 | Dryburgh Abbey and other poems |  |
THOUGHTS ON THE STARS.
Stars of the solemn night,
Mute prophets of old time,
What mark ye on your calm and beauteous flight
O'er distant shore and clime?
Mute prophets of old time,
What mark ye on your calm and beauteous flight
O'er distant shore and clime?
Retains the queenly Earth
Her majesty of air—
The brightness of the morning of her birth,
When Deity moved there?
Her majesty of air—
The brightness of the morning of her birth,
When Deity moved there?
Still, silent gaze ye down,
Pale watchers of the hour;
Miss ye the lost, the old seraphic crown
God placed in Eden's bower?
Pale watchers of the hour;
Miss ye the lost, the old seraphic crown
God placed in Eden's bower?
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Miss ye the seraph-wings
That dwelt with earth of old?
Shows Night no more the soul-inspiring things
Her hosts could erst unfold?
That dwelt with earth of old?
Shows Night no more the soul-inspiring things
Her hosts could erst unfold?
Hear ye, by Chebar's stream,
The angels sing no more?
Fled is the inspiration of that theme?
Is all its music o'er?
The angels sing no more?
Fled is the inspiration of that theme?
Is all its music o'er?
The olive and the vine
Flourish in beauty still;
But when will shape, or sound, or sight divine,
Hallow fount, vale, or hill?
Flourish in beauty still;
But when will shape, or sound, or sight divine,
Hallow fount, vale, or hill?
Hush'd is the Delphian lute,
The Olympic laurel gone;
The triumphs of Athenian song are mute;
But ye, ye still shine on.
The Olympic laurel gone;
The triumphs of Athenian song are mute;
But ye, ye still shine on.
I mark ye flashing free,
Yet marvel 'midst your light
That ye, who watch'd the Saviour's agony,
Could e'er again look bright.
Yet marvel 'midst your light
That ye, who watch'd the Saviour's agony,
Could e'er again look bright.
Empires have shrunk to dust;
Crowns crumbled 'neath your sway;
Sceptres and thrones, whereon the Mighty trust,
Fallen, like meaner prey.
Crowns crumbled 'neath your sway;
Sceptres and thrones, whereon the Mighty trust,
Fallen, like meaner prey.
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Sage, seer, and prophet fam'd,
To you their hours have given;
Ye by the bard immortal have been nam'd
The poetry of heaven.
To you their hours have given;
Ye by the bard immortal have been nam'd
The poetry of heaven.
And yet not so; if power,
Passion, and grandeur, be
The elements of that mysterious dower,
Clouds are heaven's poetry:
Passion, and grandeur, be
The elements of that mysterious dower,
Clouds are heaven's poetry:
When they at sunset wear
The mantle of their god,
And with their gorgeous presence all the air
Seems as by angels trod.
The mantle of their god,
And with their gorgeous presence all the air
Seems as by angels trod.
Or when from storm beneath
The lightning leaps afar,
Like God's avenging sword from out its sheath—
Oh, match not with the star.
The lightning leaps afar,
Like God's avenging sword from out its sheath—
Oh, match not with the star.
The poetry of clouds!
The passion and the might,
Which at one stride the howling ocean shrouds,
And shakes the throne of Night.
The passion and the might,
Which at one stride the howling ocean shrouds,
And shakes the throne of Night.
Clouds are heaven's poetry—
Whirlwind and tempest make
These their wild heralds o'er the shrieking sea,
Whilst hearts with terror ache.
Whirlwind and tempest make
These their wild heralds o'er the shrieking sea,
Whilst hearts with terror ache.
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No; beautiful ye are,
And fair as woman's love;
And to the poet dear is every star
His eyes yet found above.
And fair as woman's love;
And to the poet dear is every star
His eyes yet found above.
But not to you is given
The character to change,
And mark the varying poetry of heaven—
Ye have a bounded range.
The character to change,
And mark the varying poetry of heaven—
Ye have a bounded range.
Nor need the bard deny
What every moment tells,
Clouds are the mighty features of the sky,
And there expression dwells.
What every moment tells,
Clouds are the mighty features of the sky,
And there expression dwells.
Youth, hope, and beauty, meet
To celebrate your worth;
Ye to the lover and the muse are sweet
As aught beheld from earth.
To celebrate your worth;
Ye to the lover and the muse are sweet
As aught beheld from earth.
Ye cheer the cloister'd flower,
When night sits cold and dim;
Or list the lonely nun at twilight-hour
Breathe low her vesper-hymn.
When night sits cold and dim;
Or list the lonely nun at twilight-hour
Breathe low her vesper-hymn.
All sacred feelings seem
To hail the light ye shed;
Prophets have knelt, and bless'd the starry beam
That first to Jesus led.
To hail the light ye shed;
Prophets have knelt, and bless'd the starry beam
That first to Jesus led.
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Oh, when my setting day
Leaves dark the path I trod,
Still lead my thoughts upon your heavenly way,
And light my soul to God.
Leaves dark the path I trod,
Still lead my thoughts upon your heavenly way,
And light my soul to God.
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