The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

And wilt thou bring a virgin heart,
And lay it on the shrine
Of holy Love, that so the part
Of Mary may be thine?—
Retreat beneath the Saviour's eye,
And to His tones of heaven reply,
While outward breath, or inward sigh
Adores Him as divine.

Then may thy youth securely rest
On more than earth bestows;
Eternity within thy breast
Already throbs, and glows;
Thou hast, ere sin the breast alloy,
That colour of celestial joy
Which brighten'd o'er the sainted boy,
Whose cry, “Speak, Lord!” arose.

He, to the Temple when a child
By his dear mother brought,
Ere manhood's guilt the heart defiled
With years of sinful thought,
Like a young priest his ephod wore;
And on his girdled form he bore
The truth of all meek Hannah swore,
When she the Lord besought.

Thus, in the vernal prime of youth
How blest are they who bring
Their souls a sacrifice for truth,
And round Christ's altar sing!
Ere shades of evil darkness fall,
Like folds of that primeval pall
Which, soon or late, envelops all
On earth now wandering.

Age has not loosed the silver cord,
Nor at the fountain-head
Doth Weariness pronounce the word,
“My pleasant things are fled!”
For still around, hope's morning dews
Fall freshly on thy fairy views,
And Nature wears those lust'rous hues
O'er life by feeling spread.

In youth there breathes a vital bloom,
A buoyancy and glow
Which seem to triumph o'er the tomb
And gladden off dull woe;
Elate as lofty, swells the hope
That longs with dangers firm to cope,
And ever round some daring scope
An eager glance to throw.

When years have cast their blighting frown
And wither'd prospects pine,
While on the head Time's hoary crown
Betrays old age is thine,
Then, sinner! 'tis a rueful sight,
To view thee through thy heart's deep night
In horror seek that saving light
Which flows from truth divine.

It is not, that a dread “too late!”
By mortal dare be sigh'd;
For never to a brother's fate
Be hope of heaven denied:
But, oh! methinks when harrowing fears
Haunt the dark mind, and bitter tears
Like drops of anguish damp the years
Of those who God defied;

When memory's weak, and conscience quails,
And life's gay tone is dead,
While hideous doubts the heart assail
By base experience bred,
'Tis awful on Death's couch to find
Some ruin'd Shape of woe reclined,
Sick of the world, but unresign'd
In dust to lay his head.

Divinest Spirit! truthful Lord,
May youth remember Thee,
And gladly in Thy glorious word
A bright hereafter see:—
There, bloom the Canaans of the young,
There, fields with hallow'd fruitage hung,
Richer than God's own poets sung
Should wave in Galilee.

Thy grace bestow, that vestal hearts
May more and more be given
To Thee and Thine, ere youth departs
From God,—by passion driven
Along that dark and dismal way
Where virtues into vices stray,
Which tempt polluted souls to say
“Earth makes my only heaven!”