 | The New Brunswick Poems of Jonathan Odell |  |
16
Poems of Private Life
17
SONG
When first I beheld my Nancy
Lightly tripping o'er the plain
She excelled what poets fancy
Of the bright etherial train.
Her auburn tresses wild in air
Courted each passing wanton breeze
The Graces hovered round my fair
And taught her every art to please.
Swift then, Swift as the bolt of Jove
Cupid drove in his arrow here
It pained—it throbb'd my heart was burnt up with Love
Ardent Love of my Nancy dear.
Lightly tripping o'er the plain
She excelled what poets fancy
Of the bright etherial train.
Her auburn tresses wild in air
Courted each passing wanton breeze
The Graces hovered round my fair
And taught her every art to please.
Swift then, Swift as the bolt of Jove
Cupid drove in his arrow here
It pained—it throbb'd my heart was burnt up with Love
Ardent Love of my Nancy dear.
Like the stricken Deer, sequestered
Straight I sought the shady grove
There my wounded bosom festered
Sighs and tears expressed my love,
My arms embraced the vacant air
Fancy the fond illusion drew
I knelt and I courted the scornful fair
When soon the airy vision flew.
Wild then, storming at all the Race
Echo repeated each heart felt groan
The Brook, compassionate, moved in a softer Pace
Murmuring to my pensive moan.
Straight I sought the shady grove
There my wounded bosom festered
Sighs and tears expressed my love,
My arms embraced the vacant air
Fancy the fond illusion drew
I knelt and I courted the scornful fair
When soon the airy vision flew.
Wild then, storming at all the Race
Echo repeated each heart felt groan
The Brook, compassionate, moved in a softer Pace
Murmuring to my pensive moan.
Now by Fortune doomed to languish
Weary of the sight of day
Death I called to ease my anguish—
When my Nancy blithe and Gay
From behind a hawthorne Bower
Where, she'd seen me all the while
The helpless Victim of her power
Received me with a Generous Smile.
Come then, come to my arms she cry'd
Stephen deserves his Nancy's heart
Our hearts, our hands together shall now be tyed
Nought but death the bond shall part.
Weary of the sight of day
Death I called to ease my anguish—
When my Nancy blithe and Gay
From behind a hawthorne Bower
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The helpless Victim of her power
Received me with a Generous Smile.
Come then, come to my arms she cry'd
Stephen deserves his Nancy's heart
Our hearts, our hands together shall now be tyed
Nought but death the bond shall part.
Now the pain is turned to pleasure
Every object doubly charms
Nancy is My darling treasure
Joy resides but in her arms
All the bliss that man can know
Short of that beyond the skies
My Nancy doth on me bestow
And grateful I possess the Prize
Now, now long as I have to Live
Clasping my lovely Nancy dear
I know, I feel the Utmost that Jove can give
Friendship Warm and Love Sincere.
Every object doubly charms
Nancy is My darling treasure
Joy resides but in her arms
All the bliss that man can know
Short of that beyond the skies
My Nancy doth on me bestow
And grateful I possess the Prize
Now, now long as I have to Live
Clasping my lovely Nancy dear
I know, I feel the Utmost that Jove can give
Friendship Warm and Love Sincere.
[date unknown]
20
TO A YOUNG LADY, ON THE DEATH OF HER FATHER
Almighty Ruler, whose unceasing Sway
Millions of Suns and rolling Worlds obey,
That, through all Space, thy power may be display'd,
And light and life the boundless all pervade;
O what is man! who, from this vale of tears,
Of mingled joys and Sorrows, hopes and fears,
Can dark his eye to Heaven, and catch a gleam
Of light far brighter than the Solar beam,
And, in the volume of created things,
Discern the Source whence all creation springs.
Millions of Suns and rolling Worlds obey,
That, through all Space, thy power may be display'd,
And light and life the boundless all pervade;
O what is man! who, from this vale of tears,
Of mingled joys and Sorrows, hopes and fears,
Can dark his eye to Heaven, and catch a gleam
Of light far brighter than the Solar beam,
And, in the volume of created things,
Discern the Source whence all creation springs.
Man, thus by Nature's bounty richly fraught
With active power and energy of thought,
May claim alliance with angelic thrones,
Yet oft, alas, his present lot bemoans.
On passion's tide, by winds confliction toss'd,
Wide of his course, his helm of reason lost,
Oft over rocks and shallows is he driven,
Until again for aid he looks to Heaven.
With active power and energy of thought,
May claim alliance with angelic thrones,
Yet oft, alas, his present lot bemoans.
On passion's tide, by winds confliction toss'd,
Wide of his course, his helm of reason lost,
Oft over rocks and shallows is he driven,
Until again for aid he looks to Heaven.
On earth, a Pilgrim, for probation sent,
In vain his high-born Spirit seeks content.
Let Pleasure, Wealth and Power their gifts impart,
In rich profusion, still the craving heart
Even in the want of an untried desire,
Would find fresh fuel for that hectic fire,
Which, kindled at our birth, unquench'd remains
During our passage o'er life's feverish plains.
For—though unconscious of the cause—we roam
In exile here, and sigh to be at home.
In vain his high-born Spirit seeks content.
Let Pleasure, Wealth and Power their gifts impart,
In rich profusion, still the craving heart
Even in the want of an untried desire,
Would find fresh fuel for that hectic fire,
Which, kindled at our birth, unquench'd remains
During our passage o'er life's feverish plains.
For—though unconscious of the cause—we roam
In exile here, and sigh to be at home.
Then, O fair Mourner, let my verse recall
Your weeping eyes from yonder sable pall.
Look up to Him, who can dispell the gloom
Through which Imagination views the tomb.
Hear his consoling Voice—“The dead are bless'd
Who sleep in Christ, who now from labour rest,”
Ere long to rise and, from their bed of dust,
Pass to the peaceful Mansions of the Just.
Your weeping eyes from yonder sable pall.
Look up to Him, who can dispell the gloom
Through which Imagination views the tomb.
Hear his consoling Voice—“The dead are bless'd
Who sleep in Christ, who now from labour rest,”
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Pass to the peaceful Mansions of the Just.
1811
TO A MOTHER, ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT
Sad Mourner, let my friendly verse
The balm of sympathy impart,
Till calm reflection may disperse
The grief now pressing on your heart.
The balm of sympathy impart,
Till calm reflection may disperse
The grief now pressing on your heart.
Your son, baptised, and born anew,
The adopted Heir of peace and joy,
Has realis'd the prize in view,
Secure from forfeit or alloy.
The adopted Heir of peace and joy,
Has realis'd the prize in view,
Secure from forfeit or alloy.
And now, escaped the toils of life,
And all the Scenes of human woe,
Safe from the perils and the Strife
Of Virtue struggling here below;
And all the Scenes of human woe,
Safe from the perils and the Strife
Of Virtue struggling here below;
He sleeps an Infant, but shall rise
Mature in high angelic lore,
A Star in those eternal Skies
Which dawn when Time shall be no more.
Mature in high angelic lore,
A Star in those eternal Skies
Which dawn when Time shall be no more.
Maternal Sorrows, then, adieu!
Regard no phantoms of the tomb!
The glorious prospect now in view
Dispels their visionary gloom.
Regard no phantoms of the tomb!
The glorious prospect now in view
Dispels their visionary gloom.
But let Imagination soar
On wings of faith, and, in your Boy,
Behold a cherub, gone before,
His Mother's future crown of joy!
On wings of faith, and, in your Boy,
Behold a cherub, gone before,
His Mother's future crown of joy!
c. 1815
22
WHAT WE SHALL BE DOTH NOT YET APPEAR
What we shall be doth not yet appear,
Nor can we conceive—till the day
When Time shall have clos'd his career,
And Death shall surrender his prey.
Then—to all who in Christ have repos'd
Shall the Scene preordain'd be disclos'd.
Nor can we conceive—till the day
When Time shall have clos'd his career,
And Death shall surrender his prey.
Then—to all who in Christ have repos'd
Shall the Scene preordain'd be disclos'd.
Those of every Age, from the first
To the last date of time, shall arise;
Shall spring, at his call, from the dust,
And pass to the new-spreading Skies,
There, like himself, shall they shine,
Bright Heirs of all his Glory divine!
To the last date of time, shall arise;
Shall spring, at his call, from the dust,
And pass to the new-spreading Skies,
There, like himself, shall they shine,
Bright Heirs of all his Glory divine!
Ineffable Anticipation!
Here the Believer may find
A Spirit of high animation,
Yet humble and meek and resign'd.
With such a prospect of joy,
What present pains can annoy?
Here the Believer may find
A Spirit of high animation,
Yet humble and meek and resign'd.
With such a prospect of joy,
What present pains can annoy?
Blest with a hope so sublime,
Though life be a pilgrimage here,
Let us seek, in our journey through time,
That “Love which casteth out fear.”
So shall our patience endure,
And so shall our triumph be sure.
Though life be a pilgrimage here,
Let us seek, in our journey through time,
That “Love which casteth out fear.”
So shall our patience endure,
And so shall our triumph be sure.
1814
23
REFLECTIONS IN SICKNESS, AND ON RECOVERY
Awake, my Soul, and, ere it be too late,
Let conscience rouse thee from this torpid State.
O listen to that Monitor within,
Who cries—“beware of unrepented Sin.”
Let conscience rouse thee from this torpid State.
O listen to that Monitor within,
Who cries—“beware of unrepented Sin.”
What fatal apathy can lull the fears
Of one so near the brink of four-score years,
To whom dark days and restless nights recall
That Image, which may stouter hearts appal,
The approaching hour, when all we value here
Shall, like a baseless Vision, disappear,
And dust to dust concludes life's perilous career.
Of one so near the brink of four-score years,
To whom dark days and restless nights recall
That Image, which may stouter hearts appal,
The approaching hour, when all we value here
Shall, like a baseless Vision, disappear,
And dust to dust concludes life's perilous career.
While on this fearful precipice I stand,
The day far spent, the Night so near at hand,
Can I the past with tranquil mind survey?
Or to the future look without dismay?
Ah, what is this but, in my utmost need,
To dream that all is well, and on a Reed
To lean securely, till the broken dart
Transfix the hand or pierce the unguarded heart!
My Soul, awake and, with suspended breath,
Tremble, lest this may prove a Sleep of death;
Eternal death! O what pernicious charm
This image of its terrors can disarm!
And at a time like this! alas, beware;
Awake, and watch, and make thy fervant prayer
To Him, who can this essential gift impart,
A broken Spirit and a contrite heart.
To Him, whose gracious promise cannot fail,
That they who ask and faint not shall prevail.
The day far spent, the Night so near at hand,
Can I the past with tranquil mind survey?
Or to the future look without dismay?
Ah, what is this but, in my utmost need,
To dream that all is well, and on a Reed
To lean securely, till the broken dart
Transfix the hand or pierce the unguarded heart!
My Soul, awake and, with suspended breath,
Tremble, lest this may prove a Sleep of death;
Eternal death! O what pernicious charm
This image of its terrors can disarm!
And at a time like this! alas, beware;
Awake, and watch, and make thy fervant prayer
To Him, who can this essential gift impart,
A broken Spirit and a contrite heart.
To Him, whose gracious promise cannot fail,
That they who ask and faint not shall prevail.
From mortal life, then, welcome a release!
Thy Servant, Lord, shall then depart in peace,
Obey thy summons with unclouded mind,
By faith sustain'd and to thy will resign'd.
Thy Servant, Lord, shall then depart in peace,
Obey thy summons with unclouded mind,
By faith sustain'd and to thy will resign'd.
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Meantime thy will for me decrees again
A gracious respite from a bed of pain,
In one short Season twice have I been spared
When Death approach'd me—ah how unprepared!
And since, by Nature, with unquench'd desire,
While life remains, to live we still aspire,
O may it be in mercy that my days
Unnumber'd yet, are still a theme of praise,
Ascending from a family of love,
In grateful homage to thy throne above.
A gracious respite from a bed of pain,
In one short Season twice have I been spared
When Death approach'd me—ah how unprepared!
And since, by Nature, with unquench'd desire,
While life remains, to live we still aspire,
O may it be in mercy that my days
Unnumber'd yet, are still a theme of praise,
Ascending from a family of love,
In grateful homage to thy throne above.
Thus, from a gloomy chamber of disease,
Restor'd to light and Zephyr's cheering breeze,
To Hill and Dale, mild Sun or shady Bower,
The morning Walk, the social evening hour;
O how shall I express the glowing thought
Which melts my heart, and thank thee as I ought!
Thank thee, O God, with mingled hope and fear;
Dreading lest on that day, which must be near,
Thy merciful forbearance may be found
With fresh remorse my Conscience to confound;
Yet humbly hoping, through thy gracious Aid,
To meet the awful moment undismay'd.
Protect me, then, Great Giver of All Good,
And, through temptation watchfully withstood,
Conduct me Safely in the doubtful Strife
Of Virtue, struggling through the Snares of life,
Till I may come victorious to the Shore,
Where doubt and frailty shall be known no more.
Restor'd to light and Zephyr's cheering breeze,
To Hill and Dale, mild Sun or shady Bower,
The morning Walk, the social evening hour;
O how shall I express the glowing thought
Which melts my heart, and thank thee as I ought!
Thank thee, O God, with mingled hope and fear;
Dreading lest on that day, which must be near,
Thy merciful forbearance may be found
With fresh remorse my Conscience to confound;
Yet humbly hoping, through thy gracious Aid,
To meet the awful moment undismay'd.
Protect me, then, Great Giver of All Good,
And, through temptation watchfully withstood,
Conduct me Safely in the doubtful Strife
Of Virtue, struggling through the Snares of life,
Till I may come victorious to the Shore,
Where doubt and frailty shall be known no more.
1815
25
THE GAMUT—TO SARAH ANNE ODELL
As Heaven bestowed the precious art
Our thoughts by letters to impart;
To “waft from Indus to the Pole
The secret whispers of the Soul;
So, by a like celestial aid
Of graphic art, the Silent Maid
May to the distant swain convey
The sprightly Song or melting lay.
And so, when Handel sweeps the Strings,
When Harmony, from all her Springs,
Fills up the measure of delight;
The Sounds, arrested in their flight,
Are treasured by this magic Scale,
Secure till time and Nature fail.
Our thoughts by letters to impart;
To “waft from Indus to the Pole
The secret whispers of the Soul;
So, by a like celestial aid
Of graphic art, the Silent Maid
May to the distant swain convey
The sprightly Song or melting lay.
And so, when Handel sweeps the Strings,
When Harmony, from all her Springs,
Fills up the measure of delight;
The Sounds, arrested in their flight,
Are treasured by this magic Scale,
Secure till time and Nature fail.
Come then, sweet Bird, whose early Note
Has cheer'd me oft, while yet, by rote,
The Voice could but repeat the Strain,
Which Memory taught thee to retain;
Now shall thy well-instructed eye
Recorded harmonies descry,
And prompt thy Voice at sight to sing,
Thy hand at Sight to wake the String,
And through my captive ear impart
Sweet rapture to a Father's heart.
Has cheer'd me oft, while yet, by rote,
The Voice could but repeat the Strain,
Which Memory taught thee to retain;
Now shall thy well-instructed eye
Recorded harmonies descry,
And prompt thy Voice at sight to sing,
Thy hand at Sight to wake the String,
And through my captive ear impart
Sweet rapture to a Father's heart.
1818
| The New Brunswick Poems of Jonathan Odell | |