University of Virginia Library

The crimson waves of undulating light
Are blending with the azure sea of Heaven,
In the sublimity of beauty, while
The softest, sweetest, balmiest breath of eve
Fans fleecy clouds with fragrance as along
The sky's blue arch they sail, like angel wings
O'er Lebanon and Olivet; and far
In the cerulean ether soar the birds
Of heaven in joyance such as if they felt
The all-pervading holiness, and knew
The Deity who rules the universe.
The whispering breeze amid the twinkling leaves,
That dance to Zephyr's song, speaks gently sweet
In answer to the voice of waters far
Warbling along their pebbled path, beneath
The purpling light, which shadows out the trees,
And hills, and rocks, so mirror-like, that eye
Of wandering solitary could trace the form,
Being and nature of each object there.
The mountain's brow is crowned with glory—wreaths
Of purest radiance circle every tree,
And shrub, and low bush there; while far below
In the rock-barred ravine, no lonely ray
Wanders amid the gloom. The scene is like
The sun-browed thought of rapture, soaring high
In intellectual majesty, and full
Of holiest emotions, while it wings
Its flight through realms empyreal, and then
Drooping and falling lifeless on the dark,
Unholy, false and melancholy earth.
Hills feathered with their shrubbery redolent,
And cliffs with moss and lichens robed, and boughs
Of loftiest trees adorned with blushing flowers,
Jasmines, lianas and all woodland vines,
High precipices, rough and bare as when
The rocking earthquake left them—all are shown
In mimic beauty, like reality,
Upon the mirror by which nature decks
Her lovely form—yon little sleeping lake.
The latest beam of evening slumbers now
Upon the crystal waters, and I see
A world within the azure depth, so pure,
So full of happy peacefulness, I long
To plunge and seek out pleasure there, and dwell
In that sweet home of waters, ever mid
The best of friends—woods, rocks and silver waves,
Whose speaking silence innocently tells
All I can feel of pure beatitude.
But woe loves loveliest things, and I might find
Sorrow there even, were it as it seems,
And not a mockery as 'tis!—The soft,
Love-breathing vesper breeze plays o'er the smooth
Expanse delightfully, and curls and crisps
And crinkles the blue waves, while autumn dew
Wets the green leaves that have o'ercanopied
The lake the live-long day, untouched by drop
Of its serenest waters—oh, how sweet
Is nature's quietude! the lulling lapse
Of purling brook through vales of verdure rich,
And generous of their richness, and the sound
Most musical of down-winged winds, are songs
Of gladness she doth ever raise to Heaven,
In gratitude of still devotion; all
Her votaries are fond of gentle thoughts,
And pure desires, and high imaginings,
And noblest aspirations, seeking out
A dwelling far from turbulence and strife,
And noise, and folly, and corrupting sin.
Nature doth teach her lessons in a tongue
All can enjoy; and what she teaches none
Of saints and sages past could imitate.
There is a pure divinity, unwarped
By damning creed or dogma stern, in all
Her sacred teachings, and a holy voice
Of loftiest wisdom rises from the depth
Of her most silent solitude to teach
And counsel her infatuated sons,
In everlasting faithfulness—'twere well
Man weened and recked of her advisings more.

Night's star-winged angels in the firmament
Are setting watch, and hastily they come
Forth in the blue concave, like the fond hopes
Of young desire o'er the unwounded heart.
Faintly the dying light of day illumes
The western horizon, and shadows flit
O'er grove and dale and stream and hill alike,
For every object here is beautiful,
And worthy such rich robes of light and shade.
Oh, that each scene yon everlasting sun
Lightens, were worthy his celestial beams!
On feudal towers and castles, where the groans
Of death and bondage worse than death have rung
Through dungeon vaults, till every echoed tread,
For centuries, awoke despairing cries,
And voices of wild agony; on mosque,
Whose shrine's deep font is filled with blood for rite
Baptismal, and where muftis tell of joys
Sensual and hellish, as pure delights
Of after-being in man's paradise;
On palaces of pomp and crime, and huts,
Whose inmates gnaw a crust, and bless the hand
That gave it; on despair and hope, delight
And anguish, tumult, peace, and purposes
Of noblest pride and meannesses most vile;
On all things dreadful, sweet, detestable,
Beautiful and loathsome, thy beams alike
Shine, fire-robed lord of heaven! and if from thee
Alone man images thy Maker, how
Impartially beneficent he is!
The faintest blushing of departed day
Hath gone, and russet mantled night glides o'er
The eternal hills, as softly as the young
Mother trips round the cradle of her child.
Oh, that I could divest myself of life
Corporeal, and leaving this poor load
Of clay to mingle with its kindred earth,
Imbibe an elemental being—live
In the blue ether and float joyously
Through realms of upper air and feast my soul
On sun-beams! It were godlike fate to dwell
Amid the unbounded universe and be
A star or moon-beam, on which angels light
In their ethereal wanderings, and chant
Empyreal songs. The infinite desire
Of such celestial fate doth swell my heart,
And amplify my spirit to the embrace
Of thoughts immeasurable—feelings so
Tremblingly glorious, I would not pause
For one farewell if I could rise and be
The merest part of those most holy beams
Whose radiance now gleams o'er another sphere.
Alas! the bitter, false, ungrateful world
Doth class me with her multitudes; and 'mid
The sinning and the sorrowing, the vile,
The mean, the wretched, and the grovelling, still
Must be my dwelling-place. I loathe and hate,
Avoid and dread the stinging viper brood
That crawl around; and were I one like them,
I would seek out a midnight den to hide
My person from the sun. O mother Earth!
Beautiful daughter of the Spirit-Sire!
Thou wert a paradise, till man, the fiend,
Changed thee to hell by his all-nameless deeds.