The Village Churchyard And Other Poems. By Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley |
 |
LINES ON AN ENGRAVING,
REPRESENTING
GIPSY CHILDREN IN A STORM. |
 | The Village Churchyard |  |
238
LINES ON AN ENGRAVING, REPRESENTING GIPSY CHILDREN IN A STORM.
Meek, gentle things! though joyous, meek;
With radiant eye and downy cheek—
(Cheek without a trace of tears,
In the beauty of their blooming years;
In the sweet season of the rose,
When things unknown, are cares and woes;
In the bright days of the sunny glance,
When Life is but a dazzling trance;)—
How soft your pictured semblance seems
To win us to a World of Dreams!
Lo! each frail and childish form,
Cowering down before the storm,
Whose dark grandeurs oversweep
Earth and air, and sky, and deep;
The hamlet's roofs, the city's towers,
Bastioned walls, and trellised bowers;
The peasant's hut, the chieftain's hall;
Ever the same, to each and all:
All alike your wrath must share,
Storm, that know'st not how to spare!
With radiant eye and downy cheek—
(Cheek without a trace of tears,
In the beauty of their blooming years;
In the sweet season of the rose,
When things unknown, are cares and woes;
In the bright days of the sunny glance,
When Life is but a dazzling trance;)—
How soft your pictured semblance seems
To win us to a World of Dreams!
Lo! each frail and childish form,
Cowering down before the storm,
239
Earth and air, and sky, and deep;
The hamlet's roofs, the city's towers,
Bastioned walls, and trellised bowers;
The peasant's hut, the chieftain's hall;
Ever the same, to each and all:
All alike your wrath must share,
Storm, that know'st not how to spare!
Lo! each soft and childish face,
Winning yet more touching grace
From the contrast, deep and dread,
Of the scene around them spread.
The Spirits of the Storm might seem
To wail, in some wild tempest-dream.
But ye, bright Innocents! that there
Await returning sunshine fair;
Surely no sounds of dread and wrath
O'erwhelm ye, from the thunder's path?
Surely ye do not, shuddering, hear
Dark messages of gloom and fear?
Though a thousand mighty harmonies
Go, sweeping through the tossing trees;
Though rushing wind and clashing cloud
Make fierce, victorious music loud;
Though all the echoes of the wood
Make answer, with harsh voices rude;
All the echoes of the wood and glen
Join in the sounding chorus then.
If raging lions turned away,
Awed by bright Purity's calm sway,
Of old; well may the storms withdraw
From you their terrors; and the awe
Wherewith, perchance, the human breast
Ever must meet the wild unrest
Of Nature, so be softened down
For you, that scarce your meek hearts own,
E'en in this bleak and troublous hour,
Aught of dim Fear's prevailing power.
Yet, terrible and strong they are—
Those sounds of the elemental war!
Winning yet more touching grace
From the contrast, deep and dread,
Of the scene around them spread.
The Spirits of the Storm might seem
To wail, in some wild tempest-dream.
240
Await returning sunshine fair;
Surely no sounds of dread and wrath
O'erwhelm ye, from the thunder's path?
Surely ye do not, shuddering, hear
Dark messages of gloom and fear?
Though a thousand mighty harmonies
Go, sweeping through the tossing trees;
Though rushing wind and clashing cloud
Make fierce, victorious music loud;
Though all the echoes of the wood
Make answer, with harsh voices rude;
All the echoes of the wood and glen
Join in the sounding chorus then.
If raging lions turned away,
Awed by bright Purity's calm sway,
241
From you their terrors; and the awe
Wherewith, perchance, the human breast
Ever must meet the wild unrest
Of Nature, so be softened down
For you, that scarce your meek hearts own,
E'en in this bleak and troublous hour,
Aught of dim Fear's prevailing power.
Yet, terrible and strong they are—
Those sounds of the elemental war!
Chariot-wheels of charging host;
Wild waves dashed on rock-bound coast;
Multitudinous din of voices,
When some City's soul rejoices;
Distant roar of lions, deep,
In woods, where midnight-shadows sleep;
Roll of doubling drums, or peal
Of clarions, or fierce clash of steel:
These things scarce may likened be,
Regal Tempests, unto ye!
When, with clamour of stern noise,
Ye revel in your whirlwind joys.
Wild waves dashed on rock-bound coast;
Multitudinous din of voices,
When some City's soul rejoices;
242
In woods, where midnight-shadows sleep;
Roll of doubling drums, or peal
Of clarions, or fierce clash of steel:
These things scarce may likened be,
Regal Tempests, unto ye!
When, with clamour of stern noise,
Ye revel in your whirlwind joys.
How lovely is a little child!
How lovely these wood-children wild!
Around them seems to breathe and move
The very loveliness of Love.
Things cast in an angelic mould!
Lambs of an everlasting fold!
Gems of Humanity's deep mine!
Stars of the Heaven of Heavens divine!
Flowers of a bright Land, far away,
Where Summer holds untroubled sway!
The severed Eden's passage-birds—
Those younglings of Life's crowded herds!
Oh! know ye, know ye all your worth,
Ye living treasures of the earth?
Dear little ones! Oh! know ye all
That doth exalt you, and enthral?
The duties on your state imposed,
The glories to your ken disclosed?
Have ever sacred truths informed,
Have ever solemn precepts warmed?
Or heart and voice been taught to raise
The breath of prayer, the strain of praise?
Poor waifs and foundlings of Life's wild!
Yet all unstained and undefiled,—
I fear such blessedness is not
Reserved unto your wayward lot;
I fear such priceless store of bliss
It hath been yours, to lack and miss.
Yet, citizens of the open air,
Many high lessons wait you there.
Oh! might some deeply gifted seer
Survey you, Nature's nurselings here;
And, in his Victory's hour, unfold
Your history, ever new and old;
(For still Man's wondrous story runs
The same, beneath revolving suns;
Yet, still each separate tale contains
Mysteriously varying veins).
How must he thread perplexing ways,
And fall on strange and startling days—
How must he sound the mighty tide
Of human nature, deep and wide;
And we—although no seers, alas!
Perchance too well can guess and glass
Your future and your fate by ours;
Ruled by like passions and like powers.
How lovely these wood-children wild!
Around them seems to breathe and move
The very loveliness of Love.
Things cast in an angelic mould!
Lambs of an everlasting fold!
243
Stars of the Heaven of Heavens divine!
Flowers of a bright Land, far away,
Where Summer holds untroubled sway!
The severed Eden's passage-birds—
Those younglings of Life's crowded herds!
Oh! know ye, know ye all your worth,
Ye living treasures of the earth?
Dear little ones! Oh! know ye all
That doth exalt you, and enthral?
The duties on your state imposed,
The glories to your ken disclosed?
Have ever sacred truths informed,
Have ever solemn precepts warmed?
Or heart and voice been taught to raise
The breath of prayer, the strain of praise?
244
Yet all unstained and undefiled,—
I fear such blessedness is not
Reserved unto your wayward lot;
I fear such priceless store of bliss
It hath been yours, to lack and miss.
Yet, citizens of the open air,
Many high lessons wait you there.
Oh! might some deeply gifted seer
Survey you, Nature's nurselings here;
And, in his Victory's hour, unfold
Your history, ever new and old;
(For still Man's wondrous story runs
The same, beneath revolving suns;
Yet, still each separate tale contains
Mysteriously varying veins).
245
And fall on strange and startling days—
How must he sound the mighty tide
Of human nature, deep and wide;
And we—although no seers, alas!
Perchance too well can guess and glass
Your future and your fate by ours;
Ruled by like passions and like powers.
The history of humanity,
Must be exemplified in ye;
For all its seeds and all its springs
Lie deep in you—young radiant things!
And stems shall shoot, and streams shall flow,
Of Hope, Fear, Joy, Remorse, and Woe;
Through Fancy's orbits wild and strange,
Her labyrinths of ceaseless change;
Through all she hath of dark and bright,
Must we press on, if we aright
Would read this page of beauty, spread
Before us,—and who would not read?
Must be exemplified in ye;
For all its seeds and all its springs
Lie deep in you—young radiant things!
And stems shall shoot, and streams shall flow,
Of Hope, Fear, Joy, Remorse, and Woe;
246
Her labyrinths of ceaseless change;
Through all she hath of dark and bright,
Must we press on, if we aright
Would read this page of beauty, spread
Before us,—and who would not read?
In elder times such woods as these,
Thrilled by the many-scented breeze—
Were haunted by unearthly forms,
Alike in sunshine and in storms—
The leafy solitudes were all
Laid soft beneath a bright spell's thrall;
Naiad and Wood-nymph, Dryad, Faun,
Gladdened each golden eve and dawn;
But never yet on poet-dreams,
Beneath the leaves—beside the streams,
Hath lovelier, tenderer vision shone,
Than this, this most transcendant one:
Even these simple children meek,
With cloudless eye, and blooming cheek—
May we not think, while thus we gaze
On them in this deep verdurous maze—
That guardian-angels round them stand,
Shielding and sheltering on each hand?
Yet guardian-angel need they none,
Save their own purity alone—
And I have often felt, and feel
This gentle fancy o'er me steal—
That little children thus appear,
Themselves like guardian angels near;
Their innocence a spell, to arm
'Gainst every ill, 'gainst every harm.
Thrilled by the many-scented breeze—
Were haunted by unearthly forms,
Alike in sunshine and in storms—
The leafy solitudes were all
Laid soft beneath a bright spell's thrall;
Naiad and Wood-nymph, Dryad, Faun,
Gladdened each golden eve and dawn;
247
Beneath the leaves—beside the streams,
Hath lovelier, tenderer vision shone,
Than this, this most transcendant one:
Even these simple children meek,
With cloudless eye, and blooming cheek—
May we not think, while thus we gaze
On them in this deep verdurous maze—
That guardian-angels round them stand,
Shielding and sheltering on each hand?
Yet guardian-angel need they none,
Save their own purity alone—
And I have often felt, and feel
This gentle fancy o'er me steal—
That little children thus appear,
Themselves like guardian angels near;
248
'Gainst every ill, 'gainst every harm.
Bright little band! farewell to ye,
In your verdant temple sanctuary,
Beneath the o'erarched, o'er shadowing tree:
Soon may this storm be cleared away—
And treble splendours gild the day,
And midst life's wilderness of storms,
And dread array of threatening forms;
When gloom and wrath around ye spread,
May still a shade hang overhead—
A shelter rise on either hand,
To guard you, shield you, infant band!
Oh! may you never be without
A refuge from its tempest-rout—
A refuge and a hallowed ark,
From pelting rains and shadowings dark;
From clashing clouds and howling winds—
Which, as the web of life unwinds,
Too oft shall quench the quivering ray
Of hope, that lights your onward way—
One shelter, and one shield be still
Yours, through each threatening harm and ill—
That heavenly shelter from above,
The safeguard of a Father's love!
In your verdant temple sanctuary,
Beneath the o'erarched, o'er shadowing tree:
Soon may this storm be cleared away—
And treble splendours gild the day,
And midst life's wilderness of storms,
And dread array of threatening forms;
When gloom and wrath around ye spread,
May still a shade hang overhead—
A shelter rise on either hand,
To guard you, shield you, infant band!
Oh! may you never be without
A refuge from its tempest-rout—
249
From pelting rains and shadowings dark;
From clashing clouds and howling winds—
Which, as the web of life unwinds,
Too oft shall quench the quivering ray
Of hope, that lights your onward way—
One shelter, and one shield be still
Yours, through each threatening harm and ill—
That heavenly shelter from above,
The safeguard of a Father's love!
| The Village Churchyard | |