 | Ichabod! |  |
1
“But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.”
WORDSWORTH.
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.”
WORDSWORTH.
3
ICHABOD!
I
They say the world is grown so wise,And so diffused is Knowledge;
That soon the Vulgar may despise
All Lights from School, or College.
II
That “Intellect's proud march” goes on,With strides so long and rapid;
All by laborious Learning won,
In by-gone days, is vapid.
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III
That each one now, by bold emprize,May be another's teacher:—
But—“Vanity of Vanities!”
Of old exclaim'd The Preacher.
IV
Nor can this be a Pride to me,Or make me lighter-hearted;
I only know, where e'er I go,
A Glory hath departed!
V
The Glory of a Child-like FaithIn noble, generous feeling;
Of Loyalty, still true to Death,
To head and heart appealing.
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VI
The Glory of a quiet LoveOf Home, and home-born pleasure,
Which, likening Earth to Heaven above,
There bade us lay up treasure!
VII
We now but woo the counterfeit!Of wealth and worldly glitter;
Until Life's goblet, once so sweet,
Becomes like wormwood—bitter!
VIII
How can this be a pride to me?Or make me lighter-hearted?
I only know, where e'er I go,
A Glory hath departed!
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IX
Even in myself I feel a change!For many a glimpse elysian,
By worldly transmutation strange,
Hath vanish'd—like a Vision!
X
There was a time when Hope was high,O'er every Fear victorious;
Life's onward Vista, to my eye,
With radiant Light was glorious;
XI
But darkening clouds have shadow'd o'erThat Vista—once so splendid;
And its first brightness—more and more
With gathering gloom is blended!
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XII
Can this, then, be a pride to me?Or make me lighter-hearted?
Only to know where e'er I go,
A glory hath departed!
XIII
One soothing, and sustaining Hope,Of Heaven-born Faith's creation,
Seems left—with whelming fears to cope,
And whisper consolation.
XIV
There is a better world than this,Tho' mists and shadows hide it;
And there the soul may taste of bliss
In Earth's drear maze denied it
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XV
For in that Light of sun-less rayNor sickness, sin, or sorrow
Can over-cloud its endless day,
Which fears no dark to-morrow!
XVI
May this, then, be a stay to me,And make me hopeful-hearted;
Trusting to know, when there I go,
A Glory hence departed!
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A POSTSCRIPT
SUGGESTED BY RECENT EVENTS IN PARIS.
I
Madly to worship Liberty,And find her but a Name;
Appears the fittest destiny
Such votaries should claim.
II
Freedom's true Lovers would revere,For such are good and wise,
All bonds which Man to Man endear
By kindred sympathies.
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III
Her's is a holy, righteous Cause,And in its fruits we scan
Loyal Obedience to The Laws,
Alike of God, and Man.
IV
Her precepts they have ne'er been taught,Who kindle Civil War,
And hail their Idol Juggernaut,
Thron'd on her bloody Car.
V
True Freedom with such Harlot charmsDisdains to be allied;
Nor would she stoop to use the Arms
Of frantic fraticide.
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VI
She fans not lawless Discontent,To burst out into flame;
For Order is her element,
And Happiness her aim!
VII
Her still small voice, in firm appealTo Reason's rule, is heard;
Her conduct bears the stamp and seal
Of Truth—in Deed, and Word!
VIII
She does not seek to raise the lowBy levelling the high;
Or promulgating War, and Woe,
Rapine, and Anarchy.
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IX
Her Sceptre is no Scorpion-Rod,Mercy would blush to own;
By Love to Man, and Faith in God,
Her genial sway is known.
X
Such is true Heaven-born Liberty!Unlike that Strumpet base,
Which they, in blind idolatry,
Have set up in her place!
XI
May Britain, by their woes made wise,To her own steps take heed;
Abhor their juggling sophistries,
And hold her ancient creed.
| Ichabod! | |