 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
18
TO The Memory OF SAMUEL WHITBREAD, ESQ.
While the tempest-tost mariner can but discern,
His guide and his guardian, the pole-star on high;
Regardless of winds and of waves, he may turn
To that bright-rolling orb with a hope-beaming eye.
His guide and his guardian, the pole-star on high;
Regardless of winds and of waves, he may turn
To that bright-rolling orb with a hope-beaming eye.
And thus, amid Europe's convulsive commotion,
We too had our planet, and brilliant its blaze;
It shone o'er its own native isle of the ocean,
In the proud, peerless splendour of primitive days.
We too had our planet, and brilliant its blaze;
It shone o'er its own native isle of the ocean,
In the proud, peerless splendour of primitive days.
Oh, bright was the course of that star in our sky!
Undimm'd by the clouds through which calmly it pass'd;
And proud was the orbit it roll'd in on high,
And holy the radiance which round it is cast.
Undimm'd by the clouds through which calmly it pass'd;
And proud was the orbit it roll'd in on high,
And holy the radiance which round it is cast.
19
The oppress'd and the injur'd rejoic'd in its rays;
The minions of power mark'd its progress with dread;
The patriot pursued it with prayer and with praise;
And lovely and lov'd was the lustre it shed.
The minions of power mark'd its progress with dread;
The patriot pursued it with prayer and with praise;
And lovely and lov'd was the lustre it shed.
And though it hath suddenly sunk from our sight,
And those who long watch'd it must mourn for its fall;
Yet remembrance shall cling to its dawn with delight,
And its noontide effulgence shall often recall.
And those who long watch'd it must mourn for its fall;
Yet remembrance shall cling to its dawn with delight,
And its noontide effulgence shall often recall.
O grant that the dark cloud which veil'd its decline,
In the bright beams of mercy may vanish away;
And the star we have lov'd, through Eternity shine
In glory immortal, which dreads no decay!
In the bright beams of mercy may vanish away;
And the star we have lov'd, through Eternity shine
In glory immortal, which dreads no decay!
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |