The Way to the Chapter House.
Sacred Retirement.
I
A mountain lake, where sleeps the mid-day Moon,
When beetle booming by is heard no more—
'Twixt drowsy hills and sea a sultry noon—
A rural Church, some Ev'ning funeral o'er—
A leaf's still image in a fountain hoar—
On cloistral pane the gaze of Saint or Seer,
Suffus'd with lessons sweet of heav'nly lore,
And heav'nly-rapt affection—These all wear
Calm unalloy'd, but none as lingereth here.
II
The long green avenue, where light and shade
Chequering the floor, now play, now sleep profound;
Old pines, the lonely breeze that by them stray'd
Wooing in vain; old yews, hiding the ground,
Grey oaks, and far-off spires, seem to have found
A voice, while busier sounds are dimly spent,
As waken'd by the stillness. One around,
On pillars of blue light hath spread His tent;
And walks with us below in silence eloquent.
III
And now we hear Him: thus when Nature's wheel
Is still, we find ourselves hurrying along;
In crowds ourselves alone we mostly feel;
When turbulence of business, and the throng
Of passionate hopes, which unto Earth belong,
And mould too oft from Earth the rebel will,
Sleep;—then we hear the mighty undersong,
To which loud Niagara's voice is still,
And mute the thunders strong which air and ocean fill.
IV
O heavenly Love, that o'er us, sin-defil'd,
With thy blest arm beneath us, leaning low,
Dost watch, fond mother, o'er thy slumbering child,
That still in dreams is tossing to and fro,
And knowing knows thee not! Aye! come and go
Thy messengers of pity; from Heav'n's door
The star its silver image shoots below,
Seen instantaneous in the wat'ry floor;
So quick 'tween Earth and Heav'n thy beams of mercy pour!
V
Into my cold and leaden spirit stream,
Out of thy Star of beauty, that doth burn
Around my Saviour's brow! O grant one beam,
One faint, dim emanation from thine urn,
Which e'en in me may so responsive turn,
Like magnet to thy pole, that I may rove
No longer. I my daily path would earn,
And gather tow'rd the haven; I would move
On by thy light till lost in everlasting love.
VI
Oh! hide me in thy temple, ark serene,
Where safe upon the swell of this rude sea,
I might survey the stars, thy towers between,
And might pray always; not that I would be
Uplifted, or would fain not dwell with Thee
On the rough waters; but in soul within
I sigh for Thy pure calm, serene and free;
I too would prove Thy Temple, 'mid the din
Of earthly things, unstain'd by care or sin!
VII
Into the deeps, where Ev'ning holds her court,
A feather'd flock are winging their wild flight,
Now gradual fading far, now borne athwart,
And seen again, now lost in Infinite
And Sea of purple; we, with eager sight
Would match their soaring wings, as on the swell
Of music, ling'ring in some vaulted height,—
Then sink, and feel our chain and earthly cell;—
When shall the soul be free, and in those glories dwell?
