Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch With lays, historical and romantic. By Charles Swain |
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BEAUTIES OF THE MIND. |
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 | Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch |  |
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BEAUTIES OF THE MIND.
“Our senses, as our reason, are divine;
But for the magic organ's powerful charm,
Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos still.”
Young.
But for the magic organ's powerful charm,
Earth were a rude, uncolour'd chaos still.”
Young.
I
Ray of the living God!—Ethereal Mind!—Immortal atom of the Deity!—
Spirit, by whatsoever name defined,
My young adoring lyre would sing of thee!—
For thou art of the Great Sublimity,
A portion and a sign;—the mighty seal
Of an Almighty writer:—hence to be
A glory round the throne where Angels kneel,
Or festering in the woes which tongue may not reveal!
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II
From the Creator thou creative art!—Inspiring knowledge is thy splendid dower!—
The faculties which can alone impart
Honour and truth and universal power:—
The glorious gift that cheers the wildest hour,
And elevates the heart beyond its sphere,
To scenes where sorrow may no longer lower;
To worlds where loftier destinies appear—
Eternity their date!—not fading year by year!
III
Thou hast dominion over space and time!The treasures of all nations are thine own;
Whate'er of vast—or noble—or sublime
Lies stretch'd within the shadow of each zone,
Is thine—imperishably thine—alone!—
The destiny of worlds affects thee not;—
Age may consume the monarch and his throne—
Oblivion whelm the palace and the cot—
But thou wilt yet survive when these are all forgot.
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IV
Thine are the magic colours which delightThe artist in his visionary mood!—
Thou art the inspiration and the might—
The deep enchantment of his solitude!
What time nor breath—nor sounds of life intrude—
Where Alps on Alps eternally seem piled—
Then is thy best—thy holiest impulse wooed!
Amid the grand—the wonderful—the wild—
For ever have thy loftiest revelations smiled.
V
The fateful volume of the mighty pastOpens before thee—and thy mother earth
Reveals her ancient stores—the rich—the vast!—
Treasured in secret from her very birth!—
With annals of her guilt—remorse—and mirth—
Her solemn catalogue of Sorrow's seeds—
Her hoarded memories of departed worth—
Her gory list of blind Ambition's deeds—
And all the frightful acts at which the bosom bleeds.
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VI
Thou art the strength of Freedom—and the lightThat animates the Patriot to declaim
Against the venders of his Country's right,
And stamp their deeds with everlasting shame!
Upon thy pinions soars the Bard to fame,
And emulates the grandeur of the sky!—
His sole ambition to deserve a name
Within his Island's records, pure and high;
To win one fadeless wreath—then bless his lyre—and die!
VII
Oh, my own land!—my beautiful free land!—Soil of the gifted!—Mother of the brave!—
I love the very shells that gem thy strand—
I gaze with pride upon thy bounding wave!—
Though o'er my head the thunder-storm may rave,
Thus do I greet the elemental ire:—
Rage on, and strike!—if thou can'st find a slave—
A heart that doth not glow with freedom's fire,—
Strike!—these are Albion's shores—we bend but to thy Sire!
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VIII
The dust we tread is portion of the bold—The heroic ashes of the charnell'd dead—
Whose arms were mighty in the days of old:
Chivalrous days!—brave hearts!—for ever fled;—
For this—for this their gallant bosoms bled;
No selfish honour—but a Nation's gain!—
That free might be the shrines—the homes we tread—
Free,—free the mountain and the vernal plain—
And shiver'd every link of Gaul's despotic chain.
IX
A glorious object breasts the stately main!—A winged wonder of the sunny air!—
With loveliness to make a Seraph vain—
With strength the furious elements to dare—
To 'front the tempest in his treacherous lair,
And dash the ruin, smiling, from her wings!—
Oh, gaze upon her!—looks she not most fair
Of all terrestrial, perishable things,
Save only that which from the eternal Godhead springs.
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X
Onward to distant climes—romantic lands—Where'er the glowing waves of ocean roll,
The queenly Ship conveys her wide commands,
From realm to realm—from pole to utmost pole!—
Reckless of danger—vanquishing control—
She rides the surges like a thing divine!—
A living creature with a dauntless soul;—
A form in which the finer powers combine:—
And this—Majestic Mind—this noble work is thine!
XI
Far as existence glows, thy gifts are thrownLike stars around creation—thou dost raise
Forth from the valley and the desert lone,
Kingdoms whose stately beauty is the gaze
And marvel of the world!—a theme of praise
To after ages—and, for each, a name
That while the last recording stone decays,
Shall light the memory with as proud a flame
As when supreme they stood—the idolized of fame.
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XII
When at the Word, the earth from chaos rose,And Life's vast circle in His glory moved;
For thee, sweet Woman, thy Creator chose
What in his works his Wisdom most approved;
To thee he gave the tenderness he loved,—
The voice, melodious as the passing sigh
Of harps, o'er which the summer winds have roved:
The bloom of roses—and the azure eye—
The lustre and the hue of his immortal sky.
XIII
The first and fondest—last and dearest power—The master-passion of the Mind, yet known,
Is Love—deep love—the sole remaining flower
Of all that bloomed in Paradise!—the lone
Celestial bud, whose tender seeds were sown,
Upon the desert and the mount sublime:—
And if Affection could indeed atone
For all that Madness lost us—sin and crime;—
Our spirits might, perchance, forget that banished clime.
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XIV
For, oh! the bliss to love, and to believeOurselves beloved!—to linger o'er each dream
Of happiness, we cannot choose but weave,—
To breathe but only in the beauteous beam
Of Love's fond, eloquent, delicious eyes!—to deem
One form the paragon of earth!—Oh, fair
As moonlight upon lilies of the stream!—
Those water-jewels—delicate and rare—
Those chaste and fitting wreaths for Beauty's raven hair.
XV
Where lives the power to touch—to soothe—to charm—To animate—depress—appal—inspire
The human Mind!—its energies to warm
With all a Hampden's patriotic fire?—
To stir the bosom with unquench'd desire
Of war's triumphant glory and renown?—
Hark!—'tis the sound of clarions and the lyre—
Banners are waving through the festal town—
The Hero comes!—he comes with his victorious crown!
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XVI
Feel ye it not?—'tis Music's matchless spellThrilling from nerve to nerve—gushing the sight
With tears of feeling indescribable,—
With sensibility's refined delight!—
List!—Hear ye through the still and lonely night
The hymn of mournful voices swell afar,
Solemn and low!—It is the burial rite—
The requiem of the dead!—another star
Hath sunk,—to show how frail, how insecure, we are!
XVII
And 'mid the shadowy forms of beauty fled,Pale Memory takes her seat, majestic, free;—
Light of Reflection!—Mirror of the dead!—
The Spirit of the Mind's eternity!—
For what the past is to the Memory
The future is to God!—Thou blessed dower,
That can'st restore the loved—the lost—to me!—
Thou dear delight of life's brief chequer'd hour!—
Take—take to Heav'n the praise, which thus through thee I pour.
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XVIII
What penetrates the mystery that lies,The splendid azure and the stars beyond—
Explores the depths of the religious skies—
Opens the vault, as with a Prophet's wand—
What comprehends the ever-during bond—
The imperishable law—the chain of might
Which links each secret feeling—fast and fond—
Connects the finite with the Infinite—
Save thou—resplendent Mind—our Spirit's guide and light!
XIX
Thou art the temple of thy God!—the homeOf sacred truth!—Religion's vital shrine!—
How far—how wide soe'er beliefs may roam,
Still thou'rt the glass that mirrors the divine!—
The hope round which unsetting glories shine;—
The seal of immortality:—the scroll
On which is writ the everlasting line
Of an Almighty love!—Death may control,—
Destroy the outward form—but never reach the soul.
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XX
I look upon the Past—into the grayAnd silent heart of Time—and I behold
A City in its grandeur, like the day,
Emerging from the East in lines of gold!—
I look again—and what doth Time unfold?—
A shapeless ruin—and a wasted crowd—
The young—the ag'd—the beautiful—the bold;—
All, by some strange o'erwhelming ill, seem bowed,
And pale and wild rush on—and shriek and weep aloud.
XXI
All—all save one—and she bends by his side,Whose arms were first to clasp her with a love,
Fond as a bridegroom's for his blushing bride—
Strong as a parent's heart alone may prove!
And she is there, beside him, like a dove
Tending his drooping form with pitying care;—
And oft her tearful eyes she lifts above,—
And offers to her God a quiet prayer—
With looks like angel's,—mild, and beautifully fair.
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XXII
I look once more—'tis midnight—and the soundOf arms and revelry burst on mine ear!—
Some sudden horror hath profaned the ground—
Slaughter and wreck!—the shivered sword and spear!
Oh, gentle Love!—so young, so true, so dear,—
Could she not 'scape the Victor's wrath—for this
Sought she her sire—while thousands fled in fear!
To calm his anguish with a daughter's kiss;
To tend his dying form—and soothe his soul to bliss.
XXIII
Alas! there is no chord of human lifeWhose natural tone breathes not of woe!—there seems
Even in boyhood, when the world is rife
With buds and birds—with flowers and sunny beams
Along our being's course, where'er it streams,
Some haunting fever of decay—some shade
From whose destructive taint, no aid redeems!
Woe, that it reached thy generous heart, sweet maid;
Woe! that so white a breast should be so darkly laid!
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XXIV
In that distracting—agonizing hour,Thou reap'dst the grief, which seem'd for ages sown;
What then sustain'd and gave thy spirit power,
To wrestle with the horrors round thee thrown?—
It was the Mind—the god-like Mind—alone!—
That rock of virtue 'mid a stormy sea;—
That spell which lends to truth its noblest tone—
Shatters the chain and sets the captive free;—
And mitigates the throes even of Mortality.
XXV
Oh! thou mysterious and eternal Mind!—Haply I sing of thee but as a bird,
Whose lonely notes float feebly on the wind,
Passing away unnoticed or unheard:—
But, oh! had I the energy of word—
The eloquence to utter all I feel—
The gift—the power to grasp Thought like a sword,
And what I know as I could wish reveal;—
My song should find a voice deep as the thunder's peal!
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XXVI
Exquisite Spirit!—if thine aspect hereIs so magnificent;—if on earth thou art
Thus admirable:—in thy sainted sphere,
What newer glories wilt thou not impart?
What powers—what unknown faculties may dart
Like sunlight through the heaven of thy mould!—
What rich endowments into life may start!—
What hidden splendours may'st thou not unfold,—
Which earthly eyes ne'er view'd—which human tongue ne'er told.
XXVII
When Time stands mute before Eternity,And the god-gifted Mind, new filled with light
From living fountains, glorified and free,
Soars in transcendent majesty and might;
An Angel in its first immortal flight!—
Gazing upon the heaven of heavens, to find
The bliss of wings!—the extacy of sight!—
A glory amidst glories of its kind!—
A disembodied Soul!—a recreated Mind!—
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XXVIII
Then—and then only—may the clouds that hideThe stars of inspiration burst away;
Then may the gates of Knowledge open wide,
And Genius find its own eternal ray:—
Oh! for the coming of that future day!—
The Spirit-light—the Intellectual dower—
The melody of that undying lay—
The bliss—the bloom of that Elysian bower—
When Time shall breathe no more!—when Tombs have lost their power!
| Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch | |