iiiiMt COMPOSEI) SINCE WO !^^ffitu«!l- Cornell University Library PR 4057.B137V5 Verses, composed since 1870:some elegiac 3 1924 013 210 244 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013210244 VERSES, COMPOSED SINCE 18T0: SOME ELEGIAC; OTHERS OCCASIONAL, AND MISCELLANEOUS. By WILLIAM BALL. «— JMi**i*3-S---a [NOT PUBLISHED.] 1875. H — - — "r-j^i Kb?>o3S?> These jottings of recent years are especially inscribed to those "dear Ones who have been, from their early childhood, closely associated with me (with Us, and with our Homes) ; and who may not regret that these late, fugitive, verses have escaped the waste-basket, and are thus preserved. W. B. Alserbbae, New Year's Day, 1875 |nbe^ 0f Jfirsl lin^s. A good man dies ! Earth poorer made, . ' . 92 And must this name increase the heavy page, . 36 Another face (too briefly known), . . 6 Another saint is gather'd now, . . 8 A strain, howe'er imperfect, brief, . . 74 Born to so dear a home, and all its ties, . . 20 Child of thy youthful Parents' hope and prayer, . 35 Cradled in legend, crown'd with fame, . . 48 Dear Home of kindness and of genial cheer, . 63 Death is the fiat of the All- wise ! — . . 49 Friends rise in value as they count so few, . 40 ii INDEX OF FIRST LINES. • PAGE Her lov'd and faithful image — as of one. 60 Home of my friends ! made hallow'd ground, 79 How dumb the Grave! e'en thine; thou ne'er before, 37 I fathom all the fond regret. 18 1 I saw the wreath'd Immortelles lie. 12 I scarcely thought the canny Scot, 88 : If to the menders of our ways. 44 In Mamwood's paths once more I stray, . 23 In this lone, winter's walk round Eydal mere, 59 ! It is the same ! I hear it, and rejoice ! 65 1 Join'd to the Just — their ransom paid — . 27 Kings, dis-crown'd or crown'd, have found. 66 Lamorva sheds a calm and steadfast sheen. 76 Let friends meet oft ! — ^if they but meet, . '97 Life's Morning to Life's Evening said. 16 Little I deem'd when, pitiful, I hung. 91 Long-lov'd friend ! upon thy birthday. 51 Long since a Mentor counseU'd me, 89 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. iii . Lov'd much ! to be remember'd long ! PAGE 72 May the new year so brightly. 53 Memory ! I tremble while I keep. 38 My Garden-Party, on the green. 4 Nature's sole remedy, we know, . 101 Not, Sedgwick ! for thy power to wrest, . 3 Oh, blessed Faith ! that can the heart engage, 58 . Oh, the true dignity of Heavenly grace, . 26 Once we thought, in days of yore. 46 On the height of heath-clad rock. 64 On this returning 'Day of Birth,' 55 Our social sphere, so shaded now. 68 Sister, almost, and last! well may I grieve, 28 So pass our years ! (now of no small amount). 57 • Such mother, e'en in death, can speak, 99 Sweet child ! if such a visit. 33 The happiest end of life is found, 10 Thee, long-lov'd friend, I warmly greet, . 70 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. This world is changed to me, where once I ranged with thee, Tidings to take away the Nation's breath ! — 'Tis well, on this mark'd natal day. To take this ground is to forget. We gave Him up in hopelessness. We part, and when again we meet. Where'er believers may be found. Wont, in thy youth, with us to stay. 14 30 25 85 31 22 95 41 amd: "MxaitBsm Sebgkrkk. Not, Sedgwick ! for thy power to wrest Secrets from Science with thy grasp, Doth many a friend thy memory clasp Close to a sorrow-heaving breast. Not that, by thee. Earth, dispossest, Gave up the spoil that, buried, lay — Nor, that its lifting into day A 'sermon' on the 'stone' impressed. No — not for these, though all were good, — But that thine Eve taught cheering truth How Age may lovely be as Youth, Feelings still fresh, and aims pursued ; December's day like one in May, And Winter, gay, in Springtide's mood ! II. g (Sarbm-|partg. My Garden-Party, on the green, Delay'd till Summer sunset shone, Then, scattering, vanish'd from the scene Till I was left alone. Still 'neath the trees I sat alone For want of purpose, not for rest. Till sunset's parting ray was gone From quivering in the west. These are the moments when, distress'd, The soul, unoccupied, delays Among old thoughts, and makes sad quest Into the former days. And, scarce, a lonely' home allays The pain and chill of thoughts like these, Nor nerves afresh, with heart of grace, To face such memories ! MY GARDEN-PARTY. S Now sighs the night-wind in the trees, Now, through the gloom, the night-bird flies ; And for the house, that no more sees Its light, at length I rise "With faltering step, — nor brave nor wise Is he, scorn'd of the wise and brave. Whose memories are obsequies, Whose haunt the recent grave ! — Love, if not always wise, is brave. And Friendship, firm as 'lasting hill;' But Memory, shivering at the grave. Trembles, a coward still ! — My Party wins bright homes, — may ill, Nor pain, take from their life its shine ! — ■ For me, meanwhile, let bending will And steadfast faith be mine ! III. Another face (too briefly known) Is framed to hang in Memory's Hall; Another writing on its wall Records a friend for ever gone ! I call him friend, though scarcely Time To friendship had acquaintance brought- He was too pleasing'in my thought Unwept to perish in his prime ! Alas, how many weep for him ! His ' wife of youth/ his loving friends ! And farther round the grief extends, Till hearts are sad, and eyes are dim . W. S. M. In deep Bereavement, all the springs Of wonted consolation fail : The Mourner nothing can avail — Oh, Lord ! save healing from Thy wings ! Thus, pacing Memory's Hall, I trace The traits of many lost and dear, And ask my soul. Why linger here, Disparted from their dwelling-place? But, Lord ! where Thou wouldst have us be Is Peace, the troubled soul to still — Earth brightens, subject to Thy wiU, And Heaven were darkness, void of Thee ! IV. xllmm "^mnduil^tx. Gather my saints together unto me ; those that have made covenant with me by sacrifice.' — Psalm l. 5. Another saint is gather'd now, Whose soul in youth was timely wise To covenant by ' sacrifice' Of self for Christ, and kept his vow ! Early, his eye by Faith could see The ' sacrifice' of Calvary's Cross ! He counted all, for Christ, but loss. And serv'd Him in true ministry. Service, how various and how wide ! A service faithful to the end, Still by ' the love of Christ constrain'd,' To whom he lived, to whom he died !* * Eom. xiv. 8. WILLIAM PENNEFATHER. Stricken ourselves, we know, for him Whose life was Christ,* to die was gain ; For us how ' needful' f to retain Such treasure in our vision dim ! Alike in grace and nature dear, Lovely in Hfe, in death deplored, ' Loved in the flesh, and in the Lord' — % For him, who shall forbid the tear ? The God with whom, in wisdom's way, He walked, translates him from our sight ! His path was as the shining light, That shines unto the perfect day ! * Pha. i. 22. + PhD. i. 24. % PhUemon 16. y. [Dr Murray, a young man, aged 28, -who, being himself the strongest swimmer in the district, donbtless sank in the vain effort to save his young companion ; having often risked his own h'fe to save that of others from drowning.] The happiest end of life is found In doing good, e'en when we die, Approved of God, and not to lie As lingering cumberers of the ground. Then let not loving friends bemoan Young Murray with too sore a grief, Who perish'd, in our sure belief, A life to rescue, not his own. BOAT ACCIDENT IN LOCH MIL. 11 ' Whom the gods love die young' — and why ? Perchance that, in this mortal state, Their early goodness might not late The test of lengthened days defy. Heaven's estimate from Earth's is wide As east from west : — be life a span, Heaven reckons wisdom age to man, And spotless life as eventide. VI. an tl^t (irak ai k §mnQ i^abg IN GKASMEEE CHURCHYARD. [A. D. E., who died at the beautiful house she had built a few years since at Grasmere.] I SAW the wreath'd Immortelles lie The tear-wash'd sod above ! Such oflfering of a tender hand* (Though Stoic souls reprove) Is but the yearning of the heart Still to express its love ! The Stoic soul in this doth judge, As in all else, amiss — * Her sister's. ON SEEING A FRESH WREATH OF IMMORTELLES. 13 Do not the Dead our path of woe Watch from their home of bliss ? Are they not happier for the proof Of constant love like this? By Christian faith, Living and Dead One family are seen : The name of Christ* is still the bond Both Earth and Heaven between, And every passage of dear love Should ever intervene ! * Eph. iii. 15. Is- VII. g Sister €. This world is changed to me, where once I ranged with thee, From South to utmost North in Britain's scenes. Companion ever true ! whose converse, ever new, Brighten'd the joy in Nature's choice demesnes. Whate'er I loved to see, must now impoverish'd be Of all that to the joy its richness gave ! And all the favourite scenes, of Nature's choice demesnes Are darken'd in the shadow of thy grave ! Intense, all speech above, intense, for us. Thy love- Intense thy loving gaze on Nature's face : Thy heart thrill'd, silently, to murmur of the sea, Or breeze that rifled Autumn's fading grace. MY SISTER a 15 They spoke, with voiceful tone, to Thee, of many a one For whom to care was still thy fond employ : The falling of a leaf, could stir some hidden grief. The glancing beam could wake some hopeful joy! , Those who have sat with thee, beside the summer sea. Or mid the scattering of the autumn grove — Thine own, — can well confess, how thy sweet ten- derness Could blend thy love for us with Nature's love ! In kind unconsciousness, did thy dear spirit pass To see the wonders of a world more fair. From care and pain set free, the far-off land to see. With vision of the King in beauty there ! vni. Life's Morning to Life's Evening said (Across tte IJ'oon), — ' How free from care ' Tour calm ! You build no piles in air, ' J^or will you mourn o'er hopes betray'd!' ' Of mourning sore/ Life's Evening sigh'd, ' Of such air-castles, have I not ' Enough, for one poor mortal's lot, 'Already seen?' — Life's Mom replied, — ' Mine are misgivings of success, ' Uncertainty if years to come ' My J^^oon, my Eve, bless with sweet home.' Answered Life's Eve, with plaintiveness, — LIFE'S MORN AND EVEN ' My certainty warns that my state ' Fits not with thought for future days — ' Fits not with plan or purpose ; says ' To enterprise, "Too late! Too late !'" Saith Morning,—' What though there he room ' For plans, if Disappointment wait, ' Watching, at every opening gate, ' To fasten it, in closing gloom.' Saith Evening, — ' See, what stretch of Green, ' Flowers, Harvest, Snow, expand for thee ! ' One narrow strip but left for me — 'The grave, — and this dear home between/ Still, Moming^s face was clouded, lest Some gathering shade should shroud the day. While Evening smiled, to see the ray Of promise kindle in the west ! IX. ' I M\iam all tl^e f0ii!tr xt^xtt' I FATHOM all the fond regret That sickens for thy youth again ! That of the present doth complain, Nor from the past can sever yet ! I know thy musing's secret train, Know well what rosy youth away Doth take ! and know what years convey To make us sigh for youth again ! But, cease the plaint thy lot that wrongs, Cheer thee with faith, whatever betide, And dwell upon the brighter side That to each stage of life belongs ! 'J FATHOM ALL THE FOND REGRET.' 19 The moss-clad stone, 'neath wither'd bough, That shone yestreen all emerald green, By night-frost spotted, now, is seen, And ne'er more beautiful than now ! Last May, I to the hawthorn said, ' J!^ought can thy loveliness out-do;' But Ibvelier, now, in beauty new, It decks the snow with gems of red ! X. €Rxalxm Born to so dear a home, and all its ties, To culture, science : prosperous birth was thine To Nature's love, to art, whose instinct fine Could blend with thy warm heart's affinities. Thine was another birth, to breathe the breath That pants for purer joys and upper air, Where Jesus, interceding, sits, and where His child draws strength for life, and hope for death ! Brought nigh to Him, yearning like Him to be. Thy soul, subdued, yearn'd with a ceaseless love Over His poor, that with health's failure strove : Thy mourners hear, — ' Thou did'st it unto Me ! ' CAROLINE F. 21 And thus another birth for thee remain'd — Dying on Earth but to be born in Heaven ! Sleeping in Jesus, and all sin forgiven, Waking in ' Paradise/ by Him ' regain'd!' Thy bed of death, how calm ! how passing sweet ! Upon thy flight did not the angels wait ? Did not thy brother meet thee at Heaven's gate, Thy mother lead thee to the Saviour's feet ? Father and sister ! friends beloved ! how deep This life-long sorrow, well my spirit knows : Yet, hark \—' Weep but for me the tear of those, ' Heaven comforted, in thankfulness who weep!' XI. We part, and when again we meet We know not, nor should ask to know ; But, long as life's warm tide may flow, Shall cherish, in remembrance sweet, These pleasant days ; though, now, unmeet Am I to feel or minister The joy that others may confer, (Or in the world, or in retreat,) In giving out their happiness. That sparkles from unfailing spring. To brighten pleasure, lift distress. And give to Time his swiftest wing ; But friendship outlives joy, and lives to bless Alike thro' Winter's blast and Summer's blos- soming. XII. ' |n Pamfonotr's H actios/ In Marnwood's paths once more I stray, As ever, rich in beauty rare. But where is Marnwood's Mistress ? where ? Whose absence clouds the smiling day. She lies upon the couch of pain, But calm ; amid her weariness No murmur blends with her distress — No other sound than thankful strain. She numbers blessings of the past And present — on the lov'd ones gone, As on herself, the mercy shown ; To last, while lingering life shall last. 24 ' IN MARNWOOD'S PATHS.' This sheltering Home, the power to do Much for Christ's poor in His dear love ; And most, her part in Him above That draws her spirit upward too ! By faith her future is not dim ; She leaves it in the tender hand Of that dear Lord by whosexommand All things are ours* if found in Him ! * 1 Cor. iii. 21-23. xin. 'Tis well, on this mark'd natal day, That added years bring no dismay. But thankful trust they rather bring. With added mercies on their wing. He, who hath lov'd thee, still is nigh ; Who, when the waves of grief ran high. Threatening thy fragile bark to whelm. Could walk the waves, and take the helm ! Wilt thou not bless His kind command To trust thy future in His hand, Drooping and lone no more to be With such a Friend in company; To bear thee through the river chill. To land thee on His holy hill. And, loving to the end, prepare Lov'd Ones to meet, who wait thee there ! XIV. Ixllmm pHI: (OLD SERVANT AT MAKNWOOD.) Oh, the true dignity of Heavenly grace That gives a man, no matter what his place Or station in this world, such faith and love As train and fit him for the world above ! Let him be poor, already you may trace Eefining influence in his tranquil face, E'en now ennobled ; for with treasure rare He hath in heaven, his thankful heart is there. His upward glances, where his treasure lies. Already claim his kindred with the skies. Such was good "William Hill, true witness saith ; Valued in life, and honour'd in his death ! These are my thoughts, in pausing, where they laid. In Christian hope, his venerable head ! Oh, may we live like him, that, when we die. We, too, may leave behind like memory ! XV. %txaniu, J oin'd to the Just — their ransom paid— n Zion Hill, who, Victors, stand! H ow do we envy spirits made N ow perfect, in that better land ! B Tit if our service be not o'er, A nd Wisdom wills it thus to be, E emembrance only bids us more T persevere, and follow Thee — L ike as Thyself did'st strive, by prayer, E ver Ifo walk as Jesus led ! T hat in the end we, too, may share T hy Christian death and peaceful bed ! XVI. SiSTEK, almost, and last ! well may I grieve When thou art gone. From childhood's morn to lengthening shades of eve We travell'd on In changeless friendship, through life's changeful clime, In love that knew no change, outwearying Time ! Faithful as cherish'd ! with none other, now, Can I retrace The scenes and visions of my youth, where thou Hadst constant place In every foreground : worthy to adorn A brighter picture than my childhood's morn ! My eve ! though shadows fall, though day depart. Yet still remains S. B. B. 29 The trembling hope of rest, where the reft heart Its lost regains ! I know that, lowly still, not upper, air Lifts thee above old friendship, even there ! %\i^t Same. Still faithful to her God, thro' life, from youth — With all her gentleness, firm for His Truth — A Christian ripe, and counting all but loss For winning Christ, and cleaving to His Cross. A bright companion, an example pure. The friend of all, but, most, of all the poor. Who mourn their loss (lamented far and wide) — Beloved, she lived — honoured and wept, she died ! XVII. \im tl^t Urina ai WidzB teas sn^poseb ia h Qanz—^tL 1871. Tidings to take away the Nation's breath ! — From Palace to the Cot, the Nation's tear With Wife's, with Mother's, blends in wail sincere For Him whose only foe was ruthless Death ! Faults in a Prince the world was prompt to see, But, leaning to the side of Kindliness, Let them but take the form of its excess Seen through the haze of sorrowing memory ! Now, deeply mourn'd ! we only would retrace Thy good, thy purpose right to do, and be ; — Thy earliest venture was for Charity,* And duteously recall'd thy Father's grace ! May'st thou, like Him, have gain'd, thro' Christ, the Home G-uarded from earthly lure, and ill to come ! * The Prince of Wales' first public speech on opening the Lambeth Schools. XVIII. We gave Him up in hopelessness, Foreboding all we fear'd : Upon that ocean of distress Nor sun nor stars appear'd. Well may the Wife, the Mother, droop, When England's spirit fails, And nought but 'hoping against hope' Lives for our Prince of Wales ! The Nation's heart, from day to day, Is in that darken'd room. Where only comes the feeble ray That shows despairing gloom. For chill despair is written there And bravest hearts assails ! 32 THE PRINCE OF WALES' RECOVERY. Hear, pitying Lord, a Nation's prayer, And spare onr Prince of Wales ! ****** The Great Physician hears our cries, And ' health and cure' He brings : The Sun of Righteousness doth rise With healing in His wings. The Nation's prayer, the Nation's tear. At length with God prevails ; He crowns our hope, and calms our fear, And heals our Prince of Wales ! For thjs, Thanksgiving far abroad. Wide as the world shall fly ; Thanksgiving to our faithful God, Who would not let Him die ! — Let praise inspire both lives and lips For mercy ne'er that fails, That chased the Nation's dread eclipse. And spared our Prince of Wales ! XIX. WwMb mk^. afte b^ §abfi iro%r's gtui^, to f Mp xnial l^akit. Sweet child ! if such a visit Were granted to thy prayer, Thou in the Shepherd's bosom Should'st see thy Brother there ! Some mothers dear, and fathers, Their little ones must spare, Or else no blessed children Would sing, rejoicing, there ! But Heaven were scarcely Heaven, Were scarcely bright and fair, Without those happy children In all their beauty rare. 34 VIOLET'S WISH. Heaven's garden were less lovely "Without its rosebuds fair — Its living green were darken'd If no white lambs were there. Sweet child ! thy loving Parents Are gifted, now, to share With Heaven the blessed treasure That lifts