 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
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4. [PART IV.]
THE MISSISSIPPI, AND OTHER POEMS.
Waking affections that might else have slept,
Or high resolves.—
Landon.
Or high resolves.—
Landon.
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THE MISSISSIPPI.
Monarch of Rivers in the wide domain
Where Freedom writes her signature in stars,
And bids her Eagle bear the blazing scroll
To usher in the reign of peace and love,
Thou mighty Mississippi!—may my song
Swell with thy power, and though an humble rill,
Roll, like thy current, through the sea of Time,
Bearing thy name, as tribute from my soul
Of fervent gratitude and holy praise,
To Him who poured thy multitude of waves.
Where Freedom writes her signature in stars,
And bids her Eagle bear the blazing scroll
To usher in the reign of peace and love,
Thou mighty Mississippi!—may my song
Swell with thy power, and though an humble rill,
Roll, like thy current, through the sea of Time,
Bearing thy name, as tribute from my soul
Of fervent gratitude and holy praise,
To Him who poured thy multitude of waves.
Shadowed beneath those awful piles of stone,
Where Liberty has found a Pisgah height,
O'erlooking all the Land she loves to bless,—
The jagged rocks and icy towers her guard,
Whose splintered summits seize the warring clouds,
And roll them, broken, like a host o'erthrown,
Adown the Mountains' side, scattering their wealth
Of powdered pearl and liquid diamond drops,—
There is thy Source,—great River of the West!
Where Liberty has found a Pisgah height,
O'erlooking all the Land she loves to bless,—
The jagged rocks and icy towers her guard,
Whose splintered summits seize the warring clouds,
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Adown the Mountains' side, scattering their wealth
Of powdered pearl and liquid diamond drops,—
There is thy Source,—great River of the West!
Slowly, like youthful Titan gathering strength
To war with heaven and win himself a name,
The stream moves onward through the dark ravines,
Rending the roots of over-arching trees
To form its narrow channel, where the star,
That fain would bathe its beauty in the wave,
Like lover's glance steals, trembling, through the leaves
That veil the waters with a vestal's care;—
And few of human form have ventured there,
Save the swart savage in his bark canoe.
To war with heaven and win himself a name,
The stream moves onward through the dark ravines,
Rending the roots of over-arching trees
To form its narrow channel, where the star,
That fain would bathe its beauty in the wave,
Like lover's glance steals, trembling, through the leaves
That veil the waters with a vestal's care;—
And few of human form have ventured there,
Save the swart savage in his bark canoe.
But now it deepens, struggles, rushes on;
Like goaded war-horse, bounding o'er the foe,
It clears the rocks it may not spurn aside,
Leaping, as Curtius leaped, adown the gulf,—
And rising, like Antæus, from the fall,
Its course majestic through the Land pursues,
And the broad River o'er the Valley reigns!
Like goaded war-horse, bounding o'er the foe,
It clears the rocks it may not spurn aside,
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And rising, like Antæus, from the fall,
Its course majestic through the Land pursues,
And the broad River o'er the Valley reigns!
It reigns alone. The tributary streams
Are humble vassals, yielding to its sway.
And when the wild Missouri fain would join
A rival in the race—as Jacob seized
On his red brother's birth-right, even so
The swelling Mississippi grasps that wave,
And, rebaptizing, makes the waters one.
Are humble vassals, yielding to its sway.
And when the wild Missouri fain would join
A rival in the race—as Jacob seized
On his red brother's birth-right, even so
The swelling Mississippi grasps that wave,
And, rebaptizing, makes the waters one.
It reigns alone—and Earth the sceptre feels:—
Her ancient trees are bowed beneath the wave,
Or, rent like reeds before the whirlwind's swoop,
Toss on the bosom of the maddened flood,
A floating forest, till the waters, calmed,
Like slumbering anaconda gorged with prey,
Open a haven to the moving mass,
Or form an island in the dark abyss.
It reigns alone. Old Nile would ne'er bedew
The Lands it blesses with its fertile tide.
Even sacred Ganges joined with Egypt's flood
Would shrink beside this wonder of the West!
