 | Songs of Religion and Life |  |
159
Songs of Life
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The River: an Allegory of Life.
I.
Son of the mountain am I,Born 'twixt the Earth and the Sky,
Where kindly cherished I lay
In my cradle of soft mossy green,
Looking with clear bright eye
On the clouds that curtained the day,
Floating in freakish display
With cerulean glimpses between.
Son of the mountain am I,
Born 'twixt the Earth and the Sky,
Where the old grey rocks stand out
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Snorting with jagged old snout
At the keen winds whistling by;
Where the eagle spreads his van,
And the white-winged ptarmigan—
Fed by rich dews from the sky
There an infant of might I did lie.
II.
Young was I, and lusty-hearted,When first from the mountain I started,
Down from the Ben's grey shoulders
Over the old granite boulders,
Scornful of rest and of ease,
Eagerly running and leaping,
Scooping the rocks with my sweeping,
Tearing the roots of the trees;
Swelling with torrent big-breasted,
Dashing with stream foamy-crested
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Heaving and hurling,
Whirling and swirling
O'er the harsh roots of the Ben;
Foaming and bubbling,
Winding and doubling
Through the long stretch of the glen,
So lusty was I,
Son of earth and of Sky,
So proud of my potency then!
III.
Now I am grown to a River,With measured and equable strain
Rolling my waters, and never
To toss and to tumble again;
I am grown to a smooth-flooded River,
The mighty and merciful Giver
Of wealth to the sons of the plain.
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In triumph of culture I ride,
With the home of the peer and the peasant
To bless the rich roll of my tide;
The firm-poised bridge I flow under,
The fair-builded city I know,
And spires, domes, and turrets, a wonder,
Nod their pride in my glass as I go;
And high-tunnelled vessels are steaming
And churning the foam of my tide,
And trafficking thousands are streaming
With quick-eyed despatch at my side.
And millions are praising the River
As he regally rolls to the main,
The mighty and merciful Giver
Of wealth to the sons of the plain.
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Beautiful World
Beautiful world!
Though bigots condemn thee,
My tongue finds no words
For the graces that gem thee!
Beaming with sunny light,
Bountiful ever,
Streaming with gay delight,
Full as a river!
Bright world! brave world!
Let cavillers blame thee!
I bless thee, and bend
To the God who did frame thee!
Though bigots condemn thee,
My tongue finds no words
For the graces that gem thee!
Beaming with sunny light,
Bountiful ever,
Streaming with gay delight,
Full as a river!
Bright world! brave world!
Let cavillers blame thee!
I bless thee, and bend
To the God who did frame thee!
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Beautiful world!
Bursting around me,
Manifold, million-hued
Wonders confound me!
From earth, sea, and starry sky,
Meadow and mountain,
Eagerly gushes
Life's magical fountain.
Bright world! brave world!
Though witlings may blame thee,
Wonderful excellence
Only could frame thee!
Bursting around me,
Manifold, million-hued
Wonders confound me!
From earth, sea, and starry sky,
Meadow and mountain,
Eagerly gushes
Life's magical fountain.
Bright world! brave world!
Though witlings may blame thee,
Wonderful excellence
Only could frame thee!
The bird in the greenwood
His sweet hymn is trolling,
The fish in blue ocean
Is spouting and rolling!
Light things on airy wing
Wild dances weaving,
Clods with new life in spring
Swelling and heaving!
Thou quick-teeming world,
Though scoffers may blame thee,
I wonder, and worship
The God who could frame thee!
His sweet hymn is trolling,
The fish in blue ocean
Is spouting and rolling!
Light things on airy wing
Wild dances weaving,
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Swelling and heaving!
Thou quick-teeming world,
Though scoffers may blame thee,
I wonder, and worship
The God who could frame thee!
Beautiful world!
What poesy measures
Thy strong-flooding passions,
Thy light-trooping pleasures?
Mustering, marshalling,
Striving and straining,
Conquering, triumphing,
Ruling and reigning!
Thou bright-armied world!
So strong, who can tame thee?
Wonderful power of God
Only could frame thee!
What poesy measures
Thy strong-flooding passions,
Thy light-trooping pleasures?
Mustering, marshalling,
Striving and straining,
Conquering, triumphing,
Ruling and reigning!
Thou bright-armied world!
So strong, who can tame thee?
Wonderful power of God
Only could frame thee!
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Beautiful world!
While godlike I deem thee,
No cold wit shall move me
With bile to blaspheme thee!
I have lived in thy light,
And, when Fate ends my story,
May I leave on death's cloud
The bright trail of life's glory!
Wondrous old world!
No ages shall shame thee!
Ever bright with new light
From the God who did frame thee!
While godlike I deem thee,
No cold wit shall move me
With bile to blaspheme thee!
I have lived in thy light,
And, when Fate ends my story,
May I leave on death's cloud
The bright trail of life's glory!
Wondrous old world!
No ages shall shame thee!
Ever bright with new light
From the God who did frame thee!
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Moments.
In the beauty of life's budding,
When young pulses beat with hope,
And a purple light is flooding
Round thought's blossoms as they ope;
When the poet's song is dearest,
And, where sacred anthems swell,
Every word of power thou hearest
Holds thy spirit like a spell;
O these are moments, fateful moments,
Big with issue—use them well!
When young pulses beat with hope,
And a purple light is flooding
Round thought's blossoms as they ope;
When the poet's song is dearest,
And, where sacred anthems swell,
Every word of power thou hearest
Holds thy spirit like a spell;
O these are moments, fateful moments,
Big with issue—use them well!
When a sudden gust hath tumbled
Hope's bright architecture down;
When some prouder fair hath humbled
Thy proud passion with a frown;
When thy dearest friends deceive thee,
And cold looks thy love repel,
And the bitter humours grieve thee,
That make God's fair earth a hell;
O these are moments, trying moments,
Meant to try thee—use them well!
Hope's bright architecture down;
When some prouder fair hath humbled
Thy proud passion with a frown;
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And cold looks thy love repel,
And the bitter humours grieve thee,
That make God's fair earth a hell;
O these are moments, trying moments,
Meant to try thee—use them well!
When a flash of truth hath found thee,
Where thy foot in darkness trod,
When thick clouds dispart around thee,
And thou standest night to God.
When a noble soul comes near thee,
In whom kindred vitues dwell,
That from faithless doubts can clear thee,
And with strengthening love compel;
O these are moments, rare fair moments;
Sing and shout, and use them well!
Where thy foot in darkness trod,
When thick clouds dispart around thee,
And thou standest night to God.
When a noble soul comes near thee,
In whom kindred vitues dwell,
That from faithless doubts can clear thee,
And with strengthening love compel;
O these are moments, rare fair moments;
Sing and shout, and use them well!
When a haughty threat hath cowed thee,
And with weak, unmanly shame,
Ignoble thou hast bowed thee
To the terror of a name;
And then God holds the mirror
Where thy better self doth dwell,
And thou dost start with terror,
And thy tears gush like a well;
O these are moments, blessèd moments;
Weep and pray, and use them well!
And with weak, unmanly shame,
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To the terror of a name;
And then God holds the mirror
Where thy better self doth dwell,
And thou dost start with terror,
And thy tears gush like a well;
O these are moments, blessèd moments;
Weep and pray, and use them well!
In the pride of thy succeeding,
When, beneath thy high command,
Every soul must own the leading
Of thy strong-controlling hand;
When wide cheers of acclamation
Round thy march of triumph swell,
And the plaudits of a nation
Every thought of fear expel;
O these are moments, slippery moments;
Watch and pray, and use them well!
When, beneath thy high command,
Every soul must own the leading
Of thy strong-controlling hand;
When wide cheers of acclamation
Round thy march of triumph swell,
And the plaudits of a nation
Every thought of fear expel;
O these are moments, slippery moments;
Watch and pray, and use them well!
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When the term of life hath found thee,
And thou smilest upon Fate,
And the golden sheaves around thee
For the angels' sickle wait;
When the pure love thou achievest
Doth the mortal pang expel,
And a shining track thou leavest
To dear friends that love thee well;
O these are moments, happy moments;
Bless God, with whom all issues dwell!
And thou smilest upon Fate,
And the golden sheaves around thee
For the angels' sickle wait;
When the pure love thou achievest
Doth the mortal pang expel,
And a shining track thou leavest
To dear friends that love thee well;
O these are moments, happy moments;
Bless God, with whom all issues dwell!
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Sow not in Sorrow.
Sow not in sorrow,
Fling your seed abroad, and know
God sends to-morrow
The rain to make it grow!
A fool is he his woe who feeds,
And seeks the thorn by which he bleeds,
While harmless culled from bloomy meads
The rose comes to the wise!
Fling your seed abroad, and know
God sends to-morrow
The rain to make it grow!
A fool is he his woe who feeds,
And seeks the thorn by which he bleeds,
While harmless culled from bloomy meads
The rose comes to the wise!
The past no prayer can bring again,
The future cheats the scheming brain,
The present with its golden gain
Is garnered by the wise.
Let each to-morrow
Do to-morrow's work with power;
But he soweth sorrow
Who lives beyond the hour.
The future cheats the scheming brain,
The present with its golden gain
Is garnered by the wise.
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Do to-morrow's work with power;
But he soweth sorrow
Who lives beyond the hour.
While mad Ambition stints his sleep,
To scale the skies and plumb the deep,
I trim my little plot, and reap
My roses with the wise.
Dreams you may borrow,
From the vasty space around;
My work is thorough,
In my narrow bound.
To scale the skies and plumb the deep,
I trim my little plot, and reap
My roses with the wise.
Dreams you may borrow,
From the vasty space around;
My work is thorough,
In my narrow bound.
The Phrygian Midas prayed of old,
That all he touched might turn to gold,
But thus his dinner, we are told,
Was lost to him unwise!
He found a sorrow
Where he hoped a golden joy;
From Midas borrow,
And be a wiser boy!
That all he touched might turn to gold,
But thus his dinner, we are told,
Was lost to him unwise!
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Where he hoped a golden joy;
From Midas borrow,
And be a wiser boy!
When storms with wintry muster come,
And Jove beats loud his thunder drum,
I sit beside the fire and hum
The song that cheers the wise.
Fear bringeth sorrow;
'Mid the world's confounding din,
Peace you may borrow
From faith that's strong within!
And Jove beats loud his thunder drum,
I sit beside the fire and hum
The song that cheers the wise.
Fear bringeth sorrow;
'Mid the world's confounding din,
Peace you may borrow
From faith that's strong within!
When friends are false and patrons frown,
And railway shares go swiftly down,
Weep not! the cross becomes a crown,
By magic of the wise!
Nurse not your sorrow;
Though the cloud be dark to-day,
God sends to-morrow
The bright and cheering ray!
And railway shares go swiftly down,
Weep not! the cross becomes a crown,
By magic of the wise!
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Though the cloud be dark to-day,
God sends to-morrow
The bright and cheering ray!
When hireling scribes retail their lies,
And keen the shaft of slander flies,
I see a cherub in the skies
That smiles upon the wise.
Spur not your sorrow;
Though the tempest rave to-day,
God sends to-morrow
The peaceful beaming May.
And keen the shaft of slander flies,
I see a cherub in the skies
That smiles upon the wise.
Spur not your sorrow;
Though the tempest rave to-day,
God sends to-morrow
The peaceful beaming May.
When juggling statesmen trim their sails
To catch a whiff from shifting gales,
I wait the hour when truth prevails,
And triumph with the wise.
Dream not to borrow
Peace from faction's battling waves;
He reapeth sorrow,
Who trusts in fools and knaves!
To catch a whiff from shifting gales,
I wait the hour when truth prevails,
And triumph with the wise.
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Peace from faction's battling waves;
He reapeth sorrow,
Who trusts in fools and knaves!
When things once strong go to the wall,
And creeds decay, and churches fall,
What then? God reigns above them all,
The Saviour of the wise!
Why should we sorrow,
When a sphere reels into night?
God can to-morrow
Make new worlds more bright.
And creeds decay, and churches fall,
What then? God reigns above them all,
The Saviour of the wise!
Why should we sorrow,
When a sphere reels into night?
God can to-morrow
Make new worlds more bright.
Thus when the world a-warring goes,
No fretful thorn my finger shows,
While on my breast I wear the rose,
The star that decks the wise;
Sow not in sorrow;
Fling your seed abroad, and know
God sends to-morrow,
The rain to make it grow!
No fretful thorn my finger shows,
While on my breast I wear the rose,
The star that decks the wise;
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Fling your seed abroad, and know
God sends to-morrow,
The rain to make it grow!
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The Musical Frogs.
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
How sweet ye sing! Would God that I
Upon the bubbling pool might lie,
And sun myself to-day
With you! No curtained bride, I ween,
Nor pillowed babe, nor cushioned queen,
Nor tiny fay on emerald green,
Nor silken lady gay,
Lies on a softer couch. O Heaven!
How many a lofty mortal, riven
By keen-fanged inflammation,
Might change his lot with yours, to float
On sunny pond with bright green coat,
And sing with gently throbbing throat
Amid the croaking nation,
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
How sweet ye sing! Would God that I
Upon the bubbling pool might lie,
And sun myself to-day
With you! No curtained bride, I ween,
Nor pillowed babe, nor cushioned queen,
Nor tiny fay on emerald green,
Nor silken lady gay,
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How many a lofty mortal, riven
By keen-fanged inflammation,
Might change his lot with yours, to float
On sunny pond with bright green coat,
And sing with gently throbbing throat
Amid the croaking nation,
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Happy the bard who weaves his rhyme
Recumbent on the purple thyme,
In the fragrant month of June;
Happy the sage, whose lofty mood
Doth with far-searching ken intrude
Into the vast infinitude
Of things beyond the moon;
But happier not the wisest man
Whose daring thought leads on the van
Of star-eyed speculation,
Than thou, quick-legged, light-bellied thing,
Within the green pond's reedy ring,
That with a murmurous joy dost sing
Among the croaking nation,
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Happy the bard who weaves his rhyme
Recumbent on the purple thyme,
In the fragrant month of June;
Happy the sage, whose lofty mood
Doth with far-searching ken intrude
Into the vast infinitude
Of things beyond the moon;
But happier not the wisest man
Whose daring thought leads on the van
Of star-eyed speculation,
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Within the green pond's reedy ring,
That with a murmurous joy dost sing
Among the croaking nation,
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Great Jove with dark clouds sweeps the sky,
Where thunders roll and lightnings fly,
And gusty winds are roaring;
Fierce Mars his stormy steed bestrides,
And, lashing wild its bleeding sides,
O'er dead and dying madly rides,
Where the iron hail is pouring.
'Tis well; such crash of mighty Powers
Must be: the spell may not be ours
To tame the hot creation.
But little frogs with paddling foot
Can sing when gods and kings dispute,
And little bards can strum the lute
Amid the croaking nation,
With Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Great Jove with dark clouds sweeps the sky,
Where thunders roll and lightnings fly,
And gusty winds are roaring;
Fierce Mars his stormy steed bestrides,
And, lashing wild its bleeding sides,
O'er dead and dying madly rides,
Where the iron hail is pouring.
'Tis well; such crash of mighty Powers
Must be: the spell may not be ours
To tame the hot creation.
But little frogs with paddling foot
Can sing when gods and kings dispute,
And little bards can strum the lute
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With Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Farewell! not always I may sing
Around the green pond's reedy ring
With you, ye boggy Muses!
But I must go and do stern battle
With herds of stiff-necked human cattle,
Whose eager lust of windy prattle
The gentle rein refuses.
O if!—but all such ifs are vain;
I'll go and blow my trump again,
With brazen iteration:
And when, by Logic's iron rule,
I've quashed each briskly babbling fool,
I'll seek again your gentle school,
And hum beside the tuneful pool
Amid the croaking nation,
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Farewell! not always I may sing
Around the green pond's reedy ring
With you, ye boggy Muses!
But I must go and do stern battle
With herds of stiff-necked human cattle,
Whose eager lust of windy prattle
The gentle rein refuses.
O if!—but all such ifs are vain;
I'll go and blow my trump again,
With brazen iteration:
And when, by Logic's iron rule,
I've quashed each briskly babbling fool,
I'll seek again your gentle school,
And hum beside the tuneful pool
Amid the croaking nation,
Brekekekex! coax! coax! O happy happy frogs!
Some dozen or more years ago, while living at Liebenstein, a German hydropathic establishment in Sachse-Meiningen, I took a stroll across the country on a hot summer's day; when coming near some low marshy ground I became aware of a concert of soft musical notes, floating up gently from the pools of water among the reeds. Never having heard anything of the kind before, I went close up to the brink of the water, and soon found that this most sweet discourse came from a colony of green frogs. Their music made such an impression on me, that on the way back to my waterquarters I wrote some lines as a memorandum of the event, and as a sample of the philosophy of enjoyment, in which frogs belike are sometimes wiser than men.
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The Young Man's Prayer.
[_]
From the German of Baron Bunsen: written when he was a Student at Göttingen, in the year 1812, 19th October.
Thou, who of what Thou art,
And what Thou dost in boundless space and time,
Didst plant the thought sublime
Deep in the holiest holy of my heart,
That I might well employ
My strength upon Thy praise,
Catching some far ken of Thy glorious ways
Through the long march of the uncounted days,
Drunk with the fulness of exceeding joy;
And what Thou dost in boundless space and time,
Didst plant the thought sublime
Deep in the holiest holy of my heart,
That I might well employ
My strength upon Thy praise,
Catching some far ken of Thy glorious ways
Through the long march of the uncounted days,
Drunk with the fulness of exceeding joy;
O draw Thou me
Up to Thy world of bright unhindered sway,
Me the Earth-born, and shake my vision free
From mortal films that blind the face of day!
O hallow Thou my heart,
That I may see some part
Of Thy great glory, as a mortal may!
Up to Thy world of bright unhindered sway,
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From mortal films that blind the face of day!
O hallow Thou my heart,
That I may see some part
Of Thy great glory, as a mortal may!
That me such blessed glimpse may consecrate
Through all the stumblings of this mortal state,
And float me high
Above the bustle of the driving hour,
Above the passion swelling with mad power,
That, with unwinking eye,
I may behold the surging centuries roll,
Serene with stable soul,
Rooted in Thee, from whom my being came,
Thee, through all time unmoved, and through all change the same!
Through all the stumblings of this mortal state,
And float me high
Above the bustle of the driving hour,
Above the passion swelling with mad power,
That, with unwinking eye,
I may behold the surging centuries roll,
Serene with stable soul,
Rooted in Thee, from whom my being came,
Thee, through all time unmoved, and through all change the same!
And, when my thought is laden with rich store,
And my heart streaming o'er
With what Thou art, and what Thou dost, O then
Give Thou my tongue the liberal large employ,
That what I saw, I may make known to men,
Drunk with the fulness of exceeding joy!
And my heart streaming o'er
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Give Thou my tongue the liberal large employ,
That what I saw, I may make known to men,
Drunk with the fulness of exceeding joy!
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A Song of Three Words.
ORARE, LABORARE, CANTARE.
Three blissful words I name to thee,
Three words of potent charm,
From eating care thy heart to free,
Thy life to shield from harm.
Whoso these blissful words may know
A bold blithe-fronted face shall show,
And shod with peace shall safely go
Through war and wild alarm.
Three words of potent charm,
From eating care thy heart to free,
Thy life to shield from harm.
Whoso these blissful words may know
A bold blithe-fronted face shall show,
And shod with peace shall safely go
Through war and wild alarm.
First ere thy forward foot thou move
And wield thine arm of might,
Lift up thy heart to Him above
That all thy ways be right.
To the prime Source of life and power
Let thy soul rise, even as a flower
That skyward climbs in sunny hour
And seeks the genial light.
And wield thine arm of might,
Lift up thy heart to Him above
That all thy ways be right.
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Let thy soul rise, even as a flower
That skyward climbs in sunny hour
And seeks the genial light.
Then gird thy loins to manly toil,
And in the toil have joy:
Greet hardship with a forward smile,
And love the stern employ.
Thy glory this the harsh to tame,
And by wise stroke and technic flame
In godlike labour's fruitful name
Old Chaos to destroy.
And in the toil have joy:
Greet hardship with a forward smile,
And love the stern employ.
Thy glory this the harsh to tame,
And by wise stroke and technic flame
In godlike labour's fruitful name
Old Chaos to destroy.
Then 'mid thy workshop's dusty din,
Where Titan steam hath sway,
Croon to thyself a song within,
Or pour the lusty lay;
Even as a bird that cheerly sings
In narrow cage, nor frets his wings,
But with full-breasted joyance flings
His soul into the day.
Where Titan steam hath sway,
Croon to thyself a song within,
Or pour the lusty lay;
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In narrow cage, nor frets his wings,
But with full-breasted joyance flings
His soul into the day.
For lofty things let others strive
With roll of vauntful drum;
Keep thou thy heart, a honeyed hive,
Like bee with busy hum.
Chase not the bliss with wishful eyes
That ever lures and ever flies,
But in the present joy be wise,
And let the future come!
With roll of vauntful drum;
Keep thou thy heart, a honeyed hive,
Like bee with busy hum.
Chase not the bliss with wishful eyes
That ever lures and ever flies,
But in the present joy be wise,
And let the future come!
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Gaudeamus Igitur!
Gaudeamus
igitur!
Gaudeamus while you may!
While the fleet hour lightly passes,
Honest men and bonnie lasses,
Breathe unchartered breath to-day!
Gaudeamus while you may!
While the fleet hour lightly passes,
Honest men and bonnie lasses,
Breathe unchartered breath to-day!
Gaudeamus igitur!
He is wise who knows to prize
Honest men and bonnie lasses,
Kindly cheer and brimming glasses,
Blooming cheeks and beaming eyes.
He is wise who knows to prize
Honest men and bonnie lasses,
Kindly cheer and brimming glasses,
Blooming cheeks and beaming eyes.
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Gaudeamus! wouldst thou lightly
Find the charm that saves the wise,
Soar not high to realms supernal,
Dive not down to dens infernal,
Look around with loving eyes!
Find the charm that saves the wise,
Soar not high to realms supernal,
Dive not down to dens infernal,
Look around with loving eyes!
Gaudeamus! stray not far!
Pleasure walks in trodden ways;
At thy feet the fair flower gather,
Brightest where it grows the heather
Purples all the Highland braes!
Pleasure walks in trodden ways;
At thy feet the fair flower gather,
Brightest where it grows the heather
Purples all the Highland braes!
Gaudeamus! do not puzzle,
Whence or whither? who can know?
Here we are with hearing, seeing,
To make harvest of our being,
While the summers come and go!
Whence or whither? who can know?
Here we are with hearing, seeing,
To make harvest of our being,
While the summers come and go!
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Gaudeamus! who will show us,
Quoth the Psalmist, any good?
Live, and make no curious comment,
Firmly grasp the fruitful moment;
What thy grasp may hold is good.
Quoth the Psalmist, any good?
Live, and make no curious comment,
Firmly grasp the fruitful moment;
What thy grasp may hold is good.
Gaudeamus! use the present,
In the present there is power;
Honest men and bonnie lasses,
Blooming cheeks and brimming glasses,
That's my gospel for the hour!
In the present there is power;
Honest men and bonnie lasses,
Blooming cheeks and brimming glasses,
That's my gospel for the hour!
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A Song of St. Socrates.
I.
To Socrates, seated in bliss with St. Paul,A club of good fellows sent up a petition,
That they by his name might their brotherhood call,
When this answer came down from the jolly old Grecian—
Men north of the Tweed,
I wish you God-speed,
You may borrow my name, if you hold by my creed;
And this creed hath been mine,
In bright union to join
Religion and beauty, wit, wisdom, and wine!
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II.
I have heard in the skies that you brave Scottish menFor freedom of faith nobly spread out your banners;
This thing I approve; but I shake my head when
They say you are sour and severe in your manners!
Though the thorn with the rose
You must take as it grows,
No thorn without roses brings joy to the nose,
And they only are wise who can cunningly join
Religion and beauty, wit, wisdom, and wine!
III.
'Twas yesterday only, myself and St. Paul,When vespers were over, sat sipping our nectar,
There came up from earth to the heavenly hall
A lean-visaged fellow, as pale as a spectre;
A cross on his breast,
And a rope round his vest,
And a skull in his hand very plainly confessed
194
With piety pleasure, and wisdom with wine!
IV.
Such fellows I hate: so I said, in this placeAll cherubs are rosy, no seraph is yellow;
We don't measure worth by the length of the face,
So sit down with Paul and with me, and be mellow!
With hollow surprise
He broadened his eyes,
And held up his hand for a sign to the skies,
Showing plainly he knew not the cunning to join
Religion with reason, and wisdom with wine.
V.
To this self-tormentor what after befell,Who looked like a lemon, when nectar was flowing,
If he went back to earth, or was trapped into hell,
195
Myself and St. Paul,
When on earth's cloudy ball,
Were never found lagging when duty did call;
We stood for our faith, where our life was the fine,
But we never looked sour on a glass of good wine!
VI.
And now my discourse you have heard to the end,My name you may use, and you know the condition,
If wisely you temper and skilfully blend
The hard-headed Scot with the quick-witted Grecian;
Myself and St. Paul,
From the bright azure hall,
Will bring your petitions and wait on your call,
And teach you to mingle in harmony fine
A song with a sermon, and wisdom with wine.
196
A Song of Summer.
‘Always in your darkest hours strive to remember your brightest.’
J. P. Richter.
J. P. Richter.
Sing me a song of Summer,
For my heart is wintry sad,
That glorious bright new-comer,
Who makes all Nature glad!
Sing me a song of Summer,
That the dark from the bright may borrow,
And the part in the radiant whole of things
May drown its little sorrow!
For my heart is wintry sad,
That glorious bright new-comer,
Who makes all Nature glad!
Sing me a song of Summer,
That the dark from the bright may borrow,
And the part in the radiant whole of things
May drown its little sorrow!
Sing me a song of Summer,
When God walks forth in light,
And spreads his glowing mantle
O'er the blank and the grey of the night;
And where he comes, his quickening touch
Revives the insensate dead,
And the numbed and frozen pulse of things
Beats music to his tread.
When God walks forth in light,
And spreads his glowing mantle
O'er the blank and the grey of the night;
197
Revives the insensate dead,
And the numbed and frozen pulse of things
Beats music to his tread.
Sing me a song of Summer,
With his banners of golden bloom,
That glorious bright new-comer,
Who bears bleak winter's doom,
With banners of gold and of silver,
And wings of rosy display,
And verdurous power in his path,
When he comes in the pride of the May;
With his banners of golden bloom,
That glorious bright new-comer,
Who bears bleak winter's doom,
With banners of gold and of silver,
And wings of rosy display,
And verdurous power in his path,
When he comes in the pride of the May;
When he comes with his genial sweep
O'er the barren and bare of the scene,
And makes the stiff earth to wave
With an ocean of undulant green;
With flourish of leafy expansion,
And boast of luxuriant bloom,
And the revel of life as it triumphs
O'er the dust and decay of the tomb.
O'er the barren and bare of the scene,
And makes the stiff earth to wave
With an ocean of undulant green;
With flourish of leafy expansion,
And boast of luxuriant bloom,
198
O'er the dust and decay of the tomb.
Sing me a song of Summer;
O God! what a glorious thing
Is the march of this mighty new-comer
With splendour of life on his wing!
When he quickens the pulse of creation,
And maketh all feebleness strong,
Till it spread into blossoms of beauty,
And burst into pæans of song!
O God! what a glorious thing
Is the march of this mighty new-comer
With splendour of life on his wing!
When he quickens the pulse of creation,
And maketh all feebleness strong,
Till it spread into blossoms of beauty,
And burst into pæans of song!
Sing me a song of Summer!
Though my heart be wintry and sad,
The thought of this blessed new-comer
Shall foster the germ of the glad.
'Neath the veil of my grief let me cherish
The joy that shall rush into day,
When the bane of the winter shall perish
In the pride and the power of the May.
Though my heart be wintry and sad,
The thought of this blessed new-comer
Shall foster the germ of the glad.
'Neath the veil of my grief let me cherish
The joy that shall rush into day,
When the bane of the winter shall perish
In the pride and the power of the May.
199
A Song of the Country.
Written near Witley, in Surrey.
Away from the roar and the rattle,
The dust and the din of the town,
Where to live is to brawl and to battle,
Till the strong treads the weak man down!
Away to the bonnie green hills
Where the sunshine sleeps on the brae,
And the heart of the greenwood thrills
To the hymn of the bird on the spray.
The dust and the din of the town,
Where to live is to brawl and to battle,
Till the strong treads the weak man down!
Away to the bonnie green hills
Where the sunshine sleeps on the brae,
And the heart of the greenwood thrills
To the hymn of the bird on the spray.
Away from the smoke and the smother,
The veil of the dun and the brown,
The push and the plash and the pother,
The wear and the waste of the town!
Away where the sky shines clear,
And the light breeze wanders at will,
And the dark pine-wood nods near
To the light-plumed birch on the hill.
The veil of the dun and the brown,
The push and the plash and the pother,
The wear and the waste of the town!
205
And the light breeze wanders at will,
And the dark pine-wood nods near
To the light-plumed birch on the hill.
Away from the whirling and wheeling,
And steaming above and below,
Where the heart has no leisure for feeling,
And the thought has no quiet to grow.
Away where the clear brook purls,
And the hyacinth droops in the shade,
And the wing of the fern uncoils
Its grace in the depth of the glade.
And steaming above and below,
Where the heart has no leisure for feeling,
And the thought has no quiet to grow.
Away where the clear brook purls,
And the hyacinth droops in the shade,
And the wing of the fern uncoils
Its grace in the depth of the glade.
Away to the cottage so sweetly
Embowered 'neath the fringe of the wood,
Where the wife of my bosom shall meet me
With thoughts ever kindly and good.
More dear than the wealth of the world,
Fond mother with bairnies three,
And the plump-armed babe that has curled
Its lips sweetly pouting for me.
Embowered 'neath the fringe of the wood,
Where the wife of my bosom shall meet me
With thoughts ever kindly and good.
More dear than the wealth of the world,
Fond mother with bairnies three,
206
Its lips sweetly pouting for me.
Then away from the war and the rattle
The dust and the din of the town,
Where to live is to brawl and to battle
Till the strong treads the weak man down.
Away where the green twigs nod
In the fragrant breath of the May,
And the sweet growth spreads on the sod,
And the blithe birds sing on the spray.
The dust and the din of the town,
Where to live is to brawl and to battle
Till the strong treads the weak man down.
Away where the green twigs nod
In the fragrant breath of the May,
And the sweet growth spreads on the sod,
And the blithe birds sing on the spray.
207
A Song of Fatherland by a Traveller.
I've wandered east, I've wandered west,
In gipsy-wise a random roamer;
Of men and minds I've known the best,
Like that far-travelled king in Homer.
In gipsy-wise a random roamer;
Of men and minds I've known the best,
Like that far-travelled king in Homer.
But O! for the land that bore me,
O! for the stout old land
Of breezy Ben and winding glen,
And roaring flood, and sounding strand!
O! for the stout old land
Of breezy Ben and winding glen,
And roaring flood, and sounding strand!
I've seen the domes of Moscow far,
In green and golden glory gleaming;
And stood where sleeps the mighty Czar,
By Neva's flood so grandly streaming.
In green and golden glory gleaming;
And stood where sleeps the mighty Czar,
By Neva's flood so grandly streaming.
But O! etc.
208
I've stood on many a storied spot,
Where blood of heroes flowed like rivers,
Where Deutschland rose at Gravelotte,
And dashed the strength of Gaul to shivers.
Where blood of heroes flowed like rivers,
Where Deutschland rose at Gravelotte,
And dashed the strength of Gaul to shivers.
But O! etc.
I've stood where stands in pillared pride,
The shrine of Jove's spear-shaking daughter,
And humbled Persia stained the tide
Of free Greek seas with heaps of slaughter.
The shrine of Jove's spear-shaking daughter,
And humbled Persia stained the tide
Of free Greek seas with heaps of slaughter.
But O! etc.
I've stood upon the rocky crest,
Where Jove's proud eagle spreads his pinion,
Where looked the God far east, far west,
And all he saw was Rome's dominion.
Where Jove's proud eagle spreads his pinion,
Where looked the God far east, far west,
And all he saw was Rome's dominion.
But O! etc.
I've fed my eyes by land and sea,
With sights of grandeur streaming o'er me,
But still my heart remains with thee,
Dear Scottish land, that stoutly bore me.
With sights of grandeur streaming o'er me,
209
Dear Scottish land, that stoutly bore me.
O! for the land that bore me,
O! for the stout old land,
With mighty Ben, and winding glen,
Stout Scottish land, my own dear land!
O! for the stout old land,
With mighty Ben, and winding glen,
Stout Scottish land, my own dear land!
210
A Song of Freemasonry.
I
God save me! at last the grim waste I have passedOf a prickly scholastic theology,
And now in a region I float, where religion
To common sense owes no apology.
But pray don't expect I shall found a new sect,
No pulpit on earth I've an eye to!
My new patent plan's to be merely a man,
And as I was born live and die too!
Orthodox, heterodox,
Luther, and Laud, and Knox,
Squabbles of High Church and Low Church!
211
To be merely a MAN,
And laugh both at High Church and Low Church!
II
I looked and I wondered, I battled and blunderedWith much metaphysical struggle,
With saintly desiring, and pious aspiring,
Till reason itself seemed a juggle.
And now the poor swimmer, with every vain glimmer
Of hope sank more deep than before, Sir!
Till I fell on this notion of healthy devotion,
That a man is a man, and no more, Sir!
Orthodox, heterodox,
Luther, and Laud, and Knox,
Squabbles of High Church and Low Church!
If no wisdom you see
In my masonry free,
Then go to the High or the Low Church!
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III
'Tis new, and 'tis old, to no Churchman 'tis sold,This gospel all true hearts believe it,
And blessed are they, 'mid the sons of the clay,
Who with hearty good welcome receive it.
O! seek not a spell from the dark depths of hell,
Nor let not the bright starry host win you!
The gospel of God is at no bishop's nod,
‘The Kingdom of Heaven is within you’!
Orthodox, heterodox,
Luther, and Laud, and Knox,
Vain wisdom of High and of Low Church;
Though the cock on the steeple
Is gilt for the people,
And bells ring for High and for Low Church!
IV
A poor Arab maid may with faith undismayed,Her heart in the desert sustain, Sir!
213
And all for most heathenish gain, Sir!
In Christian and Turk the deep Devil may lurk,
In Kaiser and Tartary Khan, Sir!
But I know a spell that will blast him to hell,
'Tis to swear by the God that's in MAN, Sir!
Orthodox, heterodox,
Luther, and Laud, and Knox,
Harsh dogmas of High Church and Low Church.
For what's in a name?
'Tis smoke round the flame
To bemuddle both High Church and Low Church.
V
Of eternal decrees and election I canKnow as much and as little as you, Sir!
But that I'm a man who can purpose and plan,
'Tis true, by the Powers, 'tis true, Sir!
214
To cleave to my kin and my clan, Sir!
And do some small good to the brave brotherhood
That graces the title of man, Sir!
