University of Virginia Library

IDEAL VIEWS.

Around thee, for awhile, the den recal,
The shore, the blood, the battle-wasted fields,
The dungeon, rock, or sickly chamber dim
Where nature gasp'd or groan'd its last farewell!
From death-beds back the curtain draw, and see
How Clay and Spirit to the last contend.
Advance, and view a haughty sinner die!
Behold the brow where thought satanic reign'd,
The glance which threaten'd to appal the tomb,
The hand whose motion made a tempest rise
In hearts and empires!—hark! the voice
That once created valour by its sound,
How fruitless all, how infantile and vain!
He dies, as underneath our foot the dews,
Gone at a touch of death! Or mark the bed
Where he whose spirit had his God unthroned,
Annihilated Heaven, Hereafter mock'd,
And call'd the world a fatherless Unknown,
Lies wild and restless as the moaning wave:
His guilt hath set eternity on fire
And shuddering, like a shrivell'd leaf,—he dies!

DYING SAINTS.

DEATH NEVER PAUSES.

STORM.

SHIPWRECK.

Alone upon the leaping billows, lo!
What fearful Image works its way? A ship,
Shapeless and wild, as by the Storm begot;
Her sails dishevell'd, and her massy form
Disfigured, yet tremendously sublime:
Prowless and helmless through the waves she rocks,
And writhes, as if in drowning agony:
Like valour when amid o'erwhelming foes
The vessel combats with the battling waves,
Then fiercely dives below:—the Thunders roll
A requiem, and the Whirlwinds howl for joy.

THE CREW.

And where are they, who from the breezy deck
Beheld the sun in orient glory rise
Like a divinity, and breathed a prayer
O'er the fresh promise of a placid sea?
Float they in lifeless masses through the deep?
Look! where a flash of lightning stripes the sea,
Like straw upon the wind a bark is whirl'd
From wave to wave: within, a pale-faced crew
Sit dumb as phantoms; with their eyes bedimm'd,
Their locks foam-sprinkled, and their lips unclosed;
And when the clouds their fires unsheath, against
The wizard glare their upturn'd faces gleam
In one despairing row! Their doom is seal'd
Above: Death howls in every wolfish blast
And rides on each gigantic wave: the sea
Their sepulchre shall make; their coffins be
Her caves, until the summon'd Ocean hear
The death-trump, and her tombless dead arise.

CALM AND LANDSCAPE.

Wave, wind, and thunder have departed: shrunk
The vision'd ocean from our mental view,
And lo! a landscape, green as Painting loves,
Or sunshine veil'd when Milton's spirit-gaze
Saw Paradise around him wave her flowers
While glorious Adam with his Maker walk'd,
Or Eve her shadow on the lake admired.
On yonder vernal mead, a cherub boy
Is bounding, playful as a breeze new-born,
Light as the beam which dances by his side.
Phantom of Beauty! with his golden locks
Gleaming like water-wreaths,—a flower of Life
To whom the fairy world is fresh, the sky
A glory, and the Earth one huge delight!
His brow makes joy; his eyes are Pleasure's own;
While Innocence, from out the budding lip
Darts her young smiles along his rounded cheek:
Grief hath not dimm'd the brightness of his form;
Love and affection o'er him spread their wings,
And Nature, like a nurse, with sweetest look
Her child attends. The humming bee will bound
From out the flower, nor sting his baby-hand;
The birds address him from the blossom'd trees,
And suppliantly the fierce-eyed mastiff fawn,
Come when he may, to court his playful touch.

INFANCY.

To rise all rosy from the arms of Sleep,
And, like the sky-bird, hail the bright-cheek'd Morn
With trills of song; then o'er the cowslipp'd mead
The blue-wing'd butterfly to chase, or play
With curly streams; or, led by watchful Love,
Admire the chorus of the trooping waves,
When the young breezes laugh them into life;
Or listen to the mimic ocean-roar
That waves have buried in a sea-shell's depth;
From sight and sound to catch intense delight
And frolic meaning from each happy face,—
Make his fond round of infantile romance.
And when at length dejected Evening comes
Joy-worn he nestles in the welcome couch
With kisses warm upon his cheek, of heaven
To dream, till morning wakes him to the world.

THE DEAD INFANT.

Into a curtain'd room the Scene hath changed,
Where a wan semblance of the mournful sun
Lies dreaming on the walls. Dim-eyed and sad,
And dumb with agony, two parents bend
O'er a pale Image in a coffin laid,
More exquisite than Death in marble looks,—
Their infant once, the laughing, leaping boy,
The bud of life, the nursling of their souls!
Pain touch'd him, and the life-glow fled away
Swift as a gay hour's fancy: fresh and cold
As Winter's shadow, with his eyelids seal'd
Like violet lips at eve, he lies enrobed
An offering for the Grave; but, bright and pure
The infant martyr hath to heaven been call'd,
Lisping soft hallelujahs with the choir
Of sinless babes, imparadised above.

CHURCHYARD.

BETRAYED AFFECTION.

In beauty moulded like a shape of love
From the damp earth behold her meekly rise,
As delicate as when the worshipp'd form
Bade Envy stand abash'd, while youth and grace
Round her fair mien a faultless magic threw.
Light of her home, impassion'd forth she came
And where she moved a thousand Hearts were drawn!
But he who won her warm in virgin-truth,
Belied his homage and betray'd her trust;
Then, like a haunted tomb the erring maid
By the cold World was shunn'd, nor found one spot
Of shelter, from th' accusing eye of Scorn:
Till far away, from all her scene of wo
The unlamented mourner came, with griefs
Like thunder-scars upon her soul engraved!

SECLUSION AND DEJECTION.

In a lone hamlet all retired she dwelt
In meekness and remorse: but Sorrow taught
Her kindliness to bloom; and by the Poor
A heaven-born Lady was she rightly deem'd,
Whose smile made every peasant-cottage bright
And took from Poverty the sting of shame.
Among the hermit-walks, and ancient woods
When mantled with the melancholy glow
Of eve, she wander'd oft; and when the wind
Like a stray infant down autumnal dales
Roam'd wailingly, she loved to mourn and muse;
To commune with the lonely orphan-flowers
And through sweet nature's ruin trace her own.

PARTING HOUR.

YOUTHFUL GENIUS.

Upon the mountain, with Thy hectic cheek
And soul outlooking from the lifted eye
As if the beauty of some thought were seen,
Why, who art Thou, undaunted by the storm
In rolling anthems round thee gather'd? Clouds
Swell back; and underneath wild Ocean roars
As though her waves were all to whirlpools lash'd:
Yet canopied with thunder, there thou stand'st
Till feeling like a storm of music wakes
And trembles through thy being! Art thou there
A Spirit tempest-born, and on the rock
Enthroned, to parley with the thunder-peals?

INSPIRATIONS.

PENALTIES AND PAINS.

But, oh! thou Victim of a mental curse,
The fire and fever of the soul are thine
Which burn within, like Desolation's breath!
Body and mind, before they bloom, decay;
And ere upon the rock of high renown
The banner of thy fame exulting waves
Lost in the tomb thy buried hopes will lie
And o'er thy name Oblivion's pall descend!
The path to glory is a path of death
To feeling hearts, all gifted though they be
And martyrs to the Genius they adore:
The wear of passion, and the waste of thought,
The glow of inspiration, and the gloom
That like a night-shade mars the brightest hour,
And that fierce rack on which a faithless World
Will make thee writhe—all these ennerving pangs,
With agonies which mock the might of words,
Thou canst not bear: thy temple is a tomb!

PESTILENCE.

The Scene hath vanish'd! swelling like a mist
From out a marshy vale at morn, behold!
A City, dimly-vision'd: on the view
It grows, till full in vast perfection seen.
There all is mute and motionless; no spires
Hallow the air with heavenly chime; no flags
Or banners shiver in the suppling breeze;
No eager steps sound pattering through the streets;
No life seems in it,—silent as a shade!
Look up! the sickly clouds like corpses lie
Along the heavens; and yonder dark canal
Flags like a monstrous serpent stretch'd in death;
The houses shed a monumental gloom:
The Pestilence is there!

CITY OF THE PLAGUE.

MOONLIGHT SCENE.

Turn to a vision of contrasted joy:
Ne'er since creation out of chaos roll'd
With the mild bloom of young existence fresh
Around it, hath more glorious night bedecked
The World, than that which beautifies her now.
The stars like ruminating spirits walk
The mellow sky, from whence the queenly moon
With a maternal aspect eyes the earth,
Tranced into dreamy stillness by her smile.
No! not a breeze, nor bird is on the wing;
The shy sweet flowers have shut their dewy lids,
And distant trees, upon the dark-brow'd hills,
Like shadowy sentinels are ranged. And now
The reign of heart-romance! the lulling hour
When aspirations from the mystic heaven
Effused, the high-toned mind awake with thoughts
Which angels love: but see! beneath
Yon hill, down where the wrinkled brooklets flash
In liquid revelry, the silver'd Deep
Lies bare unto the moon; and on her breast,
In swan-like glory, glides a white-wing'd boat
Calm as a cloud along its blue career.

LOVERS.

Within, like Beings from a purer sphere
A youth and his confiding maiden sit,
Her yielding waist environ'd with his arm:
Above them, beautiful the starry dome!
Beneath, the sighing of romantic waves
Woke from their slumber, or melodious heave
Of tide, the panting of the World's great heart—
Breaks on the pleasing calm: oh, lovely pair!
Warm is the gush of young affection; sweet
The overflowing of affianced hearts
Each into each with holy rapture pour'd;
Now is the spring-time of the soul, whose bloom
Is love, but once ne'er felt, and ne'er but once
Enjoy'd! On would ye float for ever thus
O'er moonlight seas, in one immortal bliss—
Silence! the language of delighted hearts.

CONSUMPTION.

THE LOVED ONE DIES.

A year hath travell'd to eternity;
And now, the shadows of the grave grow dark
Upon the maiden; yet no fruitless wish
Or word abrupt, unlovely thoughts betrays
Of gloom and discontent within; she fades
As gently as the flower declines,—not false
To living claims, and yet for death prepared.
Beautiful resignation, and the hopes
From the rich fountain of her faith derived,
Around her a seraphic air have breathed
Of wither'd loveliness. The gloss of life
And worldly dreams are o'er; but dewy Morn,
And dim-eyed Eve, and all the mental gleams
Of rapture, darted from regretted joys,
Delight her still; and oft when Twilight comes,
She gazes on the damask glow of heaven
With all the truth of happier days, until
A sunny fancy wreathes her faded cheek;
'Tis but a pleasing echo of the Past,
A music rolling from remember'd hours!
The day is come, by Death led gently on;
With pillow'd head all gracefully reclined
And glossy curls in languid clusters wreath'd,
Within a cottage-room she sits to die:
Where from the window, in a western view,
Majestic Ocean rolls. A summer-eve
Veils the calm earth, and all the glowing air
Stirs faintly, like a pulse; against the shore
The waves advance with undulating joy,
While o'er the midway-deep her eye-glance roams,
Where like a sea-god glares the travell'd Sun
O'er troops of billows marching in his beam.
From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth her eyes
Are lifted, bright with wonder and with awe,
Till through each vein reanimation rolls!—
'Tis past; and now her filmy glance is fix'd
On the rich heavens, as though her spirit gazed
On that immortal World, to which 'tis bound:
But sunset, like a burning palace fades,
In hues of visionary pomp destroy'd;
And Day and Beauty have together died:
For there like sculptured Death the maiden lies,
More exquisite than Love's embodied dream!

WAR.

The smoke, the thunder, and the din of War!
Loud as an ocean leaping into life
I hear the storm of battle swell. Advance;
And listen to the cloud-ascending peals
Of Cannon, from whose lips a lightning glares!
Hark! how the bugle-echoes beat the air,
And how the deep-roll'd drums their wrath resound,
While on the throbbing Earth the Sun looks down
Like a dread war-fiend, with a fierce delight.
Death! here thou art; and here the flashing swords
Shall reap thy harvest, and devoted souls
By thousands rush into the hands of God!

FIELD OF DEATH.

Noon into eve, and eve to night hath roll'd;
The heavens with starry eyes are set: but, see!
No wafted banners, flapping like the wings
Of eagles in their glorious strength; no steeds
Pawing and prancing with erected manes;
No warriors hand to hand; no sword to sword
Confronted, till from out some bloody gap
Their spirits bound into eternity!—
But heaps of corses, lines of dead laid out,
Unhelmeted, or gash'd and gory; men
Whose morning-beauty shamed the risen sun,
With glassy eyeballs gleaming on the moon!
A living host hath deaden'd into clay:—
No more! away, O Death! and count thy dead.

THE CAPTIVE.

THE METROPOLIS AND DEATH.

THE DESERTED ONE.