Ay, gather Europe's royal Rivers all—
The snow-swelled Neva, with an Empire's weight
On her broad breast, she yet may overwhelm;
Dark Danube, hurrying, as by foe pursued,
Through shaggy forests and from palace walls,
To hide its terrors in a sea of gloom;
The castled Rhine, whose vine-crowned waters flow,
The fount of fable and the source of song;
The rushing Rhone, in whose cerulean depths
The loving sky seems wedded with the wave;
The yellow Tiber, choked with Roman spoils,
A dying miser shrinking 'neath his gold;
And Seine, where Fashion glasses fairest forms;
And Thames, that bears the riches of the world:—
Gather their waters in one ocean mass,
—Our Mississippi, rolling proudly on,
Would sweep them from its path, or swallow up,
Like Aaron's rod, these streams of fame and song!
Her ancient trees are bowed beneath the wave,
Or, rent like reeds before the whirlwind's swoop,
Toss on the bosom of the maddened flood,
A floating forest, till the waters, calmed,
Like slumbering anaconda gorged with prey,
Open a haven to the moving mass,
Or form an island in the dark abyss.
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The Lands it blesses with its fertile tide.
Even sacred Ganges joined with Egypt's flood
Would shrink beside this wonder of the West!
Ay, gather Europe's royal Rivers all—
The snow-swelled Neva, with an Empire's weight
On her broad breast, she yet may overwhelm;
Dark Danube, hurrying, as by foe pursued,
Through shaggy forests and from palace walls,
To hide its terrors in a sea of gloom;
The castled Rhine, whose vine-crowned waters flow,
The fount of fable and the source of song;
The rushing Rhone, in whose cerulean depths
The loving sky seems wedded with the wave;
The yellow Tiber, choked with Roman spoils,
A dying miser shrinking 'neath his gold;
And Seine, where Fashion glasses fairest forms;
And Thames, that bears the riches of the world:—
Gather their waters in one ocean mass,
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Would sweep them from its path, or swallow up,
Like Aaron's rod, these streams of fame and song!
And thus the Peoples, from the many Lands,
Where these old streams are household memories,
Mingle beside our River, and are one;
And join to swell the strength of Freedom's tide,
That from the fount of Truth is flowing on
To sweep Earth's thousand tyrannies away.
Where these old streams are household memories,
Mingle beside our River, and are one;
And join to swell the strength of Freedom's tide,
That from the fount of Truth is flowing on
To sweep Earth's thousand tyrannies away.
How wise—how wonderful the works of God!
And, hallowed by his goodness, all are good.
The creeping glow-worm—the careering sun
Are kindled from the effluence of his light.
The ocean and the acorn-cup are filled
By gushings from the fountain of his love.
He poured the Mississippi's torrent forth,
And heaved its tide above the trembling land,—
Grand type how Freedom lifts the Citizen
Above the subject masses of the world—
And marked the limits it may never pass.
Trust in His promises, and bless His power,
Ye dwellers on its banks, and be at peace.
And, hallowed by his goodness, all are good.
The creeping glow-worm—the careering sun
Are kindled from the effluence of his light.
The ocean and the acorn-cup are filled
By gushings from the fountain of his love.
He poured the Mississippi's torrent forth,
And heaved its tide above the trembling land,—
Grand type how Freedom lifts the Citizen
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And marked the limits it may never pass.
Trust in His promises, and bless His power,
Ye dwellers on its banks, and be at peace.
And ye, whose way is on this warrior wave,
When the swoln waters heave with ocean's might,
And storms and darkness close the gate of heaven,
And the frail bark, fire-driven, bounds quivering on,
As though it rent the iron shroud of night,
And struggled with the demons of the flood—
Fear nothing! He who shields the folded flower,
When tempests rage, is ever present here.
Lean on “Our Father's” breast in faith and prayer,
And sleep,—His arm of love is strong to save.
When the swoln waters heave with ocean's might,
And storms and darkness close the gate of heaven,
And the frail bark, fire-driven, bounds quivering on,
As though it rent the iron shroud of night,
And struggled with the demons of the flood—
Fear nothing! He who shields the folded flower,
When tempests rage, is ever present here.
Lean on “Our Father's” breast in faith and prayer,
And sleep,—His arm of love is strong to save.
Great Source of Being, Beauty, Light and Love!
Creator! Lord! the waters worship thee!
Ere thy creative smile had sown the flowers;
Ere the glad hills leaped upward, or the earth,
With swelling bosom, waited for her child;
Before eternal Love had lit the sun,
Or Time had traced his dial-plate in stars,
The joyful anthem of the waters flowed;—
And Chaos like a frightened felon fled,
While on the Deep the Holy Spirit moved.
Creator! Lord! the waters worship thee!
Ere thy creative smile had sown the flowers;
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With swelling bosom, waited for her child;
Before eternal Love had lit the sun,
Or Time had traced his dial-plate in stars,
The joyful anthem of the waters flowed;—
And Chaos like a frightened felon fled,
While on the Deep the Holy Spirit moved.
And evermore the Deep has worshipped God;
And Bards and Prophets tune their mystic lyres
While listening to the music of the floods.
Oh! could I catch this harmony of sounds,
As borne on dewy wings they float to heaven,
And blend their meaning with my closing strain!
And Bards and Prophets tune their mystic lyres
While listening to the music of the floods.
Oh! could I catch this harmony of sounds,
As borne on dewy wings they float to heaven,
And blend their meaning with my closing strain!
Hark! as a reed-harp thrilled by whispering winds,
Or Naiad murmurs from a pearl-lipped shell,
It comes—the melody of many waves!
And loud, with Freedom's world-awaking note,
The deep-toned Mississippi leads the choir.
—The pure sweet Fountains chant of heavenly hope;
The chorus of the Rills is household love;
The Rivers roll their song of social joy;
And Ocean's organ voice is sounding forth
The Hymn of Universal Brotherhood!
Or Naiad murmurs from a pearl-lipped shell,
It comes—the melody of many waves!
And loud, with Freedom's world-awaking note,
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—The pure sweet Fountains chant of heavenly hope;
The chorus of the Rills is household love;
The Rivers roll their song of social joy;
And Ocean's organ voice is sounding forth
The Hymn of Universal Brotherhood!
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MIDNIGHT MUSINGS
The future—would that I could turn
Its page, this deep midnight!
Or from yon radiant stars, that burn
Like droppings of heaven's light,
Treasure one pure and peaceful ray,
To shine above my onward way.
Its page, this deep midnight!
Or from yon radiant stars, that burn
Like droppings of heaven's light,
Treasure one pure and peaceful ray,
To shine above my onward way.
I seek not, in its light, to see
The splendors wealth can give;
Enough, there is for mine, for me,
The humble hope—to live;
And I have calmed my spirit down,
And look unmoved on fortune's frown.
The splendors wealth can give;
Enough, there is for mine, for me,
The humble hope—to live;
And I have calmed my spirit down,
And look unmoved on fortune's frown.
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Nor do I ask to find my name
Inscribed on years to come;
None but the loftiest strength of fame
Should triumph o'er the tomb:
I would not dim my Country's light,
To keep a feeble taper bright.
Inscribed on years to come;
None but the loftiest strength of fame
Should triumph o'er the tomb:
I would not dim my Country's light,
To keep a feeble taper bright.
O, not for self the light I seek!
For them, for them who share,
At evening's close, at morning's break.
My ponderings, and my prayer—
Would that I knew their destiny!
And yet, my God, they're safe with Thee.
For them, for them who share,
At evening's close, at morning's break.
My ponderings, and my prayer—
Would that I knew their destiny!
And yet, my God, they're safe with Thee.
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THE FIRST SWALLOW.
“One swallow does not make a summer.”—
Old Proverb.
Old Proverb.
Out on the wisdom frozen
By ice-cold doubts and fears!
Why should life's path be chosen
Through sorrow's vale of tears?
A child, how I detested
The “ifs” and “buts” to hear,
When, with Hope's charm invested,
Some promised joy was near—
Still in my heart is shining
The light divine, which lends
Each cloud a silver lining,
O'er storms a rainbow bends.
By ice-cold doubts and fears!
Why should life's path be chosen
Through sorrow's vale of tears?
A child, how I detested
The “ifs” and “buts” to hear,
When, with Hope's charm invested,
Some promised joy was near—
Still in my heart is shining
The light divine, which lends
Each cloud a silver lining,
O'er storms a rainbow bends.
Then welcome little swallow,
Thou'lt bring the summer fair—
With pleasant thoughts I follow
Thy waltzing through the air;
What though bright flowers have faded,
That once my pathway blessed,
What though green bowers are shaded,
Where sunshine used to rest,—
Yet still my soul rejoices,
And every shadow flies,
When Nature's thousand voices,
In summer gladness rise.
Thou'lt bring the summer fair—
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Thy waltzing through the air;
What though bright flowers have faded,
That once my pathway blessed,
What though green bowers are shaded,
Where sunshine used to rest,—
Yet still my soul rejoices,
And every shadow flies,
When Nature's thousand voices,
In summer gladness rise.
There 's not a plant that springeth,
But bears some good to earth,—
There 's not a life but bringeth
Its store of harmless mirth—
The dusty way-side clover
Has honey in its cells,
The wild bee, humming over,
Her tale of pleasure tells:
The osiers, o'er the fountain,
Keep cool the water's breast,
And on the roughest mountain
The softest moss is pressed.
But bears some good to earth,—
There 's not a life but bringeth
Its store of harmless mirth—
The dusty way-side clover
Has honey in its cells,
The wild bee, humming over,
Her tale of pleasure tells:
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Keep cool the water's breast,
And on the roughest mountain
The softest moss is pressed.
Thus holy Wisdom teaches
The worth of blessings small,
That Love pervades, and reaches,
And forms the bliss of all;
The trusting eye, joy-seeking,
Some Eden finds or makes,
The glad voice, kindly speaking,
Some kindred tone awakes—
Nor need we power or splendor,
Wide hall or lordly dome;
The good, the true, the tender,
These form the wealth of home.
The worth of blessings small,
That Love pervades, and reaches,
And forms the bliss of all;
The trusting eye, joy-seeking,
Some Eden finds or makes,
The glad voice, kindly speaking,
Some kindred tone awakes—
Nor need we power or splendor,
Wide hall or lordly dome;
The good, the true, the tender,
These form the wealth of home.
The pilgrim swallow cometh
To her forsaken nest—
So must the heart that roameth
Return, to find its rest,
Where Love sheds summer's lustre,—
And wheresoe'er 't is found,
There sweetest flowers will cluster,
And dearest joys abound;
Thus Heaven to all doth render
The prize of happiness;
The good, the true, the tender,
Earth's lowliest lot may bless.
To her forsaken nest—
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Return, to find its rest,
Where Love sheds summer's lustre,—
And wheresoe'er 't is found,
There sweetest flowers will cluster,
And dearest joys abound;
Thus Heaven to all doth render
The prize of happiness;
The good, the true, the tender,
Earth's lowliest lot may bless.
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THE TWO MAIDENS.
One came with light and laughing air,
And cheek like opening blossom,—
Bright gems were twined amid her hair,
And glittered on her bosom,
And pearls and costly diamonds deck
Her round, white arms and lovely neck.
And cheek like opening blossom,—
Bright gems were twined amid her hair,
And glittered on her bosom,
And pearls and costly diamonds deck
Her round, white arms and lovely neck.
Like summer's sky, with stars bedight,
The jewelled robe around her,
And dazzling as the noontide light
The radiant zone that bound her,—
And pride and joy were in her eye,
And mortals bowed as she passed by.
The jewelled robe around her,
And dazzling as the noontide light
The radiant zone that bound her,—
And pride and joy were in her eye,
And mortals bowed as she passed by.
Another came—o'er her sweet face
A pensive shade was stealing;
Yet there no grief of earth we trace—
But the heaven-hallowed feeling
Which mourns the heart should ever stray
From the pure fount of Truth away.
A pensive shade was stealing;
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But the heaven-hallowed feeling
Which mourns the heart should ever stray
From the pure fount of Truth away.
Around her brow, as snow-drop fair,
The glossy tresses cluster,
Nor pearl, nor ornament was there,
Save the meek spirit's lustre;—
And faith and hope beamed in her eye,
And angels bowed as she passed by.
The glossy tresses cluster,
Nor pearl, nor ornament was there,
Save the meek spirit's lustre;—
And faith and hope beamed in her eye,
And angels bowed as she passed by.
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TO THE COMET.
Lone traveller through the fields of air,
What may thy presence here portend?
Art come to greet the planets fair,
As friend greets friend?
What may thy presence here portend?
Art come to greet the planets fair,
As friend greets friend?
And dost thou, to the listening spheres,
The wonders of thy path unfold?
A story that to mortal ears
Was never told?
The wonders of thy path unfold?
A story that to mortal ears
Was never told?
Beyond the palest gleaming star,
Beyond cold Herschel's slow career,
Thy mystic orbit reaches far,
And yet thou 'rt here!
Beyond cold Herschel's slow career,
Thy mystic orbit reaches far,
And yet thou 'rt here!
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And why? Art sent, by Chaos dread,
To gather from our glorious Sun
Some wealth of light and life, to shed
O'er worlds begun?
To gather from our glorious Sun
Some wealth of light and life, to shed
O'er worlds begun?
Dost come the messenger of Fear,
To warn of fates and foes at hand?
A prophet for the dawning year,
To doom our land?
To warn of fates and foes at hand?
A prophet for the dawning year,
To doom our land?
