 | The Forest Minstrel, and Other Poems |  |
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ON READING THE FOLLOWING EXTRACT.
[_]
Twenty-eighth of sixth month, died Sarah Candler, daughter of William and Elizabeth Candler, Ipswich. By her decease a promising plant was cut down in its bloom, but not before promise had been given of yielding fruit lovely to the sight, and pleasant to the taste. On receiving the first information that her complaint was a pulmonary consumption, she expressed her resignation to the will of Providence respecting her, by calmly adopting the words of H. K. White:
“God of the just, thou giv'st the bitter cup;
I bow to thy behest, and drink it up.”
I bow to thy behest, and drink it up.”
Annual Monitor.
Oh earth! thou hast glories in thee
More bright than the sun of thy sky!
Thou hast jewels of lustre more free
Than those in thy caverns that lie.
Diviner, and purer, and lovelier than they;
Immortal their nature, celestial their light.
But why is their radiance so fleet on its way?
A sun that goes down in a morningless night—
A moment it lightens
Life's wilderness o'er,
But the eye that it brightens
Can meet it no more.
More bright than the sun of thy sky!
Thou hast jewels of lustre more free
Than those in thy caverns that lie.
Diviner, and purer, and lovelier than they;
Immortal their nature, celestial their light.
But why is their radiance so fleet on its way?
A sun that goes down in a morningless night—
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Life's wilderness o'er,
But the eye that it brightens
Can meet it no more.
On thy bosom those glories come down
From the blaze of the Deity's throne;
Those gems that illumine thy crown
Can be set in Jehovah's alone.
But splendid and precious, thy temples adorning,
Awhile they are thine—on thy brows they remain;
But the eyes that explore them, the hearts that are mourning
The gloom of their absence, oft mourn them in vain.
Some lone spot retaineth
The light of their ray;
But their loveliness waneth
Unwitness'd away.
From the blaze of the Deity's throne;
Those gems that illumine thy crown
Can be set in Jehovah's alone.
But splendid and precious, thy temples adorning,
Awhile they are thine—on thy brows they remain;
But the eyes that explore them, the hearts that are mourning
The gloom of their absence, oft mourn them in vain.
Some lone spot retaineth
The light of their ray;
But their loveliness waneth
Unwitness'd away.
They are spirits ethereal that glow
Where the darkness of wretchedness rolls;
They sojourn impatient below;
Their home is the light land of souls.
Yet blest is the spot of their earthly abiding,
Heaven seems with its presence that spot to invest;
There the calm of its peace, and its rapture residing,
In mystic communion of happiness rest.
The bliss of its feeling
In tenderness reigning;
Its melody stealing
O'er passion's complaining.
Where the darkness of wretchedness rolls;
They sojourn impatient below;
Their home is the light land of souls.
Yet blest is the spot of their earthly abiding,
Heaven seems with its presence that spot to invest;
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In mystic communion of happiness rest.
The bliss of its feeling
In tenderness reigning;
Its melody stealing
O'er passion's complaining.
Thou soul, who hast slid from thy cell,
Like the moon from the caverns of night;
Thou soul, who hast bade earth farewell,
When thy home was the home of delight;
I knew thee, when soft o'er the dawn of life's day,
The deep hues, the keen ardour of sentiment stole;
I knew thee—for sweet was the charm of thy lay,
As it pour'd the first plaint of thy juvenile soul.
From the tomb of youth's slumbers
Its melody broke;
And the mourning of numbers
In its eloquence spoke .
Like the moon from the caverns of night;
Thou soul, who hast bade earth farewell,
When thy home was the home of delight;
I knew thee, when soft o'er the dawn of life's day,
The deep hues, the keen ardour of sentiment stole;
I knew thee—for sweet was the charm of thy lay,
As it pour'd the first plaint of thy juvenile soul.
From the tomb of youth's slumbers
Its melody broke;
And the mourning of numbers
In its eloquence spoke .