Orthodox, heterodox,
Luther, and Laud, and Knox,
Mere quibbles of High Church and Low Church!
Your wits run aground,
Or in misty profound,
You are swamped by the High and the Low Church!
VI
My fancy bright weaves it, my firm faith believes it,The time is not far, but is near, now!
When strong hearts with glee shall shake their wings free
From crotchets and whims that are dear now!
215
By Bible-law and by Koran, Sir!
And each true heart brim with free worship to Him
Whose image shines brightest in Man, Sir!
Orthodox, heterodox,
Luther, and Laud, and Knox,
Vain squabbles of High Church and Low Church!
In God and in Man
I believe; but I can
Subscribe to sheer nonsense in no Church!
216
A Revolutionary Ode.
‘I will overturn, overturn, overturn it!’
—Ezekiel.
—Ezekiel.
‘Break up your fallow ground, and sow not among thorns.’
Jeremiah.
Jeremiah.
I did dream a bodeful dreaming;
Thunders rolled, red fires were gleaming,
Earth did quake.
And I saw God's angel winging
Earthward, earnest message bringing;
Fearful in my ears 'tis ringing:
Thus he spake:
Thunders rolled, red fires were gleaming,
Earth did quake.
And I saw God's angel winging
Earthward, earnest message bringing;
Fearful in my ears 'tis ringing:
Thus he spake:
‘Rouse thee, Wrath, and be a giant!
People's Will, that hath been pliant
Long, too long,
Up! and snap the rusty chaining,
Brittle bond for thy restraining;
Know the hour; the weak are reigning;
Thou art strong.
People's Will, that hath been pliant
Long, too long,
217
Brittle bond for thy restraining;
Know the hour; the weak are reigning;
Thou art strong.
‘Rise, and right the wrongs of ages,
Balance Time's unequal pages
With the sword!
Velvet-cushioned fools have slumbered,
Wanton weeds my garden cumbered;
Now their barren days are numbered,
Saith the Lord.
Balance Time's unequal pages
With the sword!
Velvet-cushioned fools have slumbered,
Wanton weeds my garden cumbered;
Now their barren days are numbered,
Saith the Lord.
‘Hear, ye loveless, narrow-hearted,
Few for whom the many smarted,
Hear my word!
I have heard the people's moaning,
I have known the poor man's groaning,
I have vowed a red atoning,
Saith the Lord!
Few for whom the many smarted,
Hear my word!
I have heard the people's moaning,
I have known the poor man's groaning,
I have vowed a red atoning,
Saith the Lord!
218
‘Who have lived in pillowed pleasure,
Ye shall now, in righteous measure,
Eat the dust;
Who beheld the bondman sallow
Pine, that ye in lust might wallow,
Ye shall fat young Freedom's fallow!
So 'tis just.
Ye shall now, in righteous measure,
Eat the dust;
Who beheld the bondman sallow
Pine, that ye in lust might wallow,
Ye shall fat young Freedom's fallow!
So 'tis just.
‘People's heroes, mountain-breasted,
Looking lightnings, tempest-crested,
Seize the sword
Bellow with a vengeful thunder,
Turn each topmost over under,
Let Pride's purple minions wonder,
Saith the Lord!
Looking lightnings, tempest-crested,
Seize the sword
Bellow with a vengeful thunder,
Turn each topmost over under,
Let Pride's purple minions wonder,
Saith the Lord!
‘For their hopes a strong delusion,
For their plans a dark confusion,
I have stored;
Pride with folly shall be mated,
Wisdom still shall come belated,
Mercy shall not find the fated,
Saith the Lord!
For their plans a dark confusion,
I have stored;
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Wisdom still shall come belated,
Mercy shall not find the fated,
Saith the Lord!
‘Iron men and unrelenting,
Who shall do, without repenting,
Deeds abhorred,
For my vengeance I have chosen;
Them no wheedling words shall cozen;
They are hard, their tears are frozen,
Saith the Lord!
Who shall do, without repenting,
Deeds abhorred,
For my vengeance I have chosen;
Them no wheedling words shall cozen;
They are hard, their tears are frozen,
Saith the Lord!
‘Sudden fear shall seize the palace;
Every wile of witless malice
Shall be tried.
Things despised, the weak, the nameless,
I will fire with fury tameless;
They shall smite, themselves not blameless,
Blameful pride.
Every wile of witless malice
Shall be tried.
Things despised, the weak, the nameless,
I will fire with fury tameless;
They shall smite, themselves not blameless,
Blameful pride.
220
‘Kings shall meet and band together,
Despot spread for despot brother
Solemn board.
What they vow they shall pursue it,
I will spur and goad them to it;
They shall do; I will undo it,
Saith the Lord!
Despot spread for despot brother
Solemn board.
What they vow they shall pursue it,
I will spur and goad them to it;
They shall do; I will undo it,
Saith the Lord!
‘March, mine elect iron warriors!
Strike! and old Pride's jealous barriers
Stand no more.
Ye shall judge the kings with rigour,
Ope the lists to strength and vigour;
Earth her increase to the digger
Shall restore.
Strike! and old Pride's jealous barriers
Stand no more.
Ye shall judge the kings with rigour,
Ope the lists to strength and vigour;
Earth her increase to the digger
Shall restore.
‘Tear the patch-work, rend the rotten,
Let the useless be forgotten,
Earth the dead!
Time 'tis none for square and bevel,
Those I send shall raze and level;
Terror through the courtly revel
They shall spread!
Let the useless be forgotten,
Earth the dead!
221
Those I send shall raze and level;
Terror through the courtly revel
They shall spread!
‘Wit I sent—the fools did scoff it;
Love they knew not; now my prophet
Is the Sword.
With stern hate I have begun it;
When strong Love hath bravely won it,
They shall know that I have done it,
Saith the Lord!’
Love they knew not; now my prophet
Is the Sword.
With stern hate I have begun it;
When strong Love hath bravely won it,
They shall know that I have done it,
Saith the Lord!’
Spake the God-sent, thunder-knelling,
Feeble hearts of men compelling,
And upsoared.
I with salvèd sight awaking,
In swift ruin's overtaking,
In the firm Earth's fearful quaking,
Knew the Lord.
Feeble hearts of men compelling,
And upsoared.
I with salvèd sight awaking,
In swift ruin's overtaking,
In the firm Earth's fearful quaking,
Knew the Lord.
222
A Dirge.
I
And is she gone; lost, lost to us for ever,Gone back to mystery and to God,
And shall we look upon her beauty never,
Laid 'neath the cold unfeeling sod?
Pour the sharp sorrow, 'tis human to mourn,
Never, O never, the Dead may return!
II
O she was fair, to nice completeness rounded,Soft as a flower, bright as a star,
223
To make choice music without jar!
Pour, etc.
III
Now she is gone; Earth quits her grace for ever,And native Heaven reclaims his child,
Bright mirror of the glory of the Giver,
In stainless radiance undefiled.
Pour, etc.
IV
O my lean eyes! she's hid, she's hid for ever,Dark, dark with mystery and with God;
And all my weeping can recall her never,
Back from the cold unfeeling sod!
Pour the sharp sorrow, 'tis human to mourn,
Never on Earth the lost Dead may return!