their spirits there ! XX. |.'s Jfirst-km. Child of thy youthful Parents' hope and prayer, Their morning joy, their rosebud without thorn, To the dear love of generations born, Of wealth, so multiplied, the favour'd Heir ! Though me thou ne'er can'st know, — if verse so frail Could long survive the hour that lays me low, Tlien, through Tradition's teaching, thou may'st know How old, ancestral Love, to bid Thee hail, Look'd back a moment from Time's closing vale And bade the welcomes that to Thee belong, — Child of thy Parents' youth, their morning ray, J^or less their cherish'd Parents' evening song ! Ancestral Friendship hails thine opening day And speeds Thee, with its blessing, on Life's way! XXI. Erg ^rMltr. And must this name increase the heavy page Of Elegy ? Oh, Friend of mine and me ! How doth this valley darken, losing thee,, With all the hallowing brightness of thine age ' Perfect in all relations — wise as free, And kind as wise, in all cementing love, — Thy bounteous light within its sphere could move, Yet shed beyond its gracious brilliancy ! — Of thy bright eve the mellow autumn-tint Token'd ripe faith and Christian hope serene : Thy lengthen'd course of daily life hath been Like clear rill, ever-welling, without stint. From upper springs, to bless the plain, and print All its glad borders with embroidering green ! XXII. How dumb the Grave! e'en thine; thou, ne'er before Eefusing to respond — belov'd, deplor'd ! We would not break thine ' Ever with the Lord' E'en to reverse, for us, the nevermore ! But, long as Rothay her fair arm shall fling In fond embrace o'er Fox How's copsewood lea. So long shall tender memories of thee Mingle with your lov'd river's murmuring — ' Your' river — Did ye not together bring Your children to the Home yourselves had made Upon its grassy bank of greenwood shade, In covert safe of Loughrigg's guardian wing? — Oh, Earthly joy! — Oh, Earth's best friendships, how Ye vanish as a dream, and fail me now ! XXIII. Memory ! I tremble while I keep Thine awful power before mine eye ; A power that lives, and will not die, But only seems, awhile, to sleep. Our memories lodge in countless cells, Whose doors have, each, a secret spring- A touch can to the daylight bring The deepest memory, there, that dwells ! Even the one of darkest dye. And shut the closest from the day. Shall wake from slumber to obey The touch, struck by Eternity ! MEMORY. 39 Then, mastering Memory, Lord ! pour in The only balm that heals the soul, — Thy promise to ' blot out' the whole, And ' no more to remember' sin ! XXIV. Friends rise in value as they count so few, As Time's cold hand so many sweeps away — So, smiles still lingering green, above decay, While pallid leaves the woodland floor bestrew! — How few survive, with whom 'aloud to think' Of all our past, from morn till evening gray : How precious now is each remaining link Of Friendship's chain, so rich in earlier day ! — To you I breathe the oft-renewing wail, Lightening, in your response, the secret weight Of former woe, that made so desolate The heart and home ! and made the spirit fail And sink, till He, who still can wonders do. Sent from above, and from the waters drew ! XXV. (RECTOR OF RUSKINGTON.) Wont, in thy youth, with us to stay, Companion bright, in Rothay's Glen ! — Long, heavy, years roll'd on ; and then Thou cam'st to gladden Alderbrae. — Poet when a boy, but wise betimes A course of usefulness to choose, Not narrow'd by self-pleasing views, Nor wasting life on idle rhymes. — We travell'd o'er the days of old. Changed myself, and changed thou — The Poet-boy a Pastor now Of scatter'd flock on country wold. 42 OROVER S. Yet time for verse, love, friendship too, Was found (thy latest ' Poems' my boon)- Thy friends, and thy betroth'd, how soon To mourn thee ! vanish'd from their view ! For fell disease, that deadliest foe. Ravaged thy flock — all care was thine, — Till, sacrificed on Duty^s shrine, The dire contagion laid thee low ! Thus, doth the grave from sight and ken Hide those who shared my earlier day ! — Oh, death ! thou witherest joy away, Relentless, froto the sons of men ! While, friends, fast-falling from my side. Fail me on life's descending slope, What, but the gleam of G-ospel-hope Could lighten such an eventide ! XXVI. C^e gigj^lanij^r. WRITTEN AT ALDERBRAE (AND PARTLY OX A PERIODICAL OF THAT NAME). Cradled in legend, crown'd with fame, We speed the gallant ' Highlander,' Oft victor, in unequal war. In strife of peaceful arts, the same — Exalting, still, his country's name, (By Southron sojourns, rising still) Without whose figure on the hill E'en Scotia's heather hills were tame ! Then speed the Highlander, and fill With aU success his votive hand ! — For me, though Kothay's lovely rill Freshens my home in Westmoreland, Though dear my home by Thames's vill, This Highland home delights me stiU ! XXVII. ^t l^to grik tg fwwg^ngg Cam. Ip to the menders of our ways Both thanks and praise are due, The maker of these ways our praise Is well entitled to. — So wisely order'd — one might guess That Wisdom's self had plann'd To make these ' ways of pleasantness' Amid our mountain-land. Through copse and larch, 'neath rock and cairn, They skirt the rugged height. And open out sweet Loughrigg Tarn To our admiring sight. THE NEW DRIVE BY LOUGHRIGG TARN. 45 Then show the charming High-Close ground (A woodland pass between), High-Close with fell and fern-tuft crown'd O'er slopes of shaven green — Where every prospect we survey- Some various beauty wears, Where naught is seen we wish away, And every charm appears ! A step, — we into Langdale look, Or over Grasmere gaze — Sure, Nature's wond'rous picture-book No finer scene displays ! XXVIII, %ss p. SI. m. m \n ui\ §i4bag. Once we thought, in days of yore, Life was long at seventy-four ; But our error, now, we see. When, lov'd friend, we look on thee ! Such an error doth thee wrong : Who would deem thy life were long When nor mind, nor form, nor face. Bears of lengthen'd days the trace? Yet we grant thee seventy-four, And could credit thee with more In one sense, and only one, Of the years of ' good works' done — TO H. W. W., ON HER SEVENTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY. 47 Long it were to count the list, Such temptation I resist ; Knowing, too, 'twere vain to count, Passing number, the amount ! Works, unfalteringly pursued Through report, or ill or good. Through bereavement's sore distress. With unwavering faithfulness.