Midst childhood's gay pastimes descending,
On the greensward of infancy's spring,
Confusion and terror attending
The sound and the shade of his wing,
The angel of death in his horrors alighted;
The chill of his presence fell cold on each breast;
The glow of health's rose on youth's soft cheek was blighted,
And the hectic of fever its flushes imprest.
Love's flower-braided bands,
Affection's first bloom,
Were reft by his hands,
And strew'd on the tomb.
On the greensward of infancy's spring,
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The sound and the shade of his wing,
The angel of death in his horrors alighted;
The chill of his presence fell cold on each breast;
The glow of health's rose on youth's soft cheek was blighted,
And the hectic of fever its flushes imprest.
Love's flower-braided bands,
Affection's first bloom,
Were reft by his hands,
And strew'd on the tomb.
In the silence and pause that ensued
When the plague of his presence was fled,
Whilst the heart of affection pursued
The remembrance of those that were dead;
In that stillness so awful—the stillness of grief,
That mused o'er the graves where its young wishes slept,
Those mild rainbow splendours, so lovely and brief,
That the spirit first worshipp'd, the eye had first wept.
Thy notes, sweet and thrilling,
Breath'd the music of woe;
Passion's wild waters stilling
And smoothing their flow.
When the plague of his presence was fled,
Whilst the heart of affection pursued
The remembrance of those that were dead;
In that stillness so awful—the stillness of grief,
That mused o'er the graves where its young wishes slept,
Those mild rainbow splendours, so lovely and brief,
That the spirit first worshipp'd, the eye had first wept.
Thy notes, sweet and thrilling,
Breath'd the music of woe;
Passion's wild waters stilling
And smoothing their flow.
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In the light-mingled shadows of years,
That since have swept awfully o'er
The dwelling of sadness—the chamber of tears—
The grave, where her hope's love shall ever deplore,
In fancy's deep visions, at midnight revealing
Blest forms, and endearments left only in thought;
The charm of that strain on my lonely heart stealing,
Full oft thy mild image before me has brought.
But thy song and resemblance
Returned alone;
Thy being's remembrance:
Thy fate was unknown.
That since have swept awfully o'er
The dwelling of sadness—the chamber of tears—
The grave, where her hope's love shall ever deplore,
In fancy's deep visions, at midnight revealing
Blest forms, and endearments left only in thought;
The charm of that strain on my lonely heart stealing,
Full oft thy mild image before me has brought.
But thy song and resemblance
Returned alone;
Thy being's remembrance:
Thy fate was unknown.
At length, o'er the severing earth,
A voice full of mystery came;
It told of youth's graces, of genius and worth,
And it died on the sound of thy name.
Like music at midnight in some wilderness breaking,
With startling delight, came the sound of that breath;
Like the clang of a knell, when love's lorn heart is aching,
It closed on my soul with the coldness of death.
It told, that whatever
In fancy had hover'd
Was true—but should never
On earth be discover'd.
A voice full of mystery came;
It told of youth's graces, of genius and worth,
And it died on the sound of thy name.
Like music at midnight in some wilderness breaking,
With startling delight, came the sound of that breath;
Like the clang of a knell, when love's lorn heart is aching,
It closed on my soul with the coldness of death.
It told, that whatever
In fancy had hover'd
Was true—but should never
On earth be discover'd.
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Yet, why should we weep?—for thy woes
With thy flight are immortally o'er;
Though thy spirit be dwelling with those
Who revisit earth's vallies no more.
Like the light dews of morning thy beauty was fated,
Conceal'd in night's shadows, then lost in the sun;
But it rests now where glory and light uncreated,
O'er myriads for ever and ever shall run.
There, with happy souls blending,
Thy joys be divine!
And our spirits ascending,
Shall mingle with thine.
With thy flight are immortally o'er;
Though thy spirit be dwelling with those
Who revisit earth's vallies no more.
Like the light dews of morning thy beauty was fated,
Conceal'd in night's shadows, then lost in the sun;
But it rests now where glory and light uncreated,
O'er myriads for ever and ever shall run.
There, with happy souls blending,
Thy joys be divine!
And our spirits ascending,
Shall mingle with thine.
1817.
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