 | Love's Last Labour Not Lost |  |
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THE SILENT HARP.
Part I.
Oh, for a gentle sleep! a pleasant dream
To bear me to the mansions of the blest!
O, but to bask one moment in the beam
That circles the Saint's Everlasting Rest!
Was my last prayer to heaven, when I my pillow press'd.
To bear me to the mansions of the blest!
O, but to bask one moment in the beam
That circles the Saint's Everlasting Rest!
Was my last prayer to heaven, when I my pillow press'd.
And presently came over me a calm,
A sweet forgetfulness of earthly things,
As if I had imbibed some soothing balm,
Some balm celestial such as angel brings,
The Messenger of Peace with healing on his wings.
A sweet forgetfulness of earthly things,
As if I had imbibed some soothing balm,
Some balm celestial such as angel brings,
The Messenger of Peace with healing on his wings.
And I beheld a solitary star
In the cerulean firmament, that led
The Magi, from their orient hills afar,
To Bethlehem's thrice hallow'd, humble shed,
At the Messiah's feet their royal gifts to spread.
In the cerulean firmament, that led
The Magi, from their orient hills afar,
To Bethlehem's thrice hallow'd, humble shed,
At the Messiah's feet their royal gifts to spread.
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Methought, dissolved in this delightful dream,
The fragrant breath of Sharon's Rose I drew;
That, water'd by fair Zion's crystal stream,
Of Palestine the golden Lily's hue
The Garden of the Lord unfolded to my view.
The fragrant breath of Sharon's Rose I drew;
That, water'd by fair Zion's crystal stream,
Of Palestine the golden Lily's hue
The Garden of the Lord unfolded to my view.
Nor heat nor cold were there, nor sun nor moon,
Nor morning star nor evening, day or night;
But in the blaze of an eternal noon
Walk'd forth in majesty the Sons of Light,
Their crowns of glittering gold, their robes of purest white.
Nor morning star nor evening, day or night;
But in the blaze of an eternal noon
Walk'd forth in majesty the Sons of Light,
Their crowns of glittering gold, their robes of purest white.
And then I listen'd to the thunder's roar,
And saw the mountains shake, and, opening wide,
The graves their pale, affrighted dead restore;
The blood-red sun Cimmerian darkness hide,
And the veil rent in twain when the Redeemer died!
And saw the mountains shake, and, opening wide,
The graves their pale, affrighted dead restore;
The blood-red sun Cimmerian darkness hide,
And the veil rent in twain when the Redeemer died!
No tongue can tell the agony I felt,
The awe sublime that o'er my spirit came
As I before Salvation's Symbol knelt,
And silently adored His Holy Name—
For reverence seal'd my lips, and tremors shook my frame.
The awe sublime that o'er my spirit came
As I before Salvation's Symbol knelt,
And silently adored His Holy Name—
For reverence seal'd my lips, and tremors shook my frame.
Encircled by a rainbow rose a seat
On which sat One before whom myriads bow'd;
Lamps of bright incense burning at His feet,
While joyful hallelujahs peal'd aloud
From the angelic hosts, of witnesses a cloud.
On which sat One before whom myriads bow'd;
Lamps of bright incense burning at His feet,
While joyful hallelujahs peal'd aloud
From the angelic hosts, of witnesses a cloud.
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So glorious was the vision, so august;
So thrilling its solemnity and sound;
Could I look on and live? Poor sinful dust!
My senses all were paralysed, and drown'd
In a bewildering trance, dark, death-like, and profound.
So thrilling its solemnity and sound;
Could I look on and live? Poor sinful dust!
My senses all were paralysed, and drown'd
In a bewildering trance, dark, death-like, and profound.
“O, for a gentle sleep! a pleasant dream
To bear me to the mansions of the blest!”
A spirit whisper'd, “Was your wish supreme,
Your fervent prayer when you retired to rest—
You've seen a glimpse of heaven, a shadowy glimpse at best.
To bear me to the mansions of the blest!”
A spirit whisper'd, “Was your wish supreme,
Your fervent prayer when you retired to rest—
You've seen a glimpse of heaven, a shadowy glimpse at best.
“But ere the birds awake you with their songs,
And the bright morning star begins to pale,
Another vision which to earth belongs,
To sin reproved and pardon'd, woe and wail,
Shall meet your startled gaze.—Behold! I lift the veil.”
And the bright morning star begins to pale,
Another vision which to earth belongs,
To sin reproved and pardon'd, woe and wail,
Shall meet your startled gaze.—Behold! I lift the veil.”
Part II.
A new enchantment wakes my wonder now!
I see, as in a magic mirror clear,
A pictured Image with its heavenly brow,
A tuneful harp, to memory ever dear,
My cherish'd household gods for many a happy year.
I see, as in a magic mirror clear,
A pictured Image with its heavenly brow,
A tuneful harp, to memory ever dear,
My cherish'd household gods for many a happy year.
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Mournful remembrances of trials past!
What would ye? The dark, desolating day
Of anguish that I look'd upon ye last
Has left me not a sigh or tear to pay.
My homeless heart is dead, or only lives to pray!
What would ye? The dark, desolating day
Of anguish that I look'd upon ye last
Has left me not a sigh or tear to pay.
My homeless heart is dead, or only lives to pray!
What supernatural, mysterious power
Gives life and motion to that Image there?
Like a vex'd spirit at the midnight hour
From yonder tapestried wall it treads the air,
Its hands devoutly cross'd, its pale lips whispering prayer.
Gives life and motion to that Image there?
Like a vex'd spirit at the midnight hour
From yonder tapestried wall it treads the air,
Its hands devoutly cross'd, its pale lips whispering prayer.
Slowly and solemnly it steals along
To touch those silent harp-strings. Will they speak
In some sad melody, some sacred song?
Hark! their response is an unearthly shriek,
Which makes more deadly wan that pallid, spectral cheek!
To touch those silent harp-strings. Will they speak
In some sad melody, some sacred song?
Hark! their response is an unearthly shriek,
Which makes more deadly wan that pallid, spectral cheek!
And now I hear a hollow, stifled groan
Burst through the hot and suffocating air,
Such as belongs to broken hearts alone,
And see the tears of passionate despair
Flow from the streaming eyes of that frail Image fair.
Burst through the hot and suffocating air,
Such as belongs to broken hearts alone,
And see the tears of passionate despair
Flow from the streaming eyes of that frail Image fair.
Such bitter sobs ne'er fell on mortal ears
Since Mary knelt in penitence and prayer,
And wash'd the feet of Jesus with her tears,
And kiss'd, and wiped them with her golden hair—
Jesus, who came in peace to pity and to spare!
Since Mary knelt in penitence and prayer,
And wash'd the feet of Jesus with her tears,
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Jesus, who came in peace to pity and to spare!
When suddenly a light ethereal shone,
And their high Sanctus Seraphim did sing,
“Glory to Him who sits upon the throne?”
And see, transfigured, with an angel's wing
That Image robed in white, a pure, a holy thing!
And their high Sanctus Seraphim did sing,
“Glory to Him who sits upon the throne?”
And see, transfigured, with an angel's wing
That Image robed in white, a pure, a holy thing!
“I know that my Redeemer liveth! Yes!
And that His Cross I have not borne in vain.”
This was her song of triumph—nothing less
Awoke her silent harp, and voice again—
The glorious Lamb of God for poor lost sinners slain!
And that His Cross I have not borne in vain.”
This was her song of triumph—nothing less
Awoke her silent harp, and voice again—
The glorious Lamb of God for poor lost sinners slain!
And now the music ceased, the vision closed;
And village bells to hail the Sabbath peal'd—
I left my pillow with a mind composed,
Assured my dream some sacred truth conceal'd,
Before the Throne of Light one day to be reveal'd.
And village bells to hail the Sabbath peal'd—
I left my pillow with a mind composed,
Assured my dream some sacred truth conceal'd,
Before the Throne of Light one day to be reveal'd.
| Love's Last Labour Not Lost | |