-7- But, for once, I know to thee Will plain truth ww^welcome be — I must pause — and sing no more The good works of seventy-four. Just a word — it shall be all Of these labours, great and small : Still thy Saviour's sweet employ Is thy favour'd evening's joy. 48 TO H. W. W., ON. HER SEVENTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY. Bound to Him whose blood hath bought, Many crowns to thee are naught, Save to cast them at His feet. In His Righteousness complete ! XXIX. Cfo0 S0ttmts an g^all^. Death is the fiat of the All- wise ! — The back-ground, e'en of Death, can give Enhancement of the life we live Through perils and uncertainties. If all Mwthreaten'd life had been It could not, still, renew its zest : How would the weary pant for rest If startling Death stood not between ! We roam, but did we roam secure, And, nothing venturing, did we roam, JN'ot even safe return to Home Were gain so sweet, and joy so sure ! Oh, fiat wise ! of mercy rife, That Death should be the zest of life ! 50 SONNETS ON DEATH. II. At every turn, or far or near, In peril of our life we go, And prize, for Wisdom wills it so, A good so frail, with fondness dear. — The risk of loss makes, in our eye. So precious whom we love and bless! — Death can turn thoughts of tenderness Tow'rd them we love not, when they die ! — Lord, if it be Thy perfect will To work, through Death, more weal than woe. Thy child would answer. Even so ! We love not Death, but trust Thee stiU! Thou art the Life ! On Death, may we Look kindlier as the way to Thee ! XXX. NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1872. Long-lov'd friend ! upon thy birthday Lift thy head in hope and prayer ! Take this watchword for thy birthday, — ' Oast on Me thy every care' ! Did thy Saviour, for thy ransom, All the heavy burden bear ? Then, on Him, cast, with thanksgiving, Bach remaining load of care. Care for all life's shadow'd evening, Trustful for to-morrow's fare. Care e'en for the mlemn futv/re ! Oast upon Him all thy care ! 52 FOR S. W. C.'8 BIRTHDAY— NEW TEAR'S DAY, 1872. For the contrite, He ascended Heavenly mansions to prepare, And receives the poor in spirit. Whose inheritance is there ! Never shall their souls be sever'd From the love of Christ — ^and where He abideth, they inhabit, Fixed in joy for ever there ! Thus, loved friend ! upon thy birthday Praise becometh, blent with prayer, Present — Future — aU committed ! Jesus taking all thy care ! XXXI. NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1873. May the new year so brightly Open, dear friend, on thee. The old shall seem unsightly, No more desired to see. Glad, to thy sallow gleaming Old year ! we say, adieu ! If kindlier light shed beaming To consecrate the New! Past years ! for your forsaking We need not, will not, grieve^ When opening heavens are breaking In blessing on our eve ! 54 THE SAME— NEW YEAR'S DAT, 1873. Not mindless, nor unfeeling Of mercies past, we pray Shine, oli thou Sun of Healing, Shine on our future way ! XXXII, NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1874. On this returning 'Day of Birth' Once more the shadows play — For shadow, on this weary earth, Plays oftener than the ray ! Festals surround, but sounds of mirth For me, have pass'd away ! Dread anniversaries ! How sad The past, and future dim ! They come, to sorrow's cup to add The bitters to the brim ! Yet can the Saviour's smile make glad The heart that trusts in Him ! 56 THE SAME— NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1874. I gaze upon the golden Firth In sunset's parting ray — Of friends still left me, south and north, I think, and for them pray ! For us, that following ' Days of Birth' Bring heavenly peace alway ! XXXIII. NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1875. S pass our years ! (now of no small amount) A nd yet thy years seem to belie their date ! R emember not, dear friend ! their actual count, A ge is no more a period, but a state. H ow favour'd those, keeping, like thee, so late, W ith aU their years, the open heart of youth, C onstant in warmth, reliable in truth, R etaining friendship's vows inviolate : E ndow'd with faculty to aid, to bless ; W ith power to charm our griefs, our spirits cheer ! — D ear are you both, lov'd friends ! to me, how dear, S ince you the rare and golden gift possess f soothing sorrow, and bereavement drear : N e'er grudging joy the smile, nor grief the tear! H XXXIV. Oh, blessed Faith ! that can the heart engage, ' Believing unto righteousness/ to look With childlike trust in Revelation's book, Receptive of all truth upon its page — Page more authentic than of Grecian sage. Which all accept as genuine ! without thee. Oh Faith ! men were but waifs, toss'd on the sea Of hopeless, helpless, doubt, from age to age ! If Faith on proof must rest, then, where are we? Then, 'gainst our human limits, we rebel : We must accept th' incomprehensible — Postulates, oft, in place of proofs, must be ! If we receive but what we can explore. Our own mysterious being we ignore ! XXXV. (SUGGESTED IN A WINTER'S WALK ROUND THE TWO LAKES.) In this lone, winter's, walk round Eydal mere, And Grasmere's wave, tliat yieldeth to the frost Less willingly than Rydal's — at such cost Of life and warmth ! — I think of old friends dear Whom wintry Time, with me, makes mourners drear. Severing, with stroke relentless, tenderest ties Of close companionship, that most we prize, As that with thy loVd daughter, ever near ! — Our mere, to-day, half-frozen, yet can give Its other half to image Heaven's own blue — Half may to winter yield, but half is true To Heaven ! So be the life that,- now, we live ! Though half (as mourners know) be sorrow's ice. Half, yet unfrozen, may reflect the skies ! XXXVI. % P^r #latrst0tt£: " C^« faitptti image in marWc, of Parmt, gttcl^ess of Su%rknb, . . . fafeo bi«b 27% #d. 1868.'" [On Monument (Noble Sculp.) in Trentham Church. — Daily News, 20th September 1871.J Hbk loVd and faithful image — as of one Most dear, shall ever linger with her own ! Much, and by many, lov'd, with love intense She lov'd, perhaps even more, in recompense. In gifts of mind and person eminent. But, none the less, on duty^s claims intent — As daughter and as sister ; then, as wife And mother, perfect in the daily life — RENDERING: ' INSCRIPTION BY MR GLADSTONE.' 61 Her wealth of heart, outgiving but the more, To friends and kindred, of its ample store ! Whate'er of sweetness and delight below Is given to mortals, it was her's to know And, long, to taste with faculty so rare. To spread the joy that aU around might share ! StiU, equal to herself, she could remain Through the last days of weariness and pain — To aU God's purposes could freely bend Most tender, but not weak, unto the end — And in the faith of Christ she calmly died. Resting her hope on Him, the crucified ! N.B. — This small effort may, at least, be considered an accurate rendering. It was sent to the author of the Inscription, W. E. Gladstone, from two quarters (and from both without my knowledge) about the same time — ^that of his 'Vatican Decrees.' He returned approving ac- 62 RENDERING: ' INSCRIPTION BY MR GLADSTONE.' knowledgments for each. First to Lord Konald Gower* who (also without my knowledge) possessed a copy. This is the reply : — ' I agree in your favourable opinion of the verses, and would ask to retain them, had they not been sent to me from another quarter by Mr BuUer of Over- Stowey [Vicar of 0. S.], who informs me they are by Mr William BaU of Glen Rothay, Rydal.' Secondly, W. E. Buller received this reply : — ' Many thanks for your note and kind reminiscence. My opinion of the inclosure wiU be best shown by my mentioning that I intend to send it to a member of her family.' * Th.6 attached younger son of the lamented Duchess, who, himself, very much designed the monument. XXXVII. C^Hr^HIk "Samt: Clara. Dear Home of kindness and of genial cheer. Home to my weary spirit hast thou been, Sweet as the sight of the surrounding scene, Bright as the roses that are breathing near ! And now the Children of the Home are seen Grown in ' good liking' up to all the prayer Of the lov'd Parents' hearts ; and all their care Eepaying well, with usury, I ween ! — Before we call for blessing it is sent ; Already are the inmates richly blest. — In this sweet Home doth more than glad content Pervade the scene, and fill each thankful breast : The Lord is honour'd here — and in the Tent Hallow'd to Him, He makes a hallow'd rest ! XXXVIII. ^t glatk of m^i #oats, at % Salmon-f «ap. On the height of heath-clad rock, Browsing 'mid the gorse and fern, See, of mountain goats, a flock Gaze and marvel — mark and learn ! Gaze — they fraternise as sheep— Marvel, how compact they feed — Mark, the strong protect the weak — Learn the lesson, learn and heed ! That Christ's flock, from age to age. Should, than mountain goats, far more Ever through their pilgrimage, Love, unite, bless, and adore! Love, as brethren, all the rest, And unite in firm embrace, — Ekss, in blessing to be bless'd. And adore their Shepherd's grace ! XXXIX. WHEN HE FIBST MET HIS CONSTITUENTS AT BIRMINGHAM, AFTER HIS ILLNESS (AUTUMN OP 1873). It is the same! I hear it, and rejoice! The same clear ring (the JS'ation's heart that thrills) Wakens these vales, resounds among these hills, Brings to my ingle-nook the wonted voice — The loyal voice all promise that fulfils, Pleading for right, while discontent it stills : The voice, forceful in council, that can bring Again to England wisdom, nerve, and life. Charming the rigours of dividing strife (Where union should be firm) as breath of spring Charms winter into calm ! But that clear ring In telling, all himself, my friend to be, Most moves my heart its humble praise to sing, Father of lights and perfect gifts,* to Thee ! * James i. 17. XL. Kings, dis-crown'd or crown'd, have found Welcome, still, on Britisli ground — Now, let Royalty ww-crown'd Doubly welcome be. Noblest of the regal line. King o'er self by Right Divine, Winning realms but to resign Pomp and dignity ! Garibaldi ! name of power. Who, of kingdoms, giveth dower, Self-obKvious ; Hail the hour ! Britain welcomes thee ! GARIBALDI'S RECEPTION IN LONDON. 67 Name that shines in Glory's wreath, Name that 'bates the Despof s breath, Name that threatens Priestcraft's death. Pledge of Liberty ! — From the palace to the cot, Britain's homes are pouring out Hearts that swell that name to shout, — Watchword of the free ! Pledge and Watchword may it be Of Italian unity ! Freedom's friends, where'er they be, A united Italy ShaU, rejoicing, see ! XLI. Our social sphere, so shaded now, Darkens in losing thee ! How hard to such a stroke to bow ! 'No more on earth to see That sunny smile, that open brow, That sweet benignity! — Shalt thou, lov'd friend, be all unsung. Dear as thou wert, and art? Belov'd, alike> by old and young, Who grieve from thee to part, — The law of kindness on thy tongue. Of love within thy heart ! Unselfish life, that lovely thing. As thine, one seldom sees — ANNA F. 69 Like streamlet fed by living spring, And open to the breeze, Yet that no blast of wintry wing Can its bright flowing freeze ! And this, as the 'reft sister, lone, None else may comprehend, jSTow left alone ! yet not alone ; The ever-present Friend, Whose care was o'er her lov'd one gone, Is with her, to the end ! xLn. ^0 ^, §., 0tt l^tx Ml§ §irt]^trag. Thee, long-loVd friend, I warmly greet Fpon thy natal day, A day of fellowship* so sweet, That sense of change, decay, Seem'd but to lead us on to meet With lov'd ones pass'd away ! Taught early in thy Saviour's wiU To choose His service free. How bless'd thine age — ^how favour'd still Belov'd and bright to be ! The dew of Zion's lasting hiU Descending still on thee ! * Q. Meeting at Darlington. TO K. B., ON HER EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY. Thou, gently down Life's shortening way Supported, wilt descend, Leaning on Him, thy hope, thy stay, Jesus — ^the changeless Friend, — The same to-day as yesterday ; Who loves ' unto the end' ! 71 xLiir. (To E. J.) Lov'd much ! to be remember'd long ! Endow'd so many souls to bless ! Graced witli such gentle loveliness, While gifted with a faith so strong ! Faithful to Christ, far o'er the main She moved, His Gospel messenger. Devoted to His cause ! To her To live was Christ, to die was gain ! Oh friend bereav'd ! Though thine must be J!^o transient mourning ! Thy delight And solace, hidden from thy sight, — I fear not, even now, for thee ! SYBIL J. 73 Faith will sustain ! Though strange and new Thy grief, her joy — sorrow unshared By her, to soothe ever prepared ! In weal and woe partner so true ! And yet we know, as those but know O'er whom these whelming waters roll, How Jesus, to uplift, console, Can walk the billows of our woe ! Can lighten prospects made so dim, And, pointing to the rifted sky, Eeveal the unbroken family In Earth and Heaven stiU one in Him ! ?"/" XLIV. A STRAIN, howe'er imperfect, brief. Let friendship's hand bestow: — Elegiac utterance brings relief Though nothing new it show — The only newness in the grief The freshness in the woe ! For who, like thee, alike combined "Wisdom with tenderness ? Such tolerance with such force of mind ? Judgment with gentleness? Severe on self, to others kind In loving lowliness ! Yet all conspires to heal, to soothe. Mid tender grief for thee, S. F. 75 Thou bright exemplar of the truth, That ' He who honoureth Me'* (As did thy course from early youth), ' By Me shall honour'd be' !* ' Bless'd are the dead/ the Spirit saith, Who rest with Christ on high ! Their works remain — they died in faith, Their labours never die ! — "Who live to Christ, to them, is death ' Gain' for Eternity ! * 1 Sam. ii. 30. XLV. Jfalmnwtl^ Pomes. FIE8T PART. , L AMORVA sheds a calm and steadfast sheen, A mellow light, that cheers my evening shade : M y friends, its inmates, still, are spots of green n the dim waste that death and grief have made ! E emembrance, as we commune, paints each scene V anish'd and gone, and bids the present fade A nd melt into the days that once have been ! T ell me not, liere, of age and wintry clime E oils back, this spot, methinks, the stream of Time E ver the mind displays the hues of youth, B lent with old friendship's dear and faithful truth ; A nd while the 'past chastens the 'present cheer, H ope for the future shines through Memory's tear! FALMOUTH HOMES. 77 P enjerrick, witli its wealth of beauties rare, E xotics, that must, elsewhere, die the death, — N" aught interpos'd to mar its prospects fair, J oyous with flowers, and fragrant with their breath,- E ver appears some intermediate state E eplete with many a charm that Eden knew, R ich in Earth's bounties — rich in Heaven's own dew: 1 1 seems a spot where sainted ones may wait C ontent to tarry, e'en from Zion Hill K eeping fond watch — loving — communing still ! G ay with rich blossoms is this bank of green ; — L iving its green, — and there, if Death will tread E 'en among flowers, yet Faith can intervene JST or fail in succour for the sinking head. — D eep shadows have this beauteous scene pass'd o'er U nmurmuring mourners — at the Heavenly call R estored the loved ones that are gone before ; G one to perfected joy from mortal thrall — A youth, a maiden, e'en a child, may know jST joy of earth untinctured of earth's woe! 78 FALMOUTH HOMES. P enmere ! Home of my lov'd ones ! Sweet Penmere, E nrich'd by all that makes a homestead dear, N ow* (as I hear) almost your own ! How nice ! M ake sure the title, is my sage advice ; E 'en so earth teaches ; — but the heavenly-wise E ead with more emphasis their Title clear — E xcelsior ! — to a mansion in the skies. * Atout to be purchased. /^'^^^^\ XLVI. Jfalmnntl^ '§amtB, SECOND PAET. Home of my friends ! made hallo w'd ground By holy watch of friends above, Whose tender memories gather round The wonted scene of so much love. Son, Mother, Daughter ! angels now ! Can minister as angels do, Can chase the cloud from sorrow's brow, And upward draw the mourner's view ! Again, again, and oft again They quit the fields of upper air, Their own Penjerrick to regain, And commune with the lov'd ones there, 80 FALMOUTH HOMES. \, too, have known bereavement sore, — That treasures brighten as they fly ! Then let our hearts, yet more and more, Be with our treasures in the sky ! What cherish 'd interests still delay In Trebah, where the beam Of friend^ip shines, with sparkling play Of wit, as in its earlier day, Mellow'd by evening's gleam. Long may these lights, unshaded, shine In all their wonted glow — And if, lov'd friend ! the couch confine Still through long years, may grace divine Patience and faith bestow ! My brother-friend hath stiU the cheer (As I rejoice to see) FALMOUTH HOMES. 81 Thy smile to meet — ^thy voice to hear That gladdens still the circle dear ! Long, long, thus may it be ! Glendurgan knows, that solemn shade Its splendid view and sunny lawn Could overspread ! But faith, that shade Turns to the morning's* dawn ! Those parents dear, unmurmuring, see The child that gladden'd hearth and home Transplanted where the blessed be. Where sin, nor grief, can come ! How numerous once — how scatter'd now Glendurgan's bright and beauteous band ! Yet can those parents meekly bow And bless the All-wise Hand ! * Amos V. 8. 82 FALMOUTH HOMES. Still may they, at their Saviour's side, Be kept of Him in perfect peace ! Their's be the light at eventide, Brightening with life's decrease ! Hamarfaa. WeU-pleas'd my long-lov'd friends I greet Beneath this roof, before unknown — And yet wdL-known should be the seat Of friends so dear, wherever flown. Lamorva, in my view, ddth hold A treasure, rubies that transcends. Of greater price than Ophir's gold, — The treasure of two faithful friends ! Though sever'd from their former sphere. That could so ill their service spare, So meetly placed I see them here, I check my grief to miss them there ! FALMOUTH HOMES. 83 So^IaixricK. Boslawicb ! No— I will not hide, But tell in open sun, Thy fault in stealing from my side The dear ones thou hast won ! Another fault, that thou hast power (However I would stem Thine influence), in my yielding hour, To draw me after them. And yet, I dare not quite defy This influence if I could. Because thy drawing doth more nigh Draw me to ' Come-to-good!' * The name of a neighbouring and ancient Meeting-House. 84 FALMOUTH HOMES. Last, but not least/ belov'd Penmere, I chronicle a thought of thee : Here has a lonely wayfarer Found a sweet home — how sweet to me ! Long may thy rural greenwood be The sheltering nest of those I love ! On them and their's, descending free, Be ' showers of blessing ' from above ! XL VII. (TAKING ITS STAND ON THE DECALOGUE.) To take this ground is to forget The Sabbath's elder claim, As if the Pearl were strictly set Within the Legal frame. Not, from a code, given to the Jew Sound Christendom receives it : Primeval sanction, holy, true. Still, to the ages, gives it. That sanction sets apart as due To God, our seventh of time — His claim on man, all ages through. Beneficent, sublime. 