CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE WORDSWORTH COLLECTION FOUNDED BY CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN THE GIFT OF VICTOR EMANUEL OF THE CLAiS OF I919 POEMS. MUSINGS FLOOD AND FELL, WILLIAM BIRTLES. ' To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell. To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen. With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not sohtude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd." JOHN HEYWOOD, Deansgate, and Ridgefield, Manchester ; And 11, Paternoster Buildings, LONDON. 1882. L( '\S^^ 4^x/^'^'S [All rights reserved.] A C't / PEEFACE. The following effusions are now offered to the public in the confident and not altogether unreasonable hope that any merit which they may possess will, sooner or later, be liberally allowed. Possibly the pleasurable relaxations from severer occupations, which they have already afforded, will be my sole reward. Even so, I am content to be not the first whose strains have been pleasing only to himself. Friends will see in this publication the fulfilment of a promise. My "Ye smile, I see ye, ye profane ones, all the while, Because my homely phrase the truth would tell. You are the fools, not I, — " can never override the ultimate verdict of the public, to which, whatever it may be, I willingly bow. WILLIAM BIRTLES. Great Salkeld, Cumberland, 7th June, 1882. CONTENTS. PAGE THE VOICE OF THE STREAM 1 ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND 4 GOD GUARD THY SHORES 7 AWHILE, A LITTLE WHILE, THE SUN 9 SONNET TO SHAKESPEARE ... 10 TO LESBIA ... 11 ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER ... 13 UPON AN EVENING, CALM AND COOL ... 16 WHEN DAYLIGHT DIES ... 18 GOOD WORKS ... 19 TO ELLA ... 20 SONNET TO BURNS ... 22 A VISION faith's triumph OVER UNBELIEF ... 23 LOVE, LIKE A ROSE, ON BEAUTY's CHEEK ... 26 THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING ... 28 AN EVENING WALK ... 47 SONNET TO LIBERTY ... 52 TO LESBIA ... 53 LINES WRITTEN IN SPRING ... 54 Vlll. CONTENTS NIGHT SHE IS FAIR AND SHK IS YOUNG SHALL GOOD PEEVAIL ? AN EVENING WALK SONNET TO COWPER TO LESBIA THE LACY CAVES ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND WINTER TO LORD BYRON TO LESBIA A LEAF ... LINES ON GEN. XIX., 27-29 TO DR. LIVINGSTONE ... NATURE, KIND GODDESS NAY, LASSIE, I CAN NEVER LOVE THEE BE NOT EVER PROSTRATE, HEART . LET ME NOT PRAISE THEE REMORSE O TELL ME NOT, DEAR MARY A CONVERSATION EARTH-SCENES MAY CHANGE POEMS THE VOICE OF THE STREAM. In the bright hours of genial spring, With the blue sky o'erhead, And the wild flowers beneath my feet, I, in love's bondage led, Paused as I paced beside the stream, And watched its silvery ripples gleam. It seemed to laugh, and then to sing Soft music as it flowed. And then my thoughts it seemed to speak, And on a name bestowed The praises I in vain essayed To lavish on the lovely maid : — ■ POEMS, " Joy to my own beloved, Crimson lips, sparkling eyes ! My joy is my beloved. She's lovely, pure, and wise ! Her smile is life to me ! I dream of my beloved, My stay, her constancy. If she smile, all is fair ; If she smile not, ah me ! Then what a wreck I be ! 0, I would love thee less. Or trust thee, dearest, more ; Supreme of joy or grief For me thou hast in store. Be still a joy to me ! How can I wrong thee thus. So faithful as thou art — Thought of inconstancy Would rend in twain my heart. I will not wrong thee so ! THE VOICE OF THE STREAM. Oh, my beloved, thou Hast changed my earth to heaven ; Bright sunshine to my heart Thy radiant smile hath given ! How fondly I love thee ! — On my green banks an hour ago I saw a lady fair, With slow, sad step she paced awhile. Then plucked a flow'ret there ; Thy name was on her lips — I heard Her sigh and breathe but one dear word. I saw her lean o'er the old bridge Across my hastening stream, And drop the sweet forget-me-nots Which on my bosom gleam ; Here have I borne them faithfully, An offering from her heart to thee. And then she waved her lily hand, And sent thee kisses three, While, looking down my stream, she said POEMS. ' Good night, beloved, to thee ! ' Then with light step, and charming grace, I saw her leave the try sting-place." Dear stream, before I leave thy side, Most grateful T would say. Let me still hear thy soothing sound Whene'er I pensive stray — To mortal weary and distressed, Still sing Peace, Hope, and Rest ! ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. This was his home, where each And all received a genial greeting, And none but felt the glow Of kindness in his bosom beating. His goodness beamed alike on friend and foe ! ON THE DEATH OP A FRIEND. When last we casual met, His eye, lit up with gracious gleam, Said more than words can say ; Ne'er did his sweet smile sweeter seem — cruel Death, to steal my friend away ! This was his garden where The snowdrop and the crocus blow In many a sheltered nook, Ere spring hath melted winter's snow. For nature's loveliness was aye his book. Did he, alas, e'er dream Their white and gold, their early bloom, Beneath his fostering care, Were meant to grace his grassy tomb 1 Affection's hand hath strewn them blindly there ! E'en with a friend like thee, I found the world but harsh and cold ; Thy love did shield me still. And recompense a thousandfold, Nor wavered it through good report and ill ! POEMS. Spring comes, but sadness, like A dream, doth haunt me day and night. Upon thy favourite elm Blithe sings the thrush ; but me delight No longer moves, whom deep regrets o'erwhelm Ah, spirit purified, Beloved, from earth-born cares set free, Now w ingest thou thy flight Near me, or dost thou, glorious, see Celestial regions where is no more night 1 Thy counsels may I love. Thy spirit may I emulate ! And may a friend indeed. When Death shall seal my deathless fate, Grieve as I grieve — such Virtue's fitting meed ! GOD GUAED THY SHORES. ENGLAND. God guard thy shores, old England, The happy and the free ! Inheritance our sires bequeathed Whose blood was shed for thee. A thousand suns have glorified Thy cherished liberty, And brighter dawn of calmer day Beams now, fair land, for thee ! May England's Queen and Statesmen still Uphold her righteous laws ! Be honest scorn of wrong and crime, The mighty sword she draws ! England, still be brave and true, Still win the world's applause ; Thy beauty be thy peacefulness, Thy strength be in thy cause ! POEMS. Oar Sires bequeathed to us their hearts, We love our homes the same As they who fought for England, And won her deathless fame ; And Britain's warrior sons shall rise. Her Heroes swell the train. If Justice call in Freedom's name, These will her rights maintain ! '* Peace hath her Victories as well As War," and Wrongs redressed, Abuse reformed, and Eight confirmed, Make men and nations blessed ! Laws equal ; Commerce wide and free ; The Poor enlightened ; rest From Bigot's horrid rage — These Victories are best ! God guard thy shores, old England, The happy and the free ! Inheritance our sires bequeathed Whose blood was shed for thee. AWHILE, A LITTLE WHILE. A thousand suns have glorified Thy cherished hberty, And brighter dawn of calmer day Beams now, fair land, for thee ! AWHILE, A LITTLE WHILE. Awhile, a little while, the sun Of love did seem to shine. And flowers of heavenly, tender hue. Bloomed in the ray divine. Fancy beguiled, and Hope was young, And fragrance filled the air ; But 'neath the flowers there lay concealed The envious serpent. Care. 1 POEMS. Fancy beguiled, and Hope was young, And love in everything — I stretched my hand to pull the rose, But felt the serpent's sting ! Love's rainbow-tinted glories fade Into the common day ; And Hope, the charmer, charms no more The pilgrim on his way. SONNET TO SHAKESPEARE. Thy wondrous gifts thee Minstrel Monarch name ! What bard but kindles at thy sacred flame 1 Man, of all men, the essence fit, refined, Purged, purified, illumined, and sublimed : 'Fore thee the puny nothings of our state, Whom fortune gildeth and whom men ndme great. Shrink to the general stature of their kind. TO LESBIA. 11 Befooled, bestrode, by specious worth made blind. From iron-faced Villany thy daring hand Doth pluck the mask while nations breathless stand And lowly Virtue, flow'ret of the shade, Glows still more lovely in thy lights arrayed. Truth, Justice, Freedom, Friendship, Love, entwine A wreath for thee, matchless, all, but divine ! TO LESBIA. The woods, dear Lesbia, grieve at eventide That thou no more wilt wander by my side ; Nature's sweet minstrels now all silent be, While, Lesbia, in vain I call on thee ! How shall I woo thee, spirit divine, Pity sure dwells in a bosom like thine ! Thy smile, dearest maiden, would banish my pain ; Fain by thy side would I linger again ! 12 POEMS. Come in the gloaming and wander afar 'Neath the pale gleam of love's brightening star ; Sjjirit that hauntest me, hear my complaining, Lesbia, I love but thee ; cease thy disdaining ! Love is the sunshine of life's early morning ; Love is the sunset life's evening adorning ; Friendship may boast of a life-long devotion, Love can alone wake the heart's deep emotion ! Fate, shall I chide thee, Fortune, so blind, Why the love given if Lesbia unkind 1 Better my heart, to have slumbered unfeeling Ere a coy maiden should wound thee past healing ! Never alone ; where, where shall I flee, Vision of brightness, to wander from thee ? Dream of my waking, light of my day. Sorrow nor gladness can chase thee away ! ON THE APPROACH OP -WINTER, 13 ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER. Yon thin-spread flakes upon the mountain's brow In the still hours of night have fallen. There Winter, dread tyrant to the aged poor, The sick and needy, plants his noiseless step ; There first unfolds his snowy banner's pride, Wide gleaming in the frosty morning air ; And sounding his shrill horn, he summons there His chieftain winds ; now Boreas from the North, Now Eur us rushing down the Eastern slope. Remorseless sweeps the Autumn-tinted plains, Thick-heaping forest leaves on Summer paths. Forsaken now save by the hunted hare. Or fox pursued by deep-mouthed hounds, whose cry, Infusing joy within the hunter's breast, Strikes terror to the fated fugitive. Still let the torture-loving human heart On dumb creation vent its ruthless sport ; 14 POEMS. And glory still in agonising throes Of dying brute, exhilarating bliss E'en not the softer sex themselves deny. Now they at heart a sober joy can find, Heedless of sports that please the heedless throng, Who, loving Nature in her sterner guise Of leafless trees that bend beneath the blast. Ice-bordered streams, and trackless plains of snow ; Seize, each successive day, the better hours, To tread, forth issuing wrapped 'gainst piercing cold, The sheltered woodland paths ; or, if serene The air, the view in passing splendour dressed, Then paths exposed to every wind that blows, Tho' won by toil and toil's sweet recompense — The languid limb, the pleasing, healthful thought ; Or, if the day no favoured hour should yield, On such an eve as I remember, when The moon in full-orbed glory paced the heavens, And twinkling round her, many a lovely star Shone in the blue immensity of space ; And snow-white clouds, on the horizon, fixed As the far mountains which they half concealed ON THE APPROACH OP WINTER. 15 Vied in the splendours of refulgent light With earth's unsullied mantle of pure snow — Unbroken save where in the lit-up vale The gleaming waters murmured low and sweet As on a summer's eve, or where dark woods Their blackened boughs upraised against the sky. And as I passed within the homestead's bounds, Crunching beneath my feet the frozen snow, The watchdog, sheltered from the cold intense, Forgot to bark at the strange foot he heard. On such a night as that the outcast sits To rest awhile beside the weary road, And, cursing luxury, and full-blown wealth. That grinds the poor man in its ruthless swirl. There sleeps o'ercome with cold, to wake no more. On such a night T, wandering, envy not The feet of those who tread the mazy dance, The gay and polished throngs in sumptuous halls Ancestral, glittering in jewelled pride — But not too proud the haughtiest beauty there, To scorn the price of gold, the bribe of rank. Ah, where, ye gods, shall noble hearts be found 1 16 POEMS. Not in refinement's calculating breast, For beauty there is oft commodity, And meanly sold for mercenary aims ! 'Tis sweet on such a night to wander forth, And muse on Nature's face, as I do now ; 'Tis sweet, but me thinks, 'tis sweeter far, If fortune's star be bright, and fate permit. To muse at home upon the face we love Beyond all others, in the cheerful glow Of ruddy firelight and the taper's beam. Such, gentle Edwin, be thy fate ! For me. There is no face more beautiful than night ! UPON AN EVENING. Upon an evening, calm and cool, A pupil in Dame Nature's school. Fatigued with toil, tho' not o'ercome, I still had strength enough to roam UPON AN EVENING. 17 O'er level mead, through woody dell, And where the uplands gently swell, ~, All dotted o'er with bleating flocks ; By lonely cave, and wave-worn rocks The wild cascade glides smoothly o'er, Breaking beneath with deafening roar ', And then by river's brink to stroll, Aiming my starting point my goal : And as the curving path I tread, Tracing the stream towards its head, Amidst these solitudes arise Scenes, that contrasted, shock my eyes. Which memory sadly, justly calls Of crowded city's pent-up walls, Where mortals, bred in toil and strife, Hard win each day the means of life. Oh, how shall I that Goodness own Which wounds me most when most alone ; Yet gives me guarded hours and calm, And soothes me w^ith celestial balm ; 18 POEMS. Which leads me from o'ercrowded ways, In solitude to muse His praise ; Me blessing e'en the while I grieve Mine own unfitness to receive. For peace of mind, and healthful thought, May I be thankful, as I ought, And heedful — lest, e'en while I sip. The cup may fall from hand and lip. WHEN DAYLIGHT DIES. When daylight dies and stars of night Are twinkling in the blue, How great delight, it thrills me quite, To haste, dear Nell, to you — So pretty, so witty, so gentle and wise, meet me. Sweetheart, when the daylight dies. GOOD WORKS. 19 The future ills may on us shower, The past hath much of pain, The present hour is in our power. Then meet me, Sweet, again ! So pretty, so witty, so gentle and wise, meet me, Sweetheart, when the daylight dies ! GOOD WORKS. " Faith, if it hath not works, is dead." JAMES II. 17. Christian brother, art thou sleeping, hear'st thou not the clarion sound 1 Ten thousand thousand watch are keeping ! Wilt thou alone be faithless found 1 Arouse thee ! for the morning's breaking ! AVhat hast thou done for Jesus, say 1 hast thou, pleasure's wiles forsaking, Meekly kept the narrow way ? 20 POEMS. Hast thou, like the sunlight gleaming, Pierced the shades of Want and Woe ; Not of man's loud praises dreaming, Done what none but angels know 1 Hast thou set one heart a-glowing By kindly word or kindlier deed, Or felt the tear unbidden flowing At suffering none, but thou, would heed 1 What hast thou done 1 brother, tell me ! Tell me of the good thou'st done ! If aught of good — then all may well be, A Crown of Life thou mayst have won ! TO ELLA. Another hope, another gleam Of promised bliss hath passed away. For now I feel, in bitterness, I must not own thy gentle sway ! TO ELLA. 21 Why should I grieve 1 For thou wert sent, A guide, in Sorrow's darkest hour ; And I can best, when glooms depart, Lose thy sweet smile's sustaining power. And this I learn from thy pure love — The greatest good the heavens bestow — If fate to me had proved more kind. Sweet girl, thou had'st not loved me so ; For Sorrow brought thee to my side. Bade sympathetic tears to start — Love came, we know not how or when ; But this we know — that we must part ! Yes ! We must pai't who love so well ! Without thy smile, how can I live 1 Leave that, kind Heaven, and take away All else of joy the world can give ! 22 POEMS. BURNS. Like some sweet songster on a winter thorn, Thy strains to rich and happy homes were borne ; While Fame withheld the necessary crumb Till Death took pity and thy lips made dumb ! Unhappy muse, thou bringest in thy train Deep, short-lived bliss, but lingering, lasting pain ; Witness, ye martyrs of the seductive lyre ! Otway, and Burns, and all the famished choir. But better thus to die and leave behind Your history of pain to teach mankind : — Who gives the world one cause of cold neglect. Ten thousand sneers and torments may expect ; The gifted muse, w^hom venial sins enslave, Shall chiefly wear his laurels in the grave ! A VISION. 23 A VISION. (faith's triumph ovee unbelief.) It was a vision of the night, When men were soundly sleeping ; The bitter past oppressed my brain, My eyes were dim with weeping. An angel form bent over me, So dazzling bright I could not see ; And then a voice, like the wind sighing Though leafless trees when day is dying : — " What wouldst thou now, why canst thou not be still, Cannot the mind draw much of good from ill ? Elated or distressed, or what you will, 'Tis doomed at last the maws of worms to fill ! Poor, paltry man, thou art the fleeting sport Of passions intern, and the frail resort 24 POEMS. Of transient blisses, woes, not quite so short, Driven thou know'st not where, nor whence thy port ! Thou smil'st upon the world, so passing fair. Its oceans, mountains, valleys, sunshine, air ; Thou dream'st they love thee, soon thou'lt hate their glare, And then thoult turn to — Whom 1 to find despair ! Thy hopes are crushed, and yet thou soar'st again, Knowing, alas, that all thy hopes are vain. Misery thou shunnest, and though thy life be pain, Death, best of friends, thou fearest as thy bane. Thou dreamest of the Future, till 'tis past Into the living Present, and at last To Death — the while thy children follow fast Thy painful steps, to wither in Time's blast ! " He left me then. I saw that night, An angel more divinely bright ; And thus to me he spake : — " Hope on ! For this is not thine hour. A VISION. 25 Shrink not from Grief, and flee not Pain, For Suffering is thy dower ; And it shall lead thee on and on, Till thou at last attain The summit of yon rocky height That towers above the plain ; And though thy feet may bleed the while, And thine be griefs untold. The summit gained, then is thy toil Repaid a thousand fold ! Doubt thou — then mist and circling cloud Faith's lovely sights and scenes shall shroud !" And then I felt a hand upon my brow ; It wakened me, for I do feel it now. Prevent me, Jesus, on my way ; Illume my path with light divine ; To bear me up whene'er I faint, I need a gentle hand like thine. When memory, mourning o'er the past, Prompts aye afresh the bitter tear ; 26 POEMS. When Doubt's dark shadows cross my path, Jesu, my Lord, do thou be near ! Give me true wisdom which can fix My heart, my mind, my soul on thee ; Wean thou my thoughts from earthly joys, How fair or bright soe'er they be. Lead thou me on to meet my end ; Though rough and thorny be the road, How can I count the sufferings dear That bring me to the living God ! 1.0VE, LIKE A ROSE, ON BEAUTY'S CHEEK. Love, like a rose, on beauty's cheek. Invites the soft lips' lingering dew, Now hides away in dimple sleek, Or in the young eyes' sunny blue. Sweet Love, Sweet Pain, nectar divine — But mingled with the tear-drop's brine. LOVE, LIKE A ROSE. 27 Then to the golden tresses hies, And basks him in their brightest gleam, And if to sleep awhile he seem. He wakes again when beauty sighs. Sweet Love, sweet Pain, nectar divine — But mingled with the tear-drop's brine. Like April, Love, in life's coy spring, Comes with bright sunshine on his wing ; And tho' he weep, he still hath smiles. And charms that need not artful wiles. Sweet Love, sweet Pain, nectar divine — But mingled with the tear-drop's brine. Love comes like June in manhood's noon With skies serene and leafy boon, A cool recess, a bower of bliss, Oasis in Life's wilderness. Ah Love, sweet Pain, nectar divine — But mingled with the tear-drop's brine. Love comes mid dark December's snows, He smiles at fears, he baffles foes ; POEMS. Then gray-beard age from rosy lips The rarest draughts of nectar sips. Ah Love, sweet Pain, nectar divine — But mingled with the tear-drop's brine. Love from the cradle to the grave. The heart must need, the heart will crave ; And o'er the dark Plutonian shore Love sheds a light for evermore. Tearless Love, drink divine, Be fit for thee, this heart of mine ! THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. In pensive sadness, soothed by many sounds Of winds and waters, songs of birds, the hum Of wandering bee, and by the breath of flowers, I sat in the cool shade of whispering boughs. Whose tones, like voices in a dream, recalled THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 29 The Past — not in its bitterness alone ; But intermingled with such memories Of scenes and bygone days not wholly sad — The Past before me rose as in a dream ! They stood upon a hill, a maid and youth. Before them lay a green and gradual slope Extending far away on either hand, And intersected with unnumbered lines Of hedgerows, clad in the fresh hues of spring. Mid blooming orchards stood the homes of such As toiled and prospered in those happy fields, Enjoying there, remote from busy towns, The sweetest gifts that Heaven on man bestows, Peace, length of days, the smiles of kindred, friends, And tearless love ! With many windings flowed Through the expanding vale, a crystal stream. Whose low, faint murmur mingled with the songs Of birds. Beyond the river's brink arose A slope majestic, rich in pastoral farms And woods and groves. There dwelt the charmed eye On glimpses, through the trees, of mansions old — 30 POEMS. The homes of wealth and hixury and ease. Against the sky in the far distance shone The purple mountains in the setting sun. That youth and maiden gazed upon the scene, Admiring much its loveliness and calm ; In detail then, selecting each known spot, He many lands and homes assigned to names Of many men. Thoughtful and silent she Remained until his pleasing task was o'er ; And then she spake these words, which pierced his heart : " And which is thine ? " Then one desire he knew. The which he never knew before, to have And to possess, and that for her sweet sake ! The Past before me rose as in a dream : — A Summer's eve, such as is Jane's alone. Ere yet earth's plains have met maturing suns. And all is green and lovely and still young ; When day declined in sunset's softest beams Whose clearest tints shot the wild landscape o'er, THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 31 Commingling hues such as the painter loves T^ fix, and such, once seen, still seem to be, Making that fair which is not so, and that Which is, still fairer to remembrance dear ; 'Twas such an eve, and I the lusty oar Clave through the silent waters, traihng in My devious track a stream of rippling light ; Pursuing, in my eagerness of joy, The shapes and forms that airy distance shewed Most prominently bold, or wild, or grand ; And gazing till imagination saw Each rock and lawn, each bower and dim alcove, The fairy home of some enchanting sprite : Stop ! Here suspend the dripping oar By Sharrow's wave-encircling shore. Thy lovely marge, loved lake, hath not Than this a dearer, fairer spot. How thy bright bosom's varied vest, Now gently heaving, now at rest, Enshrines each foliated screen With rock and lawn and path between ; 32 POEMS. Whilst the hoar mountains proudly rise Into the deep's reflected skies. rare retreat, when tempests rave, And danger crests the swelling wave, still more blest, when summer sighs Wake woods' and waves' wild melodies. Sweet scene ! Sink deep into my heart, So when I thread life's thronged mart, Thy form shall throw a gentle mask, A halo round life's routine task ! But not the scene alone have I Cause to enshrine in memory ; This, this is but the fair estate Of mind more fair, more rich, ornate ; Nor do I, lingering, hence depart Without th'meed of a grateful heart, For kindly word and kindlier deed That e'en the best at times may need. Night on the waters, and the moon hath risea Above the empurpled heights. How beautiful Within the dark blue depths appear the lights THE DEBAM AND THE AWAKENING. 33 Of heaven ! the starry concave's complement. It is as now I stood sublime upon The trem'lous fragment of a time-wrecked world, With heaven above, and answering heaven beneath. And yet the sudden springing of a leak Would send me to a certain watery grave ! Frail life a thousand varied exits hath, And these, kind Providence, at our command ; Hence men, sore tossed in life's rude storms, oft trust Themselves to all-embracing mercy's God, Rather than live to curse a cruel fate. But oft, methinks, the saddest life hath yet Some cherished memory of perished bliss To weigh against and light a world of woe. E'en such, Night, thy glories be to me ! Silver moonlight, softly stealing Like a smile o'er the dreaming deep, On the distant marge revealing Woodland, glade, and rocky steep ! From the nearer shore is wafted Fragrance on the cooling breeze, 34 POEMS. Silence reigns o'er wave pellucid, Like a spell hangs o'er the trees ! Hark, a voice the stillness breaking — 'Tis the voice I loved to hear — Echo's softer music waking O'er the waters far and near • Not for me those notes are trilling Close beneath yon dusky shore, Other arms, love's task fulfilling. Stoutly bend the labouring oar. Oh my heart, canst thou not borrow Calmness from this tranquil scene, Forget all unavailing sorrow. All that I am and might have been. Soon must I these scenes forsaking. Mingle with a world unkind ; Yet my heart, my heart is breaking — All that's dear I leave behind. The Past before me rose as in a dream : — THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 35 It is the eve of a bright Spring-tide day, And o'er the wide-spread fields of this remote And lonely vale, resounds the blackbird's song. In the clear blue above, the horned moon Each moment brighter glows ; and one by one, Pale, trembling into light, the stars appear. From rustic roofs, the curling smoke ascends. What Peace within those scattered homes, what love ! To see, to roam, to muse upon a scene So fair, so bright, so beautiful as this, I would live apart from ways Of proud, self-seeking, worldly man, Where Strife and Turmoil never raise Their painful faces grim and wan. In this far vale and peaceful, I My heart to wisdom would apply, Unshocked by scenes of human grief To which my tears bring no relief. (0 when will Luxury forego Its glare to heal the poor man's woe ?) By all forgot of those whose smile Inconstant seemed to cheer awhile 36 POEMS. The lonely way — a fickle gleam Whose loss makes darkness welcome seem. The Past before me rose as in a dream : — I saw a youth, of aspect wan and worn, Standing upon a shore — a barren shore — Whereon there dwelt a race, human in form, But destitute of all humanity Doth most endear. He loved them not ; and they Him comprehending not, in turn despised. Compact and vigorous, his frame did lack The robust force, pure air and sunlight yield To him whom Fortune, chary of her gifts. Still blesses with some easy gotten store, And who, by kindly Nature's pleasing bent, His pastime and his pleasure finds therein. But on his brow sat thought of high emprise. And hope illumed his eye which steadfast gazed On the opposing steep and rocky shore — On scenes ineffably transcending all. In fulness and in loveliness, his dream, THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 37 His youth's fond dream of joy. And all his thought Concentred oq that better land where peace For ever smiled and tears were all unknown. And at his feet there rolled a mighty stream — Bat this he heeded not — nor could there aught, Save a fair nymph, his boyhood's earliest love, Him holding in affection's purest bond. Divert his steadfast gaze. Grieved oft they'd part — For she, in softest tones of mild reproof, Did seek to lure him from that dangerous shore, Painted by distance to his eye and heart In soft, enchanting, but deceitful hues ! S uch was his fate, when on an evening mild, The moonlight gleaming on the water's breast, I saw him plunge from off a rocky cape. And swim, awhile with easy grace, towards That better land. For there he clearly saw One of benignant mien, and gesture kind, To beckon him attain, as best he could. That distant scene where all his hopes were fixed ! Could he indeed, unaided and alone, Battle with the wild waters and the foes. 38 POEMS, Set there to bar his progress and o'ercome, With their united force, his purpose fixed 1 From the surging deep, with deadly power, arose Two monsters, close contesting each won space The swimmer's arm maintained ; and, horrid sight. One snake-like form, despite his stragglings fierce, Hath swathed itself around his pallid brow ! Like hell-dog sits the other on his back, Piercing with cruel claws his bleeding sides ! Bravely he strove, sinking and rising 'neath The water's swell, and made, with slanting course, Towards the farther shore. No cry of pain Awoke the night. Onward, with steady stroke, But feebler arm, he slowly won his way. The middle stream was reached, and then he sank. To rise, as I most surely thought, no more. But soon I saw him helpless borne along The broadening stream, fierce struggling with his foes. At length, with supreme effort, that wreath'd thing, From its cold-blooded grasp, was torn away. With buoyant form and lofty arm, I saw Him spurn with force the strangled brute afar ! THE DBEAM AND THE AWAKENING. 39 Then Hope revived, and with it strength renewed To aerve agaiu the enfeebled swimmer's arm. To cleave once more the broad stream's conqueriDg course. And this did he, albeit upon his sides Secure, the m.onster ne'er relased his hold, But closer clung, the nearer to the shore They came, knowing that he perforce must there Do battle with his victim, and o'ercome Or die ! Impeded thus, the swimmer's heart At lenoth grew faint ; his limbs benumbed had lost Much force, and, for a moment's space, his fate Seemed imminent. — But hark, a voice ! see there ! A form, standing with ready hand to grasp Him to the shore ! Then all the little strength His frame retained flew to his limbs, and bore In triumph through the flood the joyous victim And the relentless foe. He almost touched The longed-for shore, the friendly hand outstretched. But fate unkind revoked her specious gift ! At sight of the lean monster clinging firm Upon the swimmer's sides, the proffered hand 40 POEMS. Was snatched away — in darkness disappeared The form benignant ! Soon the chill of death Fell on the swimmer's arm, and softly then An evil spirit whispered in his ear Some thoughts that none may know. Victim and foe Were borne at mercy of the conquering waves, Till he, exhausted with his many toils, And baflHed by his subtle foes, was flung Upon a distant coast. His wonted strength And spirits ne'er returned, but power was given To wrestle with his one remaining foe — To tread again with buoyant heart and step His unsought home. I saw him yet again ; Again I saw that maiden by his side ; (She who of yore was wont in accents mild To lure his wayward heart, his mind dissuade, And disenchant for him the distant scene Where peace apparent smiled, and love, and joy.) With heart that beat in unison with his, That hoped with him, and grieved whene'er he grieved, And eyes, all-eloquent with feelings deep, Too deep for words, that wept — and wept for joy ! THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 41 Green were the fields, save where the full-eared corn Shewed Autumn's golden hue, and sprinkled o'er With flocks of snowy fleece and peaceful herds Of kine ; and here and there a thick-leaved grove, With wreaths of smoke above embosomed roofs. Spoke to the heart of man of quiet days And Hves as calmly pure as the clear stream Whose crystal wave meandered through the vale. They two in peace did muse upon the scene. And once, he felt the pressure of a hand — The self-same hand that snatched itself away — But ne'er, I ween, will he again forsake His long-lost, faithful love. THE AWAKENING. While thus I mused in peace, apart from men Who loved me not — I sighed not for their love — With one bright being of unchanging love, . Sole partner, she, of all my joys and griefs, Who, near at hand, wreathed deftly the wild flowei's, A chaplet for my aching brow, and sang 42 POEMS. The while some favourite air that pleased me well — While thus I mused apart in sylvan shades, A hand was laid upon me with rude force, And, startled from my tranquil dream, I saw One named Oppression, and his sister Pride, Assailing with coarse phrase, needless rebuke, And studied insult, one guiltless of wrong, Who then and there forbade my feet to trace, In peace, at eve the frequent woodland path ! Acting within my right, the path I kept, (Whose loss meant more to me than words may tell), Pacing as I was wont, each sunny eve. The charming shade that now did soothe no more. The hopes and toils of years seemed all o'erthrown. My spirit sank. Offended Power pui-sued. But could not wreck my life. What wonder then If, for a w^hile, I doubted the j ust ways Of over-ruling Providence 1 and felt, Indeed, the bitter irony of Fate ! At the discordant sound of voices fled These paths my peaceful fair, singing erewhile For me : THE DJREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 43 " Oppression seest thou 1 mark his ways ; Against his might thy force upraise ; Or be he king, or be he knave — ■, None but cowards fear the grave — Strike, and striking, stand or fall, Death the brave can not appal ! Injustice, pride, go hand in hand ; Against them firmly take thy stand ; Barter not thy freeborn soul To a tyrant's base control — Strike, and striking, stand or fall, Death the brave can not appal ! By those who sleep beneath the mould, Foil'd in honour's field of old ; By every deed the brave have done. By every battle freedom won — Strike, and striking, stand or fall. Death the brave can not appal ! " In calmer days, quiescent then my foes, She, knowing all my doubts, despairs, returned And spake to me and to my foes — 44 POEMS. To me : " Truth is not writ in heaven or on the earth, But on man's heart, and conscience is its keeper, Who shines her httle lamp that whoso will May spell and learn the priceless lesson there. But man, midst superstition's glare, nor sees Her light, nor hears her oft repeated calls. Loose from thee Fear and Custom and the host Of selfish wants and needs that hold thee on The path of thoughtless ways, and thou shalt see ! For what the whole Creation is explored Lies near at hand. Be humble ! thou shalt find !" Then to my foe in tones distinct and calm : " The world is evil ! Thou art perfection ? Never did shameful thought once cross thy mind ? Thy lips are clean, thy heart is duly kept ? Never did Duty call in vain to thee 1 No meanness ever marred an act of thine 1 When thou wouldst others chide, think thou upon Thy self's own frailty, and ever be THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING. 45 Thy mild reproof soft as the gentle wind That through the pathless seas impels the prow Of mariner; filling the languid sails With breeze propitious ; whilst through the darkest hour, Whispers sweet Hope, to cheer the way, to wake The mind alert and ever-watchful eye, Till the trim bark, upon some sunny day, Cleaves the bright waters of the destined bay ! If thou wert harshly judged, where would'^t be now"? Therefore be never rude nor harsh of speech — This, like a wintry tempest roughening o'er The willing seas, doth ever baffle skill, And haply strews upon an unsought shore A miserable wreck, true men deplore ! " We parted then. When next we met, I spake, (And she my ever-faithful friend approved) : While I may trace these solitudes in peace. Endearing charm the world-worn spirit loves, 46 POEMS. O'er hill, by river's brink, in wood and wild, All undisturbed by the rude shocks that man, Selfish and thoughtless of another's woe, Exultant heaps on unoffending man ; Then will I never sigh for wealth or fame ; But in my breast shall dwell a calm content ; For thou, sweet peace, wert still enough for me ! While I may list the soothing melody Of crystal streams, upborne now loud, now soft. Upon the gentle gale, the sweetest strain That shepherd ever played upon his pipe, For me, is played in vain — For I have loved, And love, the free fresh air, the mountain breeze, The sunlit, and the starry skies of night. The early hour of morn, the noonday calm, But most I've loved the gloaming's pensive hour ; And I have trod these solitudes in joy, In sorrow ; and in sickness and in health ; In peace, in love ; in hope, in fear ; until At length, they seem to weep when I do weep. And when I smile, to smile on me again. AN -EVENING WALK. 47 AN EVENING WALK. Herb let me sit, where oft I've sat before, And calmly view the varied landscape o'er ; My back against this rocking pine tree pressed The while my weary, wandering feet find rest, 'Tis Indian Summer, as Canadians say. And Autumn beams with milder, lovelier ray ; And Crossfell, chiefest beauty of the scene. Before me rises 'gainst the heavens serene- Save where one dark cloud floating o'er its crest, Trails its slow shadow on the mountain's breast — While sunlight and the airy distance lend A softening charm, its rough and smooth to blend In one bright, glowing, undulating chain That half enfolds the Eden's fair domain. But now I feel refreshed ; once more I rove ; And turning, pace within the fragrant grove, Dark-waving, high, upon the savage rock. Whose stony sides, and scanty soil, still mock 48 POEMS. The invadingploughshare, which hath shrunkthe bounds Of a once-mighty forest's trackless grounds To such dimensions as exploring wight In summer time may find an hour's delight. Below, its old domain where homesteads stand, A goodly tract of cultivated land ; A belt of heath the uplands show between, With patches interspersed of livelier green. AVithin the wood is music like the roar Of surges breaking on a rocky shore, And joys of solitude — for here is naught To lure the common mind ; in vain is sought The track of man ; if thou wouldst find him, seek Not here, but in the pent-up city's reek, In crowds and tumults where dissension reigns (For joys like these, how dear his purchased gains !) Where all join in th' unseemly haste for gold. The yielding-meek, the grasping-strong and bold. 0, sordid man, shew but thy bags of gold — Thy pedigree thou need'st not e'en unfold — ; Lo, how the great, the learned round thee throng, What plaudits greet thy wit, thy sense how strong ! AN EVENING WALK. 49 Success ! to thee we 'bow, thou god of dust 1 In thee deluded nations place their trust — Look not beyond thine hour ; success may breed Ills future, but keen men of sense ne'er heed. Be bold ; be brilliant ; scruple not to gain Thy ends, though compassed with a proud disdain Of oth-ers' rights ; forsake the common track Where ploddiBg wisdom, bearing on his back The weight of conscious foresight, justly deem-s Thy marshalled plans a visionary's dreams ; Deceive the good ; the wicked take thy part In homage due to thy superior art 1 Such be thy tactics, and success thy aim, The voice of Censure shall but swell thy fame. Till Honour -call thee to her loftiest seat Mid loudest acclamations of the great 1 Man loves not solitude, tht)ugh found within A smiling paradise unknown to sin 3 Nor kings nor serfs can tread without a sigh. The stricken conscience heaves when none is nigh. But fate my lot hath cast in regions wild, And Solitude, I've loved thee since a child. 50 POEMS. Through flowery meads, by river's brink, I strolled With wayward heart, nor fear nor love controlled ; And here, where crumbling vegetation lies Mellowing and ripening 'neath the changeful skies, E'en here, in contemplation's hour, still find Charms that delighted most my youthful mind ! Farewell, ye woods and wilds, ye wastes, adieu; Thrice welcome lovely vale and waters blue ! Here of an evening let me foot it slow, Erewhile the red sun set the West aglow; Or o'er the winding footpath's livelier green. Fall the last ray of sunlight's lingering sheen ; When twilight stealing lends a deeper grace To the rich beauty of mild Autumn's face. While redbreast pipes afar his plaintive lay. And frighted blackbirds twitter from the spray, The patient angler throws the wary cast. He means to be, but seldom is, his last ; His featliery flies, true to their destined flight, Like snow-flakes fall upon the waters bright ; And now, his brow on the rippling current bent, Life to the lure his quivering hand hath lent. AN EVENING WALK. 51 The vigorous tug is felt ; and soon, light splashing, The spotted prize emerges shoreward dashing. The waves subsiding o'er the troubled stream, The fish's head just parts the water's gleam ; Now spent, he's safe upon his flashing side, Like lily floating o'er the trem'lous tide ; Or lilie a little boat, his head the prow, His haven — the dark pannier — waits him now. First o'er the distant woods and far-ofi" glades, The gloaming, stealing, spreads its gathering shades, While nearer woods of variegated hue Commingle in one shade of deepening blue. Behind the steep's dark pines, red gleams appear. As though a sunny beara lay tangled there ; Next far-spread meadows lose their living green ; Through vapours thin the distant prospect's seen. The sky receives a transitory stain That quickly fades to sombre cloud again — Yet ere it dies, upon the wave bestows Hues bright as those its finny tribes disclose. And last, the sunset's crimson fades away. And all is darkly dim, or coldly grey — OA POEMS. Save the near sod whose hues are not so fleet, And whose cold dews I feel beneath my feet — And as I climb the hill I hear the stream Low murmuring like the music of a dream. Then comes the night-wind moaning on its way As though it grieved the shortness of the day. LIBERTY. Sun of the human mind, sweet Liberty ! Where thou art not, there all is dark and drear ; But in thy dungeon-cell is borne to thee Clear visions of Redemption ever near. Who feels thy beams, must love thee more and more And ever at thy hallowed shrine adore. The sword shall rust when thy mild beams prevail, And bloody tyrants at thy sight turn pale, And man, invigorated and made new, Confederate o'er the world in thy dear cause, TO LESBIA. 53 Shall thousand villanies of man subdue In Commerce, Arts, Religions, and in Laws. Extend, sweet nymph, the glories of thy reign, Till earth, a new creation, smile again ! TO LESBIA. Come, Lesbia, come, come to the woods with me, And I for one short hour thy swain will be ; There thou shalt hear the dove Coo soft its tale of love, And it shall plead my love for thee. The while my looks speak silently. Our feet shall tread the soft and sheltered green, Chequered with shadow and the sunlight sheen ; The fragrant pine shall spread A canopy o'erhead ; While whispering zephyrs softly blow, And plead again the lover's woe. 51 POEMS. The opening glade, the mossy dell, the brook. Traced by our gaze through many a secret nook ; All these have voices sweet, And plead in language meet — If thou the willing ear bestow — Nor vainly plead, the lover's woe. But if for thee my songs I've sung in vain, Thy breast unknown to love, or ruth, or pain ; Then what is life to me. Since all my thoughts in thee Concentrated are ; and thou the light Withdrawn, doth turn my day to night 1 LINES WRITTEN IN SPRING. Now Spring, adorned with silvery light, Comes smiling o'er the velvet plain. And blushing flow'rets with delight Restore her smile for smile again. LINES WRITTEN IN SPRING. 55^~ Old haunts the Winter barred her feet, Remote in forest or in dell, Uplift for her the incense sweet Of fern and moss and bud and bell. Unruffled by a wandering breeze, The peaceful waters, murmuring, flow ; Fresh verdure clothes the upland leas, Where the soft shadows come and eo. The cuckoo, echoing in her song Each new-born bliss the hours disclose, Lends, as it were, each joy a tongue That swells the chorus as it flows, Of Nature's sounds and minstrelsy That start with Spring their being's power, Till the young season's revelry Give place to Summer's calmer hour. Their tenderest tints the hills assume ; The milder airs their balms diffuse ; And Spring dispels each thought of gloom While fondly o'er her charms I muse. 56 POEMS. NIOHT. " Ye stars, that are the poetry of heaven." BTEON. " holy night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before." LONGFELLOW. I. Behold the moon looks forth — 'tis such a night As Youth and Beauty love when love is young, Before is gone the first deep dream's delight, Or ere the heart by sorrow has been wrung. night ! that silent speaks, speaks with a tongue Pensive but sweet, how much of good and pure The world owes thee, what thoughts to thee belong ! Thy mystic beauty is a thing t'allure Our hearts, and fix where beauty, love, and truth endure. NIGHT. 57 II. Night hath a spell writ in her dreamy face, Solemn and sad, to wake the buried past — The grand and mighty minds, the human race Still worship in the living page. How vast, How glorious now their fame ! The envious blast That steeped their souls in woe, died with them. Now Our eyes wax clear- — refined with weepings past O'er their wrecked hopes. 'Tis strange the world should bow In homage to the dead whom she herself laid low ! in. The starry chaplet on the brow of night, Aloof of time, was their familiar lore. What novf I see, they saw, beauty and might ; And all that stirs the soul with feelings more Akin to worship than to awe — that soar Beyond the grave, and sink to nothingness The earth : witness, ye heavens, how they bore The sinful scorn of envious worthlessness ! Oblivious in your joy, they quaffed a god-like bliss. 58 POEMS. IV. Living, a dog's better than a lion dead ; Not so, howe'er, these creatures being poets. Living, each one's esteemed a cur that's bred For critics' kicks, and for mankind to shew its Deep hatred of pretenders ; or bestow hits Right and left, or that and wrong : till Envy's Breath hath blasted a fair fame, and the foe sits On the Muse's clay— and then, in lion's size, His murderers raise his monument to meet the skies ! V. How oft their sweetest strains seemed out of tvme, How oft they struck the sounding lyre in vain — To inattentive world the blissful boon Awoke nor thrill of joy, nor pang of pain. But when the voice was hushed, when Death had ta'en The harp away — how clearly through the gloom, Like midnight bells across the watery plain, Arose their melody, till endless doom Reverberating back in soundings through the tomb ! NIGHT. 59 VI. The Tomb ! how strikes that sound upon the soul ! How sadly and how solemnly ! What fear, What awe of nothingness, its mighty roll Inspires to victors, kings, and serfs who rear The Conqueror's fame on battle's bloody bier — thou, inglorious (xlory, blood-bought breath Of fame, shalt insubstantial myth appear When nations gain their manhood, when beneath Their feet Murder and Avarice lie crushed in Death ! VII. Then ye, ye Sons of Song, shall chiefly live ; The clash and clang of Battle's loud alarm No more shall quell the joy your numbers give : War-storms shall cease, and 'neath the heaven's deep calm Your happy strains shall prosperous myriads charm To love and concord : while the hasty wing Of hoary Time wafts to celestial balm — • When earth's reedemed in Paradise shall sing — And not till then, your melodies shall cease to ring ! 60 POEMS. SHE IS FAIR AND SHE IS YOUNG. She is fair and she is young, With honied words upon her tongue ; And in her eyes a wondrous light ; Her pretty ways distract me quite ! Yet she is false as she is fair. Shall I rudely break the chain, And tell her of the needless pain She ruthless caused a heedless wight 1 No. This would give her sheer delight ! For she is false as she is fair. I will not thus my wound lay bare, But for a time seek change of air ; Returning then, grown wise, defy In silence all her witchery. she is false as she is fair ! SHALL GOOD PREVAIL'? 61 SHALL GOOD PREVAIL? "The man resolved, and steady to his trust, Inflexible to ill, and obstinately just, May the rude rabble's insolence despise, Their senseless clamours, and tumultuous cries ; The Tyrant's fierceness he beguiles, And the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies. And with superior greatness smiles." Horace. — {From an old Translation. Our Life is but a little day Where much of wrong hath sway ; Then throw thy modest might Into the scale of right, Help poor Humanity upon its way. If rich, devoutly then abstain From all promiscuous gain ; Nor cast thy dubious lot With those whose actions blot Eeligion's page with many a sordid stain. 62 POEMS. Shouldst thou in poverty repine, (Virtue in rags may shine) Lend not thy honest face A graceless cause to grace, Though it should profit much or thee or thine. Good principles are still the same And differ but in name ; Some Conscience, some Religions lead, There 's good of every creed. All breasts where Honour dwells have but one aim ; United, these the world shall quell, Divided — earth is hell. Oppression, Pride, and Creed Sow wide Dissension's seed — Shall Good prevail, as sanguine Sages tell 1 Yes ! Good shall finally prevail ; Deceit and Cunning fail ; Oppression's Creed and Race Shall sink in deep disgrace Till Virtue nevermore her fate bewail ! AN EVENING WALK, 63 AN EVENING WALK. From the high wood there shoots a tangeut Una In single file, of spruce and half-grown pine, 'Mongst blooming heather and loose-lying blocks Of stone, moss-clad, torn from the fell-side rocks ; In sudden rain, beneath that line's last tree, That seemed with arms outstretched to welcome me, I watched the flying shower sweep o'er the glade, While sunlight round about my shelter strayed ; But soon the sky shewed tracts of cloudless blue, And Eastward stretched below a lovely view. There fields, whose glowing hues in beauty vied, Crowded to Sylvia's sight on every side : — The new-mown meadows smooth, of varied form ; The lower pastures nestling from the storm ; The yellow corn ; the root-crops' darker green ; And scattered groves diversified the scene ; While the cleared woodland's solitary trees Swayed o'er the waste to every roving breeze. 64 POEMS. All these before the heaven's refulgent bow In sunlight's partial splendour gleam below. Far in the distant East the rain descends, And like a veil, beneath the bow, depends The showery prospect, dimly gleaming through In shadows pale ; above, from cloud-rents blue, Broad streams of watery light remotely glide Their dappling radiance o'er the mountain's side. A few brief moments, and how changed the scene ! The bow has faded with the sunlight's sheen ; Fast hurrying clouds on clouds immense arise From the horizon o'er the threatening skies ; Along the mountains, sullen thunders roar, And bursting clouds their downward torrents pour. Yon hapless wretch, stalking along the plain, Sought long, in vain, to elude the drenching rain; VVet, weary, woeful, now he eyes askance The glittering home of wealth or sumptuous manse ; From these he asks not alms — lie knows the door Is closed to righteous and unrighteous poor ! The rich man, self-sufficient, constitutes Himself the poor man's judge, and none disputes ; AN EVENING WALK. 65 Denies the poor man's right to ask an alms, And for his shimbering might feels no alarms ; Encased in his own wealth and unassailed, Feels just contempt for poverty entailed ! 'Tis sweet to talk with those who know content — "A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind" — But those who are on grumbling still intent Dispel awhile serenity of mind, (Especially when 'tis purchased rather dear At the expense of those we scorn to hear) Though suffering Grievance ever is at bay Yet times may turn, and he may have his day, — Around, on every side, a gathering gloom On the horizon's distant verge descends ; The Western clouds their last faint tints assume ; Pale in the sunk sun's beams the moon ascends ; The gloaming deepens, and the darkness falls ; And Night, in all her loveliness supreme, My wandering step, my musing thought recalls To where yon taper glads me with its gleam ! 6Q POEMS. COWPER. Thou soul of silver-voiced melody, Whose notes the gods themselves might vie to own, In thee truth, honour, and humanity. Untarnished in eternal lustre shone. And beaming still on time's horizon clear New splendours pour upon our darkened sphere. Deformed by sin and ignominious feud Of tongues and races. Never rapture lewd Thy faithful muse profaned ; and thy fair name, The grosser instincts of our hearts may shame. Spirit ! that none may blame, and all admire. If envious gods awhile of thy sweet lyre Encircled thee in mist and gloomy cloud. Thy splendours now nor gods nor men may shroud. TO LBSBIA. 67 TO LESBIA. They tell me I am now forgot ; That strangers share thy smile — Whispers my heart, " Believe it not, Her Spirit hath no guile ! " They say that time with added charms My absent love doth crown ; That Wit and Wealth and Gaiety At Beauty's shrine bow down ; And that the warm blush on thy cheek Old names no more recalled ; That poverty hath scared true love, Thy heart hath disenthralled ! Whispers my heart, " Believe it not !" But, ah ! If it be true ? Then the bright sunshine of thy smile One breaking heart may rae ! 68 POEMS. THE LACY CAVES. Comb not in the Summer's height, But come when Autumn woods are dight In orange, green, and blue ; And come not in the morning's prime ; When streams are full, at sunset time, Come thou, and lingering, view — Not with a cursory glance like one Who spurns the scene he looks upon. But like a lover true, Pause on each wild, unfolding charm ; Let nought distract thy spirit's calm ; Look Nature through and through- The Lacy Caves ! 'Tis but their setting That makes them worth our not forgetting No pencil ever drew THE LACY CAVES. 69 Scene half so picturesque as this, Should one attempt, 'tis sure to miss Its warmest, clearest hue. The spirit of the scene — its calm — Its solitude — its heaven-sent balm — The sunlight as it flew O'er the bright waters like a flame — These would defy the artist's aim Should it be e'er so true ! The holiest hours we spend are not Religious-fervency begot, To adoration due ; When the past weight of sins untold, And sense of blessings manifold With griefs our souls imbue. But when we pause on Nature's face, A calmer, deeper, sweeter grace Then shuts mean self from view, 70 POEMS. Binds up our wounds unconsciously ; Affliction's hand falls harmlessly ; We walk with God anew. Above the weir and rocky wall — Where the loud waters foaming fall — Half hid by leaves from view, A dim alcove, a half-formed grot. As though the maker's hand forgot Its Gothic arch to hew. O'er this, a rocky wood-screened height, Whose boughs o'erhang the waters bright, In Autumn's glorious hue. While in the placid wave below, The tremulous shadows deeper glow In heaven's reflected blue. This wood-clothed height's wave-circling shape Shoots in the stream its rocky cape. Upon whose crest a few THE LACY CAVES. 71 c Dwarfed trees are seen — around its base The tumbling waters wildly chase, A madly roaring crew ! Pass by yon huge conglomerate block, That still withstands the water's shock, And turning Southward, view This jagged rock upon your right — Where waters flowed in time's dark night Its strata plainly shew. Its flattened top with pines is crowned ; Within its niches ferns abound. — Has once a bridge, think you, O'erspanned from this side to the other] (Yon rock shoots out to meet his brother) If so then I may rue. For I would fain these waters o'er And stand upon th'opposing shore ; But that, I cannot do. 72 POEMS. Close by yon semicircling shade, For pic-nics, and for pleasure made, Green banks the waters woo. Some scooped-out seats awaii you here, A rocky table too is near, Initials not a few Appear ; and there a rude-carved name ('Tis all its owner's little fame), Apparently cut new. The caves, the murmuring stream across. Are crowned with oaks whose branches toss Against the sky's deep blue : You almost fancy them the home Of elf, enchantress, or of gnome, You hear their voices too ! And stretching upwards from this seat, A lengthening terrace, trim and neat. Spreads a green avenue — ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. 73 A fitting path for contemplation, Or sweet and holy meditation Ere falls the nightly dew And one there was whose feet, I ween, Have oft traced o'er this sheltered green. Alas ! to one who knew These lovely shades from infancy, And cherished them with constancy, How bitter the adieu ! ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. The morning on tip-toe Peeps o'er the hill To kiss the earth below While sleeping still ! 74 POEMS. She feels the warm kiss now, In smiles awakes ; Dons on her laughing brow- Light's golden flakes. The daisied fields are white, The hawthorn too ; The distant woods are dight In green and blue ; The lake throws off her veil, The mist of night ; The weary moon so pale Hath sunk from sight. I hear the anvil ring Down in the vale ; The fledgling proves his wing On gentle gale. The shepherd 's on the hill His flocks among, Beside the murmuring rill, He wakes the song. ON THE DEATH OF A FEIEND. 75 Gladness and bliss abound Tn all I see, Only they are not found, My heart, in thee ! For one I loved is laid Beyond love's reach, Beneath the silent shade Of yon tall beech. Oar hearts and hopes were one. Our inarch in life Together we begun. How brief his strife ! The morning of his day. So cloudless bright, Had scarcely passed away Ere came his night. Sweet Spirit, rest in peace — My heart, be still — Death is but a release From grief and ill ! 76 POEMS. WINTER. Winter, Winter, thou art here, With thy dead leaves dry and sere ; With thy wild winds blowing chill ; With thy snows upon the hill — Yet we wish thee not away, Welcome, Winter, still to stay. Stay till earth is mantled o'er With thy glistening fleecy store ; Till sleigh bells tinkle in the frost. And the voice of toil be lost — Come, thou Sabbath of the year. Festive season of good cheer. Seal the pond, and seal the lake. Mar them not with snowy flake ; Be black the ice and smooth and thick. While rosy youth, with pulses quick, WINTER. 77 Wheel like swallows through the air, Gathering strength and sweetness there. And Dian, shed thy kindly light Upon the polished surface bright, Prolonging till the midnight hour Keen sport's exhilarating power. Winter, who hath not confessed Thee, more than the gay Summer, blessed ! Thou, when howling winds are high, Invites t to mild revelry, When sitting in the homestead's blaze The minstrel tunes his heartfelt lays ; When mirth and frolic rule the hour. When friends teem in — a very shower ! Thy icy breath can never chill True friendship's ever-gushing rill ; Nor can thy rudest storms dismay Compassion on her God-like way To wipe the tear from misery's eye. To hush the famished children's cry. POEMS. Then Winter, linger with us while Thy varied scenes and sounds beguile ; Though Nature feels thy chilling breath Thy beauty is not that of death — Spring shall bless with birds and bowers, Yet we have loved thy sober hours. BYRON. Byron, when death took thee away, He did but rob us of thy clay ! Thy matchless mind is with us stiH Or be its sway, or good or ill. Sweet Spirit, like the restless wind. Thou could'st not brook to be confined Now musing o'er dark Loch na Garr, Till twilight shows the evening star ; BYRON. 79 Now sighing o'er thy fate's decrees I hear thee moaning on the breeze ; Now seeking in a sunny clime Oblivion's balm — grey-mouldering time Doth beckon thee with loving hand To bid the inin perfect stand, Recall with thy immortal breath The myriads now sealed up in death. Now heedless of the voice of fame, Thrice blotting out thy deeds of shame ! While breathing o'er Athena's bust New life into a nation's dust — And Freedom's voice was half divine When thou its sweetness linked with thine. Should earth forget thee — Ocean's roar Would sound thy name for evermore ! 80 POEMS. TO LESBIA. The shock is past, the pang is o'er ; I loved thee much ; I love no more — It is enough that I have known The beautiful may truth disown ! Time, like a rock, dissevered wide The murmuring flow of Love's sweet tide ; But Hope still lent a specious gleam — Alas for Hope, 'twas but a Dream ! Let me not curse thee, blessed Hope, Thou nerved'st my arm 'gainst foes to cope — At least thou'st kept from many a stain ! Where now my strength, since thou art slain 1 A LEAP. 81 Shall I go seek in wild excess To stem the tide of bitterness — Adore another's lovely face To mind me of another's grace 1 Ah, no ! Grief shall not Folly breed ; Nor Hate entwine like nosious weed My heart — but Faith shall deeper glow, And banish all the lover's woe> A LEAF. Take up, my friend, that- leaf — that young spring leaf- Torn by some hapless breeze from th' parent tree, And view it in thine hand. Look at its surface Smooth and polished, of hues of dark and light, Of living green ; its elegant, distinct, 82 FOEMS. Though slight-indented curves. Now, uphold it To the light. Look at its varied veins pellucid In shape, in size, and strength. How wonderful ! And, if thou canst, track out their mazy lines Intricate and branch on branch, and clothed o'er With fleshy verdure. Look at its slender stem — How skilfully inwrought into the texture fine ! And this frail form fed by most subtle fluid Drawn from gross earth and breathing in the sun ! What does it mean, this one of myriads 1 An universal plan, a marvellous mind, Infinitely great and small — a living God. LINES ON GEN. XIX. 27—29. I AROSE when the morning's sweet primal hour With gems of her beau.ty decked leaflet and flower ; I arose not in gladness, but sorrow and pain For the fate of the cities of Jordan's fair plain ! LINES ON GEN. XIX., 27-29. 83 They have perished in guilt ! unwarned by the fete That befell the unrighteous at the flood's memoried date: Oh how awful the sin, and the folly and shame, For bright-gifted man to revere not the name Of the stern God of thunder and lightning's swift fire Who in wrath makes their homes but a funeral dire ! Lo ! the dark-rolling smoke as from a furnace ascends On the wings of the wind borne to earth's farthest ends. To Thee Vengeance belongs. Thou Soul of Creation, None can stand for a breath 'gainst thy wrath's indignation, Who art mighty to curse, and yet mighty to save The righteous, though few,from destruction's dark grave. Let the nations of earth mark the end of the proud — Midst their sin's degradation to the dust they are bowed ; Let the righteous take courage midst a world's sinful strife, For most dear in his sight, and most guarded each life. 84 POEMS. DR. LIVINGSTONE. Weave thee, fair Albyn, for thy dauntless son, A vernal wreath. Not on triumphal car All sprent with gore, o'er-canopied with groans Of dying men — not in the wake of war Comes he \ but in the livery of his Lord, His dear Redeemer, living and adored ; Enduring, humble, patient, true, he comes ; But worn and faint, yet wearing on his brow The star of faith, soon sinking hence to rise In bliss. what a noble soul is his ! Favoured of heaven, beloved of men, the world In adoration bows ! 'Tis well, 'tis well That when the world doth recognise his like. The warmest tribute of a nation's heart. The highest meed be his ; and that his life Be held for men to glass their fallen aims, NATURE, KIND GODDESS. 85 From thence t' achieve high thought and enterprise, And so great lives ! For have we not enow Of men whose actions, one and all, do bear In front the unvarying stamp of avarice ! I could weep myself away o'er the False-hearted times ! NATURE, KIND GODDESS. Nature, kind goddess, still my fond alarms, And let me feel once more thy soothing balms ; Ye hoary cliffs, ye sombrous pines, that wave Dark in the blue sky, ye know me, for ye gave Me summer shade ; ye ever-murmuring streams, On whose green banks through many a careless day In musings sweet, I wiled the hours away ; Forgive my wayward heart, if in my dreams Of happiness, in hope's illusive glow, Elsewhere I sought what ye alone bestow : 86 POEMS. And thou, fair orb, that risest on the eve Of dying day, whose far sunk beams yet leave A deepening stain beyond the purpled height, Again the wanderer hails thy peaceful light : Again, ye stars, ye mystic worlds that roll Amain, hurled flaming from th' Almighty aoul Who planned and made and still maintains in might The universe, how softly shines your light ! And thoa, muse, that haunt'st the sylvan scene, Again I woo thy aid and smile serene. To wake my trembling strain to raptures new, And to free fancy lend enchantment's view : He who hath seen thee once, delightful maid, Enamoured still, hath still thy voice obeyed. To be with thee ! If this be solitude, Then welcome days and nights where none intrude. By haunted stream ; by charmed cell and grot ; By lonely height ; or wild sequestered spot ; Where distant city's mingling hum ne'er wakes Oppressive cares the weary mind forsakes ; Where Nature's melodies harmonious roll, And breathe deep peace into the feeling soul ! NAY, LASSIE, I CAN NEVER LOVE THEE. 87 NAY, LASSIE, I CAN NEVER LOVE. Nat, lassie, I can never love thee, Thy smiles are all in vain ; Thy rose-red cheek and snowy brow My heart can never gain. 'Tis not for lack of worldly store That I thee lightly hold— Thy gentle spirit's matchless grace Is better far than gold ! I loved a being bright as thou, Whom I remember yet, And in her form of loveliest mould Divinest graces met. I loved her well, I loved her long, Whom I remember yet — Nor can I love again, sweet maid, Thy smiles I soon forget. POEMS. BE NOT EVER PROSTRATE, HEART. BE not ever prostrate, heart, 'Fore Beauty's evanescent charms, Nor let the cold glance undeserved Fill thy frail essence with alarms. For Beauty still is apt to toy With hearts too lightly won or lost, Then be not thou her willing slave, Or thy serenity 't will cost. But if, forsooth, thou wilt adore, Adore true worth, the spirit's dower. And she will love thee, charm thee most, E'en when ill-fortunes o'er thee lower ! LET ME NOT PKAISE THEE. 89 LET ME NOT PEATSE THEE. Let me not praise Thee with a selfish lip, Having in mind Thy constant care With hopes of undeserved good to come Which both the just and unjust sliare. Need I, forsooth, be told thine only Son Left heaven's fair realms to die for me, To kindle in my heart the spark of love And fan it there unceasingly? No, I would praise Thee for Thy mystery Impenetrate to millions, Who would lay bare to all as in a map Thy soul and its pavilions. And chiefly by a well-spent life would I Thee praise, and not alone by word, The more acceptable to Thee and thine Than sweetest prayer ear ever heard. 90 POEMS. REMORSE. "Mademoiselle de Malamarre de Tarboy," says the Court Journal, " took the veil at Neuilly. This young lady has left a world of which she was one of its gayest and most gifted orna- ments under sad circumstances. She was residing with her family in their ancestral chateau, which was occupied by the Prussians. The officers were carousing in the dining-room, and one of them seized the young lady round the waist and attempted to kiss her. The maiden, fired with resentment at this outrage, seized a knife on the dinner-table, and plunged it into the Prussian's breast. The lady was arrested, a court-martial was summoned ; but the Prince of Hesse, who commanded the dis- trict, ordered the instant release of the fair prisoner. Never was blood more justly shed, yet it has weighed so heavily on her heart that she has been driven to seek shelter from remorse in the cloisters." I. A MAIDEN gazed upon the battle plain. The mingling heaps of dead and dying lay 'Neath the cold dews of night, her country's slain ! A horrid stillness and a fitful ray REMORSE. 91 From moon and stars pictured with burning sway Upon that gentle heart, the sanguine show ', And from the clouds, as sad she turned away, She deemed stem Vengeance eyed the distant foe, And tears of angels mingled with the dews below ! 11. Was she not right 1 The one who gazed, I mean ; Was't not enough to make the angels weep 1 She did, they did — if e'er an earthly scene Drew tears from such, and they're allowed to peep At ghastly sights that make flesh mortal creep — But why should they avert their happy eyes, Celestial throng, and sickening sentry keep 1 Why cease to sing and shine in Paradise, And mourn on earth war's horrid human sacrifice T III, She shudd'ring wandered over hill and plain, From whence the reddening wave of war had burst ; Where wife and maid re-echoed back again, Fearful and deep, the shriek of war accursed ! 92 POEMS. And this the modern game of war, at first Named murder ! man, life-beseeching man, Canst thou not quench thy everlasting thirst For blood ? Wilt thou still slain Creation's Plan, And Mercy's portal bar with deeds she hates to scan 1 IV. It was a fearful thing for one so young, So beautiful, to leave the peaceful hall Of virtuous ease and wealth, to stray among The battle's carnage, while the foeman's call Resounded shrill from distant tower and wall ; But she was brave as fair, and though she froze With fear 'twas but the thought that can appal The noblest heart when free Invasion throws His wolf-like glance around, and spreads his maddeniiu woes ! V. The maid was all enwrapped in grief and fear Until the tears within her breast congealed, Leaving a speechless sorrow there — Faith's bier Of national brotherhood — The moon revealed BEMORSE. 93 Her home amid the ckistering trees concealed Not from the foe — and as the ancient seat Ancestral dimly rose, her prayers appealed To heaven's protecting arm ; a prayer so sweet, So natural too, the Virgin's ear .would doubtless greet ! VI. That night she slept her last of peaceful sleep. The morning saw the advancing foe possessed Her father's home. That maiden did not weep. Firm in her grief, each bitter tear repressed, She only sought to soothe a parent's breast ! But hark ! The walls of that abode resound To the victorious throng ; at their behest The feast is spread ; the cup goes circling round ; A warrior-chief presides, his brow with victory crowned. VII. That chief, the gayest of the throng, I trow, In the habiliments of war was he, With vigorous frame and bronzed cheek and brow. And eagle eye aflame in victory. 9i POEMS. Sonorous rings his voice in revelry ; And for a time, uncurbed in triumph's glow, The pride of victory thrills joyously His veins. Yet checks he wrong, restrains the foe ! But sins himself the most who should example show ! viil. One moment from the throng that warrior stepped To speak soft words unto that beauteous maid. No answer did she deign, but closer crept Unto her aged sire whom grief dismayed ; No answer — save what glance severe conveyed — If he had heeded that, it had been well ! But no ! He strives to kiss the unwilling maid — A peal of laughter — 'tis his horrid knell ! She plunged a knife within his breast, and there he fell! IX. See there that chieftain lifeless on the floor, Where bu.t a few brief moments past he sought In wicked sport to steal what he'd restore A thousandfold. That kiss was dearly bought, REMOESE. 95 As kisses are sometimes ; but then he ought T' have known better; doubtless he did, but then Temptation's strong ; and though the act be fraught With danger, still there are weak moments, when The Devil gains the day, and proves the best, but men ! X. " heavens ! " she cried, " What horrid deed I've done — A hellish deed ! Unique in the red page Of crime ! Soldier, spare not, I do not shun — Nay, I will bare my bosom to thy rage ! Strike, soldier, strike ! Heed not my sex nor age, Think only of the deed, the bloody deed ! Shed blood for blood, so bids the holy sage, Look on thy prostrate countryman, and heed His weltering gore ! Murder my crime, be death my meed ! " xi. There stood that pale and trembling girl, and there The frantic sire amid those warriors grave ; And prone the soldier with his wound laid bare ; And near his comrade stood ready to lave 96 POEMS. The good sword in the young heart's gushing wave. Why does he stay his hand 1 Why strikes he not ? Shall she not die ? For death doth she not crave 1 Must he not strike, nor fire th' unerring shot ? . His chief die unavenged ! Are all his deeds forgot ? XII. Thus to his comrades ; but that hardy band Stood still unmoved, thinking of their own wives And daughters, and the maids of their own land ; And waking sympathy with vengeance strives. They would have risked a thousand times their lives, And shed their dearest blood to save his own. They would avenge the dead, but pity drives The thought away. They hear the parent's groan, And curb the hand that would with blood for blood atone. XIII. The corpse was borne away ; the maid restored To liberty and fond parental care. But she in grief her sentence sad deplored — cruel Prince, cruel fate, to spare REMOESB. 97 Her wretched life. How shall that frail breast bear The pang of keen remorse ? why consign Her life, her days and nights, to dire despair 1 Prince, thou didst not harbour such design, Thou couldst not know thy ruth condemned her to repine, XIV. To wither like a flower torn from the stem, To fade by slow degrees from day to day ; To dull the lustre of so bright a gem Was farthest from thy generous thought away — And yet the young lips lose the smile's sweet play. That fatal kiss doth rob her cheek's vermeil. The sunshine from her life doth pass away — Remorse more cruel than the soldier's steel, Feasts on her heart ; upon her brow death sets his seal ! XV. The war was over ; meek-browed Peace resumed Her myriad-fingered task. The maze of toil Swarmed with care-bustling denizens. Some, plumed For pleasure's pageant, view the blood-fed soil 98 POEMS. Where heroes fighting fell ! And some recoil — But these are few — from gain and gaiety, Brooding with Vengeance over Fancy's spoil, They plan revenge for th' dark futurity, Keep bare their country's wound to fire its chivalry ! XVI. swiftly then that maiden's true love came — Saw, felt, and mourned the change, yet joyed to meet Her once again. She heeded not his flame. He strove to soothe her grief in tones as sweet As those first won her heart. She did but greet Him with a look in which there was no ray Of hope. No tear she shed, but at his feet Her harp she touched, and sang this farewell lay — And then they bore her to the cloisters far away. XVII, " what a hell of grief the human heart Can bear, what throes and pangs of agony Or ere remorse or sorrow bid it part ! The spring of all my tortures whelmingly REMORSE. 99 Yet freshly floods immortal memory. These crime-stained hands all vainly plead to heaven, All that is left to me is misery, To whom, in glow of early youth, was given A lover's breast to soothe — by anguish now 'tis riven ! There is a place reserved for me, A haven of sweet rest, Where I may lay my aching head Upon my Saviour's breast. The world fades glimmering from my sight, Its pleasures and its pains. Save one dark scene of guiltiness My memory retains. My lover's breast is desolate, My parents dear repine — They cannot share the wretchedness Of such a guilt as mine. 100 POEMS. Adieu, adieu ! my lover true, Adieu my parents dear ; We meet again, we meet in Heaven, I may not linger here. had I wings, I'd fly above Into the Heaven's deep blue — 1 faint, I fade, my senses fail, Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu ! " TELL ME NOT, DEAR MARY. TELL me not, dear Mary, Of bitter tears that thou hast shed In sorrowing, sighing anguish, Grieving as for the dead ; For the same fate is o'er us. Relentless, cold, and stern, And the bright days of love and hope Will never more return. O TELL MB NOT, DEAR MARY. 101 We meet — to part for ever — In grief, but not in shame ; And oft the tear will start, love, At the magic of thy name ; For the same fate is o'er us, Kelentless, cold, and stern. And the bright days of love and hope Will never more return. When hope is gone, then all is gone From absence plucks the sting — E'en while I press thee to my heart Despair that heart doth wring ! For the same fate is o'er us, Relentless, cold, and stern, And the bright days of love and hope Will never more return. 102 POEMS. A CONVERSATION. A. The where, the when, we know not, but alas ! Full well we know that all must die. R We die, But life is born of death, and to have been Is still to be. A. Our bodies perish, and the good we do Dies with us oft. B. From nothing can be made But nought ; and things material never know Annihilation : essences may change Their scope and form, but cannot cease to be. Man's influence, be it good or ill, or both, Has likewise an eternity of force. The rain-drop, ineffectual in itself, Forms in the aggregation mighty streams, The life-pulse of th' material world ; and acts A CONVERSATION. 103 Obscured now, and deeds and words forgot, Contribute all to good's supremacy O'er ill, convergent in the stream of time, To glad the heart of man and render still More lovely and beloved an ill-used world — Yet lovely in despite of bitter wrong. Injustice, hate, and rivalry of creeds And races ! None shall stay the march of truth. Obscured it may be by the lingering myths Of barbarous ages, superstition blind, And vanity of god-aspiring man. Where Truth is planted there shall Liberty Eventual bloom and every virtue find Congenial rays. Our retrospection scant Of ages, and our little span of life, Combat, the one Hope's future ; undue haste, The other, in Progression's lauded aims — For mark you, ere some master-mind attains Full recognition, when the breathless world Hangs on his words inspired by wisdom, truth, Humanity and right. Death wisely claims — Or ere by progress, progress is debarred — ■" 104 POEMS. The holy sage. Thus progress held in check Against reaction is insured, and time Is given, step by step, and slow and sure, For truth to permeate the general mind. And stand secure upon a solid base, A. All honour to the man who rises thus Above the general stature of his times. Whose god-like voice inspires enthusiasm, For noble purpose of the public weal. In bosoms selfish of the general mass. But oft by other means than that of death — Too oft ! the bold reformer's weighty aim, In my poor judgment, with unwisdom fraught, Is foiled by dearth of circumspection clear, O'erlooking in its haste the tangled mass Of lesser evils, moderate needs, that lie Unheeded round. First clear the lesser growth, All thorny though it be, obstrl^cts the way Of reformation ; the giant tree next falls, Left naked in the cleared space around. Either by weight of its own rottenness, Or at the first rude breath of condemnation. A CONVEESATIQN. .105 B. When lesser ills are timely swept away With hand unsparing, legion is their name, And every influence of general weal Is fostered with an ever-jealous care, How glaring then, in due proportion seen, The mighty statesman's ever-baffling foe — Alone, unique, it towers above the plain, And every voice is raised against its reign, Although the keenest intellects may shield, (Abuse for champion ne'er in vain appealed) Or strive to shield, from the impending blow, A shivered wreck it falls, and justly so. 106 POEMS. EARTH-SCENES MAY CHANGE. Earth-scenes may change, and faces cease to smile That on my heart have shed their light awhile ; But one there is whose love no languor knows, And, oh, how calm the joy his love bestows. All things of earth, of lovely, bright, and pure, Like fairest flowers, but for a breath endure. His love hath made them, and his love doth end — 'Midst change how sweet to find a changeless friend. His love alone can heal the broken heart. Alone restrain the tear's unbidden start, 'Midst strife alone can whisper lovely peace, And 'midst life's chastenings bid repinings cease. Love unfathomed, unto mortals given, Dear foretaste of the holy joys of heaven, Still shed upon my heart thy kindling fire, Till on Love's wings my soul to heaven aspire. MANCHESTER : JOHN HEYWOOD, PEINTEE, HULME HALL ROAD. Musings o'er Flood and Fell {Manchester: J. Heyioood). — These are the sweetest and most delightful musings in verse that we have seen for a long time. The writer is veritably a poet. There is a lipeness of thought, a delicacy Oi touch, and a fragvance infused into them of all that is subtle and beautiful in nature, which raise them far above the class of ephemeral and flimsy verse which finds its way somehow into print ; we do, indeed, an injustice by naming these "Musings" in the same breath with the latter. As a specimen of true poetical fancy, here is a verse taken at random : — The morning on tip-toe Peeps o'er the hill To kiss the earth below While sleeping still ! The book is studded with productions of true poetical conception and fine thought, and the sub- jects treated are also admirably chosen and of uni- versal interest. The one on "Dr. Livingstone" might most fitly be transferred to his memorial tablet in Westminster Abbey, and the sonnet on " Shakes- peare " possesses surpassing merit. The poem " Winter " is delightful, the reading of which makes one feel the briskness and to anticipate the domestic revelry and good cheer incident to that cozy season ; as the writer felicitously sings. Though nature feels thy chilling breath Thy beauty is no- that of death. His sympathies are deep towards humanity, and he re^reals himself in more than one fine utterance on the side of all that is progressive and elevating in our nature or in our social and other relations. The author is Mr. William Birtles, of Great Salkeld, Cumberland. — Warrington Guardian, Sep- tember 2, 1882. ^-- ^.-.^'r '•» >_ ^,t > { L