University of Virginia Library

Bright Virgin-Queen upon thine Opal Throne!—
Sweet Conqueress of the Night!—whose sable zone
Is cast around thy soft and lovely Form,
Thus proudly placed beyond the cloud—the storm—
Beyond the reach of Earth-stain or of blight,
As though by contrast with thy peerless light
Only to make thee shine more fairly bright,
Only to lend thee a more witching power
To enhance thy charms in thy triumphant Hour.
Bright Queen!—Sweet Conqueress!—many turn to thee
When they would waken slumbering Memory,
And fondly deem that thy pure hallowed ray
Revealeth things that shun the glare of Day.
Full many turn to thee, thou gentle Moon,
And ask of thee a favour and a boon—
What time thy delicate and pearly beams
Shine down upon the waves of quiet streams,
Thy soft undazzling beams, that gently throw
A dreamy radiance o'er all things below—
With which long dallying those clear waves serene
That wore Heaven's blue—or glassed their banks of green,
Enamelled o'er with graceful wilding flowers,
In the gay Sunshine's light and laughing hours,
Shall change to silver sheen, and chrystal clear,
And that Queen-Virgin's tintless livery wear.

I crave not aid from thee—thou placid Moon!
But worship at the shrine of fervent Noon!
And most when glows the splendid Sky of Day
I feel the solemn Past's deep silent sway—
Oh! 'tis beneath the golden, golden Sun
My web of Memory is most richly spun—
Her aëry tapestries and clear tissues frail
Are then best wrought—nor doth one fine thread fail;
Her floating gossamers then charm my eyes,
And catch a thousand glittering rainbowed dyes;
And if they fluttering float 'twixt me and Heaven,
By them a tenderer, purer, holier light seems given,
Even to its lustrous arch and radiant dome,
Where rose-tinged clouds like flowers of beauty bloom.
'Tis then to kindling Life around me start
The forms most dear unto my eyes and heart,
The forms beloved, admired, in other days,
On whose cold dust the Earth now harshly weighs.
Long have they absent—long divided been,
And oh! how welcome to Earth's softened scene.
Far have they wandered—long in darkness strayed
Through endless Wastes of Silence and of Shade—
But then—they gathering round me brightly come,
And call my wearied, wandering Spirit home;
For ah! it is a wanderer too, and strays
Full oft and long in far forbidden ways—
It too hath wandered—and hath walked in gloom,
Although on this side of the frowning tomb.
But 'mid Life's various paths are some as drear,
As full of shade, and mournfulness, and fear,
As any that chill'd fancy can pourtray,
Where the stern Grave yawns deep, and Death hath sway,
My Spirit long hath darkly known to roam,
And then it is that loved Ones call it home,
And win it from the wildness and the waste,
And the delusions vain it long hath chased.
Yes! it hath been a restless wanderer too,
And troublous mazes it hath travelled through,
And tracked full many a rude and rugged path,
And past o'er desert-wilds of howling wrath—
But then around, its lost Beloved Ones come,
And claim it for their own, and call it Home,
While that sweet Vision of familiar Forms
Almost atones for Fate's worst, wildest storms.
And oh! 'tis when shines forth the radiant Sun
That Vision is beheld—that Rapture won!
'Tis when the Beauty of his living rays
O'er all the landscape in full glory plays,
Those beams of splendour, that far glitt'ring shed
A brightness on the lowliest weed's meek head,
Upon the dreariest and least lovely spot!—
Oh! wheresoe'er their sparkling smiles are shot—
The glorious, the supreme, the matchless Sun!—
How proudly doth he rise his race to run,
How brightly doth he shed his rich Light round,
What time he touches on its measured bound.
'Tis when he flames in full effulgent pride
That lovely Apparitions round me glide—
Beneath the dazzling splendour of his reign
I hail the aëry Phantoms of the brain.
Sunshine to me is haunted—soft and bright,
Sweet Visions glance along the glancing light,
And golden memories of old lovely hours
Fill all my Soul among the noonlit bowers;
Then 'tis I walk as in a circling cloud
By feeling—love and dear remembrance bowed;
Then 'tis I calmly and serenely seem
Wrapped in the deep enchantment of a dream.
Yes! 'tis when Sunshine laughs o'er wood and plain,
I court sweet Memory and her shadowy train;
'Tis when shines forth the golden, golden Sun,
For me her web is ever fairest spun.
Let others then thy silvery lustre bless—
Oh! Moon—and unto thee their prayer address,
And ask thee for thy favour and thine aid
When they would call from the deep Realms of Shade
Some parted loved one—some lamented ghost—
Too long lamented, and too darkly lost.
Let others lift to thee their suppliant eyes
When on the air a brooding stillness lies,
When not a sound of living gladness wakes,
And not a smile o'er Nature's aspect breaks.
But let me evermore devoutly turn,
When richest Sunshine doth triumphant burn,
To offer my deep homage to the Past,
And court those Visions that must fade too fast.
I ever blessed that bright victorious blaze!—
Then Worlds of Magic opened on my gaze,
Then Loved Ones were most loved—Hope shone more clear,
Young Joy itself was fairer, and more dear,
And every feeling more intensely glowed,
Till all my Soul with passionate bliss o'erflowed;
Therefore it is that now, through grief and ill,
Sunshine to me is haunted, haunted still;
Therefore it is that in the noontide hours
I walk 'mid Visions deep and Mystic Powers;—
'Tis therefore in the Golden, Golden Sun,
My Web of Memory is most sweetly spun!