86 SCOTCH SABBATARIANISM. For man's behoof, the Sabbath's Lord Did tenderly devise The gracious Sabbath's silken cord To draw him to the skies. The Sabbath, during Legal term, A Legal impress show'd ; But, ending Law, Christ did confirm Its use in Christian mode — And set on its relaxing brow. To all futurity. His seal (shall we ignore it now?) Of Christian liberty. Dear, but infatuate Scotland, say. Why thwart the Gospel plan, , That makes, for man, the Sabbath-day, Not, for the Sabbath, man ? SCOTCH SABBATARIANISM. Christ did its Legal taint ignore And count a thing abhorr'd — Oh, Scotland ! why that taint restore, And grieve the Sabbath's Lord ? 87 ^1^ XL VIII. |m^t0mpti:t, at Jfnrfar, #n hnuQ iah, fol^m | asktr fo^g t^£ §Imtrs toer^ ijofan m % Simte, t|fal it km ' hzT^xvcQ ^uhhui^i.' I SCARCELY thougM the canny Scot Himself would open lay To such a jibe, as may describe Eis keeping of this Day. The Gospel-ray shone on the Day To pierce the Jewish blind; That Dayspring clear, it doth appear, Is not to Scotland's mind. Then let her slight the kindly light, Her darkling Blind within, And rail at me for being free To let the glory in ! XLIX. * |^0it0 mat a pmtnr C0ttHS£irtr P^/ Long since a Mentor counsell'd me (The wisest e'er I knew), 'Your old Mends scatter; you must make Friends of the young and new ; Soon must your own stay with their own, " Rather than stay with you!' 'Tis all fuMU'd ! mine own their sphere In happy homes have found ; Their centre is their own fireside, Their children sporting round. Now, weU, that friends, the young and new. And dear though new, abound ! M 90 'LONG SINCE A MENTOR GOUNSELL'D ME.' I count it not mere chance when mind Meets with congenial mind, When in this great world's ' bundled hay ' We can the ' needle ' find That points to kindred souls, whom else We pass, as pass the blind ! AffinUy demandeth not Sameness of age or view : Some pleasant inequalities Oft witness that, if new. Yet forcible, the latent tie That binds in concord true ! P^r 'S^oMr in Staihnli:' @irxt£ir bg ^riiwipal S^^airp. Little I deem'd when, pitiful, I hung Over thy chair of age, in olden time. And heard the feeble murnmring of thy chime On ' Sabbath-Day,' that dwelt upon thy tongue, That mine should be, as now, supreme delight In this rare beauty of thine affluent page ! — No more with feebleness, no more with age I link thy name, Oh brightest of the bright ! — Genius, that ever scatters warmth and light. E'en as thy brother's gift, was richly thine. Painting thy page with many a hue divine. Reflecting Natures loveliness and might ; Genius that renders her with native ease And native truth, while colouring all it sees ! LI. i. %. MS' A GOOD man dies ! Earth poorer made When such it knows no more ! Heaven richer, when the blessed dead Are added to its store ! I praise him not : His labours, best, And works of charity Praise him ! His life his Lord confess'd : His record is on high ! If, as his lengthen'd course we scan, Some judgment-flaw appear : And Ignorance, this holy man May judge with frown severe — E. A., M.D. 93 Shall we the law of tolerance break With censors who condemn ? — Better, with him, a flaw to make, Than harshly judge with them ! Sound in God's statutes,* sound at heart, He evermore was found ! — Oh, be it mine, that better part With God, than judgment sound ! Enough ! I praise him not ! For, best. His works of charity Praise him ! His life his Lord confess'd : His record is on high! In all relations faithful still. From morn to evening shade ! * Psalm cxix. 80. 94 E. A., M.D. Now, with the Just, on Zion Hill (Their spirits perfect made) He stands, approved of God, whose eyes See not as eyes of men ! — How many in ' That Day' will ' rise And call him blessed,' then ! Ln. (ym'jer ^dubtXB mag k ianxiiaj ' MoEEOTEE the light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days, in the day that the Lord bindeth up the breach of His people, and healeth the stroke of their wound.' — Isaiah XXX. 26. "WHEEifEE beKevers may be found In Gospel truth revealed, To whom Christ makes His grate abound, Granting a pardon sealed — There are 'His people;' and their wound, That sin had made, is healed ! We see the moon, o'erclouded, rise And, slow ascending, steal 96 • WHERE'ER BELIEVERS MAT BE FOUND.' Above the cloud that vainly tries Her lustre to conceal. Tin, like the sun-light, aU the skies Her radiant fece reveal. Thus grace bestows a growing light : — The healing of the stroke Lightens the soul, from nature's night And blindness that awoke ; Tin, shining brighter and more bright. The perfect day hath broke. LIII. Let friends meet oft! — if they but meet With dreary intervals between, Much that will friendship make less sweet May intervene ! The knowledge gone that presence gives, — A slight divergence soon appears — The interest droops, nor over-lives Long lapse of years. When meeting comes at last, I ween Such lapse hath cast estranging shade : Long interval hath changes seen And changes made ! N 98 ESTRANGEMENT. Let friends meet oft, if they would keep In open flow friendship's sweet rill, Lest absence breathe it into sleep Of icy chill! LIV. Sfoh mother, e'en in death, can speak Of love unselfish ! tender care! Still, to the last, her fingers weak The wonted task prepare. She, for her own, mtist think and do Till fails the power e'en wool to weave Into bright flowers, the path to strew Of dear ones she must leave. She casts her soul on Christ ! Remains Still equal to herself! Her cares, Eegrets and burdens, fears and pains, Departing with her prayers ! 100 S. B. W. Such death the children do not dread, Nor from that chamber turn away : Oft do they enter, on her bed Emblems and wreaths to lay. Oh, tenderest mother ! 'twas thy gift (A parting gift almost divine,) Above the fear of death to lift By such a death as thine! LV. * Itate^'s Bah Jljemttrg/ Nature's sole remedy, we know Beyond all challenge, lies in Grace : By other teaching, who increase Their knowledge, but increase their woe. * Yet lengthened days a chastening lore. E'en without grace, can sadly teach ; Experience, though it may not preach, Teacheth stern truth unknown before ! E'en without grace. Age can reform Our estimate of things and men ; Make it more true of both, than when Beheld, of yore, through colouring warm. * Eccles. i. 18. 102 'NATURE'S SOLE remedy: JS'ow, in the scale, the affections rise ; Mere intellect at zero stands ; — Eather kind words and clasping hands Than gifts devoid of sympathies ! « If not Heaven-taught, what Heaven hath said, At last, the Time-taught learn to say, — It is the cry of their decay, — Give me thine heart, and not thine head ! Hearts over brains rank far above, As, in life's eve, we musing sit ; The world may sharpen human wit. But Heaven can hallow human love !