Or, 'mid the radiant orbs of light,
As borne on eagle's wings, to prove
There dwells, beyond our feeble sight,
Creative love?
As borne on eagle's wings, to prove
There dwells, beyond our feeble sight,
Creative love?
And wilt thou, while old Time endures,
Thus ceaselessly thy circuit run?
Or, as the flame the moth allures,
Drawn to the sun,—
Thus ceaselessly thy circuit run?
Or, as the flame the moth allures,
Drawn to the sun,—
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Nearer, and nearer, till like stream
To ocean's bosom speeding on,
Thou'lt vanish as a restless dream,
At morning gone?
To ocean's bosom speeding on,
Thou'lt vanish as a restless dream,
At morning gone?
Whate'er thy purpose, thou dost teach
Some lessons to the humble soul;
Though far and dim thy pathway reach,
Yet still thy goal
Some lessons to the humble soul;
Though far and dim thy pathway reach,
Yet still thy goal
Tends to the fountain of that light
From whence thy golden beams are won;
So should we turn from earth's dark night
To God our Sun.
From whence thy golden beams are won;
So should we turn from earth's dark night
To God our Sun.
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BONDS.
“He is a freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves beside.”
Cowper.
And all are slaves beside.”
Cowper.
Ye may place the trusty guard,
Bolt the dark and narrow room,
Bind the heavy fetter hard,
Till the links the flesh consume;
Never, never, thus confined,
Will enslaved the prisoner be—
There 's no fetter on his mind;
And the spirit will be free,—
If stern memory's thrilling tone
Wake no terrors in his heart;
In the visioned future, shown,
If he act the lofty part.
Bolt the dark and narrow room,
Bind the heavy fetter hard,
Till the links the flesh consume;
Never, never, thus confined,
Will enslaved the prisoner be—
There 's no fetter on his mind;
And the spirit will be free,—
If stern memory's thrilling tone
Wake no terrors in his heart;
In the visioned future, shown,
If he act the lofty part.
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Ye may bar him from the air,
And the light of heaven forbid,—
There 's a region fresh and fair,
And its smile can ne'er be hid
From the meek and trusting eyes,
Looking upward steadily;
And his thoughts will thus arise,
Till he triumphs with the free,—
If his soul have never bowed
When a golden Image shone—
If among the servile crowd,
He would follow Truth alone.
And the light of heaven forbid,—
There 's a region fresh and fair,
And its smile can ne'er be hid
From the meek and trusting eyes,
Looking upward steadily;
And his thoughts will thus arise,
Till he triumphs with the free,—
If his soul have never bowed
When a golden Image shone—
If among the servile crowd,
He would follow Truth alone.
Ye may deck the lofty hall
With the wealth of earth and sea,
And, in splendor over all
Wave the banners of the free—
Ye may crown the conqueror there,
With the laurels of the brave;
'Mid the honors ye prepare,
He shall feel himself a slave,—
If ambition rule his thought,
And the highest place he ask,
All the labors he has wrought
Are but scourges to his task.
With the wealth of earth and sea,
And, in splendor over all
Wave the banners of the free—
Ye may crown the conqueror there,
With the laurels of the brave;
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He shall feel himself a slave,—
If ambition rule his thought,
And the highest place he ask,
All the labors he has wrought
Are but scourges to his task.
Ye may twine the living flowers
Where the living fountains glide,
And beneath the rosy bowers
Let the selfish man abide,
And the birds upon the wing,
And the barks upon the wave,
Shall no sense of freedom bring;
All is slavery to the slave!
Mammon's close-linked bonds have bound him,
Self-imposed, and seldom burst;
Though heaven's waters gush around him,
He would pine with earth's poor thirst.
Where the living fountains glide,
And beneath the rosy bowers
Let the selfish man abide,
And the birds upon the wing,
And the barks upon the wave,
Shall no sense of freedom bring;
All is slavery to the slave!
Mammon's close-linked bonds have bound him,
Self-imposed, and seldom burst;
Though heaven's waters gush around him,
He would pine with earth's poor thirst.
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MY OWN THOUGHTS.
“Father, who art in heaven”—I hear
Low lisped as to a parent's ear,
And in the confidence and love
As He were bending from above—
I would, my child, that I could pray
In such a trusting tone!
I would, that with the closing day,
My cares, like thine, were done!
Low lisped as to a parent's ear,
And in the confidence and love
As He were bending from above—
I would, my child, that I could pray
In such a trusting tone!
I would, that with the closing day,
My cares, like thine, were done!
Yet who that dwells on earth can be,
What the sick heart will pine for—free!
The cords of life around us wind,
Its clouds will gather o'er the mind;
Oh, happy if they rest not there!
If faith's pure, quenchless star
Can struggle through the misty air,
Heavenward, though faint and far.
What the sick heart will pine for—free!
The cords of life around us wind,
Its clouds will gather o'er the mind;
Oh, happy if they rest not there!
If faith's pure, quenchless star
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Heavenward, though faint and far.
Without, the sound of hasty feet
Comes upward from the bustling street,
Like rush of brook, that plashes o'er
The pebbles on its rocky shore:
Glides one among that crowd but bears
His weight of grief or pain?
Is there a soul but hath its cares?
—Then let me ne'er complain.
Comes upward from the bustling street,
Like rush of brook, that plashes o'er
The pebbles on its rocky shore:
Glides one among that crowd but bears
His weight of grief or pain?
Is there a soul but hath its cares?
—Then let me ne'er complain.
The evening's silent hour shall hear
Not murmurs—no—the silent tear
May fall—but thanks for blessings given,
This grateful heart shall breathe to heaven.
And sure, if aught of human rise,
From feeling's altar, there,
The spotless glory of the skies
Will shrine the mother's prayer;—
Not murmurs—no—the silent tear
May fall—but thanks for blessings given,
This grateful heart shall breathe to heaven.
And sure, if aught of human rise,
From feeling's altar, there,
The spotless glory of the skies
Will shrine the mother's prayer;—
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The prayer for those whose weal is all
Of price, of hope her own to call—
My treasures; God! be thou their way,
And never let their footsteps stray;—
I will not fear, I will not sigh,
But on thy promise rest—
The world is thine, and thou'lt supply
All that thou seest is best.
Of price, of hope her own to call—
My treasures; God! be thou their way,
And never let their footsteps stray;—
I will not fear, I will not sigh,
But on thy promise rest—
The world is thine, and thou'lt supply
All that thou seest is best.
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IS CHINA OUR NEIGHBOR?
[_]
And Jesus said, which was neighbor to him who fell among thieves?— And the young man answered, he that showed mercy unto him. And Jesus said, Go thou and do likewise—
St. Luke.
Can China be our neighbor,
And yet receive no care?
Shall Christians cease their labor
And leave her to despair?
Her children, sunk in sorrow,
Are sick with many ills,
To-day is sad—to-morrow
A deeper shadow fills.
And yet receive no care?
Shall Christians cease their labor
And leave her to despair?
Her children, sunk in sorrow,
Are sick with many ills,
To-day is sad—to-morrow
A deeper shadow fills.
And bowed in tribulation,
No light athwart the gloom,
That old and haughty nation
Seems hastening to her doom,
The cup of wo is tasted,—
And must she, 'neath war's frown,
Like Babylon be wasted?
Like Egypt trodden down?
No light athwart the gloom,
That old and haughty nation
Seems hastening to her doom,
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And must she, 'neath war's frown,
Like Babylon be wasted?
Like Egypt trodden down?
Oh! when those nations perished,
No Saviour's name was known,
No brother's love was cherished—
No Christian kindness shown;
Now, where 's the heart so frozen
But feels the Gospel ray?
And we, as Freedom's chosen,
Should lead in Mercy's way.
No Saviour's name was known,
No brother's love was cherished—
No Christian kindness shown;
Now, where 's the heart so frozen
But feels the Gospel ray?
And we, as Freedom's chosen,
Should lead in Mercy's way.
As gentle dews, distilling,
Cause withered plants to live,
So Love, her work fulfilling,
Her alms and prayers must give;
Till China's millions breaking
From sin's dark bonds, arise,
Like death to life awaking,
When Christ descends the skies!
Cause withered plants to live,
So Love, her work fulfilling,
Her alms and prayers must give;
Till China's millions breaking
From sin's dark bonds, arise,
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When Christ descends the skies!
As early flowers, upspringing,
Proclaim the opening year,
So love and hope are bringing
The day of promise near;—
Each tear by pity given,
Each mite in faith bestowed,
Makes earth more like to heaven,
Where all is done for God.
Proclaim the opening year,
So love and hope are bringing
The day of promise near;—
Each tear by pity given,
Each mite in faith bestowed,
Makes earth more like to heaven,
Where all is done for God.
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THE STRANGER.
“Is not the scene beautiful?” said the lady.—The tear gathered in the Stranger's eye as he replied—“To you it doubtless appears so—but it recalls to me thoughts of anguish, connected with a similar scene, which destroy its pleasantness.”
Stranger! the word of sadness falls
Like echo in deserted halls,
A sound of mystery, fear and gloom;
In vain the lone heart to beguile,
Bland nature wears her sweetest smile;
Like living flowers upon a tomb,
The beauty all around her spread
But tells of lovelier beauties dead,
And breathes of solitude and doom.
Like echo in deserted halls,
A sound of mystery, fear and gloom;
In vain the lone heart to beguile,
Bland nature wears her sweetest smile;
Like living flowers upon a tomb,
The beauty all around her spread
But tells of lovelier beauties dead,
And breathes of solitude and doom.
Oh! could we read the thoughts that rise,
While pointing, to the stranger's eyes,
Some dear familiar scene we love;—
The smile may glow, the tear may flow,
But not like ours the joy or wo,
That thus the conscious feelings move;
The stream of sympathy will start
From fountain gathered in his heart,
Before the desert world he rove.
While pointing, to the stranger's eyes,
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The smile may glow, the tear may flow,
But not like ours the joy or wo,
That thus the conscious feelings move;
The stream of sympathy will start
From fountain gathered in his heart,
Before the desert world he rove.
207
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND THIRTY.
We bring no earthly wreath for Time;
To man th' immortal Time was given—
Years should be marked by deeds sublime,
That elevate his soul to heaven.
Thou proudly passing year—thy name
Is registered in mind's bright flame,
And louder than the roar of waves,
Thundering from ocean's prison caves,
Comes the glad shout that hallows thee
The Year of Freedom's Jubilee!
To man th' immortal Time was given—
Years should be marked by deeds sublime,
That elevate his soul to heaven.
Thou proudly passing year—thy name
Is registered in mind's bright flame,
And louder than the roar of waves,
Thundering from ocean's prison caves,
Comes the glad shout that hallows thee
The Year of Freedom's Jubilee!
'T is strange how mind has been chained down,
And reason scourged like branded sin!
How man has shrunk before man's frown,
And darkened heaven's own fire within!
But Freedom breathed—the flame burst forth—
Wo to the spoilers of the earth,
Who would withstand its lightning stroke,
And heavier forge the galling yoke;—
As well the breaking reed might dare
The cataract's rush—the whirlwind's war!
And reason scourged like branded sin!
208
And darkened heaven's own fire within!
But Freedom breathed—the flame burst forth—
Wo to the spoilers of the earth,
Who would withstand its lightning stroke,
And heavier forge the galling yoke;—
As well the breaking reed might dare
The cataract's rush—the whirlwind's war!
Ay, thrones must crumble—even as clay,
Searched by the scorching sun and wind!
And crushed be Superstition's sway
That would with writhing scorpions bind
The terror-stricken conscience down
Beneath anointed monarch's frown;
Till Truth is in her temple sought,
The soul's unbribed, unfettered thought,
That, science-guided, soars unawed,
And reading Nature rests on God!
Searched by the scorching sun and wind!
And crushed be Superstition's sway
That would with writhing scorpions bind
The terror-stricken conscience down
Beneath anointed monarch's frown;
Till Truth is in her temple sought,
The soul's unbribed, unfettered thought,
That, science-guided, soars unawed,
And reading Nature rests on God!
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This must be—is—the passing year
Has rent the veil, and despots stand
In the keen glance of Truth severe,
With craven brow and palsied hand:—
Ye, who would make man's spirit free,
And change the Old World's destiny,
Bring forth from Learning's halls the light,
And watch, that Virtue's shield be bright;
Then to the “God of order” raise
The vow of faith, the song of praise,
And on—and sweep Oppression's chains,
Like ice beneath the vernal rains!
Has rent the veil, and despots stand
In the keen glance of Truth severe,
With craven brow and palsied hand:—
Ye, who would make man's spirit free,
And change the Old World's destiny,
Bring forth from Learning's halls the light,
And watch, that Virtue's shield be bright;
Then to the “God of order” raise
The vow of faith, the song of praise,
And on—and sweep Oppression's chains,
Like ice beneath the vernal rains!
My Country, ay, thy sons are proud,
True heirs of Freedom's glorious dower;
For never here has knee been bowed
In homage to a mortal power:
No, never here has tyrant reigned,
And never here has thought been chained!
Then who would follow Europe's sickly light,
When here the soul may put forth all her might,
And show the nations, as they gaze in awe,
That Wisdom dwells with Liberty and Law!
O, when will Time his holiest triumph bring—
“Freedom o'er all the earth, and Christ alone reigns King!”
True heirs of Freedom's glorious dower;
For never here has knee been bowed
In homage to a mortal power:
No, never here has tyrant reigned,
And never here has thought been chained!
210
When here the soul may put forth all her might,
And show the nations, as they gaze in awe,
That Wisdom dwells with Liberty and Law!
O, when will Time his holiest triumph bring—
“Freedom o'er all the earth, and Christ alone reigns King!”
211
THE POWER OF MUSIC.
1.
When Orpheus struck his burning lyre,Mute Nature caught creative fire,—
Rough stones obeyed the swelling sound,
In mystic measure moved around,
Till, polished by the harmony,
The finished structure, grand and free,
Rose like the star that heralds day,
To show Man's Mind its work and way!
2.
The sword may sever slavery's chain—The strong arm crush the tyrant's reign,
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Shatters and scathes the Temple high;—
But 't is the sweet-voiced Spring that calls
The ivy o'er the broken walls,
And gently swaying in the blasts,
The fragile plant the Pile outlasts.
3.
And thus the power of Music's breathRe-clothes the wastes of Time and Death.
The “blind old man” begins his strain,
And Greece is “living Greece” again!
The Songs that flowed on Zion's Hill
Are chanted in God's Temple still,
And to the eye of faith unfold
The glories of His House of old!
4.
Each Prophet-Bard of ancient daysStill breathes for us his lofty lays;
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If Music-hallowed, never die;—
And thus Religion, Law and Art,
Sow their choice seeds in every heart;
From age to age the Song flows on,
And blends fresh life with glories gone.
5.
A mystery this—but who can seeThe soft south wind that sways the tree,
And warms its vital flood to flow,
And wakes its folded buds to blow?—
Even thus the Power of Music, felt,
The soul is swayed, the heart will melt,
Till Love and Hope so bless the Hours,
Life's dial-plate is marked by flowers.
6.
And every Temple Art has rearedSome truth has taught, some error cleared;
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When Time is o'er and Heaven is won;
The Angel-Art to mortals taught—
The golden chord of human thought,
When pure, and tuned by Faith and Love,
Linked with the golden harps above!
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THE PILGRIM OF THE WORLD.
“Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all is vanity.”—
Solomon.
Solomon.
The world's weary pathway—I've wandered it through,
Some bright-glancing meteor ever in view;
And fair forms of fancy were beck'ning me on,
But ere I could grasp them the charmers were gone;
And small seems the worth of the joys I've possessed,
Now life's journey is o'er and the Pilgrim must rest.
Some bright-glancing meteor ever in view;
And fair forms of fancy were beck'ning me on,
But ere I could grasp them the charmers were gone;
And small seems the worth of the joys I've possessed,
Now life's journey is o'er and the Pilgrim must rest.
Men's histories scanned—on the first and last page,
The yearnings of youth, and the anguish of age
Alike are impressed—and what boots it between,
Perchance, in thy record, a triumph has been?
As vain were the efforts that joy to retain,
As imprison the sunbeam or fetter the main.
The yearnings of youth, and the anguish of age
Alike are impressed—and what boots it between,
Perchance, in thy record, a triumph has been?
As vain were the efforts that joy to retain,
As imprison the sunbeam or fetter the main.
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Beauty and Love—O, their emblems are flowers,
Their date of existence is numbered by hours;
And Friendship's warm smile with the swallow is flown,
And Fame with the popular breathing is gone,
And Gold in the grasping is dimmed by thy cares,
'T was hope lent it lustre—that hope is thine heir's.
Their date of existence is numbered by hours;
And Friendship's warm smile with the swallow is flown,
And Fame with the popular breathing is gone,
And Gold in the grasping is dimmed by thy cares,
'T was hope lent it lustre—that hope is thine heir's.
Thus fair as the syren, but false as her song,
The world's painted shadows that lure us along;
Like the mist on the mountain, the foam on the deep,
Or the voices of friends that we greet in our sleep,
Are the pleasures of earth—and I mourn that to heaven
I gave not the heart which to folly was given.
The world's painted shadows that lure us along;
Like the mist on the mountain, the foam on the deep,
Or the voices of friends that we greet in our sleep,
Are the pleasures of earth—and I mourn that to heaven
I gave not the heart which to folly was given.
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |