 | The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery |  |
THE UNDESCRIBED.
These fearful visions of thy varied powerAppalling Death! with dreader ones compared,
Reflect a shadow of thy murderous sway,—
Thy ceaseless havoc through the realms of Life.
Let others paint thee on the desert-heath
Where, melting into blood, with lukewarm limbs
A gory wretch lies gasping and alone;
Or in the roofless and deserted homes,
Where fires have blacken'd on the blister'd walls;
Or in the Suicide,—lo! where he stands
557
And spirit shivering through his guilty frame!
DEATH'S UNIVERSAL REIGN.
Yes! far or near, where'er the life-blood flows,By ruin, violence, or calm decay
Death's ravages are felt: the very dust
That in our daily walks we tread, hath once
Some breathing mould of Beauty been. O earth!
Thou grave, and mother! in thy hollow breast
What faded myriads are entomb'd! Your dead
Give back, departed Ages, and arise
Ye spirits of the Past!—they come, they come!
From mountain and from cave, from vault and tomb
The Dead are darting into life again!
The generations that have been, from Earth's
Young dawn, to moments on their very wing
Behold them! sumless as the ocean sand;
A world of Life walks o'er a world of Death;
Till all are buried in one deep Abyss,
The tomb of passion, prejudice, and time!
WHAT ALL HAVE FELT.
To die, is Nature's universal doom;The Past hath braved it, and the Future shall;
Though little deem we, as we laugh the hours
Along like echoes dandled by the wind,
How swift our path is verging to the grave.
Terrific Power! how often in the hush
Of midnight, when the thoughtless learn to think,
The gay grow solemn, and the foolish wise,
Visions of thee come floating o'er the mind
Like exhalations from a grave! How oft
We feel an awfulness the soul o'ershade
As if 'twere soaring to the throne of God,
Till in one thought of heaven we bury all
The breathing universe of life and man!
HUMAN FATE.
A death-cloud rises with the star of Life;And ere upon the world our hearts expand,
Like flower-buds opening to the kiss of Morn,
With gay and guiltless love, the voice of doom
Awakes; this sermon from the grave is preach'd;
We live to die, and die again to live
A spirit-life in unimagined worlds!
First, Infancy, whose days are prattling dreams;
Next, Childhood, crown'd with beauty, health, and joy,—
Those wizard three, which make the mind like spring,
The breath, the bloom and sunshine of the soul;—
Then, Manhood, most majestic; through the heavens
Piercing with haughty eye, and printing earth
With kingly steps; ambition, love, and care,
And energy, in wild and restless play
For ever heaving like a wave of fire;
And then comes passionless and feeble Age
That droops and drops into the silent grave!
Here ends the scene of life; one moment wept,
The next forgotten; let the curtain fall,
Oblivion has our tale,—we lived, and died!
PAST AND FUTURE.
Thousands of years beneath thy sway have groan'dUnwearied Death! how many more shall bear
The burden of the curse, no human tongue
Can tell, for they are chronicled above;
Though ofttimes number'd by a guilty mind
When thunders, like dread oracles, the world
Awake. Yet, come it will, however late,
That day foretold when Death himself shall die!
And generations, now but dust and worms,
Rise into being with an angel-shout
And on the winds of glory soar to heaven!
PREPARATION.
And yet, though Life enchant, and Death appal,
How gently does the hand of Time unloose
Those many links which chain us to the world!
The passions which inspirit youthful hearts
And spread a lustre o'er the brow of life
And bid the hopes of young Ambition bound,
Decay and cool, as further down the vale
Of twilight-years we wend, till, all resign'd,
The time-worn spirit ponders o'er the tomb
With elevating sadness; and the night
Of death is lit with those immortal stars
By Revelation sphered in heaven.
How gently does the hand of Time unloose
Those many links which chain us to the world!
The passions which inspirit youthful hearts
And spread a lustre o'er the brow of life
And bid the hopes of young Ambition bound,
Decay and cool, as further down the vale
Of twilight-years we wend, till, all resign'd,
The time-worn spirit ponders o'er the tomb
With elevating sadness; and the night
Of death is lit with those immortal stars
By Revelation sphered in heaven.
How pure
The grace, the gentleness, of virtuous Age!
Though solemn, not austere; though wisely dead
To passion, and the wildering dreams of hope,
Not un-alive to tenderness and truth,
The good old Man is honour'd and revered,
And breathes upon the young-limb'd race around
A grey and venerable charm of years.
The grace, the gentleness, of virtuous Age!
Though solemn, not austere; though wisely dead
To passion, and the wildering dreams of hope,
Not un-alive to tenderness and truth,
The good old Man is honour'd and revered,
And breathes upon the young-limb'd race around
A grey and venerable charm of years.
558
ALLEVIATIONS.
And, glory to the Power which brings the heartIn sympathy with Time! how much remains
In the pure freshness of ideal life,
For him who loves the bloom of Days no more!
A meditative walk by wood or mead,
The lull of streams, and language of the stars
Heard in the heart alone; an inward view
Of all which beautified or graced his youth,
Is yet enjoy'd; and with that bliss are found
The feelings flowing from a better World.
SPIRITUAL TRIUMPH.
Then, melt, ye horrors! which the grave begets,And turn to glory, by the spell of faith
Transform'd; for Christ hath overcome the tomb.—
What though 'tis awful, when the pulse of Life
Is bounding, and the blood seems liquid joy;
To look Corruption in its ghastly face,
The mind is Man! no sepulchre for souls
Can dust and darkness frame; like God apart
In calm eternity they act and think:
The shroud, the hearse, the life-alarming knell,
The grave's cold silence, and the vision'd friends
Whose dreams will hover round our chill decay,
Harrow our living dust, and give to Death
A sting that dwells not in his own dark power.
We die in body, but in soul we live,
When flesh and spirit sunder; then our chains
Are riven, and celestial freedom dawns!
The fetter'd eagle whom a narrow cage
Imprison'd, where so oft his haughty wings
In wild unrest have beat his hated walls
With blood-stain'd plumage, while his eyeballs glared
Proudly along the blue and boundless sky
Above him,—free and fetterless at last
On plumes of ecstasy can soar away
And mount, and mingle with the heaven he loves!
RETROSPECTIONS.
Of Death I sing; yet soon may darkly sleep
And press the pillow of the dreamless grave
Forgetting and forgot! But twenty years
Have wither'd, since my pilgrimage began,
And I look back upon my boyish days
With mournful joy; as musing wanderers do
With eye reverted from some lofty hill
Upon the bright and peaceful vale below.
Oh! let me live, until the fires which feed
My soul, have work'd themselves away, and then
Eternal Spirit! take me to Thy home:
For when a child, inspiring dreams I shaped,
And nourish'd aspirations that awoke
Beautiful feelings, flowing from the face
Of Nature; from a child I learn'd to reap
A harvest of sweet thoughts for future years.
And press the pillow of the dreamless grave
Forgetting and forgot! But twenty years
Have wither'd, since my pilgrimage began,
And I look back upon my boyish days
With mournful joy; as musing wanderers do
With eye reverted from some lofty hill
Upon the bright and peaceful vale below.
Oh! let me live, until the fires which feed
My soul, have work'd themselves away, and then
Eternal Spirit! take me to Thy home:
For when a child, inspiring dreams I shaped,
And nourish'd aspirations that awoke
Beautiful feelings, flowing from the face
Of Nature; from a child I learn'd to reap
A harvest of sweet thoughts for future years.
How oft, be witness, Guardian of our days!
In noons of young delight, while o'er the down
Humming like bees my happy playmates fled,
I loved on high and hoary crag to muse
And thread the landscape with delighted eye:
The sky besprinkled o'er with rainbow-hues,
As if angelic wings had wanton'd there;
The distant City capp'd with hazy towers;
And river, shyly roaming by its banks
Of green repose, together with the play
Of elfin-music on the fresh-wing'd air,—
With these entranced, how often have I glow'd
With thoughts which panted to be eloquent,
Yet only ventured forth in tears!
In noons of young delight, while o'er the down
Humming like bees my happy playmates fled,
I loved on high and hoary crag to muse
And thread the landscape with delighted eye:
The sky besprinkled o'er with rainbow-hues,
As if angelic wings had wanton'd there;
The distant City capp'd with hazy towers;
And river, shyly roaming by its banks
Of green repose, together with the play
Of elfin-music on the fresh-wing'd air,—
With these entranced, how often have I glow'd
With thoughts which panted to be eloquent,
Yet only ventured forth in tears!
PARTING THOUGHTS.
And nowThough haply mellow'd by correcting time,
I thank thee, Heaven! that this bereaving World
Hath not diminish'd the undaunted hopes
Of youth, in manhood's more imposing cares.
Nor titled pomp, nor princely mansions swell
The cloud of envy o'er my heart; for these
Are oft delusive, though adored: but when
The Holy and the Beautiful from God
Descend into my being; when I hear
The oracles which from Creation-shrines,
Roll their deep melody round listening hearts;
Or gaze on Virtue, till her glory seems
Emmanuel's shadow by a Saint expressed;
Then feel I envy for immortal words,
And the full pulse of Poetry begins
To waken in me, with exulting throb
No language echoes! then the spirit yearns
To dash my feelings into deathless verse
Which may administer to Time unborn,
And tell some lofty Soul, how I have lived
A worshipper of Nature, and of Thee.
| The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery | |