 | Alfred |  |
He thus replied.
‘I am a woodman; here my father dwelt,
‘And here have I; and if my words bespeak
‘Other than woodman's mind, the gift I owe—
‘To parents, long removed from earth to heaven:
‘But, the especial honour, to one name—
‘My mother,—would I pay! She taught me first
‘To bend my knee!—to lisp my Saviour's praise!
‘To fix my best affections on that world—
‘Where happiness is found without alloy!
‘My mother! O, my mother! may I reach
‘That bless'd assemblage of the ransom'd ones,
‘Where thou art found—never to part again!—
‘And I may say, the seed first sown by her,
‘On whom I linger longest in my dreams!
‘Was nourish'd, water'd to maturity,
‘Chief by a Hermit, on the forest's verge,
‘Who to great Rome hath gone on pilgrimage;
‘Tho' tied to earth, allied to saints above!
‘And many a tear, the country round—will shed
‘When he is dead and gone!—From dwelling thus
‘In one long quietness, our minds have learn'd
‘True wisdom, by believing happiness,
‘Confined to no one spot of earth, may thrive
‘When smil'd on—by the God whom we adore,
‘E'en in our humble cottage. Here our days
‘Pass on unruffled, and, till death draw near,
‘Here be our resting-place.’
‘I am a woodman; here my father dwelt,
‘And here have I; and if my words bespeak
‘Other than woodman's mind, the gift I owe—
‘To parents, long removed from earth to heaven:
‘But, the especial honour, to one name—
210
‘To bend my knee!—to lisp my Saviour's praise!
‘To fix my best affections on that world—
‘Where happiness is found without alloy!
‘My mother! O, my mother! may I reach
‘That bless'd assemblage of the ransom'd ones,
‘Where thou art found—never to part again!—
‘And I may say, the seed first sown by her,
‘On whom I linger longest in my dreams!
‘Was nourish'd, water'd to maturity,
‘Chief by a Hermit, on the forest's verge,
‘Who to great Rome hath gone on pilgrimage;
‘Tho' tied to earth, allied to saints above!
‘And many a tear, the country round—will shed
‘When he is dead and gone!—From dwelling thus
‘In one long quietness, our minds have learn'd
‘True wisdom, by believing happiness,
‘Confined to no one spot of earth, may thrive
‘When smil'd on—by the God whom we adore,
‘E'en in our humble cottage. Here our days
‘Pass on unruffled, and, till death draw near,
‘Here be our resting-place.’
| Alfred | |