, which they emptied into every cup. Of the rags of the garments and girdles of the priests they made wicks to light those lamps; and there was not a street throughout all Jerusalem that did not shine with that light.
“The religious and devout danced before them, having lighted
torches in their hands, and sang songs and doxologies. The Levites,
with harps, psalteries, cymbals, and other instruments of music
without number, and stood upon those fifteen steps, by which they
went down from the court of the women, according to the fifteen
psalms of degrees, and sang. Two priests also stood in the upper
gate, which goes down from the Court of Israel to the Court of
the Women, with two trumpets in their hands. When
the cock crew, [or the president gave his signal,] the trumpets
sounded; when they came to the tenth step, they sounded
again; when they came to the court, they sounded; when they
came to the pavement, they sounded; and so went on sounding
the trumpets, till they came to the east gate of the court. When
they came thither, they turned their faces from the east to west,
and said, Our fathers in this place, turning their backs upon the
Temple, and their faces toward the east, worshipped the sun; but
we turn our faces to God,” &c.![illustration](https://iiif.lib.virginia.edu/iiif/uva-lib:439921/full/!1600,1600/0/default.jpg")
[Description: [Hebrew]]
“The rabbins have a tradition. Some of them, while they were
dancing, said, Blessed be our youth, for that they have not made
our old men ashamed. These were
the religious, and men of good works. And some said, Blessed
be our old men, that have made atonement for our youth. And
both one and the other said, Blessed be he who hath not sinned;
and he who hath, let it be forgiven him.”—![illustration](https://iiif.lib.virginia.edu/iiif/uva-lib:439922/full/!1600,1600/0/default.jpg")
[Description: [Hebrew]]
Keep off the gathering night. Then, while the blaze
Is flashing from the altars, gates, and roofs,
Till evening shines with more than noonday fires,
Let one loud choral anthem close the day.
People.
Jehovah dwells in light!
Bright on his glorious courts below
Ten thousand lamps their splendor throw;
To build his throne of heavenly light,
Ten thousand suns their flames unite.
There dwells the pure, immortal ray!
Serene, resplendent, infinite, alone,
It robes the essence of the Holy One
In everlasting day.
Bright on his glorious courts below
Ten thousand lamps their splendor throw;
To build his throne of heavenly light,
Ten thousand suns their flames unite.
There dwells the pure, immortal ray!
Serene, resplendent, infinite, alone,
303
In everlasting day.
From this dim, shadowy sphere,
We seek that central day on high.
Hail, holy Light, all hail! we cry;
Send down the full effulgence here,
Till earth's long darkness disappear.
Author of light and being, hail!
The soul, the stars, the universe are thine;
Bid light o'er all, thy light immortal, shine,
Till truth and love prevail.
We seek that central day on high.
Hail, holy Light, all hail! we cry;
Send down the full effulgence here,
Till earth's long darkness disappear.
Author of light and being, hail!
The soul, the stars, the universe are thine;
Bid light o'er all, thy light immortal, shine,
Till truth and love prevail.
High Priest.
The anthem ends; the festival is o'er.
To-morrow sees you scattered on your way,
Hastening o'er hills and valleys to your homes.
Israel, depart in peace! Jehovah send
His angel by your side! Nor sun by day,
Psalm cxxi. 5–8. “The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in, from this time forth, and even forevermore.”
Nor moon by night, nor pestilence, nor foe,
Annoy your march, and peace await you home!
Now humbly let your inmost souls receive
The solemn benediction of the Law.
Numbers vi. 23–26. “Speak unto Aaron, and unto his sons, saying, On this wise ye shall bless the children of Israel, saying unto them, The Lord bless thee, and keep thee. The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”
Jehovah bless and keep you! bless and keep!
People.
Amen!
High Priest.
Jehovah cause his face to beam in love
Upon you, and his favor be your life!
People.
Amen! Amen!
304
Jehovah lift his countenance of light
Upon you, and shed down his boundless peace!
People.
Amen! Amen! Amen!
See Leviticus xxiii. 34–43. Numbers xxix. 12–40. Deuteronomy xvi. 13–15. Exodus xxiii. 16; xxxiv. 22. Nehemiah viii. 13–18.
309
STANZAS, ADDITIONAL TO MRS. HEMANS'S “BIRD'S RELEASE.”
February, 1827.
And thou art happier now
In the free, wide fields of the boundless air,
With thy wing on the wind, and thy thought without care,
And thy home on the forest bough.
In the free, wide fields of the boundless air,
With thy wing on the wind, and thy thought without care,
And thy home on the forest bough.
Even so with the lost and dear;
She is soaring in regions of light above;
She's at home with the blessed in their bowers of love;
And who would recall her here?
She is soaring in regions of light above;
She's at home with the blessed in their bowers of love;
And who would recall her here?
310
LINES TO W. R. G. BATES.
[_]
William Rufus Gray Bates, son of Joshua Bates, Esq., of the house of Baring, Brothers, & Co., London, was born in Boston, July 2, 1815. When three years old, he accompanied his mother to France, where his father was then residing. This poem was written on the occasion of his embarking.
Lo! how impatiently upon the tide
The proud ship tosses, eager to be free!
Her flag streams wildly, and her fluttering sails
Pant to be on their flight. A few hours more,
And she will move in stately grandeur on,
Cleaving her path majestic through the flood,
As if she were a goddess of the deep.
O, 'tis a thought sublime, that man can force
A path upon the waste, can find a way
Where all is trackless, and compel the winds—
Those freest agents of almighty power—
To lend their untamed wings, and bear him on
To distant climes.—Thou, William, still art young,
And dost not see the wonder. Thou wilt tread
The buoyant deck, and look upon the flood,
Unconscious of the high sublimity,
As 'twere a common thing—thy soul unawed,
Thy childish sports unchecked; while thinking man
Shrinks back into himself,—himself so mean
'Mid things so vast,—and, rapt in deepest awe,
Bends to the might of that mysterious Power,
Who holds the waters in his hand, and guides
Th' ungovernable winds. 'Tis not in man
To look unmoved upon that heaving waste,
Which, from horizon to horizon spread,
Meets the o'erarching heavens on every side,
Blending their hues in distant faintness there.
The proud ship tosses, eager to be free!
Her flag streams wildly, and her fluttering sails
Pant to be on their flight. A few hours more,
And she will move in stately grandeur on,
Cleaving her path majestic through the flood,
As if she were a goddess of the deep.
O, 'tis a thought sublime, that man can force
A path upon the waste, can find a way
Where all is trackless, and compel the winds—
Those freest agents of almighty power—
To lend their untamed wings, and bear him on
To distant climes.—Thou, William, still art young,
And dost not see the wonder. Thou wilt tread
The buoyant deck, and look upon the flood,
Unconscious of the high sublimity,
As 'twere a common thing—thy soul unawed,
Thy childish sports unchecked; while thinking man
Shrinks back into himself,—himself so mean
311
Bends to the might of that mysterious Power,
Who holds the waters in his hand, and guides
Th' ungovernable winds. 'Tis not in man
To look unmoved upon that heaving waste,
Which, from horizon to horizon spread,
Meets the o'erarching heavens on every side,
Blending their hues in distant faintness there.
'Tis wonderful!—and yet, my boy, just such
Is life. Life is a sea as fathomless,
As wide, as terrible, and yet sometimes
As calm and beautiful. The light of heaven
Smiles on it, and 'tis decked with every hue
Of glory and of joy. Anon dark clouds
Arise, contending winds of fate go forth,
And Hope sits weeping o'er a general wreck.
Is life. Life is a sea as fathomless,
As wide, as terrible, and yet sometimes
As calm and beautiful. The light of heaven
Smiles on it, and 'tis decked with every hue
Of glory and of joy. Anon dark clouds
Arise, contending winds of fate go forth,
And Hope sits weeping o'er a general wreck.
And thou must sail upon this sea, a long,
Eventful voyage. The wise may suffer wreck,
The foolish must. O, then, be early wise;
Learn from the mariner his skilful art
To ride upon the waves, and catch the breeze,
And dare the threatening storm, and trace a path,
'Mid countless dangers, to the destined port,
Unerringly secure. O, learn from him
To station quick-eyed Prudence at the helm,
To guard thyself from Passion's sudden blasts,
And make Religion thy magnetic guide,
Which, though it trembles as it lowly lies,
Points to the light that changes not, in heaven.
Eventful voyage. The wise may suffer wreck,
The foolish must. O, then, be early wise;
Learn from the mariner his skilful art
To ride upon the waves, and catch the breeze,
And dare the threatening storm, and trace a path,
'Mid countless dangers, to the destined port,
Unerringly secure. O, learn from him
To station quick-eyed Prudence at the helm,
To guard thyself from Passion's sudden blasts,
And make Religion thy magnetic guide,
Which, though it trembles as it lowly lies,
Points to the light that changes not, in heaven.
Farewell! Heaven smile propitious on thy course,
And favoring breezes waft thee to the arms
Of love paternal. Yes, and more than this—
Blest be thy passage o'er the changing sea
Of life; the clouds be few that intercept
The light of joy; the waves roll gently on
Beneath thy bark of hope, and bear thee safe
To meet in peace thine other Father—God.
And favoring breezes waft thee to the arms
Of love paternal. Yes, and more than this—
312
Of life; the clouds be few that intercept
The light of joy; the waves roll gently on
Beneath thy bark of hope, and bear thee safe
To meet in peace thine other Father—God.
The young person to whom these lines were addressed was accidentally killed by the discharge of his fowling-piece, at Elton, in the county of Huntingdon, (England,) in 1834, at the age of nineteen years. His improvement and virtues had secured the love and esteem of his friends, and filled the hearts of his parents with fond hopes of his future success and honor.
313
TO MARY.
Salisbury and Vergennes, September 4 and 5, 1828.
Dear Mary, 'tis the fourteenth day
Since I was parted from your side;
And still upon my lengthening way
In solitude I ride;
But not a word has come to tell
If those I left at home are well.
Since I was parted from your side;
And still upon my lengthening way
In solitude I ride;
But not a word has come to tell
If those I left at home are well.
I am not of an anxious mind,
Nor prone to cherish useless fear;
Yet oft, methinks, the very wind
Is whispering in my ear,
That many an evil may take place
Within a fortnight's narrow space.
Nor prone to cherish useless fear;
Yet oft, methinks, the very wind
Is whispering in my ear,
That many an evil may take place
Within a fortnight's narrow space.
'Tis true, indeed, disease and pain
May all this while have been your lot;
And when I reach my home again,
Death may have marked the spot.
I need but dwell on thoughts like these,
To be as wretched as I please.
May all this while have been your lot;
And when I reach my home again,
Death may have marked the spot.
I need but dwell on thoughts like these,
To be as wretched as I please.
But no,—a happier thought is mine;
The absent like the present scene
Is guided by a Friend divine,
Who bids us wait serene
The issues of that gracious will
Which mingles good with every ill.
The absent like the present scene
314
Who bids us wait serene
The issues of that gracious will
Which mingles good with every ill.
And who should feel this tranquil trust
In that benignant One above,—
Who ne'er forgets that we are dust,
And rules with pitying love,—
Like us, who both have just been led
Back from the confines of the dead?—
In that benignant One above,—
Who ne'er forgets that we are dust,
And rules with pitying love,—
Like us, who both have just been led
Back from the confines of the dead?—
Like us, who, 'mid the various hours
That mark life's changeful wilderness,
Have always found its suns and showers
Alike designed to bless?
Led on and taught as we have been,
Distrust would be indeed a sin.
That mark life's changeful wilderness,
Have always found its suns and showers
Alike designed to bless?
Led on and taught as we have been,
Distrust would be indeed a sin.
Darkness, 'tis true, and death, must come;
But they should bring us no dismay;
They are but guides to lead us home,
And then to pass away.
O, who will keep a troubled mind,
That knows this glory is designed?
But they should bring us no dismay;
They are but guides to lead us home,
And then to pass away.
O, who will keep a troubled mind,
That knows this glory is designed?
Then, dearest, present or apart,
An equal calmness let us wear;
Let steadfast Faith control the heart,
And still its throbs of care.
We may not lean on things of dust;
But Heaven is worthy all our trust.
An equal calmness let us wear;
Let steadfast Faith control the heart,
And still its throbs of care.
We may not lean on things of dust;
But Heaven is worthy all our trust.
315
SONG.
1815.
O, say not that love is the light of an hour,
Which fades when youth's wildness is o'er;
It glows with its purest and liveliest power
When beauty and mirth are no more.
Which fades when youth's wildness is o'er;
It glows with its purest and liveliest power
When beauty and mirth are no more.
I covet the love that will waken and stay,
Like the progress of light from the dawn,
Which opens in blushes, and spreads into day
More bright as the minutes move on.
Like the progress of light from the dawn,
Which opens in blushes, and spreads into day
More bright as the minutes move on.
The face I could love must reflect the fair beam
Of a soul that is lighted from heaven;
Its smile, like the sunshine that glows on a stream,
Forever unruffled and even.
Of a soul that is lighted from heaven;
Its smile, like the sunshine that glows on a stream,
Forever unruffled and even.
Then sorrow might come, but it would not be dark;
That love on the shadows would shine;
And the near hope of heaven, with its rapturous spark,
Would lighten and warm our decline.
That love on the shadows would shine;
And the near hope of heaven, with its rapturous spark,
Would lighten and warm our decline.
316
FOR THE ORDINATION OF MR. SPARKS.