224
Advice to a favourite Student on leaving College.
Dear youth, grey books no blossoms bear;
Thou hast enough of learning;
For life's green fields thy march prepare,
And take my friendly warning.
I would not have thee longer stay,
To read of others' striving;
Wield thine own arm!—the only way
To know life is by living.
Thou hast enough of learning;
For life's green fields thy march prepare,
And take my friendly warning.
I would not have thee longer stay,
To read of others' striving;
Wield thine own arm!—the only way
To know life is by living.
The brain's a small part of a man;
Though thought has wide dominions,
Thou canst not lift the smallest stone
By Speculation's pinions.
Who learns an art by lifeless rule,
Through mists will still be blinking;
The subtlest thinker is a fool,
Who spins mere webs of thinking.
Though thought has wide dominions,
Thou canst not lift the smallest stone
By Speculation's pinions.
225
Through mists will still be blinking;
The subtlest thinker is a fool,
Who spins mere webs of thinking.
The times are feverish; mark me well!
Have faith and patience by thee;
Unless thou curl into thy shell,
Thou 'lt find enough to try thee.
But that's a weak device. I know
Thou 'lt face it free and fearless;
But O! beware the greater foe,
A spirit proud and prayerless!
Have faith and patience by thee;
Unless thou curl into thy shell,
Thou 'lt find enough to try thee.
But that's a weak device. I know
Thou 'lt face it free and fearless;
But O! beware the greater foe,
A spirit proud and prayerless!
I love a bold and venturous boy,
Who, full of fresh emotion,
Launches with large and liberal joy
On life's wide-rolling ocean.
But there are rocks; and blind to steer
Were thoughtless folly's merit:
Curb thou thy force with holy fear,
And keep a watchful spirit.
Who, full of fresh emotion,
Launches with large and liberal joy
On life's wide-rolling ocean.
226
Were thoughtless folly's merit:
Curb thou thy force with holy fear,
And keep a watchful spirit.
Where eager crowds contend for pelf,
The seller and the buyer,
Each one free range seeks for himself,
And cares for nothing higher.
Make honey in an ordered hive,
Nor join the lawless scramble
Of men, with whom in life to thrive
Is with good luck to gamble.
The seller and the buyer,
Each one free range seeks for himself,
And cares for nothing higher.
Make honey in an ordered hive,
Nor join the lawless scramble
Of men, with whom in life to thrive
Is with good luck to gamble.
We live in days when all would climb
With hot, high-strung employment;
Some rage in prose, some writhe in rhyme,
All hate a calm enjoyment.
Freedom's the watchword of the hour;
But O! 'tis melancholy
When every bubbling brain has power
To drown calm thought with folly!
With hot, high-strung employment;
Some rage in prose, some writhe in rhyme,
All hate a calm enjoyment.
227
But O! 'tis melancholy
When every bubbling brain has power
To drown calm thought with folly!
The age is full of talkers. Thou
Be silent for a season,
Till slowly-ripening facts shall grow
Into a stable reason.
Pert witlings fling crude fancies round,
As wanton whim conceits them,
Pleased when from fools the echoed sound
Of their own folly greets them.
Be silent for a season,
Till slowly-ripening facts shall grow
Into a stable reason.
Pert witlings fling crude fancies round,
As wanton whim conceits them,
Pleased when from fools the echoed sound
Of their own folly greets them.
Nurse thou, where eager babble spreads,
A quiet brooding nature,
Nor strive, by lopping taller heads,
To raise thy lesser stature.
Eschew the cavilling critic's art,
The lust of loud reproving;
The brain by knowledge grows, the heart
Is larger made by loving.
A quiet brooding nature,
Nor strive, by lopping taller heads,
To raise thy lesser stature.
228
The lust of loud reproving;
The brain by knowledge grows, the heart
Is larger made by loving.
All things we cannot know. At sea
As when a good ship saileth,
Our steps within the planks are free,
Beyond all cunning faileth.
So man as by a living bond
Of circling powers is bounded;
Within the line is ours, beyond
The sharpest wit's confounded.
As when a good ship saileth,
Our steps within the planks are free,
Beyond all cunning faileth.
So man as by a living bond
Of circling powers is bounded;
Within the line is ours, beyond
The sharpest wit's confounded.
What thing thou knowest, nicely know
With curious fine dissection;
The smallest mite can something show
That chains thy rapt inspection.
Allwhere with holy caution move,
In God thy life is moving;
All things with reverent patience prove,
'Tis God's will thou art proving.
With curious fine dissection;
The smallest mite can something show
That chains thy rapt inspection.
229
In God thy life is moving;
All things with reverent patience prove,
'Tis God's will thou art proving.
What thing thou doest, bravely do;
When Heaven's clear call hath found thee,
Follow!—with fervid wheels pursue,
Though thousands bray around thee!
Yet keep thy zeal in rein; despise
No gentle preparation;
Flash not God's truth on blinking eyes,
With reckless inspiration!
When Heaven's clear call hath found thee,
Follow!—with fervid wheels pursue,
Though thousands bray around thee!
Yet keep thy zeal in rein; despise
No gentle preparation;
Flash not God's truth on blinking eyes,
With reckless inspiration!
Farewell, my brave, my bright-eyed boy!
And from the halls of learning,
Thy face, my long familiar joy,
Take, with this friendly warning.
And when with weighty truth thou'rt fraught
From Life, the earnest preacher,
Think sometimes with a kindly thought
On me, thy faithful teacher.
And from the halls of learning,
Thy face, my long familiar joy,
Take, with this friendly warning.
230
From Life, the earnest preacher,
Think sometimes with a kindly thought
On me, thy faithful teacher.
231
The Garden:
TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY.
Maiden, on thy father's garden
Thou dost look, and thou dost see
Growths of green and golden beauty
Many, but their types are three;
One the tree, the strong, tall-bodied,
Branching forth with arms of power,
One with foodful root or fruitage,
One with fragrant-blooming flower.
Thou dost look, and thou dost see
Growths of green and golden beauty
Many, but their types are three;
One the tree, the strong, tall-bodied,
Branching forth with arms of power,
One with foodful root or fruitage,
One with fragrant-blooming flower.
Maiden, all things are a symbol;
Tree, and flower, and foodful weed
Quaintly preach a pictured lesson,
If thine eyes are wise to read.
Lend thy hearing; sixty summers
Not in vain have wisdomed me;
I will show thee what the garden
Quaintly teaches me and thee.
Tree, and flower, and foodful weed
Quaintly preach a pictured lesson,
If thine eyes are wise to read.
232
Not in vain have wisdomed me;
I will show thee what the garden
Quaintly teaches me and thee.
In the tree behold thy father;
Strongly built is he to stand
In the brunt of life unshaken
With an eye of cool command.
In the tempest's face he tosses
Forth his arms; and gentle things
Gather round his bole, and glory
In the lordship of his wings.
Strongly built is he to stand
In the brunt of life unshaken
With an eye of cool command.
In the tempest's face he tosses
Forth his arms; and gentle things
Gather round his bole, and glory
In the lordship of his wings.
In the foodful herb, thy mother
Finds meet symbol, by whose care
All the household fed and nourished
Stands so firm, and shows so fair.
She is toiling late and early,
Working where no eye can see,
Like the root, 'neath earthy covert
Growing healthful food for thee.
Finds meet symbol, by whose care
All the household fed and nourished
Stands so firm, and shows so fair.
233
Working where no eye can see,
Like the root, 'neath earthy covert
Growing healthful food for thee.
And thou, laughing Henrietta,
What remains for thee? the flower;
Growth the fairest and the sweetest
In the green redundant bower.
And the flower with fragrant blossom
That so aptly symbols thee,
What with pictured text it preaches
Hear, thou dainty maid, from me.
What remains for thee? the flower;
Growth the fairest and the sweetest
In the green redundant bower.
And the flower with fragrant blossom
That so aptly symbols thee,
What with pictured text it preaches
Hear, thou dainty maid, from me.
Youth is lovely; cherish beauty;
'Tis thy dower; not in vain
God with lavish blooms of beauty
Spanned the slope, and sowed the plain.
Goodness is the soul of beauty;
Cherish goodness; it will shine
Through the glooms of life the darkest,
Like bright rubies in a mine.
'Tis thy dower; not in vain
God with lavish blooms of beauty
Spanned the slope, and sowed the plain.
234
Cherish goodness; it will shine
Through the glooms of life the darkest,
Like bright rubies in a mine.
Loveliest flowers have sweetest fragrance;
Let sweet fragrance flow from thee,
Vivid breath of pure emotion,
Flame from smoky passion free.
Lowly reverence, gentle pity,
Every gracious thought benign
From the loving heart of woman
That makes human life divine.
Let sweet fragrance flow from thee,
Vivid breath of pure emotion,
Flame from smoky passion free.
Lowly reverence, gentle pity,
Every gracious thought benign
From the loving heart of woman
That makes human life divine.
Maiden, thou hast heard the lesson,
As my tongue had strength to tell,
Typed for thee, in flowery garden;
Take it now, and use it well.
Wingèd words are lightly spoken,
With the breath the sermon dies;
But the precept of the moment
Tasks a lifetime to the wise.
As my tongue had strength to tell,
Typed for thee, in flowery garden;
Take it now, and use it well.
235
With the breath the sermon dies;
But the precept of the moment
Tasks a lifetime to the wise.
236
The Wisdom of Life.
Would you lead a happy life,
Free from melancholy,
Gnawing care and thorny strife,
And plunges of blind folly—
I will tell you how to live
Heartily and truly,
With sweet honey in your hive,
Like a bee in July.
Free from melancholy,
Gnawing care and thorny strife,
And plunges of blind folly—
I will tell you how to live
Heartily and truly,
With sweet honey in your hive,
Like a bee in July.
Like the bee, be out and work
When the sun is shining,
Never in a corner lurk,
Whimpering and whining.
If you scour the fields, you'll find
Thyme, or mint, or clover;
Something to a willing mind
God will still discover.
When the sun is shining,
Never in a corner lurk,
Whimpering and whining.
237
Thyme, or mint, or clover;
Something to a willing mind
God will still discover.
When the sky is grim and grey,
Though the clouds rain fountains,
March; and molehills on your way
Don't mistake for mountains.
If a ghost beside you stand,
Make no fearful comment;
But face the shadow boldly, and
'Tis vanished in a moment!
Though the clouds rain fountains,
March; and molehills on your way
Don't mistake for mountains.
If a ghost beside you stand,
Make no fearful comment;
But face the shadow boldly, and
'Tis vanished in a moment!
What the folks of you may say
Never mind a rattle,
Spin your quiet yarn, while they
Waste their wind in battle.
Lies that float on windy wings
With windy haste will perish;
But the seed of truthful things
Time's fruitful womb will cherish.
Never mind a rattle,
Spin your quiet yarn, while they
Waste their wind in battle.
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With windy haste will perish;
But the seed of truthful things
Time's fruitful womb will cherish.
Hold your head erect, but not
Haughtily, to all men;
When your fair fame they would blot,
Never answer small men.
When they spring with hissing harm,
Madder still and madder,
Shake them gently from your arm,
As Paul let drop the adder.
Haughtily, to all men;
When your fair fame they would blot,
Never answer small men.
When they spring with hissing harm,
Madder still and madder,
Shake them gently from your arm,
As Paul let drop the adder.
Storms will have their gusty way,
Fools will have their ranting;
But sense outrides the roughest day,
And sees the end of canting.
Wrap your mantle round your breast,
And when the storm is loudest,
Lightly fling your brightest jest
And let your gait be proudest.
Fools will have their ranting;
But sense outrides the roughest day,
And sees the end of canting.
239
And when the storm is loudest,
Lightly fling your brightest jest
And let your gait be proudest.
Wouldst thou Truth's fair semblance see,
All viewless to the rabble,
Keep thy soul unbribed and free
From Whig and Tory squabble;
From fretful faction's hoarse debate,
From foiled ambition's canker,
From seas of never-ending prate,
And floods of sacred rancour.
All viewless to the rabble,
Keep thy soul unbribed and free
From Whig and Tory squabble;
From fretful faction's hoarse debate,
From foiled ambition's canker,
From seas of never-ending prate,
And floods of sacred rancour.
Let your eye range freely round
To spell the scroll of Nature;
But ever with an awe profound
Revere the great Creator.
Let no phrase thy wit delude,
Let no dogma fetter;
But though to know all things is good,
To love all things is better.
To spell the scroll of Nature;
But ever with an awe profound
Revere the great Creator.
240
Let no dogma fetter;
But though to know all things is good,
To love all things is better.
Wear your heart not on your sleeve;
But on just occasion
Let men know what you believe
With breezy ventilation;
Prove the good, and make them thine,
With warm embrace and ample;
But never cast your pearls to swine,
Who turn and rend and trample.
But on just occasion
Let men know what you believe
With breezy ventilation;
Prove the good, and make them thine,
With warm embrace and ample;
But never cast your pearls to swine,
Who turn and rend and trample.
Make a penny when you can,
'Tis useful as a tool is,
But who says, Money makes the man,
A meagre-witted fool is.
Rich is he whose genial breast,
With liberal salutation,
Hath welcomed all that's bright and best
Throughout the wide creation.
'Tis useful as a tool is,
But who says, Money makes the man,
A meagre-witted fool is.
241
With liberal salutation,
Hath welcomed all that's bright and best
Throughout the wide creation.
When you've got a willing steed,
Use it meek and mildly;
Soon the best will slack his speed
If you spur him wildly.
Race not with a ramping might,
Like puffy Boreas blowing;
But like the glorious lord of light,
Be gentle in thy going.
Use it meek and mildly;
Soon the best will slack his speed
If you spur him wildly.
Race not with a ramping might,
Like puffy Boreas blowing;
But like the glorious lord of light,
Be gentle in thy going.
Now my Muse must clip her wing—
Rhyme's a fluent preacher;
But how to do the proper thing
Life's the only teacher.
Only he may know who tries;
And if you now determine
So to do as I advise,
You'll never rue the sermon.
Rhyme's a fluent preacher;
But how to do the proper thing
Life's the only teacher.
242
And if you now determine
So to do as I advise,
You'll never rue the sermon.
| Songs of Religion and Life | |