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Poems

By Edward Quillinan. With a Memoir by William Johnston

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MORALS FROM THE STARS.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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141

MORALS FROM THE STARS.

How few, on life's vain stage, enjoy their part!
With her own torch pale Envy burns her heart.
The low would rise; the high would soar; and still
Dwarf Fortune lags behind the giant Will.
Go, wiser thou,—however small thy state,—
Peruse the stars, and then forgive the great.
The stars in glory differ as in place:
Some show a dim, and some a dazzling face;
Some shine in groups, where each, by union strong,
Appropriates splendours that to all belong;
Myriads, too crowded for a separate sway,
Merge in a lucid stream,—a Milky Way.
Some, wandering, seem to dance from sphere to sphere,
But timed by laws of harmony severe.
Others in clusters interweave their rays,
Trembling in air like floating wreaths of haze.

142

Some fix'd in power, and jealous neighbours, dart
Their rival beams; while others rule apart.
Of these, One reigns superior and alone,
A keen-eyed lustre on the polar throne,
Lord of the magnet that compels the steel
To guide o'er trackless seas th' adventurous keel.
Yon azure wall, with starry sentries mann'd,
Hides worlds, perhaps more wonderfully plann'd.
Could sight prevail, with Galileo's glass,
Athwart that flaming boundary to pass,
Man might descry, beyond his prison bars,
On every side a paradise of stars;
Yet nowhere find exact proportion given:
'Tis not in earth, or sea, or air, or heaven.
Read thou the earth in heaven, and things below
By those above, in their unequal show.
Look on the scatter'd difference of things,
Content that few are nobles, fewer kings;
That most are fated homely garb to wear,
And mean the livery that thyself must bear;
Content to live obscure, unknown to die,
And in the poor man's grave forgotten lie;
No mourner's love engraven o'er thy head,
But starlike daisies on the turf instead.

143

Stars of the grave, to hope and daylight true,
Those flowers at nightfall shroud themselves from view;
At dawn unclose their lids, and all day's space
Look up to heaven with bright undoubting face:
Simple expounders of a text sublime
O'er sleeping dust that sleeps the night of time,
They shut their eyes against the charnel gloom,
And preach the Resurrection from the tomb.