The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince :: :: University of Virginia Library

In the shadow of slumber as dreaming I lay,
While the skies kindled up at the coming of day,
Three Angels, with pinions of splendour unfurled,
Came down with the softness of light on the world.
Grace, glory, and gentleness compassed them round,
And their voices came forth with mellifluous sound,
As they uttered sweet words, heard and echoed above,
And departed on God-given missions of love.
From nation to nation one wandered afar,
And the tumult, the broil, the delirium of War,—
The music that mocked the last struggle of life,
The trumpet that wailed through the pauses of strife,
The sod-staining revel, the cloud-cleaving roar,
Were awed into silence, to waken no more:—
The death-dealing bolts of the cannon were stayed,
The soldier flung from him the blood-reeking blade,
The plume was uncared for, the helmet unworn,
The laurel was withered, the banner was torn,

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The gorgeous delusion of warfare was past,
And the spirit of Brotherhood triumphed at last!

Then Science arose from his thraldom, and stole
From the keeping of Nature new gifts for the soul;
Then valorous Enterprise waved his proud hand,
And might and magnificence covered the land;
Then Commerce, from bonds of oppression set free,
Linked country to country, and sea unto sea;
Then Art, with a dream-like devotion, refined
Into beauty and purity, matter and mind;
Then Knowledge let loose all her treasures, and found
Goodly seed springing up in the stoniest ground;
Then lowly-born Industry learned to be blest,
Grew proud of his labour, and pleased with his rest;
The fields with unfailing abundance grew rife,
The cities were peopled with prosperous life;
Power, Plenty, Intelligence, prospered amain,
Secure of a placid and permanent reign;
While the Poet, a prophet, a teacher in song,
Sang hymns of rejoicing to gladden the throng;—
And well might such multiform blessings have birth,
For the Angel of Peace had re-hallowed the earth!

Another dear visitant, sweetly sublime,
Went forth as a pleader for error and crime;
In the palace she tempered the soul of the king,
And his heart opened out at the touch of her wing:
In the senate she governed with eloquent awe,—
She swayed in the council, she lived in the law;
In the prison, mid apathy, terror, and gloom,
To the wretch who lay waiting the word of his doom,
She whispered of hope, breathed a calm o'er his fears,
Till his eyes overflowed with the blessing of tears,—
Till his spirit shook off the sad slouch of despair,
And his lips were inspired with the fervour of prayer.

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By the side of grave Justice she took her proud stand,
And touched the dread scales with so lenient a hand
That the guilty, o'erburthened with gladness, withdrew
To a life of repentance, and usefulness, too,—
To a life which atoned to the world for the past,
And cancelled their records of sinning at last.
Then the axe of the headsman lay rotting with rust;—
Then the gallows and guillotine crumbled to dust;—
Then those legalised slaughters, which reddened the sod
With a sacrifice foul and offensive to God,
Being hideous and useless, went down to decay,
For the Angel of Mercy had willed them away!

That Peace had accomplished, this Mercy had done,
But a great moral conquest had yet to be won;
And the third of these Angels came down to reclaim
A multitude steeped in sin, squalor, and shame.
Mid the children of Penury, Passion, and Toil,
The town-fettered craftsmen, the sons of the soil;—
Mid the by-ways of life, pestilential and cold,
Mid the haunts where the draughts of destruction were sold,
Midst the hovels whose hearthstones were sordid and bare,
Mid the ravings of frenzy, the tears of despair;—
Mid fathers that clung to the thraldom of sin,
Mid mothers that revelled in lewdness and din,
Mid children, poor aliens to comfort and rest,
Who learnt a dread vice as they hung at the breast;—
Mid the lowly who made their sad destiny worse,
Mid the gifted who writhed in the coils of the curse—
The Angel walked forth, clothed in goodness and grace,
And the demon of Drunkenness fled from her face!