1819.
Tune, Old Hundred.
Great God, the followers of thy Son,
We bow before thy mercy-seat,
To worship thee, the holy One,
And pour our wishes at thy feet.
We bow before thy mercy-seat,
To worship thee, the holy One,
And pour our wishes at thy feet.
O, grant thy blessing here to-day!
O, give thy people joy and peace!
The tokens of thy love display,
And favor that shall never cease.
O, give thy people joy and peace!
The tokens of thy love display,
And favor that shall never cease.
We seek the truth that Jesus brought;
His path of light we long to tread;
Here be his holy doctrines taught,
And here their purest influence shed.
His path of light we long to tread;
Here be his holy doctrines taught,
And here their purest influence shed.
May faith, and hope, and love abound;
Our sins and errors be forgiven;
And we, in thy great day, be found
Children of God and heirs of heaven!
Our sins and errors be forgiven;
And we, in thy great day, be found
Children of God and heirs of heaven!
317
LINES
Written March 29, 1836.
It is not what my hands have done,
That weighs my spirit down,
That casts a shadow o'er the sun,
And over earth a frown;
It is not any heinous guilt,
Or vice by men abhorred;
For fair the fame that I have built,
A fair life's just reward;
And men would wonder if they knew
How sad I feel with sins so few.
That weighs my spirit down,
That casts a shadow o'er the sun,
And over earth a frown;
It is not any heinous guilt,
Or vice by men abhorred;
For fair the fame that I have built,
A fair life's just reward;
And men would wonder if they knew
How sad I feel with sins so few.
Alas! they only see in part,
When thus they judge the whole;
They cannot look upon the heart,
They cannot read the soul;
But I survey myself within,
And mournfully I feel
How deep the principle of sin
Its root may there conceal,
And spread its poison through the frame
Without a deed that men can blame.
When thus they judge the whole;
They cannot look upon the heart,
They cannot read the soul;
But I survey myself within,
And mournfully I feel
How deep the principle of sin
Its root may there conceal,
And spread its poison through the frame
Without a deed that men can blame.
They judge by actions which they see
Brought out before the sun;
But conscience brings reproach to me
For what I've left undone,—
For opportunities of good
In folly thrown away,
For hours misspent in solitude,
Forgetfulness to pray,—
And thousand more omitted things,
Whose memory fills my breast with stings.
Brought out before the sun;
318
For what I've left undone,—
For opportunities of good
In folly thrown away,
For hours misspent in solitude,
Forgetfulness to pray,—
And thousand more omitted things,
Whose memory fills my breast with stings.
And therefore is my heart oppressed
With thoughtfulness and gloom;
Nor can I hope for perfect rest,
Till I escape this doom.
Help me, thou Merciful and Just,
This fearful doom to fly;
Thou art my strength, my hope, my trust;—
O, help me, lest I die!
And let my full obedience prove
The perfect power of faith and love.
With thoughtfulness and gloom;
Nor can I hope for perfect rest,
Till I escape this doom.
Help me, thou Merciful and Just,
This fearful doom to fly;
Thou art my strength, my hope, my trust;—
O, help me, lest I die!
And let my full obedience prove
The perfect power of faith and love.
319
TWO SONNETS OF TASK-WORK.
I. Hail our approach to venerable Rome
[_]
We arrived at Bolsena, between Florence and Rome, on a cool evening, December 11, 1829; and to help cheer the dismal hours in a huge, comfortless apartment, it was proposed to have a sonnet on our approach to the Eternal City. I called on the company for rhymes, à la mode improvisatrice; and having obtained them, I wrote the following:—
We go to kneel and wonder at her shrine,
To watch where still her parting glories shine,
And bear the memory of her greatness home.
There the late marvel of her sacred Dome
Doth with her hoary monuments combine,
Like ruined elm o'ertop'd by towering vine,
To stir the souls of those that thither roam.
There, 'mid her crumbling relics, we will stray
To tread her Forum in the noonday bright;
Her Colosseum under midnight skies,
And there, in grief, with silent gaze survey,
The world's chief glory fading from its height,
Till in the dust it sinks, and all ignobly dies.
320
II. Hark to the summons of departing Time
Hark to the summons of departing Time!Its echoes die upon the fading year;
Build up its requiem in some solemn rhyme,
And bring the final end of all things near.
The tide of being, rushing from afar,
Bears on the fortunes of the deathless soul;
Bright o'er its waters beams a holy star,
And heaven's blest island crowns the glorious whole.
Review the past of this all-varying scene;
Recount with gratitude its every joy;
How few the days unclouded and serene!
How mixed the happiest moments with alloy!
Yet from this mingled mass the soul may reap
The harvest gathered after death's long sleep.
321
A SUNDAY MORNING ECLOGUE.
WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE DEATH OF REV. GEORGE WHITNEY, OF JAMAICA PLAIN, ROXBURY, AND REV. DR. HARRIS, OF DORCHESTER.
Scene.—A rustic Cottage on a Hill-side; a Lake beneath; a Village in the distance beyond.—A Child is sitting on the bank near the cottage door, at which his Father appears.Child.
Is it not time, dear father, for the bell?
I'm weary listening for it. Here I've sat
Since breakfast, waiting, waiting; but I hear
No sound. I'm tired of waiting!
Father.
How the child
Delights to catch the music of that bell!
And so do I, in truth. I love its peal,
As it comes swelling o'er the placid lake,
And stirs the silence of our far hill-side.
The undulating tones float calmly on,
As if from heaven's broad depths they wafted down
Sweet messages of peace, such as befit
A Sunday's sacred calm.—Come hither, boy;
322
And I will listen with you for the bell.
Child.
How beautiful it is!
Father.
What's beautiful?
Child.
Why, every thing;—the trees, and flowers, and clouds,
And pond, and houses;—all are beautiful.
What makes them always look most beautiful
On Sunday morning?
Father.
Do they so?
Child.
Why, yes;
And mother says so too; and then she asks,
If heaven will be more fair than this bright earth.
Father.
Well, child, and will it?
Child.
O, I asked her that;
She answered, “Surely yes;” and said the hymn,
“If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful, beyond compare,
Must Paradise be found!”
But why on Sunday should it seem most fair?
323
Because the mind is then in tune; its thoughts
Of holy truth have roused it to perceive
The harmony of all with things divine:
The heart, attuned to heavenly melody,
Beats in accord with nature's melodies,
Which always are of Heaven. You understand?
Child.
O, yes; for mother always says, you know,
If I am sweet and pleasant, every thing
Will pleasant be to me and sweet; and so
All things will be most heavenly to the eye
Beneath a Sabbath sun, because ourselves
Are then most heavenly.
Father.
Ay, but might we not
Find all as full of heaven another day?
Child.
Surely,—as all would pleasant be to me
If I were always in a pleasant mood.
Father.
But children fret, and then all joys are soured;
And men disturb their minds with foolish cares,
Till nature's peace and God's great presence fade;
Till noxious mists have darkened all their world,
And rarely yield a moment's glimpse of heaven.
Bless me, this day, my God, with one such glimpse!
Lift off the darkness from my soul! Remove
The dimness of my eye, that I may see,
324
The melodies and beauties of thy realms.
Child.
Hark! hark! Methought I heard it.—Have they bells
In heaven, father?
Father.
They have music, dear,
And worship—love and angels.—Hark!—'Tis strange!
'Tis very strange! The shadows have grown short,
The sun rides high, and yet no call to church!
The air is still—we could not fail to hear.
But what should cause that iron tongue to lie
Speechless to-day, which for two hundred years
Ne'er failed before to ring its summons forth,
Proclaiming, to the forests and the hills,
That toil had pause, and earth was bowed in praise?
What can it mean?
Child.
List, father! Up the steep,
Straight from the village, comes the sound of wheels.
Father.
And now I see the wagon, as it winds
Round yonder turn. I will approach and know
The reason of this mystery.—Neighbor, hail!
A Sabbath's salutation to you, friend!
But why this more than Sabbath's silence? Why
No customary bell?
Neighbor.
Have you not heard?
325
I have heard nothing.
Neighbor.
Not the heavy news
That fills the vale with sadness, and makes dim
The eyes of all its dwellers?
Father.
Not a word.
Neighbor.
Then hear and weep with them. Our pastor's dead!
Father.
Dead? Dead? Impossible; so young, so strong—
Impossible! I saw him three days since.
Neighbor.
A sudden illness, with its stern assault,
Leaped on his sturdy frame, and bore him down.
But yesterday he sat as he was wont,
Scarce conscious of an ill beyond the dull
And languid apathy which often keeps
The student from his books. This morning's sun
Beheld his spirit mounting from its clay,
And stricken children weeping o'er his corse,
Appalled and comfortless.
Father.
God comfort them,
And us, and all! What mystery is this,
That puts this fearful pause to so much life
326
While withered forms, that scarce can drag their limbs,
And spent their stores of blessings long ago,
Still bear the burden of infirmest age,
Helpless and hopeless! Who can note unawed
God's deep-sealed secret? Why was he not left
To run his tranquil course of seventy years,
And then, all duty done, reposing wait,—
As in the twilight of a summer's day
The rustic lingers at his cottage door,—
And to the pressure of Time's heavy hand
Yield gently, sinking to the grave as men
Withdrawing to their chambers seek their rest,
In Sleep's protecting bosom?
Neighbor.
So, last night,
In ripe old age, and ever gentle faith,
That old man passed away; life's twilight calm
Still beautiful around him; no more toil
For him on earth, and every hope in heaven.
Father.
What old man speak you of, whose sun has set
In timely beauty thus, while yonder orb
Is stricken headlong from its noonday height?
Neighbor.
You know old Father Simon; long withdrawn
From charge of holy things, but loving still
The hallowed office which so long he held,
An humble priest. A messenger was sent
To tell the venerable man that death
327
And lead the elder to the vacant rite.
Guess what a thrill of consternation struck
The village heart when he, returning, told
That Father Simon, too, had died last night!
Therefore it is that every sound is mute; the church
Is closed; the scattered flock, that should have thronged
The house of prayer, amazed, and pale, retreat,
And mournful silence broods o'er all the scene.
I, too, would fain retire. I have no heart
For human intercourse to-day. Farewell!
Father.
Farewell!—His work was done. From early morn,
Through all the heat and burden of the noon,
Unresting,—always at the task he loved,—
He labored on, till round him gathering eve
Began to cast its shades. The wearied man
Now sat him down to rest; about him cast
A placid look on his accomplished task,
And smiled that all was done. What had he more
To live for? Pleasures, hopes, and useful toils,
For him there none remained, except in heaven.
There they awaited him; and there his trust
Serenely fixed, the gentle summons came,
And called him home—“Go to thy rest, old man!
Peace waits thee in the Father's house, on earth
Unknown. Go, we have known and loved thee long;
We can but weep to miss thee; but our tears
Are tears of hope as well as fond regret—
Of joy yet more than grief; of sympathy
With thy rejoicing in thy new-found bliss.”
328
But other feelings wake at W******'s death.
Gone, in his prime—not two score years yet told—
The vigor of brave manhood in his limbs;
And youth's frank hopefulness upon his brow;—
As suddenly as if from this green bank,
Just where I sit and gaze upon the flowers
That lift their smiling beauty 'mong the grass,
And deck the verdant hills with countless hues,
Now, as I look, some hidden fount of fire
Should spout, like Etna's flaming torrent, forth,
And in an instant desolate the scene.
Gone, in his prime—not two score years yet told—
The vigor of brave manhood in his limbs;
And youth's frank hopefulness upon his brow;—
As suddenly as if from this green bank,
Just where I sit and gaze upon the flowers
That lift their smiling beauty 'mong the grass,
And deck the verdant hills with countless hues,
Now, as I look, some hidden fount of fire
Should spout, like Etna's flaming torrent, forth,
And in an instant desolate the scene.
Gone, in his prime! In him how many homes
Their light have lost! how many poor their stay!
The young a counsellor—the old a staff—
The flock of Christ a shepherd kind and true.
Yes, we have lost a friend; but heaven has gained
One more inhabitant; and Sabbath choirs to-day,
With loud rejoicing, shout him welcome home.
Their light have lost! how many poor their stay!
The young a counsellor—the old a staff—
The flock of Christ a shepherd kind and true.
Yes, we have lost a friend; but heaven has gained
One more inhabitant; and Sabbath choirs to-day,
With loud rejoicing, shout him welcome home.
329
A WINTER SCENE.
AN EXTRACT FROM A FAMILIAR EPISTLE.
January 13, 1829.
O, would you could see, since the last week's rain,What splendor adorns our grove and plain!
For it froze as it fell, and the drizzling sleet
Cast thick o'er the earth an icy sheet;
The crusted trees in their glory appear,
Each like a crystal chandelier,
On whose brilliant jewels the sunbeams glance,
As their limbs in the light breeze twinkle and dance;
And every twig and spire of grass
Is a splendid prism of solid glass,
Sparkling and flashing in day's broad glare,
With all the hues of the rainbow there.
O, 'tis a gorgeous sight to behold
The fields all strewed with rubies and gold,
And emeralds, bright with their rich green rays,
And diamonds, that fiercely burn and blaze,
And sapphires and pearls profusely strown,
Till a more magnificent view is shown,
Than the garden of gems in the Eastern tale
Which Aladdin found in the secret vale.
330
THE WATERFALL AT CATSKILL.
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM IN THE HOTEL,
July 2, 1826.
Bold, bold, and beautiful, the headlong wave
Leaps from the dizzy height—in floods of foam
Broken and glittering—flinging up its clouds
Of playful mist, that meet the wanton sun,
And take all hues, and deck the shattered stream
In floating rainbows, that, like fairy forms
Before the dreamer's eye, flit here and there,
Now bright, now faded. Thus it plunges on,
Roaring and restless, till the gulf profound
Spreads wide its peaceful bosom, and the vexed,
Impetuous torrent slumbers in the shade.
Such be my quiet, when life's troubled tide
Shall reach the vale serene of tranquil age!
Leaps from the dizzy height—in floods of foam
Broken and glittering—flinging up its clouds
Of playful mist, that meet the wanton sun,
And take all hues, and deck the shattered stream
In floating rainbows, that, like fairy forms
Before the dreamer's eye, flit here and there,
Now bright, now faded. Thus it plunges on,
Roaring and restless, till the gulf profound
Spreads wide its peaceful bosom, and the vexed,
Impetuous torrent slumbers in the shade.
Such be my quiet, when life's troubled tide
Shall reach the vale serene of tranquil age!
So it has been for ages—so shall be
For ages yet to come. Years roll on years,
And find that sound and motion still unchanged.
Things that have life decay; but thou, fair rill,—
So like a living thing, that yet art none,—
Thou changest not. The forests round thee die;
The beasts that roam them perish in their shade;
The solid rock, thy bed, is worn away;
Empires are moved. And man, the prince of all,
Lives but to die. And thou dost see this change
Pass upon all, and in perpetual youth
Dost sing and frolic 'mid a world of graves.
For ages yet to come. Years roll on years,
And find that sound and motion still unchanged.
Things that have life decay; but thou, fair rill,—
So like a living thing, that yet art none,—
Thou changest not. The forests round thee die;
The beasts that roam them perish in their shade;
The solid rock, thy bed, is worn away;
331
Lives but to die. And thou dost see this change
Pass upon all, and in perpetual youth
Dost sing and frolic 'mid a world of graves.
332
HYMN TO THE GOD OF BATTLES.
FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM ON THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON.
God of our fathers! who didst bear
Their pilgrim footsteps o'er the wave,
O, listen to their offspring's prayer!
Rise, as for Israel, rise and save!
Their pilgrim footsteps o'er the wave,
O, listen to their offspring's prayer!
Rise, as for Israel, rise and save!
God of our children! spare for them
The heritage our fathers gained;
Let Freedom's glorious diadem
And Truth's pure light abide unstained.
The heritage our fathers gained;
Let Freedom's glorious diadem
And Truth's pure light abide unstained.
Great God of battles! to the field
Lead forth our armed and conquering host;
Be thou their strength, their guide, their shield,
And drive th' invader from our coast.
Lead forth our armed and conquering host;
Be thou their strength, their guide, their shield,
And drive th' invader from our coast.
Hear, Lord! Without thy aid we die:
Hear us! To thee our cause we trust:
O, hear! and, from thy throne on high,
Rescue the offspring of the just.
Hear us! To thee our cause we trust:
O, hear! and, from thy throne on high,
Rescue the offspring of the just.
333
ANTI-SLAVERY SONG.
March 15, 1843.
Oppression shall not always reign:
There comes a brighter day,
When Freedom, bursting every chain,
Shall have triumphant way.
Then Right shall over Might prevail;
And Truth, like hero armed in mail,
The hosts of tyrant wrong assail,
And hold eternal sway.
There comes a brighter day,
When Freedom, bursting every chain,
Shall have triumphant way.
Then Right shall over Might prevail;
And Truth, like hero armed in mail,
The hosts of tyrant wrong assail,
And hold eternal sway.
E'en now that glorious day draws near;
Its coming is not far;
In heaven and earth its signs appear;
We see its morning star;
Its dawn has flushed the eastern sky;
The western hills reflect it high;
The southern clouds before it fly.—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
Its coming is not far;
In heaven and earth its signs appear;
We see its morning star;
Its dawn has flushed the eastern sky;
The western hills reflect it high;
The southern clouds before it fly.—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
It flashes on the Indian isles.—Hurra!
It gilds their plains with gladdening smiles.—Hurra!
Eight hundred thousand, newly free,
Pour out their songs of jubilee,
That shake the globe from sea to sea.—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
It gilds their plains with gladdening smiles.—Hurra!
334
Pour out their songs of jubilee,
That shake the globe from sea to sea.—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
That shout which every bosom thrills—Hurra!
In thunder rings from all our hills.—Hurra!
The waves reply on every shore,
Old Faneuil echoes to the roar,
And rocks as ne'er it rocked before—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
In thunder rings from all our hills.—Hurra!
The waves reply on every shore,
Old Faneuil echoes to the roar,
And rocks as ne'er it rocked before—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
What arm shall check its onward way?—Hurra!
What voice arrest the growing day?—Hurra!
What dastard soul, though stout and strong,
Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong,
Or Slavery's night of guilt prolong?—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
What voice arrest the growing day?—Hurra!
What dastard soul, though stout and strong,
Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong,
Or Slavery's night of guilt prolong?—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
Then shout, ye lovers of your race!—Hurra!
The glorious hour comes on apace!—Hurra!
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell!
Thy flag unfurl, thy trumpet swell!
From land to land the triumph tell!—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
The glorious hour comes on apace!—Hurra!
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell!
Thy flag unfurl, thy trumpet swell!
From land to land the triumph tell!—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
The day has come, the hour draws nigh!—Hurra!
Send forth the tidings far and high!—Hurra!
From every hill, by every sea,
In shouts proclaim the great decree,—
“All chains are broke! all men are free!”—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
Send forth the tidings far and high!—Hurra!
From every hill, by every sea,
In shouts proclaim the great decree,—
“All chains are broke! all men are free!”—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
335
Then shout! The hour comes on apace!—Hurra!
The hour of glory for the race!—Hurra!
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell,
Bid high thy sacred banner swell,
And trump on trump the triumph tell.—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
The hour of glory for the race!—Hurra!
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell,
Bid high thy sacred banner swell,
And trump on trump the triumph tell.—
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!
336
MOUNT WASHINGTON.
Franconia, August 8, 1835.
[OMITTED]
Up! The worst
Is past; the bold rock stands unveiled; and now
One effort more. 'Tis done. Breathless and pale,
We stand upon the peak above the clouds.
Vast and immeasurable! How the eye
Searches the great expanse for rest in vain!
Magnificent obscurity! sublime!
Dim! fathomless! Above, is only heaven
Spread forth o'er all, in deep, pure, lustrous light!
Below, earth—only earth—yet so displayed
As fills the gazing soul with trembling awe.
O, what a place for thought! Give me my cloak,
And leave me here alone. I'll wrap it round
To keep me from the keen, imperious wind,
And hold a moment's musing by myself.
Is past; the bold rock stands unveiled; and now
One effort more. 'Tis done. Breathless and pale,
We stand upon the peak above the clouds.
Vast and immeasurable! How the eye
Searches the great expanse for rest in vain!
Magnificent obscurity! sublime!
Dim! fathomless! Above, is only heaven
Spread forth o'er all, in deep, pure, lustrous light!
Below, earth—only earth—yet so displayed
As fills the gazing soul with trembling awe.
O, what a place for thought! Give me my cloak,
And leave me here alone. I'll wrap it round
To keep me from the keen, imperious wind,
And hold a moment's musing by myself.
And not a human foot within the land
It planted high as mine! Great heaven except,
On all else I look down. That glorious dome,
Unchanged, appears—in beauty, grandeur, pomp,
As unapproached, as unapproachable,
As when I upward gazed from common earth.
I have ascended, yet have not drawn near;
But things of earth, how changed! Man and his works
Are scarce discerned. Yon hills, whose vastness seemed
Immeasurable, lie, beneath my look,
Dwindled to vulgar eminences. Lo!
How they onward roll, like waves at sea,
Less and still less, till in the horizon far
They mingle with the clouds and disappear.
And yonder speck is ocean! infinite, sublime,
Resistless ocean! pride and dread of man!
Now but a glittering thread of twinkling light,
Like a faint lamp reflected from the pool,
So dim, so faint, we doubt if it be there.
What, then, am I—when all earth's mightiness
Thus disappears? Instruct me, awful Teacher,
While from this stand of truth I measure earth
And heaven! instruct me of myself. O, teach,
Teach me to feel that by approach toward Heaven
All things are seen in their own magnitude.
“God seems more grand—man crumbles into dust.”
The pomp of wealth and power, the state, the luxury,
The strife which mad ambition seeks, and earth
Is torn with hot convulsions to attain,
Here show for what they are—hollow and vain—
Even as those clouds, that, floating in mid air,
Send out a glory to the eye below,
But drop their shroud upon the summit rock,
And hide with empty vapor earth and heaven.
Yet in these clouds as truly God resides,
As in the dark pavilion which arrayed
Old Sinai's top—as truly gives a law
To his attendant servant. Lend thine ear,
And hear it—ope thine heart, and honor it—
Bend reverently to its message all thy soul;
And let the lesson thou has gathered here,
In solitary thought and intercourse
With truth and nature, cause thy unveiled soul,
Like Moses' face, to glow with obvious light—
Be a commandment to thy devious step,
And keep thee on thy high, immortal march.—
The body climbs toward heaven in vain—the soul,
If it will climb, may reach and enter in.
It planted high as mine! Great heaven except,
On all else I look down. That glorious dome,
Unchanged, appears—in beauty, grandeur, pomp,
As unapproached, as unapproachable,
337
I have ascended, yet have not drawn near;
But things of earth, how changed! Man and his works
Are scarce discerned. Yon hills, whose vastness seemed
Immeasurable, lie, beneath my look,
Dwindled to vulgar eminences. Lo!
How they onward roll, like waves at sea,
Less and still less, till in the horizon far
They mingle with the clouds and disappear.
And yonder speck is ocean! infinite, sublime,
Resistless ocean! pride and dread of man!
Now but a glittering thread of twinkling light,
Like a faint lamp reflected from the pool,
So dim, so faint, we doubt if it be there.
What, then, am I—when all earth's mightiness
Thus disappears? Instruct me, awful Teacher,
While from this stand of truth I measure earth
And heaven! instruct me of myself. O, teach,
Teach me to feel that by approach toward Heaven
All things are seen in their own magnitude.
“God seems more grand—man crumbles into dust.”
The pomp of wealth and power, the state, the luxury,
The strife which mad ambition seeks, and earth
Is torn with hot convulsions to attain,
Here show for what they are—hollow and vain—
Even as those clouds, that, floating in mid air,
Send out a glory to the eye below,
But drop their shroud upon the summit rock,
And hide with empty vapor earth and heaven.
Yet in these clouds as truly God resides,
As in the dark pavilion which arrayed
Old Sinai's top—as truly gives a law
To his attendant servant. Lend thine ear,
338
Bend reverently to its message all thy soul;
And let the lesson thou has gathered here,
In solitary thought and intercourse
With truth and nature, cause thy unveiled soul,
Like Moses' face, to glow with obvious light—
Be a commandment to thy devious step,
And keep thee on thy high, immortal march.—
The body climbs toward heaven in vain—the soul,
If it will climb, may reach and enter in.
339
THE WILLEY HOUSE.
Here pause upon this ruin. What a tale
Of grandeur and of woe is written here!
He, whom we think not of, because his power
Leads all things gently with the cords of love,
Doth sometimes teach us with a startling blow,
That wakes our senses to his majesty.
He touched the trembling mountain and it fell,—
Fell, with its burden of rent rocks and trees
Of giant growth, a fearful avalanche,—
Fell, amid storm and tempest, while the clouds
Dropped down in floods, and angry lightnings flashed,
And thunders echoing rolled. It seemed as God
Descended in his terrors, as of old
On Sinai, wrapped in darkness, clouds, and storm.
The mountain felt him near,
And trembled from its base; the swelling streams,
Each with its own commission, carried forth
The message of destruction, bidding man
Tremble, adore, and think upon his God.
Of grandeur and of woe is written here!
He, whom we think not of, because his power
Leads all things gently with the cords of love,
Doth sometimes teach us with a startling blow,
That wakes our senses to his majesty.
He touched the trembling mountain and it fell,—
Fell, with its burden of rent rocks and trees
Of giant growth, a fearful avalanche,—
Fell, amid storm and tempest, while the clouds
Dropped down in floods, and angry lightnings flashed,
And thunders echoing rolled. It seemed as God
Descended in his terrors, as of old
On Sinai, wrapped in darkness, clouds, and storm.
The mountain felt him near,
And trembled from its base; the swelling streams,
Each with its own commission, carried forth
The message of destruction, bidding man
Tremble, adore, and think upon his God.
Behold this house. Thus near the horror came,
A few short feet, and stayed, and left it safe.
O, had its panic-stricken tenants staid,
They had been safe; but in their fear they fled,—
Fled from their shelter to the very death
They feared. The morning saw them in their tranquil home,
A family of love; the mother smiled
Upon her five young mountaineers, and joyed
To aid them in their sports, and lead them on
To better things than sport. The drizzly rains
Confined the father, too, within; and much
They talked, perchance, and marvelled at the storm,
That, seemingly exhausted, still poured on
Floods inexhaustible, and gathering
Blackness and fury tenfold, as the day
Passed on. Yet what felt they of fear, or why?
Were they not sheltered in a quiet home?
And what but pleasure, from their nook secure,
To look abroad on this sublime display
Of nature's glorious and unusual pomp?
A few short feet, and stayed, and left it safe.
O, had its panic-stricken tenants staid,
They had been safe; but in their fear they fled,—
Fled from their shelter to the very death
They feared. The morning saw them in their tranquil home,
340
Upon her five young mountaineers, and joyed
To aid them in their sports, and lead them on
To better things than sport. The drizzly rains
Confined the father, too, within; and much
They talked, perchance, and marvelled at the storm,
That, seemingly exhausted, still poured on
Floods inexhaustible, and gathering
Blackness and fury tenfold, as the day
Passed on. Yet what felt they of fear, or why?
Were they not sheltered in a quiet home?
And what but pleasure, from their nook secure,
To look abroad on this sublime display
Of nature's glorious and unusual pomp?
So came the eve, and with the eve came fear.
The tumult thickens, fiercer winds arise,
More copious torrents fall, the mountain groans,
Signs of unwonted dread are heard abroad.
But what do they portend?—the danger, what?
The safety, where? in quiet or in flight?
O, horrible suspense! and, at some sound
Of ominous import, forth at once
Wife, husband, children, in distraction rush.
Again the sound terrific, like the crash
Of earth's last wreck, burst on their frightened ear,
And the descending ruin bears them down.
The tumult thickens, fiercer winds arise,
More copious torrents fall, the mountain groans,
Signs of unwonted dread are heard abroad.
But what do they portend?—the danger, what?
The safety, where? in quiet or in flight?
O, horrible suspense! and, at some sound
Of ominous import, forth at once
Wife, husband, children, in distraction rush.
Again the sound terrific, like the crash
Of earth's last wreck, burst on their frightened ear,
And the descending ruin bears them down.
They sleep in peace; and, humble as they were,
Few of earth's honored sons have monument
Magnificent as this.
To form it, this perpetual hill did bow,
These hoary rocks forsook their ancient base,
And here, while time shall last, the funeral pile
Shall tell where they repose. The crowds that come
To worship at this mountain, countless tribes,
With numbers yearly growing, shall be found
Seeking their sepulchre, to learn their names,
To hear the story of their fate, and speak
One word of pity at the awful tale.
Sleep, then, in peace; unwonted death was yours;
Yours an unwonted monument; and yours
Funereal pomp that kings have never known.
Here, in the embosomed depth
Of these your native mountains, sleep in peace,
Till the last tempest rend the mount again,
And call you from its bosom into light.
Few of earth's honored sons have monument
Magnificent as this.
To form it, this perpetual hill did bow,
These hoary rocks forsook their ancient base,
And here, while time shall last, the funeral pile
Shall tell where they repose. The crowds that come
341
With numbers yearly growing, shall be found
Seeking their sepulchre, to learn their names,
To hear the story of their fate, and speak
One word of pity at the awful tale.
Sleep, then, in peace; unwonted death was yours;
Yours an unwonted monument; and yours
Funereal pomp that kings have never known.
Here, in the embosomed depth
Of these your native mountains, sleep in peace,
Till the last tempest rend the mount again,
And call you from its bosom into light.
342
RED HILL.
Then reverently we bared our heads, and stood;
And from that holy bard, whose sightless eye
Beheld the wonders of the Invisible,
We raised the hymn so worthy Paradise,
In its pure early worship. With the words
I trust our hearts rose up; the morning wind
Bore them, like incense, upward, and there seemed
A soul of deep devotion breathed abroad
On all the things we saw: they heard the call,
The eloquent call, of Milton and of God,
And uttered praise. The sun and clouds in heaven
Heard, as they rose above us, and replied;
The lake responded with her thousand isles;
The mountains, that encompassed us around,
Near and more distant, seemed to bow assent;
The birds joined harmony; the lowing kine,
The waving trees, the lowly herb beneath
Our feet, with burden of rich fruit, and last
The scattered hamlets, whose ascending smokes
Showed human life awaking to the day,—
All seemed to hear and join the act of praise.
So to our hearts it seemed, so full, so warm.
So loud, the burst of holy praise rung forth
In words that reach and rouse the inmost soul
Of nature, as of man,—the general soul
That fills and vivifies whate'er exists.
And from that holy bard, whose sightless eye
Beheld the wonders of the Invisible,
We raised the hymn so worthy Paradise,
In its pure early worship. With the words
I trust our hearts rose up; the morning wind
Bore them, like incense, upward, and there seemed
A soul of deep devotion breathed abroad
On all the things we saw: they heard the call,
The eloquent call, of Milton and of God,
And uttered praise. The sun and clouds in heaven
Heard, as they rose above us, and replied;
The lake responded with her thousand isles;
The mountains, that encompassed us around,
Near and more distant, seemed to bow assent;
The birds joined harmony; the lowing kine,
The waving trees, the lowly herb beneath
Our feet, with burden of rich fruit, and last
The scattered hamlets, whose ascending smokes
Showed human life awaking to the day,—
All seemed to hear and join the act of praise.
So to our hearts it seemed, so full, so warm.
So loud, the burst of holy praise rung forth
In words that reach and rouse the inmost soul
343
That fills and vivifies whate'er exists.
'Tis well to worship where the pomp of man
Intrudes not. So infirm are we, so bound
In chains of sense, that crowded chapels, throngs
Of dressed adorers, bursts of choral song,
The formal, eloquent routine of praise,
Sometimes excite, sometimes distract, confound,
Or dissipate the soul.
'Tis well to know that piety
Draws its best nutriment from solitude,
Withdrawn from man, in secret intercourse
With man's Creator; on the mountain-top,
Beside the waterfall, within the dark
And silent forest, on the midnight bed,
Within the chambers of the secret mind,
Where no eye pierces, no ear listens, save
That of the indwelling spirit, which pervades,
And moves, and blesses all. Then worship grows
A holy, heavenly thing; th' unfettered soul,
Emancipate from earth, no more disturbed
With others' thoughts, nor bound to tread
The path by others signified, springs free,
Exalted, spiritualized, and carries back
To earth and life a fragrance and a strength
That earth gives not, and that prepares for heaven.
Intrudes not. So infirm are we, so bound
In chains of sense, that crowded chapels, throngs
Of dressed adorers, bursts of choral song,
The formal, eloquent routine of praise,
Sometimes excite, sometimes distract, confound,
Or dissipate the soul.
'Tis well to know that piety
Draws its best nutriment from solitude,
Withdrawn from man, in secret intercourse
With man's Creator; on the mountain-top,
Beside the waterfall, within the dark
And silent forest, on the midnight bed,
Within the chambers of the secret mind,
Where no eye pierces, no ear listens, save
That of the indwelling spirit, which pervades,
And moves, and blesses all. Then worship grows
A holy, heavenly thing; th' unfettered soul,
Emancipate from earth, no more disturbed
With others' thoughts, nor bound to tread
The path by others signified, springs free,
Exalted, spiritualized, and carries back
To earth and life a fragrance and a strength
That earth gives not, and that prepares for heaven.
Such Sabbath is not lost; and, from the mount
When we descended, with the little flock
That gathers in an humble, upper room,
Like that, perchance, wherein Paul preached, we, too,
Were found. A touching sight, thus far from home,
Amid the wild hills, to behold a few,
Summoned at call of Him who rules the earth
As King, and numbers millions for his own,
In every age and nation, bending down
In prayer, and listening to the word of life;—
A fragment of the universal church;
Pondering upon the thoughts which make the joy
Of spirits in heaven, and urged to find, like them,
Their happiness in glorifying God.
How truly came from Heaven a messenger
Like this,—how surely leads to Heaven.
When we descended, with the little flock
That gathers in an humble, upper room,
Like that, perchance, wherein Paul preached, we, too,
Were found. A touching sight, thus far from home,
Amid the wild hills, to behold a few,
Summoned at call of Him who rules the earth
344
In every age and nation, bending down
In prayer, and listening to the word of life;—
A fragment of the universal church;
Pondering upon the thoughts which make the joy
Of spirits in heaven, and urged to find, like them,
Their happiness in glorifying God.
How truly came from Heaven a messenger
Like this,—how surely leads to Heaven.
345
MY DREAM OF LIFE.
346
HIS BIRTHPLACE.
There is the spot! My memory has a spell
Which clothes it with ten thousand charms, unseen
By other eyes, by other hearts unfelt.
The low, white house, whose far-retreating roof
Turned two front stories into one behind;
The green-capped picket-fence; the gay front yard,
Skirted with rose and lilach; here the plat
Of grass, divided by the gravelled walk,
And shaded by the spreading apple-tree;
There, the neat garden, more for use than show,
Bordered with box, with gaudy holly-hocks gay,
And crowded with th' unsightly forms of things
The palate loves, the tasteful eye disdains.
Beyond, the orchard flung its fruitful arms,
And stretched its thirsty roots along the bank
Of that fair pond, which lies 'mid gentle slopes
And fertile meadows, like a lovely babe
Upon its mother's bosom,—now at rest
In tranquil beauty; now all smiles and charms,
Now, in capricious passion, wild and fierce.
Lake of my youth! I love thy flowery shores—
Thy buoyant waters more—for they have tossed
My wayward skiff through many a playful hour,
When dancing ripples sparkled to the sun—
And murmured round my moonlight bark, that seemed
A floating paradise of youth and love—
And lent their marble surface to my flight,
When my steeled foot would emulate the winds,
Or when, descending from the headlong steep,
Breathless I dashed through drifting snow, that flew
Like dust about my path, and furious plunged
Across the solid flood. O, those were days
Whose memory warms the blood, and makes instinct
With life and soul the whole surrounding scene.
Nought meets the eye but wakens in my heart
Old thoughts that make it throb. The very earth
Possesses conscious life, and every tree
Tells its own tale, and asks a smile or tear.
There stands the ancient elm, whose giant growth
My boyish eyes admired, and on whose boughs,
Adventurous, I would rock myself, and swing
Above the carriage path, and shout to catch
Th' applauding eye of passengers below.
It shadows with its venerable arms
The simple dwelling where I had my birth.
How dear is every room beneath that roof!
There we assembled at the cheerful meal,
And asked Heaven's blessing on a band of love.
There the gay circle, on a winter's eve,
Gathered about the lavish blaze, and pressed
Within the chimney's ample range, to catch
The tales of wonder childhood loves to hear,
And age delights to tell. There stood my bed;
There I lay waiting for a mother's kiss,
And soft good night; then, breathless, sought to catch
Her last faint footstep as she slow retired;
Then drew the blanket o'er my face, and slept.
Time, in its lengthened flight, has wrought such change,
That hardly could I recognize those walls;
But that sweet evening kiss, I feel it now;
I hear that soft good-night, that parting step
Still faintly fall upon my waiting ear.
The past comes thick around me—faded shapes,
But beautiful, of all that once have been,
And are no more. I sit beside the hearth,
And weep at scenes that once were only joy.
Which clothes it with ten thousand charms, unseen
By other eyes, by other hearts unfelt.
The low, white house, whose far-retreating roof
Turned two front stories into one behind;
The green-capped picket-fence; the gay front yard,
Skirted with rose and lilach; here the plat
Of grass, divided by the gravelled walk,
And shaded by the spreading apple-tree;
There, the neat garden, more for use than show,
Bordered with box, with gaudy holly-hocks gay,
And crowded with th' unsightly forms of things
The palate loves, the tasteful eye disdains.
Beyond, the orchard flung its fruitful arms,
And stretched its thirsty roots along the bank
Of that fair pond, which lies 'mid gentle slopes
And fertile meadows, like a lovely babe
Upon its mother's bosom,—now at rest
In tranquil beauty; now all smiles and charms,
Now, in capricious passion, wild and fierce.
Lake of my youth! I love thy flowery shores—
Thy buoyant waters more—for they have tossed
My wayward skiff through many a playful hour,
When dancing ripples sparkled to the sun—
And murmured round my moonlight bark, that seemed
A floating paradise of youth and love—
And lent their marble surface to my flight,
When my steeled foot would emulate the winds,
Or when, descending from the headlong steep,
347
Like dust about my path, and furious plunged
Across the solid flood. O, those were days
Whose memory warms the blood, and makes instinct
With life and soul the whole surrounding scene.
Nought meets the eye but wakens in my heart
Old thoughts that make it throb. The very earth
Possesses conscious life, and every tree
Tells its own tale, and asks a smile or tear.
There stands the ancient elm, whose giant growth
My boyish eyes admired, and on whose boughs,
Adventurous, I would rock myself, and swing
Above the carriage path, and shout to catch
Th' applauding eye of passengers below.
It shadows with its venerable arms
The simple dwelling where I had my birth.
How dear is every room beneath that roof!
There we assembled at the cheerful meal,
And asked Heaven's blessing on a band of love.
There the gay circle, on a winter's eve,
Gathered about the lavish blaze, and pressed
Within the chimney's ample range, to catch
The tales of wonder childhood loves to hear,
And age delights to tell. There stood my bed;
There I lay waiting for a mother's kiss,
And soft good night; then, breathless, sought to catch
Her last faint footstep as she slow retired;
Then drew the blanket o'er my face, and slept.
Time, in its lengthened flight, has wrought such change,
That hardly could I recognize those walls;
But that sweet evening kiss, I feel it now;
I hear that soft good-night, that parting step
348
The past comes thick around me—faded shapes,
But beautiful, of all that once have been,
And are no more. I sit beside the hearth,
And weep at scenes that once were only joy.
O, what is tender like a mother's love?
And what can pay its loss? To her I looked
To cheer and guide me in the fearful way
That leads through toil and peril into life;
And trusted then, when strength and wealth were mine,
To rock the cradle of her fading age,
As she had soothed the infancy of mine.
But Heaven refused the boon. There is a grief
Severe with double anguish; when the heart
Sinks burdened with a present woe, and waits
For darker evils hastening in its train.
Such grief was ours. . . . . .
And what can pay its loss? To her I looked
To cheer and guide me in the fearful way
That leads through toil and peril into life;
And trusted then, when strength and wealth were mine,
To rock the cradle of her fading age,
As she had soothed the infancy of mine.
But Heaven refused the boon. There is a grief
Severe with double anguish; when the heart
Sinks burdened with a present woe, and waits
For darker evils hastening in its train.
Such grief was ours. . . . . .
What darkness followed then!
It settled down upon the present scene
In thick dismay, and on the future cast
An ominous shade, involving earth, and life,
And hope. The sacred light of home was dimmed.
The tender smile, the voice of patient love,
The anxious counsel, the directing eye,
Cheered the sad pathway of my youth no more.
The shadow settled on my heart. The world
Had other lights, but none to fill that void;
And friends, but none that wore a mother's heart.
It settled down upon the present scene
In thick dismay, and on the future cast
An ominous shade, involving earth, and life,
And hope. The sacred light of home was dimmed.
The tender smile, the voice of patient love,
The anxious counsel, the directing eye,
Cheered the sad pathway of my youth no more.
The shadow settled on my heart. The world
Had other lights, but none to fill that void;
And friends, but none that wore a mother's heart.
349
IMPRESSIONS ON ENTERING COLLEGE. PORTRAIT OF HIS EARLY FRIEND, JOHN E. ABBOT.
Thus months rolled on, and academic halls
Received me to their venerable shade.
What awe befell me, when beneath my foot
Echoed those walks and chambers, consecrate
To mind, and hallowed by the memory
Of older times, and memorable men!
There roamed the bashful rustic, friendless, lone,
Unnoticed. Every form that crossed his path
Was new, and each to his enthusiast eye
His far superior. These were sons of light,
Favorites of Science, votaries of the Muse,
For whom the laurel puts its honors forth,
And Fame prepares her pedestal, and Earth
Waits with her myriads through all future years
To take instruction from their reverend lips.
He shrunk aside,—for what, alas! was he,
Amid the throng of Learning's hopeful sons?
His spirit sickened, and the thought of home,
Where he was cherished, and could feel himself
To that recluse and unambitious walk
Not all inadequate, weighed on his frame.
He panted to return—longed to resign
His hope of lettered honors—and repose,
Not all alone, upon the hearth he loved.
Received me to their venerable shade.
What awe befell me, when beneath my foot
Echoed those walks and chambers, consecrate
To mind, and hallowed by the memory
Of older times, and memorable men!
There roamed the bashful rustic, friendless, lone,
Unnoticed. Every form that crossed his path
Was new, and each to his enthusiast eye
His far superior. These were sons of light,
Favorites of Science, votaries of the Muse,
For whom the laurel puts its honors forth,
And Fame prepares her pedestal, and Earth
Waits with her myriads through all future years
To take instruction from their reverend lips.
He shrunk aside,—for what, alas! was he,
Amid the throng of Learning's hopeful sons?
His spirit sickened, and the thought of home,
Where he was cherished, and could feel himself
To that recluse and unambitious walk
Not all inadequate, weighed on his frame.
He panted to return—longed to resign
His hope of lettered honors—and repose,
Not all alone, upon the hearth he loved.
Then—like an angel who can read the soul,
Appointed to come down and cheer the weak—
The generous, the devoted Reginald,
My elder, my superior, but through love
And lowly self-abandonment my friend,
Beheld me droop, interpreted my thought,
Read the deep trouble of my wandering eye,
And knew the language of my hectic cheek.
He spoke to me—he drew my arm in his—
With cheerful tones encouraged me—revived
My palsied energy—breathed hope, life, strength,
And emulation; with a brother's arm,
And love like that a gentle sister feels,
He led me onward, now no more alone.
How blest the passage of those halcyon days,
When mind with mind communed, and heart with heart,
As, freed from care, in learning's shady walks,
We culled the idle fancies of the hour;
Or, in our higher moments, talked of truth,
Of science, virtue, and philosophy—
The powers of nature and the soul—the world's
Strange history—man's illustrious works
And wayward fate! Then all the ages past
Came in review to help us prophesy
Of those to come, and judge of that which is.
These were rich hours. We had them not alone.
The sages of all time were summoned up
To talk with us, and thoughts grew large,
And manhood swelled within us as we drank
Their glorious accents in. And thence we turned
To watch the dawn of an Augustan age
Opening around us, destined to outshine
The Roman glory. Quick our bosoms throbbed,
And with keen eyes we traced the rising light,
And ardently foretold the coming day.
Earth heaved with the commotion—nations groaned;
Mind sprang to life and exercise—the bounds
Of ancient knowledge every where gave way—
New truths, new lights, new wonders grew and spread;
And from the very horrors of the field,
Which teemed with blood and crime, leaped forth to life
The science that adorns, the arts that bless.
Genius awoke in every land; a voice,
Loud as the cry which from the cloisters rang,
And armed all Europe for the sacred war,
Spoke to the earnest heart of generous youth,
And bade them join this new crusade for man.
We heard the voice—our bosoms gave response.
We spoke strong words of gratulation deep,
That we were born to witness and partake
The high excitement of the teeming age.
We longed to know the issue of events,
And what this toiling energy of mind,
With Heaven co-working, should bring forth to bless
The waiting earth. How glowed our prophet words!
How eagerly we sketched our plans! How pure,
How large, benevolent, and resolute,
The track of useful glory he portrayed!
And with enthusiast eye, and thrilling voice,
That trembled with the emotion of the soul,
He breathed his hopes aloud, and none could doubt,
Who heard him pour his burning spirit forth,
That he had will to make his visions truth,
And only death could rob him of the power.
Appointed to come down and cheer the weak—
The generous, the devoted Reginald,
My elder, my superior, but through love
And lowly self-abandonment my friend,
350
Read the deep trouble of my wandering eye,
And knew the language of my hectic cheek.
He spoke to me—he drew my arm in his—
With cheerful tones encouraged me—revived
My palsied energy—breathed hope, life, strength,
And emulation; with a brother's arm,
And love like that a gentle sister feels,
He led me onward, now no more alone.
How blest the passage of those halcyon days,
When mind with mind communed, and heart with heart,
As, freed from care, in learning's shady walks,
We culled the idle fancies of the hour;
Or, in our higher moments, talked of truth,
Of science, virtue, and philosophy—
The powers of nature and the soul—the world's
Strange history—man's illustrious works
And wayward fate! Then all the ages past
Came in review to help us prophesy
Of those to come, and judge of that which is.
These were rich hours. We had them not alone.
The sages of all time were summoned up
To talk with us, and thoughts grew large,
And manhood swelled within us as we drank
Their glorious accents in. And thence we turned
To watch the dawn of an Augustan age
Opening around us, destined to outshine
The Roman glory. Quick our bosoms throbbed,
And with keen eyes we traced the rising light,
And ardently foretold the coming day.
Earth heaved with the commotion—nations groaned;
Mind sprang to life and exercise—the bounds
Of ancient knowledge every where gave way—
351
And from the very horrors of the field,
Which teemed with blood and crime, leaped forth to life
The science that adorns, the arts that bless.
Genius awoke in every land; a voice,
Loud as the cry which from the cloisters rang,
And armed all Europe for the sacred war,
Spoke to the earnest heart of generous youth,
And bade them join this new crusade for man.
We heard the voice—our bosoms gave response.
We spoke strong words of gratulation deep,
That we were born to witness and partake
The high excitement of the teeming age.
We longed to know the issue of events,
And what this toiling energy of mind,
With Heaven co-working, should bring forth to bless
The waiting earth. How glowed our prophet words!
How eagerly we sketched our plans! How pure,
How large, benevolent, and resolute,
The track of useful glory he portrayed!
And with enthusiast eye, and thrilling voice,
That trembled with the emotion of the soul,
He breathed his hopes aloud, and none could doubt,
Who heard him pour his burning spirit forth,
That he had will to make his visions truth,
And only death could rob him of the power.
I had not thought him mortal. For he seemed
So fitted for some chosen work on earth,
That, in my rash fatuity, I thought,
God cannot spare him from this suffering sphere;
Life shall be long to him, and crowned at length,
In the calm evening of a gray old age,
With heaven's bright chaplet of successful toil,
And earth's of reverend honor. So I dreamed;
And all my future projects, plans, and hopes
Twined with his presence. . . . . . .
So fitted for some chosen work on earth,
That, in my rash fatuity, I thought,
God cannot spare him from this suffering sphere;
Life shall be long to him, and crowned at length,
In the calm evening of a gray old age,
With heaven's bright chaplet of successful toil,
352
And all my future projects, plans, and hopes
Twined with his presence. . . . . . .
Tell me, you that can,
The colored language that shall paint his soul.
Give me the words, that I may draw him true,
And lovely as he was to those he loved.
Gentleness sat upon his even brow,
And from his eye beamed meek benignity;
While its peculiar, almost tearful gaze,
Went to the soul of all it fell upon.
If we might think some spirit, purified
From evil stains, robed once again in flesh,
And sent on messages of love to men,
Such we might deem my friend; so pure; so calm;
So unregardful of the petty cares
And small impertinences that annoy
All other men; so thoughtless of himself;
So bent on others' good; so seemingly
Unconscious of the tempting things of earth,
And musing ever on some purer scenes.
How quietly, yet forcibly, he stood!
Humble, yet bold; not eloquent, indeed,
But something better; winning, clear, and sweet;
Where his fond flock looked up to hear and learn.
No thunder from his voice, and from his eye
No lightning; but the gentle breath of spring
Recalling flowers to life,—the summer shower
Softly refreshing the luxuriant herb,—
The placid sun, whose penetrating beams,
Steadfast and gradual, lead the season on,—
The quiet dew, that nourishes unseen,—
These are the holy images that tell
The style and efficacy of his work;
While from the sacred rostrum he came down
To cheer the humble, and reclaim the bad,
And as a friend, from house to house to spread
Improvement, consolation, joy, reproof,
And turn his parish walks to walks of heaven.
The colored language that shall paint his soul.
Give me the words, that I may draw him true,
And lovely as he was to those he loved.
Gentleness sat upon his even brow,
And from his eye beamed meek benignity;
While its peculiar, almost tearful gaze,
Went to the soul of all it fell upon.
If we might think some spirit, purified
From evil stains, robed once again in flesh,
And sent on messages of love to men,
Such we might deem my friend; so pure; so calm;
So unregardful of the petty cares
And small impertinences that annoy
All other men; so thoughtless of himself;
So bent on others' good; so seemingly
Unconscious of the tempting things of earth,
And musing ever on some purer scenes.
How quietly, yet forcibly, he stood!
Humble, yet bold; not eloquent, indeed,
But something better; winning, clear, and sweet;
Where his fond flock looked up to hear and learn.
No thunder from his voice, and from his eye
No lightning; but the gentle breath of spring
Recalling flowers to life,—the summer shower
Softly refreshing the luxuriant herb,—
The placid sun, whose penetrating beams,
Steadfast and gradual, lead the season on,—
The quiet dew, that nourishes unseen,—
These are the holy images that tell
353
While from the sacred rostrum he came down
To cheer the humble, and reclaim the bad,
And as a friend, from house to house to spread
Improvement, consolation, joy, reproof,
And turn his parish walks to walks of heaven.
What was my joy to sit beneath his voice,
To witness the intense, devoted love
Which bound his people to him, hear their words,
And see their tears of gratitude and praise,
And watch the growth of goodness from his toil!
O Heaven! that I should see it all, and live
To see its end, its mournful end so soon!
A few short months in manhood's early prime,
He labored, faltered;—and my broken heart
Felt that yon grave had buried in its womb
The strongest tie that bound me to the world.
To witness the intense, devoted love
Which bound his people to him, hear their words,
And see their tears of gratitude and praise,
And watch the growth of goodness from his toil!
O Heaven! that I should see it all, and live
To see its end, its mournful end so soon!
A few short months in manhood's early prime,
He labored, faltered;—and my broken heart
Felt that yon grave had buried in its womb
The strongest tie that bound me to the world.
So pass the friendships of this earth away;
So shades and sorrows fall upon the path
That beamed the brightest. But the shades of grief
Rest not forever on the darkened soul;
Time gently scatters them; and deathless hope
Throws back the curtain of the fearful tomb,
And shows its tenants robed in radiant day.
The heart no more is troubled; anchored fast
On this strong hope, it sits in peace,
Serenely waiting—wisdom harshly learned,
Perchance, but needful, known in words to all,
But husbanded and real to the few,
Who, willingly submissive, at the feet
Of stern affliction sit. And blessed are they
Who bear that sweet serenity of mind
Taught by the consciousness that every good
Of earth is fleeting, save the one high worth,
Which, being kindred to the worth of heaven,
Partakes its immortality, and glows
Brighter and better when all else decays.
These ne'er shall know with hopeless pang to mourn
A true friend's loss. Hope triumphs; dust and death
Sever them not; for earth, to them, and heaven
Are one; and in communion of the soul,
In all that truly makes th' immortal mind,
In thoughts, affections, wishes, they are joined
Inseparably; till hoary Time, at length,
The great restorer, lifts his awful veil,
And ushers them to glory, face to face.
So shades and sorrows fall upon the path
That beamed the brightest. But the shades of grief
Rest not forever on the darkened soul;
Time gently scatters them; and deathless hope
Throws back the curtain of the fearful tomb,
And shows its tenants robed in radiant day.
The heart no more is troubled; anchored fast
On this strong hope, it sits in peace,
Serenely waiting—wisdom harshly learned,
Perchance, but needful, known in words to all,
But husbanded and real to the few,
Who, willingly submissive, at the feet
Of stern affliction sit. And blessed are they
Who bear that sweet serenity of mind
Taught by the consciousness that every good
354
Which, being kindred to the worth of heaven,
Partakes its immortality, and glows
Brighter and better when all else decays.
These ne'er shall know with hopeless pang to mourn
A true friend's loss. Hope triumphs; dust and death
Sever them not; for earth, to them, and heaven
Are one; and in communion of the soul,
In all that truly makes th' immortal mind,
In thoughts, affections, wishes, they are joined
Inseparably; till hoary Time, at length,
The great restorer, lifts his awful veil,
And ushers them to glory, face to face.
A SISTER'S LOVE.
A sister's love! I dwell upon the theme—
The only love on earth to which the earth
Has given no taint of self-regardful care.
In even the mother's breast, a selfish fear
Throbs with the pulse of pure maternal joy,
And her own image mingles with the scene
Which Hope makes radiant with her boy's renown.
But in a sister's breast affection lives,
All pure, unselfish, looking but to him.
The only love on earth to which the earth
Has given no taint of self-regardful care.
In even the mother's breast, a selfish fear
Throbs with the pulse of pure maternal joy,
And her own image mingles with the scene
Which Hope makes radiant with her boy's renown.
But in a sister's breast affection lives,
All pure, unselfish, looking but to him.
Angel for angel glows with such regard,
Thus whole, deep, self-forgetting. Bowers of heaven
Witness it in the cherubs' changeless loves;
Earth sees it in a sister's heart alone.
Devoted, passionless, unwearied—strong
To bear, exhaustless in its sympathy—
True in all change—unchilled by coldness. Scorn,
Neglect, and rudeness such as man's poor pride
Sometimes returns for all the gentle cares
And sacrifice of sisterly regard,—
These never move her. Patient to the last,
She watches through an unrewarded life,
And smooths the pillow of ungrateful death.
But when the brother knows and owns her worth,
Tell me, what fellowship on earth like theirs?
See what a radiance glows upon their path!
Such as thy hand has drawn, illustrious bard,
In Jane de Montfort—image unapproached
Of noble tenderness—or such as stood
In tears and woe at Korner's early tomb;
Or sat, through days of waywardness and love,
By Elia's side, to cheer a languid hope,
And soothe th' unequal pilgrimage of pain.
And always thus—beneath a thousand roofs,
It toils, waits, watches, and imparts a hue
Of holiest heaven to low humanity.
Thus whole, deep, self-forgetting. Bowers of heaven
Witness it in the cherubs' changeless loves;
Earth sees it in a sister's heart alone.
Devoted, passionless, unwearied—strong
To bear, exhaustless in its sympathy—
355
Neglect, and rudeness such as man's poor pride
Sometimes returns for all the gentle cares
And sacrifice of sisterly regard,—
These never move her. Patient to the last,
She watches through an unrewarded life,
And smooths the pillow of ungrateful death.
But when the brother knows and owns her worth,
Tell me, what fellowship on earth like theirs?
See what a radiance glows upon their path!
Such as thy hand has drawn, illustrious bard,
In Jane de Montfort—image unapproached
Of noble tenderness—or such as stood
In tears and woe at Korner's early tomb;
Or sat, through days of waywardness and love,
By Elia's side, to cheer a languid hope,
And soothe th' unequal pilgrimage of pain.
And always thus—beneath a thousand roofs,
It toils, waits, watches, and imparts a hue
Of holiest heaven to low humanity.
THE OLD ELM.
Graceful and vigorous to the last, thine armsStill stretching forth their broad, protecting shade,
With wooing invitation, and thy leaves
Smiling and whispering peace,—so dost thou wait
With patient gentleness the slow decay
That bears thee to the dust. I bless thee, friend,
Companion, teacher. Many are the joys
And much the wisdom I have drawn from thee
356
In childhood's sport and manhood's thoughtfulness;
And now, upon thy venerable form,
Which years have shattered, my enfeebled eyes,
Which years have dimmed, I rest,—and gather in
Lessons of strength and peace to cheer life's slow decline.
[OMITTED]
There the bright oriole built his airy home,
Pendent from slender bough, beyond the hope
Of truant boy. In safety there his brood,
Rocked by the varying winds, enjoyed repose.
Gay, brilliant creature; hidden 'mid the leaves,
Silent, or shouting forth his rich, free note;
And now from bough to bough flitting along,
Just seen by glimpses, like a bright-red flash
Stealthily gleaming from the ragged clouds:—
Or redbreast, at the twilight close of day,
Pouring out happiness in cheerful tones
Of clear, strong melody. [OMITTED]
Or watch the swallows—while on busy wing,
Now mounting high in frolic play, and now
Skimming with level sweep the grassy plain,
Or pool's smooth surface; chattering now
In congregated crowds upon the roof,
Or darting in and out the ancient barn,
With notes of glee and motions of delight,
That made me long to join their gladsome sport,
On buoyant wings like theirs;—and now retired
Apart from crowd and song, and gliding soft
On silent pinions poised, as if to muse
In meditative wisdom, and restore
The sober balance of a thoughtful mind.
357
AMBITION.
Like the fierce war-horse on the battle's verge,
That sees the tumult and the fire, and pants
To be a sharer in the crimson strife,—
Youth stands upon the threshold of the world:
It sees the stir and struggle; courts a share,
Impatient, in the manly enterprise,
And burns to wreck its buoyancy of mind
And body in some province of the field
Where action would be glory. Health and hope
Fill every vein with fire, and urge the charge.
It cannot bear to be the thing it is,
Nor suffer other men to be so—thinks
All might be better, and resolves they shall.
Then, in the deep recesses of its breast,
Muses, and plans, and builds its vast designs,
Like the prophetic architect, who sees
The purposed fabric ere its columns rise,
And feeds in prospect on its future fame.
Or moved, it may be, with less generous aim,
The young adventurer for greatness pants;
And, cheated by that most perverted word,
Plots mischief, rides on ruin's wing, extends
The empire of his name, and lives on blood,
The vampyre of his age.—'Tis from these dreams
Of passionate youth the germ has sprung to life
That ripened into Cæsars. Praise to God,
Who baffles human madness as he will,
That schemes of such ambitious wickedness
So often fall, like bad, untimely fruit,
Blasted in early budding! But, alas!
A countless progeny of good resolves
Dies also in the flower,—whose ripened fruit
Exulting earth would hail, and heaven reward.
That sees the tumult and the fire, and pants
To be a sharer in the crimson strife,—
Youth stands upon the threshold of the world:
It sees the stir and struggle; courts a share,
Impatient, in the manly enterprise,
And burns to wreck its buoyancy of mind
And body in some province of the field
Where action would be glory. Health and hope
Fill every vein with fire, and urge the charge.
It cannot bear to be the thing it is,
Nor suffer other men to be so—thinks
All might be better, and resolves they shall.
Then, in the deep recesses of its breast,
Muses, and plans, and builds its vast designs,
Like the prophetic architect, who sees
The purposed fabric ere its columns rise,
And feeds in prospect on its future fame.
Or moved, it may be, with less generous aim,
The young adventurer for greatness pants;
And, cheated by that most perverted word,
Plots mischief, rides on ruin's wing, extends
The empire of his name, and lives on blood,
The vampyre of his age.—'Tis from these dreams
Of passionate youth the germ has sprung to life
That ripened into Cæsars. Praise to God,
Who baffles human madness as he will,
That schemes of such ambitious wickedness
So often fall, like bad, untimely fruit,
Blasted in early budding! But, alas!
358
Dies also in the flower,—whose ripened fruit
Exulting earth would hail, and heaven reward.
The pathway of my youth is strewed with wrecks
Of noble plans o'erthrown; and as I stray
Among the ruins, melancholy fills
My sad, regretful spirit. Not in Rome,
Nor glorious Athens, nor the older world
Entombed beside the Nile, the wanderer finds
More fruitful themes for curious, pensive thought
And meditative wisdom, than are given
By the strewed remnants of those brilliant schemes,
Those wasted day-dreams of magnificence,
Which built their splendid structures in my brain,
And rose and fell like visions of the night;—
Some proud and selfish, like that prodigal
Extent of stone and gold which Rome's bad lord
Reared on the Palatine—the wonder, shame,
And folly of the age—the monument of lust
Which preyed on others, and of pride which scoffed
At man, and virtue, justice, truth, and Heaven;—
Some pure and generous, like those huge-arched piles
Which stretch their haggard lines across the bleak
Campagna, formed, in better days, to bear
Refreshing streams of purity and health
To Rome's hot crowd; some consecrate to Heaven,
Like that rich house, the wonder of the world,
Which on the sacred mount received the cloud
Of God's symbolic presence, and the steps
Of his benignant Son. But all alike—
Fane, palace, conduit, fabric of the brain—
Have perished,—perished never to revive,—
The good and ill together.
Of noble plans o'erthrown; and as I stray
Among the ruins, melancholy fills
My sad, regretful spirit. Not in Rome,
Nor glorious Athens, nor the older world
Entombed beside the Nile, the wanderer finds
More fruitful themes for curious, pensive thought
And meditative wisdom, than are given
By the strewed remnants of those brilliant schemes,
Those wasted day-dreams of magnificence,
Which built their splendid structures in my brain,
And rose and fell like visions of the night;—
Some proud and selfish, like that prodigal
Extent of stone and gold which Rome's bad lord
Reared on the Palatine—the wonder, shame,
And folly of the age—the monument of lust
Which preyed on others, and of pride which scoffed
At man, and virtue, justice, truth, and Heaven;—
Some pure and generous, like those huge-arched piles
Which stretch their haggard lines across the bleak
Campagna, formed, in better days, to bear
Refreshing streams of purity and health
To Rome's hot crowd; some consecrate to Heaven,
Like that rich house, the wonder of the world,
Which on the sacred mount received the cloud
Of God's symbolic presence, and the steps
Of his benignant Son. But all alike—
Fane, palace, conduit, fabric of the brain—
Have perished,—perished never to revive,—
The good and ill together.
359
LOVE.
Then came the June-like season, when fond youth,
Like solitary man in Paradise,
Finds there is yet a good he has not gained.—
Maternal Nature whispers in his heart
That there is somewhere one to make him blest,
And guides him, by her mystic sympathy,
To find the stranger out. The new pursuit
How full of wild delight! Through what strange walks
Of timorous eagerness, doubt, fear, and hope,
He shuns, approaches, trembles, joys, despairs!
In twilight walks, in moonlight reveries,
In midnight watchings, she is with him still.
The wave reflects her form; the balmy air
Breathes on him with her breath; the rustling bough
Repeats the name that murmurs at his heart.
One object fills and satisfies his soul.
Others are there by sufferance—joys and tasks
Alike are hurried through with absent thought,
And nought finds welcome but the one, one loved
And ever-present image. This, enshrined,
Like some select divinity, within,
Fills with its conscious presence all the place;
Sheds its own hue and character around;
And lulls the spirit in delicious trance,
Like the half-waking sleeper of the morn,
Who knows he dreams, yet loves his dream the more.
Like solitary man in Paradise,
Finds there is yet a good he has not gained.—
Maternal Nature whispers in his heart
That there is somewhere one to make him blest,
And guides him, by her mystic sympathy,
To find the stranger out. The new pursuit
How full of wild delight! Through what strange walks
Of timorous eagerness, doubt, fear, and hope,
He shuns, approaches, trembles, joys, despairs!
In twilight walks, in moonlight reveries,
In midnight watchings, she is with him still.
The wave reflects her form; the balmy air
Breathes on him with her breath; the rustling bough
Repeats the name that murmurs at his heart.
One object fills and satisfies his soul.
Others are there by sufferance—joys and tasks
Alike are hurried through with absent thought,
And nought finds welcome but the one, one loved
And ever-present image. This, enshrined,
Like some select divinity, within,
Fills with its conscious presence all the place;
Sheds its own hue and character around;
And lulls the spirit in delicious trance,
Like the half-waking sleeper of the morn,
Who knows he dreams, yet loves his dream the more.
O, days to be remembered! days of balm!
Spring-tide of life! when flowers strew all the path,
And odorous blossoms burden every bough!
Is there a path about my native home,
Is there a hidden beauty of the fields,
A more obscure retirement in the woods,
A fairer bank upon the rippling lake,
Or lovelier arbor in her grottoed isle,
That was not witness, is not monument,
Of those delicious days? The earth still speaks,
The groves and waters, of the musing mood
In which I roamed, and thought of her I loved.
[OMITTED] Lately I returned,
Threaded the woods again, and climbed the stile,
And launched upon the pond,—and spite the change
Which time had made, a voice rose up from all,
The voice of early hope, and told again,
In the same tones, the tales it told of yore.
But other voices mingled in the breeze,
And sung, methought, a requiem for the dead—
So wild, so soothing, that my fancy deemed
The sainted spirit, once the life and breath
Of all these scenes, was present yet again,
Hovering on wings celestial and unseen,
And pouring blessings on the heart she loved.
Why should we deem it fable that the good
Lean, sometimes, from their paradise on high,
To soothe and pity those they loved below?
Spring-tide of life! when flowers strew all the path,
And odorous blossoms burden every bough!
Is there a path about my native home,
360
A more obscure retirement in the woods,
A fairer bank upon the rippling lake,
Or lovelier arbor in her grottoed isle,
That was not witness, is not monument,
Of those delicious days? The earth still speaks,
The groves and waters, of the musing mood
In which I roamed, and thought of her I loved.
[OMITTED] Lately I returned,
Threaded the woods again, and climbed the stile,
And launched upon the pond,—and spite the change
Which time had made, a voice rose up from all,
The voice of early hope, and told again,
In the same tones, the tales it told of yore.
But other voices mingled in the breeze,
And sung, methought, a requiem for the dead—
So wild, so soothing, that my fancy deemed
The sainted spirit, once the life and breath
Of all these scenes, was present yet again,
Hovering on wings celestial and unseen,
And pouring blessings on the heart she loved.
Why should we deem it fable that the good
Lean, sometimes, from their paradise on high,
To soothe and pity those they loved below?
It was not beauty which had won my heart,
But something more enchanting. Beauty lies
Ofttimes in forms, in features, hue, or grace,
To which the soul has lent no eloquence.
[OMITTED]
But angels called her good, and smiled, well pleased,
When she was numbered of their happy choir.
If purity of heart, serene and clear
As the bright depths of liquid Horicon,—
If energy and strength of resolute will,
To do and suffer, though all earth oppose,—
Like faithful Abdiel,—kindness never tired
In toil for others, quiet self-respect
Which awes th' unworthy from too near approach,
With unassuming diffidence of self,
Which scarce dares hear, and never asks for praise,
And deep, confiding trust in Him whose work
And minister it was her joy to be,—
If these be traits that mark th' angelic host,
Then was she one of that illustrious choir.
[OMITTED]
But something more enchanting. Beauty lies
Ofttimes in forms, in features, hue, or grace,
To which the soul has lent no eloquence.
[OMITTED]
But angels called her good, and smiled, well pleased,
When she was numbered of their happy choir.
If purity of heart, serene and clear
As the bright depths of liquid Horicon,—
361
To do and suffer, though all earth oppose,—
Like faithful Abdiel,—kindness never tired
In toil for others, quiet self-respect
Which awes th' unworthy from too near approach,
With unassuming diffidence of self,
Which scarce dares hear, and never asks for praise,
And deep, confiding trust in Him whose work
And minister it was her joy to be,—
If these be traits that mark th' angelic host,
Then was she one of that illustrious choir.
[OMITTED]
To one upon the threshold of the world,
Whose opening way to life is thronged with forms
That lie in wait to threaten and seduce,
There is a worth untold in virtuous love.
'Tis as a talisman of power: unhurt
It bears him on, through snares of crafty vice,
And long array of pleasure's subtle host,
Baffling with potent charm their wily arts,
That lose their power to touch him. Thoughts impure,
Low aims, and selfish passions, shrink away.
It keeps him chaste—makes all his purposes
Companions of a virtuous hope—beats down
The harmful empire of the present hour,
Pointing his thought to some sweet future home,
Henceforth his central purpose, which imparts
Fresh vigor to his enterprise—to hand
And mind gives nerve, to pleasure turns all toil,
Makes honor doubly dear—all that is bad
In young ambition purifies, and lifts
High above selfishness the darling plan
Which forms his ruling passion. For he toils
No more alone, nor only for himself.
The honor, peace, yea, life—and, more than all,
The good opinion of a purer mind—
A second, better conscience,—whose reproof
Stings deeper, whose approval gives more joy
Than his own breast—are all at stake in him;
And for her sake, in whom are hoarded up
The dearest treasures of his life on earth,
He keeps an uncontaminated heart,
And scorns the base seductiveness of sin.
Whose opening way to life is thronged with forms
That lie in wait to threaten and seduce,
There is a worth untold in virtuous love.
'Tis as a talisman of power: unhurt
It bears him on, through snares of crafty vice,
And long array of pleasure's subtle host,
Baffling with potent charm their wily arts,
That lose their power to touch him. Thoughts impure,
Low aims, and selfish passions, shrink away.
It keeps him chaste—makes all his purposes
Companions of a virtuous hope—beats down
The harmful empire of the present hour,
Pointing his thought to some sweet future home,
Henceforth his central purpose, which imparts
Fresh vigor to his enterprise—to hand
And mind gives nerve, to pleasure turns all toil,
Makes honor doubly dear—all that is bad
In young ambition purifies, and lifts
High above selfishness the darling plan
Which forms his ruling passion. For he toils
362
The honor, peace, yea, life—and, more than all,
The good opinion of a purer mind—
A second, better conscience,—whose reproof
Stings deeper, whose approval gives more joy
Than his own breast—are all at stake in him;
And for her sake, in whom are hoarded up
The dearest treasures of his life on earth,
He keeps an uncontaminated heart,
And scorns the base seductiveness of sin.
O holy power of pure, devoted love!
And O, thou holy, sacred name of home!
Prime bliss of earth! Behind us and before
Our guiding star, our refuge! When we plunge,
Loose from the safeguard of a father's roof,
On life's uncertain flood, exposed and driven,
'Tis the mild memory of thy sacred days
That keeps the young man pure. A father's eye,
A mother's smile, a sister's gentle love,
The table, and the altar, and the hearth,
In reverend image, keep their early hold
Upon his heart, and crowd out guilt and shame.
Then, too, the hope, that in some after day
These consecrated ties shall be renewed
In him, the founder of another house;
And wife and children—earth's so precious names—
Be gathered round the hearth, where he himself
Shall be the father—O, this glowing hope,
With memory co-working, lightens toil,
And renders impotent the plots of earth
To warp him from his innocence and faith.
And O, thou holy, sacred name of home!
Prime bliss of earth! Behind us and before
Our guiding star, our refuge! When we plunge,
Loose from the safeguard of a father's roof,
On life's uncertain flood, exposed and driven,
'Tis the mild memory of thy sacred days
That keeps the young man pure. A father's eye,
A mother's smile, a sister's gentle love,
The table, and the altar, and the hearth,
In reverend image, keep their early hold
Upon his heart, and crowd out guilt and shame.
Then, too, the hope, that in some after day
These consecrated ties shall be renewed
In him, the founder of another house;
And wife and children—earth's so precious names—
Be gathered round the hearth, where he himself
Shall be the father—O, this glowing hope,
With memory co-working, lightens toil,
And renders impotent the plots of earth
To warp him from his innocence and faith.
363
MANHOOD.
Wild solitude of precipice and flood,
Romantic Trenton! let me sing thy praise.
The hills were cleft to give thy waters way;
The rocks were riven to form their chasmed bed.
On either hand the steep, dark walls ascend,
Like ruined towers o'erhung with tangled vines,
And plants that love the rock, and tall, thick trees
That twine their boughs above, and fling a hue
Of solemn darkness on the flood below.
Rushing impetuous through this charmed ravine,
Thy roaring torrent pours—now swift and smooth;
Now shattered by intruding crags; now hurled
Headlong down sudden gulfs, where dizzying whirls
Point to the fearful depth that yawns below;
Now crowding fiercely through the straitened pass;
Now in th' outspreading basin finding rest
In cool and sombrous shades—a lucid lake
Of clear, black waters, motionless as glass—
Thence, issuing swift, they leap the precipice,
And, foaming down from ledge to ledge, keep on
Their reckless way; till, from the hills set free,
Through level plains they calmly glide along,
Refresh the quiet meadows as they pass,
And seek their mother sea. Upon thy bank,
Fair creek of Canada, the wanderer's foot
Ne'er wearies. Kindled by the varying scene,
From crag he springs to crag, from pass to pass—
Now, treading on the low, broad marge, his foot
Touches the wave; now, clambering the ascent,
He creeps with cautious step along the shelf
Hewn midway in the dizzy precipice—
Nor stays his course, till in the open heaven,
Freed from its troubled channel, he beholds
The wearied flood roll languid o'er the plain.
Romantic Trenton! let me sing thy praise.
The hills were cleft to give thy waters way;
The rocks were riven to form their chasmed bed.
On either hand the steep, dark walls ascend,
Like ruined towers o'erhung with tangled vines,
And plants that love the rock, and tall, thick trees
That twine their boughs above, and fling a hue
Of solemn darkness on the flood below.
Rushing impetuous through this charmed ravine,
Thy roaring torrent pours—now swift and smooth;
Now shattered by intruding crags; now hurled
Headlong down sudden gulfs, where dizzying whirls
Point to the fearful depth that yawns below;
Now crowding fiercely through the straitened pass;
Now in th' outspreading basin finding rest
In cool and sombrous shades—a lucid lake
Of clear, black waters, motionless as glass—
Thence, issuing swift, they leap the precipice,
And, foaming down from ledge to ledge, keep on
Their reckless way; till, from the hills set free,
Through level plains they calmly glide along,
Refresh the quiet meadows as they pass,
And seek their mother sea. Upon thy bank,
Fair creek of Canada, the wanderer's foot
Ne'er wearies. Kindled by the varying scene,
From crag he springs to crag, from pass to pass—
Now, treading on the low, broad marge, his foot
Touches the wave; now, clambering the ascent,
He creeps with cautious step along the shelf
364
Nor stays his course, till in the open heaven,
Freed from its troubled channel, he beholds
The wearied flood roll languid o'er the plain.
O Life! so often likened to a stream,—
Thus by thy youth's wild banks and rushing tide
My memory fondly lingers—thus I trace
Its bright, impetuous, fickle, playful course,
Wild, changeful, beautiful. But now the flood
Emerges into manhood's sober day:
With useful wave it irrigates the mead,
And crowds and duties press its fruitful shores.
But “the Nine” haunt it not. Romance forsakes
Its tamer borders. Vulgar toil, with plough
And wagon, treads its busy banks,
And soulless drudges scornfully survey
The beauties of the stream that yields them gain.
Thus by thy youth's wild banks and rushing tide
My memory fondly lingers—thus I trace
Its bright, impetuous, fickle, playful course,
Wild, changeful, beautiful. But now the flood
Emerges into manhood's sober day:
With useful wave it irrigates the mead,
And crowds and duties press its fruitful shores.
But “the Nine” haunt it not. Romance forsakes
Its tamer borders. Vulgar toil, with plough
And wagon, treads its busy banks,
And soulless drudges scornfully survey
The beauties of the stream that yields them gain.
AGE.
Youth's fires are quenched, and manhood's toils are o'er;
The days of early hope, the older years
Of disappointment, all have run their course,
And hope and disappointment here below
Are mine no more. From morn to noon, my life
Has rolled its brightening and its cloudy way,
And noon begins to wane. The Spring has seen
Her garlands blush and wither on my brow;—
The Summer wheeled her burning suns abroad,
And I have toiled beneath their ripening blaze.
Now, welcome to my faint and weary limbs
Autumn's cool breath, and sober bowers of rest.
I long to sit in their refreshing shade,
And bare my whitening tresses to the wind,
And pluck th' o'erhanging fruit, and yield my mind
To pensive musing. Come, advancing age—
I bid thee welcome with thy reverend brow,
And mien of bland composure. Come, and lay
Thy hand benignant on my aching head;
Pour thy tranquillity upon my heart;
And let thy soothing calm, thy thoughtful peace,
Thy wise and venerable cheerfulness,
Hush down the stormy elements of strife,
And rock my harassed being to repose.
The days of early hope, the older years
Of disappointment, all have run their course,
And hope and disappointment here below
Are mine no more. From morn to noon, my life
Has rolled its brightening and its cloudy way,
And noon begins to wane. The Spring has seen
Her garlands blush and wither on my brow;—
The Summer wheeled her burning suns abroad,
And I have toiled beneath their ripening blaze.
Now, welcome to my faint and weary limbs
365
I long to sit in their refreshing shade,
And bare my whitening tresses to the wind,
And pluck th' o'erhanging fruit, and yield my mind
To pensive musing. Come, advancing age—
I bid thee welcome with thy reverend brow,
And mien of bland composure. Come, and lay
Thy hand benignant on my aching head;
Pour thy tranquillity upon my heart;
And let thy soothing calm, thy thoughtful peace,
Thy wise and venerable cheerfulness,
Hush down the stormy elements of strife,
And rock my harassed being to repose.
There are who paint thee hideous—eyes of rheum,
And ears that catch no sound—bones full of pain—
The day a burden—night one weary watch—
The temper soured—the heart's sweet fountains dried—
Mind dull and prejudiced—this curious frame,
This matchless instrument of sense and soul,
Turned to a rack of torture—and this life,
Once of itself enjoyment, made a curse.
And ears that catch no sound—bones full of pain—
The day a burden—night one weary watch—
The temper soured—the heart's sweet fountains dried—
Mind dull and prejudiced—this curious frame,
This matchless instrument of sense and soul,
Turned to a rack of torture—and this life,
Once of itself enjoyment, made a curse.
O, come not in this fearful guise to me!
This garb of living death—nor lengthen out
The useless hours of this poor tortured clay
To pine in stupid dotage—to annoy,
With its encumbering helplessness, the path
Of those who love me, and to be a mark
For gaze and insult to th' unfeeling crowd,
That mock at human weakness. More than all,
Spare, spare the mind! from touch of fell decay
O keep the spirit free! nor let a frost
Fall on the heart's affections, to congeal
Its generous blood. 'Tis sad, 'tis horrible,
When the frail, tottering, shrivelled form of age
Shakes with its petty passions, and degrades
Its sacred hairs,
And dull fatuity, with garrulous tongue,
Prates from the lips which should be wisdom's throne.
'Tis horrible to see the great mind bowed,
The spark ethereal quenched, thought, feeling, heart,
And all that makes man honored, loved, revered,
Sunk in the baby idiocy of years
Without revival. Then, if length of days
Must bring such degradation, be their flight
In mercy stayed, is still my earnest prayer.
I would not see the day when I might wish
My friend or father dead—when friend or child
Might wish me so. O, when in good ripe age
A sharp disease would summon us away,
Let not too fond affection interpose,
Compelling us to stay. Better depart
While we can go lamented, ere the hands
Of those that love are weary of their charge,
And o'er our tomb no voice exclaims, “O, friend
Too early lost!” I saw an old man once
Laid on a couch from which there seemed no hope
That he should rise. He had been one of those
Whom all men honor, and whom friends revere.
Years had not dimmed his mind, and his warm heart
Glowed with youth's generous fires and faithful loves.
Disease had changed him not. The placid brow,
Furrowed by time, yet speaking cheerful things,
The mild, sweet smile, the serious, playful eye,
Adorned his bed, as they had decked his health;
While quiet words of love to friends below,
And trust in Him above, flowed forth from lips
Accustomed to their utterance. Ripe he seemed
For Heaven's immortal garner; and if then
He had been gathered by God's reaper in,
Admiring, weeping crowds had led him home,
And made his tomb a shrine of pilgrimage.
But wife, friends, children, day and night, with tears
And cries that would not be refused, desired
That he might live. They knew not what they asked,
Blind through excess of love. The answer came,
Fraught with rebuke and wisdom. He was spared.
His flesh came to him like a child's; his frame
Once more grew strong; but back to infancy
His doting mind returned—he lived a babe—
Sense, memory, knowledge, all deserted him,
And left him but a blank, an idiot blank,
To be watched, tended, chidden, like a child;
Till those who had refused to set him free,
Because they loved him fondly, lived to mourn
His wearily-protracted days, and wish
That Death would strike and rid them of their charge.
[OMITTED]
This garb of living death—nor lengthen out
The useless hours of this poor tortured clay
To pine in stupid dotage—to annoy,
With its encumbering helplessness, the path
Of those who love me, and to be a mark
For gaze and insult to th' unfeeling crowd,
That mock at human weakness. More than all,
Spare, spare the mind! from touch of fell decay
O keep the spirit free! nor let a frost
Fall on the heart's affections, to congeal
Its generous blood. 'Tis sad, 'tis horrible,
366
Shakes with its petty passions, and degrades
Its sacred hairs,
And dull fatuity, with garrulous tongue,
Prates from the lips which should be wisdom's throne.
'Tis horrible to see the great mind bowed,
The spark ethereal quenched, thought, feeling, heart,
And all that makes man honored, loved, revered,
Sunk in the baby idiocy of years
Without revival. Then, if length of days
Must bring such degradation, be their flight
In mercy stayed, is still my earnest prayer.
I would not see the day when I might wish
My friend or father dead—when friend or child
Might wish me so. O, when in good ripe age
A sharp disease would summon us away,
Let not too fond affection interpose,
Compelling us to stay. Better depart
While we can go lamented, ere the hands
Of those that love are weary of their charge,
And o'er our tomb no voice exclaims, “O, friend
Too early lost!” I saw an old man once
Laid on a couch from which there seemed no hope
That he should rise. He had been one of those
Whom all men honor, and whom friends revere.
Years had not dimmed his mind, and his warm heart
Glowed with youth's generous fires and faithful loves.
Disease had changed him not. The placid brow,
Furrowed by time, yet speaking cheerful things,
The mild, sweet smile, the serious, playful eye,
Adorned his bed, as they had decked his health;
While quiet words of love to friends below,
And trust in Him above, flowed forth from lips
367
For Heaven's immortal garner; and if then
He had been gathered by God's reaper in,
Admiring, weeping crowds had led him home,
And made his tomb a shrine of pilgrimage.
But wife, friends, children, day and night, with tears
And cries that would not be refused, desired
That he might live. They knew not what they asked,
Blind through excess of love. The answer came,
Fraught with rebuke and wisdom. He was spared.
His flesh came to him like a child's; his frame
Once more grew strong; but back to infancy
His doting mind returned—he lived a babe—
Sense, memory, knowledge, all deserted him,
And left him but a blank, an idiot blank,
To be watched, tended, chidden, like a child;
Till those who had refused to set him free,
Because they loved him fondly, lived to mourn
His wearily-protracted days, and wish
That Death would strike and rid them of their charge.
[OMITTED]
But thou, most ancient and majestic elm,
Whose ample arms my childish sports o'erspread,
Whose long familiar shades, with grateful gloom,
Are still so welcome to my fevered brow,
Thou—in thy vigorous and brawny form—
Hoary, yet cheerful—gently touched by time,
Not broken—tellest of a kindlier age—
With what a stately grace thy massive trunk
Bears up its burden of a hundred years!
With just enough decay upon its boughs
To lend a graceful sadness to its strength.
In form like this, I woo the slow advance
Of long-protracted life—protracted not
Too long.—Such be its deep tranquillity,
Its cheerful vigor, dignity, and grace,
And calm, religious peace, as Bryant sketched,—
Whose tints are beauty, and whose pencil truth,—
Or like the reverend portrait Tully drew.
[OMITTED]
Whose ample arms my childish sports o'erspread,
Whose long familiar shades, with grateful gloom,
Are still so welcome to my fevered brow,
Thou—in thy vigorous and brawny form—
Hoary, yet cheerful—gently touched by time,
Not broken—tellest of a kindlier age—
With what a stately grace thy massive trunk
Bears up its burden of a hundred years!
With just enough decay upon its boughs
To lend a graceful sadness to its strength.
In form like this, I woo the slow advance
368
Too long.—Such be its deep tranquillity,
Its cheerful vigor, dignity, and grace,
And calm, religious peace, as Bryant sketched,—
Whose tints are beauty, and whose pencil truth,—
Or like the reverend portrait Tully drew.
[OMITTED]
For I have faith that in that distant day—
That bright, enduring day, for which man's soul
Is destined—I shall roam, from light to light,
Through all your orbs, and tread your spotless courts,
Read the long records of your ancient day,
And share your toils and pleasures. Glorious hope!
To spring from this dim planet, wafted on
To brightness after brightness—visitant
And witness of the infinite abodes
Of perfect truth and love—to trace with joy
In all the One Almighty, and to join
The harmonious choirs of heaven, whose glorious song
Rings through the eternal arches evermore—
To sit in converse blessed, not with the saints
Alone on earth illustrious, but with those
The sage and holy of remoter spheres—
The ransomed from all planets—sons of grace
And purity from all the stars—whose eyes
Have never looked, perchance, on sin; whose ears
Have heard, whose hearts conceived no crime;
Whose stainless hands have wrought no task but love's;
Whose voice has uttered only wisdom;—bards
Inspired from founts of highest heaven;
Philosophers, to whom earth's science lies,
When loftiest, infinitely low; whose mind,
Not creeping step by step, like man's, but quick
And piercing, like the light, flashes on truth
And knowledge; and whose love of excellence,
Unsullied by the low desires and tastes
Of earth, is ever active, vigilant, and free.
[OMITTED]
That bright, enduring day, for which man's soul
Is destined—I shall roam, from light to light,
Through all your orbs, and tread your spotless courts,
Read the long records of your ancient day,
And share your toils and pleasures. Glorious hope!
To spring from this dim planet, wafted on
To brightness after brightness—visitant
And witness of the infinite abodes
Of perfect truth and love—to trace with joy
In all the One Almighty, and to join
The harmonious choirs of heaven, whose glorious song
Rings through the eternal arches evermore—
To sit in converse blessed, not with the saints
Alone on earth illustrious, but with those
The sage and holy of remoter spheres—
The ransomed from all planets—sons of grace
And purity from all the stars—whose eyes
Have never looked, perchance, on sin; whose ears
Have heard, whose hearts conceived no crime;
Whose stainless hands have wrought no task but love's;
Whose voice has uttered only wisdom;—bards
Inspired from founts of highest heaven;
Philosophers, to whom earth's science lies,
When loftiest, infinitely low; whose mind,
Not creeping step by step, like man's, but quick
369
And knowledge; and whose love of excellence,
Unsullied by the low desires and tastes
Of earth, is ever active, vigilant, and free.
[OMITTED]
This is my present dream—my last, best dream.
A dream? No—not of that false progeny,
Engendered when the mind has shut its eye
To all things real, and in darkness dwells
With unsubstantial phantoms—not a dream—
A faithful vision, based on promises
Which reason knows substantial, wrought in light
On nature's broadest page, and spoke in words
By the strong utterance of a prophet's voice,
From the tomb ringing. It is Faith that pours
Its radiant flood of glory on my soul,
And lights the future with a steadfast ray
That cannot lead aside. Have I not seen
The very flowers beneath my foot decay
And live? the worm upon the summer bough
Entombed and raised? the forest fade? the field
Lie dead, and Nature in her cold, white shroud—
Yet summoned back to life? and tell me why,
Except as teachers to immortal man.
Have I not heard the marvels of thy name,
Great Prince of Judah? seen the powers of Heaven
Poured lavish on thy head? and by the word
Felt the creation of another life
Burst in upon my mind? and from the cave
Hast thou not risen victorious over death,
To tell misdoubting man that he shall live?
I slept,—but now I wake; my opened eyes
Have dropped their earthly scales, and see how all
This sublunary scene is but a dream.
The sun of Faith reveals realities—
Truth sheds her light—Delusion reigns no more.
[OMITTED]
A dream? No—not of that false progeny,
Engendered when the mind has shut its eye
To all things real, and in darkness dwells
With unsubstantial phantoms—not a dream—
A faithful vision, based on promises
Which reason knows substantial, wrought in light
On nature's broadest page, and spoke in words
By the strong utterance of a prophet's voice,
From the tomb ringing. It is Faith that pours
Its radiant flood of glory on my soul,
And lights the future with a steadfast ray
That cannot lead aside. Have I not seen
The very flowers beneath my foot decay
And live? the worm upon the summer bough
Entombed and raised? the forest fade? the field
Lie dead, and Nature in her cold, white shroud—
Yet summoned back to life? and tell me why,
Except as teachers to immortal man.
Have I not heard the marvels of thy name,
Great Prince of Judah? seen the powers of Heaven
Poured lavish on thy head? and by the word
Felt the creation of another life
Burst in upon my mind? and from the cave
Hast thou not risen victorious over death,
To tell misdoubting man that he shall live?
I slept,—but now I wake; my opened eyes
Have dropped their earthly scales, and see how all
370
The sun of Faith reveals realities—
Truth sheds her light—Delusion reigns no more.
[OMITTED]
Not in the city—though the solemn tower
Of ancient and most reverend minster cast
Its holy shadow on the sleeper's bed,
And, with the anthems of its daily choir
And deep-toned worship of its holy bells,
Utter perpetual requiem—works of man,
Though consecrate to Heaven, are human still—
And I would rest my dust with God. No tower
Of mystic grandeur, anthem-peal, or chime
Of sacred bell, can hallow what the foot
Of vulgar crowds, on boisterous toil intent,
Or wealthy pleasure rolling constant by,
Shaking the very tombs, must desecrate.
Even sacred night is sacred there no more;
And weeping love in vain desires the hour
To see the spot where buried friendship lies,
And nourish heavenward thought upon its grave.
Not in the city's churchyard lay me down—
Whose trodden paths lead to no quiet spot
For holy contemplation, and the hour
Of solitary thought, that soothes the soul,
Purges from earth, exalts, and fits for heaven—
But bear me far away from man's domain,
And lay me down in nature's; where, alike
By day or night, the tearful friend may sit
Unnoticed by, and quite forget the world.
Of ancient and most reverend minster cast
Its holy shadow on the sleeper's bed,
And, with the anthems of its daily choir
And deep-toned worship of its holy bells,
Utter perpetual requiem—works of man,
Though consecrate to Heaven, are human still—
And I would rest my dust with God. No tower
Of mystic grandeur, anthem-peal, or chime
Of sacred bell, can hallow what the foot
Of vulgar crowds, on boisterous toil intent,
Or wealthy pleasure rolling constant by,
Shaking the very tombs, must desecrate.
Even sacred night is sacred there no more;
And weeping love in vain desires the hour
To see the spot where buried friendship lies,
And nourish heavenward thought upon its grave.
Not in the city's churchyard lay me down—
Whose trodden paths lead to no quiet spot
For holy contemplation, and the hour
Of solitary thought, that soothes the soul,
Purges from earth, exalts, and fits for heaven—
But bear me far away from man's domain,
And lay me down in nature's; where, alike
By day or night, the tearful friend may sit
Unnoticed by, and quite forget the world.
| The miscellaneous writings of Henry Ware | |