The Hope of the World and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

O Father, hear!
Thou know'st my secret thought;
Thou know'st, with love and fear,
I bend before Thy mighty throne,
And before Thee I hold myself as nought.
Alas! I'm in the world alone,
All desolate upon the earth;
And when my spirit hears the tone,
The soft song of the birds in mirth,

When the young nightingales
Their tender voices blend,
When from the flowery vales
Their hymns of love ascend;
Oh! then I feel there is a void for me,
A bliss too little in this world so fair;
To Thee, O Father, do I flee,
To Thee for solace breathe the prayer.
And when the rosy morn
Smiles on the dewy trees,
When music's voice is borne
Far on the gentle breeze;
When o'er the bowers I stray,
The fairest fruits to bring,
And on Thy shrine to lay
A fervent offering;
Father of many spheres!
When bending thus before Thy throne,
My spirit weeps with silent tears,
To think that I must pray alone!

And when at evening's twilight dim,
When peaceful slumber shuts mine eye,
And when the gentle seraphim
Bend from their bright homes in the sky:
When angels walk the quiet earth,
To glory in creation's birth;
Then, Father, in my dreams I see
A gentle being o'er me bent,
Radiant with love, and like to me,
But of a softer lineament:
I strive to clasp her to my heart,
That we may live and be but one—
Ah, wherefore, lovely beam, depart,
Why must I wake and find thee gone?
Almighty, in Thy wisdom high,
Thou saidst, that when I sin I die:
And once my spirit could not see
How that which is could cease to be;

Death was a vague unfathom'd thing,
On which the thought forbore to dwell,
But love has oped its secret spring,
And now I know it well!
To die, must be to live alone,
Unloved, uncherish'd, and unknown,
Without the sweet one of my dreams
To cull the fragrant flowers with me,
To wander by the morning's beams,
And raise the hymn of thanks to Thee.
But, Father of the earth,
Lord of this boundless sphere,
If 'tis Thy high unchanging will
That I should linger here;
If 'tis Thy will that I should rove
Alone, o'er Eden's smiling bowers,
Grant that the young birds' song of love,
And the breeze sporting 'mong the flowers,
May to my spirit cease to be
A music and a mystery!

Grant that my soul no more may feel
The soft sounds breathing everywhere;
That Nature's voice may cease to hymn
Love's universal prayer:
For all around, in earth or sea,
And the blue heaven's immensity,
Whisper it forth in many a tone,
And tell me I am all alone!

II. PART II. THE DREAM OF THE SHIPWRECKED MARINER.

The sea was calm, the winds were fair,
Lightly o'er the deep we passed,
We thought no more on toil and pain,
For we drew near home at last;
The very sails made music sweet
As they flapp'd against the mast.
The fair-faced moon looked softly down,
Tinging the small waves with her light;
Many a heart beat anxiously,
Many an eye look'd bright,
To catch a glimpse of Albion's shore,
That gleam'd in the distance white.

I leant upon the vessel's side,
And thoughts came crowding o'er my soul,
As the welcome wind and tide
Drove to the wish'd-for goal;
And thou, O loved one of my youth!
Remember'd still thy plighted truth.
In fancy's dream I saw thee stand,
All lonely, on the ocean strand,
Straining thy bright eyes o'er the sea,
To catch a glimpse of love and me.
I clasp'd thee to my constant heart,
And swore we never more would part,
When suddenly a shriek
Rose piercing o'er the wave!
We'd struck upon a hidden rock—
The vessel reel'd—the grave,
The billowy grave, with greedy clasp,
Drew us down deep—and then the gasp
Of death, passed quick o'er many a lip;

Many a gallant soul departed,
And the wind began to sob and sigh,
Like a weak man broken-hearted.
I sank into the deep abyss;
But with a desperate strife,
I buffeted the roaring waves,
And fought with them for life.
'Twas but a minute; o'er my soul
A leaden lethargy there stole,
And o'er my frame a sleep;
But ah! not dreamless, for my brain
Conjured a vision full of pain,
Most palpable, most deep.

Methought the fierce illimitable sea
Had swallow'd up the land.
Methought, with one wide sweep,
Led by Jehovah's hand,
This second deluge had come on,

And in its pitiless fury hurl'd
Ravage and ruin o'er the world.
Methought that Ætna's fires were drench'd
By the devouring sea;
That Chimboraco's mightier peak
Was quench'd eternally;
And that I with an angel's wings
Flew onwards still, and found no rest;
Nought met mine eye,
But the grey-colour'd sky,
And the wide ocean's ever-heaving breast.
Silence was over all,
Except when rose the blast,
Fitfully rushing o'er the sea;
And I claim'd kindred with it, as it pass'd,
Because it mourn'd like me
O'er the departed earth,
And wept that in its course it saw no life
And heard no voice of mirth,
No sound of human passion or of strife.

I was alone—all else had fled—
In the vast world I was alone:
Earth's children were all dead
And buried with their mother in the deep,
Which had claim'd all things for its own,
And left but me to weep.
And yet amid this deep distress,
This utter, utter weariness,
But one desire was in my heart,
One feeling o'er my soul imprest,
One thought all other thoughts above,
And that was the desire of love
Burning for ever in my breast.
How could I love? With weary ken
I turned my gaze across the sea;
But perish'd was the race of men,
There was no living thing but me,
Not even a blossom or a tree.—

Sadly I looked upon the flood
And sadly on the sombre sky;
And, in the bitterness of grief,
I pray'd to the Most High:—
“O Father of this dreary world,
“Father of all that is or were,
“Parent of many spheres, to Thee
“I raise the humble prayer.
“Last of my race—a lonely man—
“Nought breathes the breath of life but me;
“The fair, the beautiful green land
“Has found a grave beneath the sea,
“And there is none to worship Thee.
“Sunk, sunk for ever is the populous earth;
“And from the desolate sea there is no birth;—
“No living thing, whose prayer
“May mount with mine above,
“On whom this bursting heart
“May pour o'erflowing love.

“What have I done? what have I done?
“That it should be decreed my doom
“To wander over Nature's tomb,
“That I should only live to mourn
“A world that never can return?
“But sweet would be the task to weep,
“Even on this wide, this endless deep,
“If there were one to share my woe,
“Some gentle one to sigh with me,
“Some heart whose tears with mine might flow:
“Then 'twould be sweet to worship Thee!
“But—as it is—better to die
“Than live alone in this immensity.”

The restless waves had ceas'd to moan,
The storm had ceas'd to blow,
And the loud winds, in milder tone,
Began to murmur low,

And pleasant sounds came o'er the deep,
And floated on the air,
And rais'd me from the dark abyss
Of sorrow and despair.
With lighter heart I look'd again
O'er ocean's boundless scope,
Then turn'd my glance upon the sky
In gladness and in hope.
The dismal clouds had roll'd away,
The sky was clear and blue,
And, Oh! to glad my longing eyes,
One star was peering through.
O lovely star! O welcome ray!
It was a beauteous sight,
Alone upon the waters wide,
To gaze upon its light.
For hours I look'd, until it seem'd
To change upon my view;
While soft sweet sounds came from the sky,
And from the waters blue.

And then I saw two radiant eyes
Bent anxiously on mine;
While to a face the bright star changed—
Beloved, it was thine!
I woke—upon the beach I lay,
And thou, my beautiful, mine own,
Wast bending o'er my pallid cheek,
Beside the waters lone,
And smiling 'mid thy tears, to see
That all had not been vain
To call my dreaming spirit back
To consciousness again.