But, inspired by her presence, the gifted looked up—
The lowly threw down the insidious cup,

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The father grew blest in the love of his child,
The mother cast from her the things that defiled,
While her offspring grew docile, and happy, and wise,
And beheld their own joy in affectionate eyes;
The dwelling, though poor, became quiet and clean,
And harmony reigned where disorder had been;
Home pleasures, home treasures, home duties, home rest,
Were found to be holiest, calmest, and best;
The haunts of excitement grew empty and still,
Or peopled with souls of a healthier will;
The craftsman in bearing grew sober and trim,
The peasant rejoiced in a sturdier limb;
The tongues of the timid found words to declaim
'Gainst the ills that oppressed them with sorrow and shame;
And a mission of brothers, Age, Manhood, and Youth,
Went out to instil the new essence of truth;
The Orator caught a new theme for his speech,—
The Pastor was glad the new doctrine to teach,
And the Poet, who stood in the van of the throng,
Found his spirit expanding with loftier song:—
And well might his soul to new triumphs aspire,
For the Angel of Temperance kindled his fire!

Then the voice of the multitudes burst into glee,
Like the swell and the shout of a turbulent sea:—
“Peace, Mercy, and Temperance!” Earth seemed to cry—
“Peace, Mercy, and Temperance!” echoed the Sky;
And I started from sleep with a bound and a scream,
Overawed by the splendour and power of my dream!

Disdain not the night-vision's mystical lore,
For “coming events cast their shadows before:”
And the Angels are coming, broad-winged on the wind,
And the pinions of Freedom press closely behind!

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THE ROBIN.

A POEM FOR CHILDHOOD.

The Robin is an English bird, fond of his native sky,
Whate'er the season, fierce or calm, he never deigns to fly;
He, like a patriot tried and true, braves every varying time,
And seems to cling the faithfullest when storms are in his clime.

The Robin is a bonny bird, as merry Childhood knows,
Although he wears no gaudy crown, and dons no dainty clothes;
Although no sun-hues paint his wing, or play about his crest,
One ruddy flush of beauty burns upon his buoyant breast!

The Robin is a sacred bird, by Nature's nameless charm,
Romance and song have hallowed him, and shielded him from harm:
The school-boy, as he roams about, on mischief bent, or play,
Peeps in upon his callow brood, but takes them not away.

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The Robin is a gentle bird,—for so old legends tell;—
The Babes that died in the forest wide, he guarded long and well;
He made for them a winding-sheet of fragrant leaves and flowers,
And sung a daily dirge for them in the dim cathedral bowers.

The Robin is a tuneful bird,—how oft, at shut of day,
With his familiar music, he disturbs the dewy spray!
With song so quaint and querulous, and yet so sweet and wild,
That Age leans on his trembling staff, and listens like a child.

The Robin is a social bird, that loves the kindly poor,—
He scorns the palace porch, but comes to haunt the cottage door;
For bit or crumb he is not dumb, nor insolent, nor shy,
He sets his thanks to melody, and bids his friends goodbye!

The Robin is a patient bird, for in the sternest hour
His grateful anthem gushes forth with most consoling power;
And though a touch of sadness seems to mingle with the strain,
'Tis such as suits the pensive ear, and gives the heart no pain.

The Robin is the Poet's bird, poetic is his name,
And mortal minstrels, not a few, have linked him with their fame;

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Poor Robin Bloomfield spake his praise, as eke did Robin Burns,
And Redbreast sings a requiem above their honoured urns.

The Robin is a welcome bird, when frost is creeping round,
When snow-wreaths wrap the ghostly trees, and clothe the stilly ground;
But woe to them who have no heart to love his simple lay,
For birds, like flowers, are pleasant things that never lead astray.

Then from the Robin let me learn some lessons good and wise,—
Firm faithfulness, sweet cheerfulness, beneath the sternest skies,
A hymn of praise, an upward gaze to Him who guides and gives,
Who moulds and moves, sustains and loves, the humblest thing that lives!