<5'' irtotCr\'t I DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Treasure %oom V /:. , I -' ! ]Yo flXcJU , Cvjv|viVT^'^'^ , £V3 t Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/reliquaryOObart RELIQUARY: BERNARD AND LUCY BARTON. A PREFATORY APPEAL POETRY AND POETS. LONDON: JOHN W. PARKER, WEST STRAND. M.DCCC.XXXVI. CONTENTS Page A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets - - - 7 AWord for Poets 25 Dews that nourish fairest flowers . - - - 28 Elijah on Mount Horeb 29 Resignation 30 What is our Being's aim and end ? - - - 32 The Sea Shell 35 The Di\-ine Omnipresence 36 To a Skylark 38 A Thought 39 Sea-side rinsings 40 An Apologue from an Eastern Poet - _ . 43 The Exile on a foreign strand . - - _ 44 Sonnet, No. I. 46 Sonnet, No. II. 47 Tlie Unspeakable Gift 48 To the White Jasmine 50 The Land which no ISIortal may know - - - 51 The Meteor 53 The bitterest Cup that Man can know - - . 55 A welcome Home to E. H. 56 303984 . 4 CONTENTS. Page A Comparison 69 King Herod - 60 The Prodigal Son 61 They err who deem Love's brightest hour - - - 63 On a Picture by Paul Veronese ^ - - - 66 We meet again 68 To a stuffed Eagle 70 Around an Oak an I^7 grew 72 The Missionary 73 At the first dawn of ^Morning light - - - - 80 To a Robin in Autumn 81 Town and Country 83 An affecting and too true Incident . _ . gg To the Rev. William Kirby - - - - - 87 A Christian Heroine 90 Sabbaths at Sea 92 -I Mary at the Sepulchre 96 Written in an Album 97 A Ballad 98 Like the frail Insect eagerly pursuing - - - 100 Sonnet 101 Hpun 102 The Coronation of Inez de Castro - - - 104 Dim and dark our present vision - - - - 107 Recollections of a Day at " Barham" - - - 109 Radiant the splendour of the Mom - - - -112 The Upas Tree 113 CONTENTS. O Pagt Remember M« 114 To a Child 115 The Bible IIC Thy Patience, Gentleness, and Love - - - 1)9 To the Swallow 121 Oh for a Heart redeem'd from sin ... 122 Religion does not fix her dwelling-place - - - 123 The Traveller's Dirge 124 Morning ---..... 126 For the opening Leaf, &c., of " A Manual for the Parish Priest" 128 Thou wai'bling Lark whose buoyant wing ... 129 Sonnet to a Portrait of Milton - - - - 131 The Caterpillar's loveless form .... 132 To S. S. L. 134 For the opening Leaf of an Album - - - - 136 To a Lady on the Death of her Son - - . 137 The Rose, Shamrock, and Thistle .... 149 Sonnet, on visiting Helmingham Hall - - - 14 1 Sonnet, on the Portrait of Lady Dysart ... 142 Once more, once more, thou glorious Sea - - 143 When hopes that on om- pathway bright - - - 145 A Memorial 146 The Spii-it's Aim r - 149 The Starting Post - . - - * - - 151 The Goal 154 Sonnet, on the death of John Wilson Sheppard, Esq. 157 303984 b CONTENTS. rage Ash High House, a Sketch from Memory - - 163 Human Life ----- 161 To E. H., written at the Sea-side - - - 162 The Passage of the Red Sea - - - 164 Thy mercies Lord of life and love ! - - - 167 Sonnet to the Rev. J. J. Reynolds - - 169 Invocation to Spring ----- I70 How long, Lord ! wilt thou forsake ? - - 172 To my Daughter - - - - - 174 To a Friend ----- 176 He vanished from their stedfast gaze - - - 179 PREFATORY APPEAL POETRY AND POETS. A LONG Preface to a very small volume of Poems may, at first sight, appear a superfluity, if not an impertinence : the first would imply a waste of time, for which I should be sorry ; and of the last I should still more regret being wilfully cul- pable. But when I state that my only reason for prefixing to these few pages any preface at all, arises from a desire to plead the cause of Poetry, in the abstract, without any especial reference to my own, I hope I have stated enough to obtain a patient, if not an indulgent, perusal, from all interested in the subject: and by those, if such there be, who care little or nothing about Poetry, or Poets, I am not so unreasonable as to expect O A PREFATORY APPEAL either this prefatory essay to be read, or the volume which it accompanies. But can it be possible, in an age which is styled liberal, enlightened, and philosophical, that any, whose enlarged views and cultivated intellect have done aught justly to entitle it to such epithets, will avow themselves indifferent to Poetry, and uninterested on behalf of those who labour in their vocation as its professed votaries? I own myself unwilling to admit, unable to believe the fact. Fewer volumes of Poems may issue from the press, and Poetry may not be so fashionable as it was fifteen or twenty years ago ; but I have never met with even one instance of a person of refined taste, pure and correct feeling, and a cultivated mind, to whom Postry was an object of indifference, or by whom a genuine Poet, however humble, was regarded with apathy. That for one volume of Poetry, published at the present time, a dozen or a score might be put forth a few years since, is no positive proof of that general distaste for Poetry, which has been. FOR POETRY AND POETS. y perhaps too hastily, assumed to exist, by superficial or unreflecting observers. The very popularity which this department of literature, at no remote period, seemed to obtain for its votaries, was almost sure to be followed, and this at no distant era, by an apparent re-action. When, owing to the almost unceasing demand for novelty in this branch of the Belles Lettres, candidates for fame and favour became numerous beyond all precedent; and the demand, however great, was met by a supply still more ample, it was almost impossible, certainly very improbable, that for any long-protracted period, " increase of appetite could grow by what it fed on."" Perhaps, too, some of those who then catered for the public taste, might not play their parts well or wisely for the permanence of their own fame, or the continuance of the public favour. Popularity is proverbially fickle ; but it may be, and generally is, more or less ephemeral, in pro- portion to the taste, discretion, and judgment of those who are its objects, and who, for the time, influence the public taste. 10 A PREFATORY APPEAL In throwing off the artificial trammels and technical phraseology by which Poetry had been too long encumbered and enfeebled; in looking abroad on Nature with a less fastidious eye ; and in analyzing more deeply, and appealing more directly to stronger passions, and more hidden springs of thought and feeling ; the Master Spirits of that day did much, which could scarcely fail to magnify their calling, and make it more widely popular. But in the ardour of excitement thus called into action, passions were appealed to, thoughts and feelings wrought upon, and princi- ples brought into operation, of a mingled and conflicting nature and tendency. To use such means as not abusing them, required more than genius alone can give to its proudest and most gifted possessor; and far more than could be hoped for from those who were but copyists and imitators of the style and manner which became, to a certain extent, the fashion of the day. These only saw the effect produced by the potency of stronger spells than Poets of a later age had dared FOR POETRY AND POETS. 11 to use : they saw, too, — for the frailties and errors of genius are more perceptible to the multitude than the secret of its faculty divine, — that some of those who invoked such accessaries, could not always command them, but were sometimes carried away by them ; and without scruple availing them- selves of appliances they were every way incom- petent to manage, they contrived to copy the faults of those whom they admired, without exemplifying the talent by which those faults were partially redeemed. Owing, in part, to these causes, a moody, morbid, and exaggerated style, an unhealthily excited tone of feeling became, in some degree at least, the mannerism of much of our modern Poetry, — a mannerism, if possible, more offensive to pure taste and right feeling, than even the sentimentalism and stately formality which it sup- planted. It was one, too, likely sooner to end in satiety ; for milk and water, and even a dry crust, are more wholesome viands, however unsatisfactory, than highly seasoned ragouts or excitipg liqueurs, B 2 12 A PREFATORY APPEAL and the mental appetite can no more be kept in a healthful state, by the constant use of stimulants, than the bodily. In the silent, imperceptible, yet natural operation of the causes thus briefly adverted to, quite as much, if not more than in any important change of public opinion, may be traced the effect generally admitted in a greater or less degree, that Poetry is become less popular. But to those who have loved, read, and studied our better Poets; whose attach- ment to Poetry is pure and unworldly, founded on a discriminating taste, and associated with a true feeling of its legitimate aim and end, to such its seeming neglect, for a time, need bring no despon- dency, and can excite no surprise. Taste may fluctuate, fashion, in literature, as well as in every- thing else, may change ; but while aught of a child-like heart is left to our human nature, giving freshness to the earlier portion of existence, and lingering greenness to its latest, so long will Poets find readers. The elements of Poetry are in their very nature ineradicable and indestructible ; and to FOR POETRY AND POETS. 13 suppose that Science, even by its proudest achieve- ments, can furnish a fitting substitute to supply its place, would almost imply, in the estimation of those who have known and felt its worth, the creation of a new race of human beings, if human they might be called, — endowed with heads, indeed, but destitute of hearts ; automata, set in motion by steam, and made only to travel on in monotonous and interminable rail-roads. For what is poetry, rightly understood, in its most enlarged and comprehensive acceptation.'^ It is not verse, alone. Thought, feeling, fancy, imagination, the gentler affections, the deeper passions of our nature, when they seek and find utterance, must, in their spirit and essence, be poetical ; and, if unchecked by artificial restraints, unawed by the fear of " the world's dread laugh,"'' their language would be Poetry. In the conven- tional phraseology of the world, and in our inter- course with the worldly-minded, the heart can scarce give vent to many of its best and purest feelings; nor can thought find a language to express 14 A PREFATORY APPEAL many of its highest and holiest aspirations, with- out hazarding the imputation of enthusiasm or affectation ; or exciting distrust, if lia])ly it may escape scorn and derision. To childhood the privilege of expressing its emotions, unfettered by those chains which hold adults in bondage, is allowed as its artless right, and simple prerogative. But, in after-life, how much is there in every susceptible heart, how much in every thoughtful mind, untranslateable into the technical idiom, and common-place Prose of every-day existence ? Can it be for the interest or happiness of mankind that all such thoughts and feelings should find no vent ? Comprising, as they do, much that tends to soften and humanize, and not less to elevate and spiritualize, our imperfect and fallen nature, much to check and counteract the deadening influence of a worldly spirit, we may thankfully rejoice that there is a language, if I may so speak, confined to no tongue, but universal as the emotions and wants, the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, of our common nature, in which these thoughts FOR POETRY AND POETS. 15 and feelings may be poured forth. 'J' hat language is Poetry ! It is the privilege of the Poet, if he will but use it well and wisely, freely to give utterance to that which, in no other form, perhaps, he would have courage to express, or a great por- tion of his fellow-creatures toleration enough to listen to. In the form, and under the name of Poetry, he may unburden every feeling of his heart which claims alliance with whatsoever is pure, lovely, and of good report ; he may follow up, and put on record, every train of thought, and mood of meditation, which in moments of retire- ment have been fraught with joy, peace, solace, or instruction to his own mind. He may do all this, too, if he exercise his faculty with meekness, and labour in his vocation with love, not only without fear of heartless ridicule, but with a rational hope of appealing, more or less success- fully, to the sympathies of many a heart, and wakening in many a mind a tone of thought analogous to that which has soothed or gladdened 16 A PREFATORY APPEAL his own. Nor is this all which the Poet may fairly plead for his art. If it be true, as we are perpetually reminded by Utilitarians, that know- ledge is power, a truth no one can dispute ; it is not less true that feeling, fancy, imagination, were all designed, by proper culture, and due regula- tion, to be accessary to happiness. The love and admiration of the beautiful, the approbation of the noble and the lofty, the consciousness of the sub- lime, are as worthy to be cherished by an immortal spirit, as an attachment to the merely useful; more so, if that attachment be exclusive — for then there is much danger of its confining our views too much to what are objects of sense alone. Know- ledge is power ! but the phrase, as often used by political economists, implies no more than power over the material and the tangible ; things which are of the earth, earthy ; useful as the means, unworthy as the end, of our existence ; and adding little to our truest happiness. Compared to know- ledge thus limited and selfish, Poetry is power of a higher order ; and possessing a wider range, for FOK FOETKY AND POETS. 17 its empire is tlie ethereal, the intellectual, the eternal. Such is my view of the nature, aim, and end of Poetry, and of the province and privilege of the genuine poet ; and, however imperfectly this hasty and feeble estimate of both may express that view, I trust it may be intelligible to some. Regarded in this light, the idea that Poetry is an evil requiring to be suppressed ; a superfluity, even, which can very well be spared ; or Poets an en- cumbrance of which Society would be well rid, appears to me to imply the extinction, the annihi- lation, of many of our best feelings, and loftiest thoughts ; the quenching of many an aspiration which, by " making the past and the future pre- dominate over the present, raises us in the dignity of thinkinor beings.'' In the world, and its countless cares and encum- brances; in the struggle for mere subsistence on the part of the many ; in the pursuit after pleasure of those who are regarded as the more fortunate few ; — there is quite enough to fetter our spirits to 18 A PREFATORY APPEAL the objects immediately around us ; to give a pre- ponderance to the positive and the real, over the ideal and the imaginative. We have abundant need of every counteracting impulse of which we can avail ourselves to keep in check the worldli- ness of our own hearts: we require the aid of every lever on which we can lay our hands to lift us out of ourselves ; of every incentive which may lead us to live and look beyond ourselves ; of every connecting link which binds us to the great family of human beings, to the beautiful and bountiful earth on which we dwell, which would lead us to the heaven we hope for, and an Almighty and Beneficent Creator, their and our conuTion Parent and Benefactor. Can Poetry do nothing to cherish and foster feelings and thoughts of this kind ? Have its countless appeals to the human heart found no echo there ? produced no fruits on earth ? sown no seed, which through the blessing of Him who is the giver of every good and perfect gift, may contribute to a yet more glorious harvest in heaven ? If it be said it is the FOR POETRY AND POETS. 19 province of Religion to do all this, — I would ask are Religion and Poetry, taking tlie view I entertain of the latter, incompatible? Or is not Poetry, ratlier, when used and not abused, when honoured and not degraded, one of tlie most natural allies, one of the most potent and per- suasive advocates of Religion ? I speak, of course, of the subordinate and human means, — the auxi- liaries which God has given to His creatures ; which they may prostitute and profane, but whicli were assuredly given for nobler ends and holier pur}:>oses. There may have been irreligious Poets; but we may also remember there was an apostate among the Apostles; and we have no more right to denounce Poetry for the desecration of its legitimate functions on the part of its unworthy votaries, than we have to cavil at Chris- tianity for the base desertion and foul betrayal of his Divine Master by Judas. But for the alliance which may and ought to exist between Religion and Poetry, though I need only refer to The Bible, as containing much, 20 A PREFATORY APPEAL which for its tenderness and beauty, its simpli- city and pathos, is most deserving of that epithet ; though I might do this, and challenge any one to disprove the soundness of the argument; I will take my stand on humbler ground, and illus- trate my position by a less aspiring exemplification. Let me appeal to the simple unelaborate, and comparatively unadorned productions of many Poets of a later age, and not a few of our own country. Men preferring no claim to supernatural inspiration, some of whose performances the critical and the fastidious would hardly call poetry : but who, by the artless expression of pure thoughts and devotional feelings in unpretending verse, have soothed, and comforted, and gladdened, in sorrow, in sickness, and in death, the hearts of many an humble believer. Let the Poet, then, but worthily use his gift, and exercise his calling ; and he may safely commit his fame among men, his favour with God, to the sympathies of our common nature, and the yet more boundless mercies of One infinitely purer, FOR POETRY AXD POETS. 21 higher, and holier. Even in this world he will find no want of fitting auditors, to repay his toil. Childhood with its tenderness of thought, and guilelessness of feeling, will ever furnish him with numerous readers who will gladly turn to his pages. Youth, with its ardent and generous sus- ceptibility, will there find a chord responsive to its own kindling and spirit- stirring aspirations. Manhood will ever muster, even from among those who are engaged in its toils, its cares, its pursuits, and its pleasures, some glad for a while to escape from these, and from tliemslves, to breathe in a purer atmosphere, to live amid calmer and brighter scenes, and to hold fellowship with gentler beings than those by whom they are daily surrounded. Womanhood, while true to itself, and to every thought and feeling by which its best influence over man can be strengthened and sustained, will supply a yet greater portion of the Poef s adhe- rents and advocates: their sway is that of the affections; the domestic virtues are their penates ; the household hearth their earthly altar, and 9-2 A PREFATORY APPEAL themselves its ministering attendants: and of all these the poet, if worthy of his vocation, will ever speak, and think, and feel, as one who knows them to be his strong-hold and citadel. Even old age, amid its decrepitude and infirmity, will find some among its veterans, who will lend no unwilling ear to strains which bring back the occasional gush of youthful emotion to the heart ; and a yet more joyful one to the song which tells of a glorious and blissful imfciortality. With such to listen to his lays, the Poet can have no just cause to doubt or to distrust his finding an auditory on earth ; and in the brief span of time allotted him as a sojourner thereon : while for Heaven, and through the countless ages of Eternity, he may humbly cling to the hope set before him, that hope which is as an anchor to the soul, sure and stedfast, in which, if he be a Christian Poet, he has a common interest with all his fellow-believers in the mercies of God through Christ Jesus ; trusting that by occupying diligently with the one talent intrusted to him, FOR POETRY AND POETS. 23 he may not, at the last day, be numbered with the slothful and the negligent; but rather with those who have endeavoured to honour The Giver in the use of His own gift, by exercising it for the happiness of His creatures. Bernard Barton WOODBRIDGE, 4ih Month, 26th, 1836. THE RELIQUARY. KNOW THINE OWN WORTH, AND REVERENCE THE LYREV" Ungrateful man ! to error prone; Why thus thy Maker''s goodness wrong ; And deem a luxury alone, His great and noble gift of song ? Hast thou not known, or felt, or heard, How oft the poet's heaven-born art. Feeling and thought afresh have stirr'd, To touch and purify the heart ? How, like that angel from on high. Once wont to bless Bethesda's springs. The flight of genuine poesy Sheds healing virtue from her wings ? * Beattie. 26 THE RELIQUARY. E'en in a barbarous pagan age. When darkness wrapt the world in night, Alike the warrior and the sage Confessed her altar, and its rite. And holier far the kindling fire Which fed devotion's sacred flame. When David's harp, Isaiah's lyre Were vocal to Jehovah's name ! Nor hath the Gospel's purer lore Taught us this gift of heaven to spurn, But hung its wreath of amaranth o'er The Christian muse's votive urn. Bear witness e'en the humblest aim Of Watts, whose unpretending verse, Bade childhood glorify God's name. Nor less a Saviour's love rehearse. Bear witness Milton's loftier strain Of Eden's bright and blissful bowers ; Or Paradise restored again, By our Redeemer's conquering powers. THE RELIQUARY. 27 Bear witness Cowper^s later page, Whose feeling and whose thought sublime, Can still the mourner's grief assuage With hopes that scorn the bounds of time. These, and a host un-named have spread A banquet for the immortal mind, On which man's purer thoughts have fed, With passions curVd, and taste refined. Such gifts of genius who shall rate, At criticism's chill control, With luaPries that but enervate The tone and temper of the soul ? Not I : — ev'n in this selfish day, When worldly wisdom meanly bows The knee to Mammon, I would pay To poesy my grateful vows. Her lore to childhood's willing ear Unearthly music could impart, Her melodies to youth were dear. And manhood honours still her art. c % 28 THE RELIQUARY. The brightest spots which memory's eye Most loves to trace to her belong ; And hopes which build their home on high Are link'd to never-dying song. To that " New Soiig''^ for everpour'd From Seraph harps in joyful strain, " Worthy of all to be adored, The Lamb, who for our sins was slain !"' Dews that nourish fairest flowVs, Fall unheard in stillest hours ; Streams which keep the meadows green. Often flow themselves unseen. Violets hidden on the ground, Throw their balmy odours round: Viewless in the vaulted sky, Larks pour forth their melody. Emblems these, which well express Virtue's modest loveliness : Unobtrusive and unknown, Felt but in its fruits alone ! THE RELiaUARY. 29 ELIJAH ON MOUNT HOREB. The prophet stood in Horeb's cave, and saw with tranquil eye, The whirlwind in its awful might and majesty sweep by ; It came as comes in fearful strength the lion from his lair ; His steadfast spirit knew no fear: — because God was not there. Soon as that stormy wind had passed, — an earth- quake shook the ground. The rocks were riven, the trees up-torn, and strew'd in fragments round ; Yet unappaird the prophet's soul could earth's commotion dare. For with it came no certain sign that God himself was there. And then more terribly sublime, the fire in fury came. While forest-trees but serv'd to feed the fierceness of its flame ; 30 THE RELIQUAllY. Though howling beasts affrighted fled before its lurid glare, Calm and unmoved the prophet stood, and felt God was not there. But when he heard the still, small voice ; — upon his spirit fell Its whispered accents with a power that bound him by its spell ; He in his mantle veil'd his face, and breath'd a voiceless prayer ; While every thought and feeling own'd that God himself was there ! RESIGNATION. In night's dull watches dark and drear, A soothing sense of hope it brings, To think the dawn of day is near, With healing on its wings. THE RELIQUARY. 31 In bleak December s cheerless reign Hope tells us in its sternest hours, That blithesome Spring will come again To deck the earth with flowers. But can we by the darksome grave, Thus borrow resignation's tone, When God resumes the gift he gave. And we are left alone ? Oh ! doubt it not — night ushers day. In ruthless Winter, Spring is nigh ; And time — whatever he steals away, Will bring eternity. Then shall the grave restore its dead. Whose transient loss we now deplore ; And eyes which tears of sorrow shed. Shall learn to weep no more. Then they who meekly kiss'd the rod, Ken while they shed the bitter tear, Shall bow in thankfulness to God, Most — for what seem'd severe ! 32 THE RELIQUARY. WHAT IS OUR BEING'S AIM AND END ? What is our being's aim and end ? Is it life's fleeting years to spend In joys as fleeting, which but tend To tempt our tarriance here ? Believe it not ! this span of time Was given, by discipline sublime, To bid our hopes and wishes climb Unto a happier sphere. Seek'st thou to win a noble name ? Bethink thee, 'tis a virtuous aim, Alone brings honourable fame ! Applauded and renown''d For proudest deeds — if wanting this, Virtue's true guerdon thou wilt miss. Obtaining, for substantial bliss, An idle, empty sound. THE RELIQUARY. 33 Liv'st thou to heap up treasured store, Of Mammon's soul enthraUing ore ; And heaping, still to covet more ? To scripture turn and see His lot who gathered hoards as vast ; — Thine eye upon his sentence cast ; — " Thou fool ! this night shall be thy last ! Then whose shall these things be ?'' Lov'st thou to bask in beauty's eye, To dote upon her cheek's bright dye. Her look, her gesture, smile, or sigh ? Turn to the silent tomb ! There learn, as e'en the lover must, How brief and treacherous beauty's trust, " Ashes to ashes ! dust to dust !" Remains her mortal doom. Art thou a votary of the Nine — Bv o^lowing^ thouo;ht and tuneful line Hoping to gain within their shrine Honours that shall not die ? Powerless are harp, and lute, and lyre Till more than mere Promethean fire Thy spirit shall with hopes inspire Of immortality .' 34 THE RELIQUARY. A warrior art thou ? in the din Of battle, glory taught to win ? O hear the " still small voice " within, Whose accents would declare To ears unclos'd, and hearts un-steel'd, " Turn inward to thy battle-field. Thy sword the Spirit, faith thy shield, And be a victor there."'^ Are toil and poverty thy lot ? Respect thyself, and murmur not ; All earth could give will be forgot In life's last solemn scene: All in the grave as equals meet, And God upon His judgment-seat Alike impartially will greet The mighty and the mean. Then onward ! to thy being**s goal ! View not a part, but scan the whole! Be duty's task, with fearless soul, " Determined, dared, and done !'' Be patient, humble, thankful, calm, So shalt thou win the deathless palm. And join in that triumphant psalm Which hails the victory won ! THE RELiaUARY. 35 THE SEA SHELL. Hast thou heard of a shell on the margin of ocean, Whose pearly recesses the echoes still keep Of the music it caught when with tremulous motion, It joined in the concert pour'd forth by the deepr And fables have told us when far inland carried To the waste sandy desert, or dark ivied cave, In its musical chambers some murmurs have tarried It learned long before of the wind and the wave. Oh ! thus should our spirits, which bear many a token, They are not of earth, but are exiles while here. Preserve in their banishment, pure and unbroken. Some sweet treasured notes of their own native sphere. Though the dark clouds of sin may at times hover o'er us, And the discords of earth may their melody mar. Yet to spirits redeemed some faint notes of that chorus, Which is borne by the blessM, will be brouglu from afar ! 36 THE RELIQUARY ON THE DIVIXE OMNIPRESENCE. Oh ! look up to the soft blue sky, Arching above thee bright and fair ; Cold is the heart and dull the eye Which feels not, sees not God is there! Look round thee on this spacious earth, With every varied beauty rife, Starts not an instant thought to birth Of Him whose presence gives it life ? Survey the billowy, boundless deep. Is there no voice salutes thine ear, Whispering, when tempests o'er it sweep ; In still, small accents, God is here ? Glance upward in night''s silent hour, To countless orbs in glory bright, These speak, unheard, their Maker's power. Whose presence is their source of light. THE RELIQUARY. 3^ Hark to the winds which come and go O'er sea's unfathom'd wastes untrod ; Are they not heralds, to and fro, Of him the Omnipresent God? All forms of sentient being trace. Proclaim they not His power and love ? Vocal in harmony or grace, To Him in whom they live and move ! Last, but not least, O turn within ! With humble hope and holy prayer ; For in each heart redeemed from sin. The eternal God is present there ! How can it be a trustless dream. When through His Son, on Him we call ? Since He, the Omnipotent Supreme, Is everywhere, and all in all ! 38 THE RELIQUARY. TO A SKYLARK. Bird of heaven ! tell me why Thy tuneful note awakes a sigh. Is it that here a prisoner bound, I listen to that happy sound, Until my spirit doth deplore Her powerless aim with thee to soar ? Bird of heaven ! type thou art Of the fluttering human heart : Now pouring forth thy tuneful lay On high to greet the Lord of day ; Then softly, gently, back to earth ThouVt won by hopes which there have birtli Type of the Christian's heavenward race Upborne on wings of prayer and grace, He soaring tastes that heav'nly balm Which every storm of life can calm, Till earthly hopes within arise And tempt him from his native skies. THE RELIQUARY. 39 But, joyous bird ! thou shalt not be The harbinger of grief to me ! Thy song is o'er, thy notes are fled, Thy brooding wing o'er earth is spread. Power shall be given thee to arise, That Powei' will guide me to the skies ! A THOUGHT. When the clouds have pour'd their rain, Sweeter smell the flowers ; Brightest shine heaven's starry train In earth's sun-less hours. Tribulation — patience works ; Hope from hence we borrow ; Such the hidden good that lurks In dark days of sorrow. 40 THE RELiaUARY. SEA-SIDE MUSINGS. We look for changeful chance on earthy Even in time's brief day ; Its towers and temples have their birth, Their glory, their decay : Its cities once in pomp array'd. Who shall their site recall ? Its forests with their branching shade ; These have their rise and fall : But thou, majestic, mighty main ! Appear'st from change so free, That bards have styled thee, in their strain, The everlasting sea ! Most glorious of a truth, thou art ; — And yet if rightly view'd Much is there in thee to impart Thoughts of vicissitude ! Thy tides, that daily ebb and flow^. Clouds, sunshine, calm, and storm — Their varying spells around thee throw, To change thy face and form. THE RELIQUARY. 41 And PROPHECY a change more dread Portends concerning thee : Its mystic oracles have said There shall be no more sea ! New heavens, new earth, when these are o'er. To man have been foretold ; But thee, thy date fulfiird, no more Shall vision e'er behold : Nor mortal nor immortal gaze In thee shall more rejoice. Thy billowy anthems pealing praise, Shall cease their solemn voice : Leviathan, thy giant king, Shall then no longer be, Nor ships their shadows o'er thee fling ; — There shall be no more sea ! What marvel that it should be so ! In heaven's eternal peace, Whose inmates chance nor change can know, 'Tis meet their types should cease : When hope no longer can delude, And fear no more dismay, Nor griefs nor passion's storms intrude, To make of man their prey : 42 THE llELiaUARY. When earth has given up all her dead, And thine restored shall be, Wisely the Word of God hath said. There shall be no more sea ! And none shall need thee. In that day Nor sun nor moon shall shine ; With their proud glories passed away Should be an end of thine : God and The Lamb shall be our light. And from the eternal throne The stream of life, like crystal bright, Shall evermore flow on. Far from its holy healing waters Shall pain and sickness flee. Nor one of Zion's sons or daughters Mourn there is no more sea ! THE RELIQUARY. 43 AN APOLOGUE FROM AN EASTERN POET. Two friends went into a garden of roses ; both enjoyed tlie fragrance ; but one as he departed filled his bosom with the leaves, and for days afterwards both he and his family rejoiced in their odour. Which of these two spent the summer day most wisely ? Saadi. Doubtless he who in his bosom, Fondly with him bore away. In each odour-breathing blossom. Fragrance for the future day. Copy his example, maiden ! In thy bright and balmy prime That thy spirit may be laden With rich spoils for after-time. She who present pleasure only. Prizes — in life's joyous morn. May be left bereaved and lonely Ere its noon — at eve forlorn. D 2 44 THE RELIQUARY. Beauty far beyond the rose's Thought and feeling can impart ; Sweetness which no flower discloses These can shed within the heart. Hive them, as thy hoarded treasure, Virtue be their guide and guard ; So shalt thou partake the pleasure Fabled by the Eastern bard ! Peace and joy such wealth shall win thee, And when outward cares are rife, They shall prove a well within thee Springing up to endless life ! THIS IS NOT YOUR REST; BECAUSE IT IS POLLUTED*." The exile on a foreign strand Where''er his footsteps roam, Remembers that his father's land Is still his cherished home. • Micah ii. 10. I i THE RELIQUARY. 45 Tho' brighter skies may shine above, Around him flowers as fair, His heart's best hopes and fondest love Find no firm footing- there. Still to the spot that gave him birth His cherished wishes turn, And elsewhere own throughout the earth, A stranger's brief sojourn. Oh, thus should man's immortal soul Its destiny revere, And mindful of its heavenly goal Seem as an exile here. Mid fleeting joys of sense and time Still free from earthly leaven. Its purest hopes thro' faith sublime Should own no home but heaven ! 46 THE RELiaUARY. SONNET. " Knowst thou oi yesterday, its aim and reason? Workest thou well to-day, for worthy things ? Then calmly wait to-morrow'' s hidden season, And fear not thou, what hap soe'er it brings ! I. It is a painful and perplexing time ! Nor can the statesman's proudest skill suggest A charm by which its ills may be redrest ; Much less can magic melody of rhyme, Howe'er elaborate, tuneful, or sublime : — Yet he who, in these days of dark unrest, Asks of the oracle within his breast " Is there no hope ?" will own the doubt a crime. The Almighty reigns in heaven ! tho' we on earth Are, of ourselves, most helpless, and most weak ; And all who unto Him for counsel seek. As well as surest help, shall own their worth, And in their grateful hearts confess the birth Of thoughts which still of hope and comfort speak. THE RELIQUARY. 47 SONNET. II. The night seems darkest ere the ciawn of day Rises with light and gladness on its wings ; And every breaker that the ocean flings To shore before the tempest dies away Some sign of wreck and token of dismay, Awakening mournful thoughts in ruin brings ; But he whose spirit resolutely clings To his best hopes, on these his mind may stay ! Faith, humble faith ! can doubts and fears defy For every wound it bears a healing balm, Giving for sorrow's plaint, thanksgivings psalm; And those who trust in God when storms are high. And waves are rough, and starless seems the sky. Shall sing His praise in quiet's sunny calm ! 48 THE RELIQUARY. THANKS BE UNTO GOD FOR HIS UNSPEAKABLE GIFT*." Come tune the harp and let us sing Our heart-felt praise to Israel's King ; To Him who dwells in heaven on high, Yet bends to hear the contrite sigh. When earth-born monarch, rich in state. Stoops to console the desolate, The heart is gladdened thus to see. Soft blending, powV and sympathy. When sorrow casts her sable veil 0"*er dwellers in life's stormy dale. How sweet a gift to heal the smart. Is sympathy of heart with heart ! It lights with joy the dungeon's gloom, Cheers with its beams the sufferer's doom Sheds rays of light around the bed Where aching droops the weary head. • 2 Cor. ix. 15. THE RELIQUARY. 49 To all the scenes which fill the span Of life allotted here to man, It lends its unobtrusive power, Alike in joy's or sorrow's hour. Bright are the gifts in mercy sent, To cheer us in our banishment ; Alas ! shall we ungrateful prove, And lavish on them all our love .? For dear, alluring as they seem. They are but like the midnight dream, AVhich vanishes at break of day. Before the sun's all-piercing ray. There is a " Gift," there is a Gem, The brightest in God's diadem ; Which tells of boundless love to man, Points to the soul the Gospel-plan. Enshrined in light's intensest beam. That Gem most " Wonderful" doth seem ; One ray from thence hath power to dart A healing balm to every heart. 50 THE RELimiARY. For this we tune our harps to praise ! For this the gladsome notes we raise ! That e'er our guilty race was run, God gave for us His Only Son. TO THE WHITE JASMINE. Jasmine! thy fair and star-like flower with honours should be crowned ; In day's rude din, and garish hour it sheds faint sweetness round ; But still at eve its beauteous bloom with fragrance fills the air. As if to cheer the hours of gloom, and soothe the brow of care. Oh ! thus in fortune's dazzling ray the light of love seems pale. Till dark clouds o'er the glow of day, have cast their shadowy veil ; Then like thy odours it bursts forth a guide to joy's glad goal, Bless'd beacon of surpassing worth, and Pole-star of the soul. THE RELIQUARY. 51 THE LAND WHICH NO MORTAL MAY KNOW." Though Earth has full many a beautiful spot, As a poet or painter might show ; Yet more lovely and beautiful, holy and bright, To the hopes of the heart and the spirit's glad sight. Is the land that no mortal may know. There the crystalline stream, bursting forth from the throne, Flows on, and for ever will flow ; Its waves, as they roll, are with melody rife, And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life. In the land which no mortal may know. And there, on its margin, with leaves ever green, With its fruits, healing sickness and woe, The fair tree of life ! in its glory and pride. Is fed by that deep inexhaustible tide Of the land which no mortal may know. 52 THE RELiaUARY. There, too, are the lost ! whom we lov'd on this earth, With whose memories our bosoms yet glow ; Their reliques we gave to the place of the dead, But their glorified spirits before us have fled To the land which no mortal may know. There the pale orb of night, and the fountain of day. Nor beauty nor splendour bestow ; But the presence of Him, the unchanging I Am ! And the holy, the pure, the immaculate Lamb ! Light the land which no mortal may know. Oh ! who but must pine, in this dark vale of tears, From its clouds and its shadows to go. To walk in the light of the glory above. And to share in the peace, and the joy and the love Of the land which no mortal may know. THE RELIQUARY. 53 THE METEOR. A SHEPHERD on the silent moor Pursued his lone employ, And by him watchM, at midnight hour, His lov'd and gentle boy. The night was still, the sky was clear, The moon and stars were bright ; And well the youngster lov'd to hear Of those fair orbs of light. When lo ! an earth-born meteor's glare Made stars and planets dim ; In transient splendour thro' the air Its glory seem'd to swim. No more could star's or planet's spell The stripling's eye enchant : He only urged his sire to tell Of this new visitant. 54 THE BELiaUAllY. But ere the shepherd found a tongue, The meteor^s gleam was gone ; And in their glory o'er them hung The orbs of night alone. Canst thou the simple lesson read My artless muse hath given ? The only lights that safely lead Are those that shine from heaven. One far more bright than sun or star Is lit in every soul ; To guide, if nothing earthly mar, To heaven's eternal goal ! THE RELIQUARY. OD BUT GODLINESS WITH CONTENTMENT IS GREAT GAIN*." The bitterest cup that man can know, In passing through this Vale of Woe, May be in mercy sent ; Nor need its wormwood or its o;all The humble Christian's heart appal, If sweetened with content. The thorniest path that man can tread, Although with darkest skies overspread With patience may be trod ; By him, whose treasure is above, Who knows that God in Christ is love. And meekly bears the rod. But all that love himself can give. For which e'en worldling's fain would live. No pleasure can impart ; Where Discontent's envenomed stingr Has poisoned at its inmost spring The fountain of the heart. * 1 Timothy vi. G. 56 THE RELIQUARY. A WELCOME HOME. TO E. H. Welcome to our hearts again From the breezy sea's domain ! Where the boundless billowy deep Round the land her watch doth keep, Where the stormy waves dash high, Where is heard the sea-bird's cry, Where the petrel finds a pillow On the crested bounding billow ; Where the sunny sail doth glide liightly o'er the foaming tide. Where each graceful curling wave With rainbow tints the sand doth lave. Where all creatures fair and bright Find home beneath the billows white ; Where the blue sea girts our Isle, Thou hast been this weary while. Then welcome to our hearts again From the breezy sea's domain ! THE RELIQUARY. 6^ Welcome to our inland bowers, Shady lanes and wayside flowers ; But see the field hath lost her store, And Autumn is at hand once more ; Her golden tints will soon appear, Bright heralds of the fading year. — Methinks dear friend 'tis ever thus Each parting joy seems dear to us. And hark ! a shivering blast is heard. And restless seems each forest-bird, Some meet within their skiey dome — Depart, and find a brighter home ; Impeird to seek by instinct's spell A land where sunbeams ever dwell : Emblem, methinks, of hearts that prove In wintry weather apt to rove. But not with aught allied to pain We welcome Winter's hoary reign. In Spring we love each day to trace The dawning charms of Nature's grace ; When Summer skies are o'er us spread, When by leafy bowers we're canopied, Oh then the eye oft loves to rest On the soft deep blue of her azure breast. 58 THE RELIQUARY. But yet to my heart there is a spell In the fitful breezes' fall and swell, Which tells, 'mid Autumn's farewell flowers, Of the quiet joy of fireside hours. We roam abroad in sunny weather, But Winter draws our hearts together. Dear are the joys which Nature yields In forest, fell, or waving fields : She soothes the heart in moonlight hour, Not less in sunset's glow her power : At early dawn fresh clad in light She bursts in beauty on our sight ; And noon-day sunbeam's dazzling sheen Is sweet beneath some leafy screen. But human hearts will ever seek Joys which a kindred tongue can speak : Thus, from fair Nature's bright array We often turn untouch'd away. To seek 'mid hearts of human kind Communion with some fellow-mind : And He who gave the spirit's tone His love and wisdom here hath shown. For notes there are in every breast By our own fingers never prest. THE RELIQUARY. 59 Which Start to life when friendship's hand Runs o'er the chords her magic wand ! And hence your absence I deplore, And gladly hail your visit o'er. Then welcome to our hearts again, From the breezy sea's domain ! A COMPARISON. Many a flower, by man unseen. Gladdens lone recesses ; Many a nameless brook makes green Haunts its beauty blesses. Many a scatter'd seed on earth Brings forth fruit where needed ; Such the humble Christian's worth. By the world unheeded. E 2 60 THE RELIQUARY. KING HEROD. High on his regal throne he sate, In royal robes array'd ; Round him the courtly, rich, and great. Their wealth and pomp displayed. And when his voice he raisM aloud, With one consenting cry, The courtiers, and the servile crowd Proclaim''d his deity ! That glory, due to God alone, So impiously supplied. Folly as senseless deem'd his own, And welcomed it with pride. 'Twas then the angel of the Lord, His pride to put to shame, With sickness, loathsome, and abhorr'd, That instant smote his frame. THE RELIQUARY. 61 Eaten of worms, the man-made God ; By flatfry deified, Beneath heaven's retributive rod In hopeless anguish died. Oh Pride! by which the angels fell, How brief thy longest hour ; And when on Herod's doom we dwell, That haughty monarcirs death may tell How transient thy delusive spell. How weak thy mightiest power. THE PRODIGAL SON. He kneels amid the brutish herd. But not in dumb despair, For passion's holiest depths are stirr'd. And grief finds vent in prayer. Not abject, though in wretchedness. For faith and hope supply. In this dread hour of deep distress. Their feelings pure and high. 62 THE RELiaUARY. While thus a suppliant he kneels, " Cast down hut not destroy ed^^ A sweeter bliss his sorrow feels Than riot e'er enjoyed. " I will arise," — ^his looks declare, " And seek my Father's face; His servants still have bread to spare. Be mine a servant's place!" And soon each penitential hope For him shall be fulfilFd, For him his Father's arms shall ope, The fatted calf be kill'd. Oh penitence! how strong thy spell O'er hearts by anguish riven ; Victorious over death and hell. Of mercy's power it loves to tell. And whispers, for despair's stern knell, " Repent and be forgiven !" THE RELIQUARY. 63 FOR LOVE IS STRONG AS DEATH. They err who deem love's brightest hour In blooming youth is known ; Its purest, tenderest, holiest power In later life is shown : When passions chastened and subdued To riper years are given ; And earth and earthly things are viewed In light that breaks from heaven. It is not in the flush of youth. Or days of cloudless mirth. We feel the tenderness and truth Of love^^s devoted worth ; Life then is like a tranquil stream Which flows in sunshine bright, And objects mirror d in it seem To share its sparkling light. 64 THE RELIQUARY. 'Tis when the howling winds arise, And life is like the ocean, Whose mountain-billows brave the skies Lash'd by the storm's commotion : When lightning cleaves the murky cloud. And thunder peals around us, ""Tis then we feel our spirits bowed, By loneliness around us. Oh then, as to the seaman''s sight The beacon's trembling ray Surpasses far the lustre bright Of Summer's cloudless day. E'en such to tried and wounded hearts In manhood's darker years. The gentle light true love imparts 'Mid sorrows, cares and fears. Its beams on minds of joy bereft Their fresh'ning brightness fling. And show that life has something left To which their hopes may cling ; THE RKLIQUARY. 65 It steals upon the sick at heart, The desolate in soul, To bid their doubts and fears depart, And point a brighter goal. If such be love's triumphant power O'er spirits touched by time. Oh who shall doubt its purest hour Of happiness sublime. In youth 'tis like the meteor's gleam AVhich dazzles and sweeps by. In after-life its splendours seem Link'd with eternity ! 66 THE RELIQUARY ON A PICTURE BY PAUL VERONESE OF THE WISE MEN'S OFFERING. Brighter tints of richer tone Painting scarcely could impart ; Yet it is not these alone, Charm the eye, or touch the heart 'Tis the sight of wisdom hoar, With its offerings undefiled ; Bowing meekly down before Maiden mother ! Heaven-born child ! Knowledge oft may fill the head, Yet may leave the heart untaught ; Not on such their spirits fed, To the feet of Jesus brought ! Or they had not in their day. Been thus privileged of heaven ; Nor, to guide them on their way. Had that glorious star been given. THE RELIQUARY. 67 CrownM with years, and counted wise, Wondrous it had scarcely been, Had they ventured to despise Him — the new -horn Nazarene. But obedience can bestow Wisdom that no schools confer ; Hence they offer, bending low, Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh ! What the moral of their deed ? What the truth with which 'tis fraught ? Even he who runs may read. If but willing to be taught. Ever thus on suppliant knee. Blessed Saviour ! should we bring Offerings meant to honour Thee, As our Prophet, Priest, and King ! Giver of each grace we hold, Pure and perfect, great and good ; Let us, like the wise of old, Reason not with flesh and blood. 68 THE RELIQUARY. But before Thee bending down, Say, as we thine own restore, At thy feet we cast each crown, Thine the glory evermore ! "WE MEET AGAIN.' We meet again ! a sound to love, E'en as we pass through time ; But link'd with hopes of heaven above, Oh ! how much more sublime ! Like fragrance from a fading flower. Like music's passing strain. The fleeting rapture of an hour, When here we meet again ! 'Tis cause of grateful joy to meet With those we love below. And feel they taste a bliss as sweet As we ourselves can know : THE RELIQUARY. 69 Yet is that bliss like sunny gleams, 'Twixt frequent showers of rain, So brief and bright its gladness seems, When here we meet again. All earth can give of good — is gone Ere we know half its worth ; Some care or grief comes hurrying on, Born with joy's very birth. How oft the pleasure we would clasp. We bring ourselves to feign : Or when 'tis real, it shuns our grasp. E'en while we meet again ! But those who meet in heaven^ will find Their happiness endure ; Union of deathless mind with mind — As permanent as pure : There all vicissitude is o'er. Love — peace, for ever reign ; For they shall fear to part no more — In heaven who meet again ! 70 THE RELIQUARY. TO A STUFFED EAGLE. Bird of the keen and piercing eye, And pinion swift and strong, To thee the cloud and cloudless sky. And ocean-floods belong : Thy empire is the craggy steep. Haunt worthy of thy birth, There, king-like, thou thy state dost keep O'er sea, and sky, and earth ! The stormy blast, the roaring wave. To thee no fear supply. Nature their sternest music gave To be thy lullaby ; And when thou wakenest in thy miglit ; Thy harsh and haughty tone, While wheeling round in rapid flight. Is thrilling as their own. Then like an arrow from its string. With motion swift and proud. Borne on thy fleet and fearless wing Thou cleav'st the murky cloud ; THE RELIQUARY. 7^ Thence darting swiftly on thy prey Thou seek'st the billowy main, And briefly hid by dashing spray Upsoar'st to heaven again. Here, although lifeless be thy form, And motionless thy prize ; One born to battle with the storm Thy attitude implies ; Thy curving neck, the ruffled plume Of each uplifted wing, Thy angry glance, thy victim's doom, All speak the ocean-king ! And grateful may a poet be. Like me forbid to roam. This semblance to thy state to see Where crested breakers foam : 'Tis like a glimpse of glories given. Majestic, wild, and rude. With thee on some cliff, rent, and riven, To sway its solitude. 72 THE RELIQUARY. Around an oak, an ivy grew. With many a fond embrace : And by its leaves of glossy hue Made glad its dwelling-place. Bright shone in morning's early beam Its leafy diadem; As bright in moonlight's silent gleam The ivy round its stem. But time rolPd on, and scath'd'and sere The forest-king became Until with each revolving year More tottering seemed his frame. While closer still in changeless truth Was twined the ivy braid And for the shelter of its youth Grace and support repaid. Fearless it clung unto the last, Till storms the oak overthrew; When by the same relentless blast The ivy perish'd too. THE RELIQUARY. ']3 THE MISSIONARY. He went not forth, as man too oft hath done, Braving the ocean billows' wild uproar. In hopes to gather, ere life's sands were run, Yet added heaps of Mammon's sordid ore ; — He went not forth earth's treasures to explore. Where sleeps in sunless depths the diamond's ray; Nor was he urged by love of classic lore, His homage of idolatry to pay Where heroes fought and fell, or poets pour'd their lay. He left not home to cross the briny sea With the proud conqueror's ambitious aim, To \\Tong the guileless, to enslave the free, And win a blood-stain'd wreath of doubtful fame, By deeds unworthy of the Christian's name ; Nor to inspect with taste's inquiring eye Temple and palace of gigantic frame. Or pyramid up-soaring to the sky, Trophies of art's proud power in ages long gone by. F 74 THE RELIQUARY. Nor did his fancy nurse the gentle dream Of Nature's fond enthusiast ; who, intense In admiration of her charms, would seem To worship her ; forgetful of th' offence Given to her great and glorious Maker thence ! To him the woodland scenery's sylvan thrall, The sunny vale, or cloud-capt eminence, The brooklet's murmur, or the cataract's fall. But waken'd thoughts of Him whose word had form'd them all ! For he went forth — a follower of the Lamb, To spread the Gospel's message far and wide ; In the dread power of Him, the great I Am ! In the meek spirit of the crucified ! With unction from the Holy Ghost supplied, — To war with error, ignorance, and sin, To exalt humility, to humble pride. To still the passions' stormy strife within ; Through wisdom from above immortal souls to win. THE RELIQUARY. ^5 To publish unto those who sate in night. And death's dark shadow, tidings of glad things; How unto them the Gospel's cheering light Was risen, with life and healing on its wings ; How He, the Lord of Glory, King of kings, Their souls to save from sin's enthralling yoke, Had left his throne, where harps of golden strings, By seraphs touch'd, in heavenly music spoke ; And by his mighty power their chains of bondage broke. How He for them upon the Cross had died ! And pour'd His blood to cleanse their guilt away: That plung'd beneath its sin-efFacing tide. Their spirits, made no more the spoiler's prey, INIight stand before Him clothed in white array, The Saviour's ransom'd and redeemed among, Who worship in His presence night and day. And join in that " innumerable throng" Who raise thanksgiving's psalm, salvation's joyful f2 76 THE RELIQUARY. Such was his errand ! What though he might fare Too oft a wanderer on a foreign strand, Or " lonely pilgrim, as his fathers were ;" He trusted still his Master's guiding hand; And felt anon his humble faith expand : For He who sent him forth at times would prove A rocHs vast shadow in that weary land ! Or give him, in the riches of His love, To drink the way-side brook, and lift his hopes above. Thus did he journey on from day to day, 'Mid savage tribes, a Missionary mild ; Teaching and preaching Jesus, until they. First by his meek benevolence beguiled. Then by a Spirit far more undefiled Than aught of earth, unto his precepts won. Were to their Heavenly Father reconciled : And, through his well-belov'd and glorious Son, God's kingdom there was known. His holy will was done. THE RELiaUAEY. 77 Then through the influence of redeeming grace, Whose might can even human wildness tame, The wilderness and sohtary place A scene of blessedness and love became : And where, of yore, dark deeds to nature's shame, With barbarous rites religion's form that wore. Were only known — Jehovah's holy name, His Son's — the Comforteh's — unheard be- fore, In sounds of praise and prayer the wandering breezes bore. But what became of hhrij that lonely one. Who thus went forth, commission'd from on high ? He, when he saw his work of love was done, Felt his own closing hour approaching nigh ; And though it woke perchance a transient sigh Of natural regret, to think that he Should far from home and friends an exile die, — Yet could he humbly pray on bended knee, "- Thy will, p God ! not mine, accomplish'd be !" 78 THE RELiatlARY. Beneath a palm-tree, by the house of prayer, Upon a bright and beauteous summer eve, He took his seat, and round him gathered there The little flock he was so soon to leave : Nor ever did their fond affections cleave More to their pastor. Childhood, youth, and age, With artless sorrow seem'd alike to grieve That he, their Christian guide, their Gospel Sage, Should for an heavenly change his earthly heritage. They sang a hymn of thanks and praise to God ; And while its echoes floated yet in air. Their feeble pastor, kneeling on the sod. For them, and for himself, pour'd forth in prayer His wishes, hopes, affections, thanks, and care: — Rising, with grateful heart, he looked around. And when he saw that each and all were there. To whom his spirit was so strongly bound, His blessing he pronounced, with low.and faltVing sound. THE RELiaUARY. 7^ They bore him home unto his lowly cot, And laid the dying saint upon his bed ; No mark of kind attention they forgot T\vard him who long their hungry souls had fed: And when life's lingering spark at last was fled, They mourn'd his loss with many a simple tear. Such as for pious parents should be shed By children unto whom their worth was dear, And ever taught their own his memory to revere. They buried him beneath that palm-tree's pride. Where last in prayer his dying charge he gave ; Above, the breezes through the fohage sighed, Beneath was heard the murmur of the wave ; And when, in after-years, The White Man's Grave, With its moss'd stone beside old ocean's brim. They pointed out to strangers, each would crave, In broken speech, with eyes by tears made dim, That as he followed Christ, so they might FOLLOW Him. 80 THE RELiaUARY. At the first dawn of morning light When memory takes her heav'nward flight, My spirit soars where all is free ; Then, dearest, then, I think of thee. And when I pray, that thro' the day God''s guiding light would point my way, Oh ! thoughts of thee arise in me. And, dearest, then I pray for thee. In duty's path, when cares annoy. And daily ills would mar my joy. Oh then I'm glad that thought is free, My heart is cheer'd rememb'ring thee. And when the glowing hues of even Allure the heart to thoughts of Heaven, I feel its light less bright would be If there I should not meet with thee. THE RELiaUARY. 81 TO A ROBIN IN AUTUMN. Sweet is the cuckoo's blithesome lay Which hails the coming spring, Or sky-lark's when at break of day He soars on fearless wing. Sweet are the melodies that burst From summer's leafy bowers, 'Mid blossoms gay by sunshine nurst In bright and cloudless hours. And richer still, in woody lane Pour'd to the Moon's pale light Is Philomela's joyous strain Heard in the hush of nijjht. But sweeter to my partial ear, When these no more are known. When leaves are changing, flowers are sere, Mild melodist — thine own. 82 THE RELIQUARY. Thy warbling in the year's decline Wakes thoughts of deeper birth, Feelings that own a holier shrine Than music born of mirth. Hence when the birds of summer seek For home some brio^hter clime To me thy artless measures speak Of harmony sublime. E'en of that melody of heart The Christian knows within, Which faith, and hope, and love impart To souls redeemed from sin. Such mark, unmoved, around them fade Joy's flowers, of beauty brief. And hopes like trees which cast their shade, Change, and then shed their leaf. And many a friend once lov'd, enjoy'd, Like summer birds are gone, Whose absence leaves an aching void While lingering here alone. THE RELIQUARY. 83 Still unto such at times are given Glad songs of grateful praise, ]Meek hopes which seek their home in heaven, And faith in brighter days. Nor can death's wintry chill restrain Their song, or check their wing, Those notes shall be resumed again In heaven's eternal spring. TOWN AND COUNTRY; ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND IN LONDON. God made the country-, and man made the to\vn. COWPER. The bard spake sooth ; and yet my friend, Experience, nothing lothj Will own that good and evil blend With human life, in both. 84 THE RELIQUARY. Thy lot in crowded streets is thrown, Mine in the rural shade ; Yet, of the life that each hath known How mingled is the braid. " God made the country ;'' — yet in scenes Where spotless peace should reign. How much of evil intervenes To shed its darker stain ! Nature indeed performs her part, Her Author to reveal, And speaks unto the human heart. If we her charms would feel. But hearts, alone, or in a crowd. Must feel those charms imprest ; And spirits by their power be bowed. Ere peace can build her nest. A " Man made the town :" — yet even there, If but to nature true, Thought, feeling, fancy, all may share A banquet ever new THE RELIQUARY. 85 There, mind, by intercourse ^vith mind. May cultivate its powers ; And liberal arts, by taste refined, Bring forth unfading flowers. There, science claims her proudest home ; There Themis gives her laws : And there in many a stately dome, Religion pleads her cause. Nay, even there, if rightly taught, 'Mid streets by thousands trod. May souls in meditative thought. Communion hold with God. Virtue will own no local spell, Howe'er by us esteemM ; — In Eden's bowers, man sinn'd, and fell ! In Salem, — was redeemed ! THE RELIQUARY. AN AFFECTING AND TOO TRUE INCIDENT. She died, yet in her Father's heart Her memory could but live ; For death can stronger love impart Than life itself can give. Therefore with each returning day, Her silent grave he sought ; And with each visit bore away Fresh scope for cherished thought. ""Twas wrong, perchance, yet who shall call A mourner's sorrow wrong .-^ 'Twas weak, perhaps, so are we all, And few in grief are strong. And who by reason's law shall bound A father's deep distress ? Or who, that hath not felt such wound, Can tell its bitterness ? THE RELIQUARY. 87 Once more he went : — alas! once more, Affection's tears to shed ; There, when they found him, all was oVr, And life and grief had fled ! Oh ! judge not harshly ; wisdom's part Is others' woes to feel ; Who can make whole a broken heart ? Or wounded spirit heal ? TO THE REV. WILLIAM KIRBY, RECTOR OF BARHAM, SUFFOLK; One of the Authors of the " Introduction to Entomology. I KNOW not which to envy most. Thy knowledge of the insect-host, Tenants of earth, or air ; Or thy acquaintance with each scene Of barren heath, or meadow green. To which their tribes repair. THE RELIQUARY. The first hath cast around thy name A purer and a happier fame Than e'er was won by arms ; While both have surely taught thy heart Somewhat of wisdom's better part, Through nature'^s hidden charms. For well I ween a heart like thine Contemplating the Hand Divine Thy favourite science shows, Taught by each proof of power and love, To Him who dwells and reigns above With grateful feeling glows. And such a feeling to extend, To show how skill and goodness blend Throughout creation's plan, Must rank amongst those wise pursuits, Whose genuine and whose grateful fruits Are blessed of God, and man ! THE RELIQUARY. 89 Yes, every science, lore, or art, Which tends to foster in the heart Knowledge of nature's laws. Must, sanctified by grace divine, " Precept on precept, line on line,'' Exalt their First Great Cause. Pursue, then, my ingenious friend. Thy search ; and may'st thou, in the end, Partake a prouder change. Than e'er thy insect tribes can know. Despite the beauty these may show. In transformations strange. For these, though plumed with splendid wings, Are still but fair and fragile things. Which seem but born to die ; Whilst thou, thy web of knowledge spun, Thy daily task of duty done, Shalt soar above yon glorious sun, To immortality. 90 THE RELiaUARY. A CHRISTIAN HEROINE. " And all the Widows stood by him weeping, and showing the coats and garments which Dorcas made while she was with them." Acts ix. 39. Thou didst not soar to deathless fame By deeds of high emprize ; Yet not the less thy honour'*d name With dark oblivion vies. Far more the Christian's heart reveres, By Christian precepts tried, Thy works of love, those widows' tears, Than many a heroine's pride. From JaeFs dark relentless deed, From Judith's valour stern. Thy unobtrusive claims to plead, With partial joy I turn. THE RELIQUARY. 9J Thou wast not call'd, from slavery's yoke To set thy country free, The syren wile, the deadly stroke, Were never dealt by thee. By deeds which all may imitate Thy modest name is known ; And thus, by gentle goodness, great, Should woman's worth be shown. What we admire^ but cannot love, The world's applause may win ; But actions like thine own approve, The Christian heroine ! G 2 92 THE RELIQUARY. SABBATHS AT SEA. It is a spell the heart to bless, When on earth's peaceful bowers Descends " the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath-hours ;' When from her ivy mantled towers The chiming bells are heard ; With hum of bees among the flowers, And song of many a bird. And pleasant is it to behold, From scattered hamlets fair. The rich and poor, the young and old. To Sabbath-rites repair ; All gathered to the house of prayer, From cottage, farm, or hall. To yield man's common homage there. To Him who made them all. THE RELIQUARY. 93 The sea, too, hath its Sabbath-day, For mariners to keep ; Such as, with rev Vent hearts, survey God's wonders in the deep : Whether the crested billows leap Beneath a cloudless sky ; Or mighty winds that o'er them sweep, Proclaim the tempest nigh. A beautiful and solemn sight Methinks it well may be, When a ship's company unite In worship far at sea ! They bend in humble prayer the knee. To Him that walk'd the waves ; Their theme of thankful praise is He, Who still in peril saves. Earth's richest shrine of loftiest pride, The wonder of the land — Yields to these courts of ocean wide, By heavenly Builder plann'd. 94 THE EELIQUAKY. What temple more sublimely grand The power of God unfolds, Who in the " hollow of His hand'' The world of waters holds ? What could the organ's thrilling sound. Of music's spell supply, To match the solemn tones around, — The deep's wild melody ? In this each breeze that passes by Performs its skilful part, And e'en the sea-birds' tuneless cry Appeals unto the heart ! God dwelleth not in temples, made By human hands, alone ; — Where power and wisdom are display'd. There is His presence known : He for His fane, doth ocean own. Roof 'd by the vaulted sky. And wind and wave, with awful tone, Proclaim His Deity. THE EELiaUARY. 95 Then think not that the Sabbath-day For earth alone was given ; Since in the sea, He hath His way, Whose throne is set in heaven : From many a bark o'er ocean driven, Believe that there must be Both praise and prayer, at mom and even, On Sabbaths kept at sea. 96 # THE EELIQUARY. MARY AT THE SEPULCHRE. " But Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping, and as she wept, she stooped down and looked into the sepulchre." John xx. 11. Mary ! seek not in the tomb Him the grave no more enfoldeth ; Earth's sepulchral, silent gloom, No such glorious captive holdeth. Look ! the stone is rolPd away, Deem that tomb no more a prison, " Shining ones "" are there, who say, " Jesus is not here, but risen V Risen, the conquVor of the grave, Over death and hell victorious ; Dry thy tears, in Him be brave ; Meekly trust His power to save, And arise to life as glorious ! THE RELIQUARY. 97 WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. Here varied names together blend, Stranger link'd side by side with friend ; Some have fulfilFd their well-spent day, While others tread life's thorny way. Here are — who o'er the bounding wave Have pressed their brother man to save. Led by that love so richly given, To point the way to peace and heaven ! Here are — whose gentle course is shewn Only by blessings round them strewn ; Who fill — with patient energies, In faith, and hope, life's charities ! Combined they form a fragrant wreath, Whose sweets are undestroy'd by death, Then, lady, why should wish of thine Ask name so little worth as mine ? 98 THE RELIQUARY. How Strange the thought — a day draws nigh Involved in present mystery, When names which here have met before, Shall meet again — one moment more ! When amid throngs of wakening dead, The Book of Life shall be outspread ! Oh grateful bliss, beyond compare, To find our names recorded there. A BALLAD. Sir Eustace sate at midnight's hour Within his tent alone And the spell of memory's silent power Was o'er his spirit thrown : It bore him from Salem's leaguered wall To her he had left in his castle-hall. For Ermengarde his only child The beautiful and young. Had often at that hour beguil'd His spirit as she sung. THE RELIQUARY. 99 Bidding her father's heart rejoice With the magic sound of her silver voice. And on his harp he used to play To her in that old hall, He had brought his harp with him away But now 'twas silent all ; It hung in his tent by the cresset's light, And his eyes as he viewed it with tears were bright. That cresset's light grew pale and dim, On his ear a sound there stole, The echo of a dirge-like hymn Pour'd for a parted soul : And the strings of that harp, which in silence slept, As if by a spirit's hand, were swept. He shed no tear, he heav'd no sigh. And not a word he said, He knew from that mystic melody, Her soul from earth was fled : So he threw by his lance, and sword, and shield, And at break of day left the tented field. 100 THE RELIQUARY. He reached once more his castle hall, He enterM the chapel fair, A marble tablet hung on its wall And a withered rose was there : He knelt him down, and in silence prayed, And died a monk in the cloister's shade. Like the frail insect eagerly pursuing Some fancied good, in fairy colours drest ; Oft disappointed, yet each hour renewing Its chase of what seem'd loveliest, fairest, best. Thus do we spend life's transitory day Seeking for that, which found, too often cloys ; Oh ! better far His precepts to obey Whose love would lead to everlasting joys ! THE RELIQUARY. 101 SONNET. ON A VIEW NEAR WOODBRIDGE. My own lovM town ! even this glimpse of thee, Though giving little more to charm the eye Than the tall church-tower, and old priory, Has more of spell-like mastery o'er me Than many a prouder picture could supply ! It speaks of hours and objects long gone by, Which I no more on earth can hope to see. Touching, of thought and feeling, many a key Of memories far too pure and sweet to die ! My own lov'd town ! although unknown to fame. And reft of some my heart must long enshrine, Those still are left thee, who, while life is mine, Must hold therein a fondly cherished claim ; Nor care I greatly for a poet's name. But for the hope, though faint, to honour thine I 102 THE RELiaUARY HYMN. The earth is full of the goodness of the Lord." Psalm xxxiii. 6. The earth, O God ! is full of Thee ; Its every herb and flower Were made Thy witnesses to be And speak Thy love and power. The sky, the vast and vaulted sky, In sunshine or in storm. Says, nothing short of Deity Its airy arch could form. There hast thou set the sun — by day To shed his warmth and light ; The moon and stars, with gentler ray. To rule the silent night. The sea — the broad and billowy deep, Proclaims Thy master-hand. Whether its waves in tempests leap Or rippling kiss the strand. THE RELiaUARY. 103 "There go the ships!" There spout and hiss Leviathans at play ; And there the tiny nautihs Holds on his fearless way. The mighty winds that come and go, Bear music on their wings, With which the listening earth below. And heaven's high arch-way rings. Beasts, tame or wild, on earth that stray, All birds that fly in air. Insects — that live their little day, Thy Providence declare. O Lord, our God ! how marvellous Thy works — around — above ; And all are eloquent to us Of wisdom — power — and love ! 104 THE RELIQUARY. THE CORONATION OF INEZ DE CASTRO. " In the year 1350, six years after her mterment, the remaijis of Donna Inez de Castro were taken out of her tomb, and she was proclaimed Queen of Portugal, in the church of Sancta Clara, by order of her husband, Don Pedro." Through windows richly dight The mellow'd sunbeams shine But sadly falls their light On Sancta Clara's shrine. The king and court are there, With priests and knights in mail ; But every head is bare, And every cheek is pale. The young and gay are met, The brave and haughty come. But eyes with tears are wet, And lips with awe are dumb. THE RELIQUAllY. 105 In pomp of regal pride There sits enthroned a queen ; Don Pedro at her side Beholds the solemn scene. Though grief is on his brow, Yet tearless is his eye, He hears each plighted vow AVith spirit stern and high. Yet even he must feel Far more than speech could own, As one by one they kneel Before that silent throne. As one by one they take That passive hand to kiss ! What thoughts and feelincrs wake Dreams of departed bliss ! For oh ! no life-blood warm That frame may animate. But wasted is the form Thus thron'd in solemn state. 106 THE RELIQUARY. The glittering crown of gold Rests on a lifeless head, The broider'd robes enfold The reliques of the dead. Those robes are but a pall However bright their sheen, She sits before them all The spectre of a queen. They bear her back to earth And close the fearful rite. And not one thought of mirth The pageant should excite. For by it may be seen, In its glory and its gloom, How brief the space between The proud throne and silent tomb. THE KF.LIQUARY. lOJ FOR NOW WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY*." Dim and dark our present vision, Through time's shadowy glass made known. When compared with views Elysian, Which hereafter shall be shown. Yet enough of glory, beauty, Here to faith's keen eye is given, To refresh the path of duty. And make smooth the way to heaven. See we not beyond the portal Of the grave's brief dwelling-place, Glimpses of those joys immortal Which await the heirs of grace .'' Hear we not at seasons stealing, On the spirit's wakeful ear, Songs of praise, their bliss revealing W^ho once moum'd and sufFer'd here? • 1 Cor. xiii. 12, H 2 108 THE RELIQUARY. Feel we not at times in sorrow Hopes whereon the heart can stay. Prescient of a brighter morrow Which shall chase all griefs away ? If such hopes are here attendant Wliile we dimly, darkly see, How unspeakably transcendent Must the full fruition be. When eternity unfolding, All the ransom'd hearts above, Face to face their liord beholding, Join in songs of praise and love. THE RKLIQUARY. 109 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DAY AT " BARHAM*.' A VISION rises to my view A bright and happy home, Where cahii delights and pleasures true Forbid the heart to roam. The stately elm's protecting shade, The birch of silvery hue. Adorn a spot by Nature made To charm her votaries true. Laburnum, elegant and bright, Here flings her golden showers ; And there the church in evening's light Speaks of still brighter hours. The verdant lawn, its rustic seat, The pond instinct with life, All tell of happiness complete. Far from cabal and strife. * See page 87. 110 THE RELIQUARY. Without — the scene is bright and fair Touching the heart with joy — But blessed they who enter there, 'Tis peace without alloy. For 'tis his home whose happy days Have glided softly by, Whose sun now sheds her brightest rays Athwart his evening sky. With careful hand from Nature's field He cuird her varied store ; Then bade fair science tribute yield, And simplify her lore. Oh ! wouldst thou dignify thy kind Go — cultivate thy powers ; Thus fit thy heav'n-born earth-bound mind. For holy, endless hours. For surely he whose grateful eye Beholds the First Great Cause, In insect's form, or fiow'ret's dye Must revVence all His laws. THK RELIQUARY. Ill And mine the privilege hath been To tread the peaceful ground, Which Jiffy years his course hath seen Shedding content around. And oh ! if ever heavenly bliss Re found in earthly home, It is, where passage such as this Leads to the peaceful tomb. But not for all the quiet nook In Nature's sweet domain ; We oft the chilling world must brook. Yet let us not complain. For life is sure to show His praise Whose grace is free to all : Whether the humble prayer we raise From peaceful bower or hall. 112 THE RELIQUARY. But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun OF righteousness arise with healing in His WINGS*." Radiant the splendour of the morn, When cloudless shines the sun's bright ray Gemming the dew-bespangled thorn, And chasing nighf s dull mists away. But far more glorious and more bright, The " Sun of Righteousness'' within Shedding its holy, heavenly light, On spirits lost in doubt and sin. And calm and sweet the vesper-hour, When slowly sinking to his rest. The setting sun displays his power. And glory gilds the glowing west. Yet lovelier far the glimpses given, To glad the dying Christian's eye, When earth is swallow'd up in heaven. And life in immortality. * Malachi iv. 2. THE RELiaUARY. THE UPAS TREE. 113 In Java's distant isle there grows a tree that taints the air, And baneful poison round, it throws on all who wander there ; We pity him compelFd to brave its pestilential breath, And view him as a wretched slave condemned to hopeless death. Yet if we look in many a heart, we find a plant of sin Whose rankling venom can impart as certain death within : 'Tis discontent ! which poisons all that blessings else might be, And well may truth the spoiler call, the spirit's Upas Tree ! 114 THE RELIQUARY. REMEMBER ME. " Lord, remember me when thou comest into Tliy kingdom. Luke xxiii. 42. Remember me ! All, all must feel, Whom fond affection sways. The sweetly eloquent appeal Of this brief simple phrase. AVhen the full heart would find a voice, In parting's grief, or glee. What words so worthy of its choice As these — "Remember me!'' And yet more solemn is their tone. More touching is their power. When nature's feelings they make known In life's last parting hour : When from some lov'd one justly dear, Whom earth no more may see. We faintly catch with wistful ear. The words, " Remember me !" THE RELIQUARY. 115 A purer, higher, holier worth, The phrase, tho' brief, may bear, When, uninspired by aught of earth, It speaks the voice of prayer. It breathes the saint's meek confidence ! And, when he bends the knee. The sinner, touched with penitence, Cries, " Lord, remember me !'' TO A CHILD. Thy childish mirth has briditen'd o My brow when hope seem'd vain, Thy childish converse lightened iVIy heart in grief and pain. Then justly may I thank thee With gratitude sincere, And well my heart may rank thee With objects it holds dear. 116 THE RELIQUARY. AfFection^s ties but strengthen In hearts that feel their lore, Love's links with years but lengthen To make us prize them more. Such ties and links around me Thy artless childhood cast, And the spell in which they bound me Must linger to the last. THE BIBLE. Lamp of our feet ! whereby we trace Our path, when wont to stray; Stream from the fount of heavenly grace ! Brook by the traveller's way ! Bread of our souls ! whereon we feed ; True Manna from on high ! Our guide, and chart! wherein we read Of realms beyond the sky ! THE RELIQUARY. 117 Pillar of fire — through watches dark ! Or radiant cloud by day ! When waves would whelm our tossing bark — Our anchor and our stay ! Pole-star on life's tempestuous deep ! Beacon ! when doubts surround ; Compass ! by which our course we keep ; Our deep-sea- lead — to sound ! Riches in poverty ! Our aid In every needful hour ! Unshaken rock! the pilgrim's shade, The soldier's fortress-tower ! Our shield and buckler in the fight * Victory's triumphant palm ! Comfort in grief ! in weakness, might ! In sickness — Gilead's balm ! Childhood's preceptor! manhood's trust! Old age's firm ally ! Our hope — when we go down to dust — Of immortality ! 118 THE RELIQUARY. Pure oracles of Truth Divine ! Unlike each fabled dream Given forth from Delphos' mystic shrine, Or groves of Academe ! Word of The ever-living God! Will of His Glorious Son ! AVithout Thee how could earth be trod ? Or heaven itself be won ? Yet to unfold thy hidden worth, Thy mysteries to reveal, That Spirit which first gave thee forth Thy volume must unseal! And we, if we aright would learn The wisdom it imparts. Must to its heavenly teaching turn With simple, child-like hearts ! THE RELiaUARY. 119 "THE MEEK WILL HE TEACH HIS WAY*/ Thy patience, gentleness, and love, Attached us to thee here ; And still in happier realms above. Preserve thy memory dear. For these are things which cannot die, Nor fade with fleeting breath. But stamped with immortality. Yet triumph over death. On thy brief span of time they shed A ray of light serene ; They cheer'd and smoothed thy dying bed, And blest life's closing scene. For Peace was in thy parting hour. Which set thy spirit free ; And we partook its soothing power, And thank'd thy God for thee. * Psalm XXV. 9. 120 THE RELIQUARY. All pain and sickness now are o'er, Which mock'd all healing art : And tears shall fill that eye no more, Nor sorrow wound thy heart. But Thou, in sunless light on high. Hast join'd that choir who sing O grave ! where is thy victory, O death ! where is thy sting." (( Then thanks to God for evermore ! Who makes us conquerors still. Through Him who our transgressions bore On Calvary's holy hill. THE RELIQUARY. 121 TO THE SWALLOW. Aerial voyager, who spread'st thy wing O'er trackless waves to seek a sunnier clime ; To man's immortal spirit thou shouldst bring Thoughts of a lot more glorious and sublime. Thou, when stern winter comes to strip our bowers, Prompted by instinct, canst but wing thy flight To distant lands, where fair and beauteous flowers Still but of earth, unfold their splendours bright. But souls immortal, in the gathering gloom Of death's dark winter trust faith's guiding ray, And soar where flowers of Amaranthine bloom Shine in a sunless and eternal day. 122 THE RELIQUARY. HE WILL SUBDUE OUR INIQUITIES' Oh for a heart redeemed from sin ! Renewed by grace divine ! Made meet for Christ to dwell within, A pure and holy shrine. Where never word or thought unkind, Or earthly passion vile ; Might welcomed be, or access find, To darken and defile. Whose spring of action and of thought Should flow from Calvary : From Him whose death for man has brought Peace, pardon, from on high. Oh God ! to Thee I, humbled, look, For nought within I see But sins, which in thy judgment-book Are registered of me. f /I • Micah vii. 19. THE RELIQUARY. 123 Oh purify, exalt, refine, My wayward, grov'lling will ! Make every motive wholly thine. Nor let me wander still. Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit? or whither SHALL I FLEE FROM ThY PRESENCE*?" Religion does not fix her dwelling-place Exclusively in streets or rural shades ; — The Omnipresence of Redeeming Grace The crowded cities — forests' depths pervades. The contrite heart, which unto God would sigh. The faltering tongue which on His name would call, In both alike may own its Maker nigh, For He is everywhere, and all in all. Psalm cxxxix. 7. I 2 124 THE RELiaUARY. THE TRAVELLER'S DIRGE. " Captain Clapperton fell into a slumber, from which he awoke in much perturbation, and said he had heard, with much dis- tinctness, the tolling of an English funeral-bell. I entreated him to be composed, and observed that sick people frequently fancy they see and hear things which can possibly have no existence." — Lander's Journal. In brief and feverish repose He sank ere life was o'er ; Forgot, awhile, his pains and woes, But not his native shore ! He dreamt he stood on English ground, While on his ear there stole A solemn, yet a soothing sound, The deep funereal toll ! And sweet the spell of that sad knell Pour'd for a parted soul ! He woke ! Yet, still upon his ear Its lingering echoes fell ; On sounds to hallow'd thought so dear His memory loved to dwell. THE RELIQUARY. 125 Though he might die on Afric's strand. And waves might wildly roll Between him and his father-land, His was that solemn toll ! Spirit away ! it seem'd to say, From earth, and earth's control. Then mourn him not ! an hour shall come When sound more deep and dread Than rolling beat of muffled drum. Or knell which mourns the dead, Shall tell the day of final doom. As that loud trumpet peal Will bid earth's most secluded tomb, Its hidden dead reveal. Awake ! Awake ! Arise ! It shall repeat — Prepare to meet Your Judge, thron'd in the skies ! 126 THE RELIQUARY. MORNING. MoRNiMG ! thy touch with life and light Each day awakens earth ; And gives for seeming death's dark night To living beauty* birth ! The flow'ret opes its dewy cup To greet the gladsome ray ; The Lark on wings of joy soars up To pour his heavenward lay. The bee its straw-thatch'd hive forsakes. To roam from flower to flower ; The flitting butterfly partakes The freshness of that hour ! Yet balmy, blissful, bright and fair As morning''s prime may seem, Dark clouds ere noon may tempests bear, And vivid lightnings gleam. I THE RELIQUARY. 127 But when of endless day that morn Shall bring the quickening breath, Eternity of time be born — And life of transient death : Then cloudless light, and ceaseless joy Shall evermore abound, And songs of grateful praise employ Those who the throne surround. Prepare us Lord ! by grace divine Then to give praise to thee ; And as the power is only thine ! Thine shall the glory be ! 128 THE RELIQUARY. For the opening Leaf of my Friend E.J.M.'s copy of "A Manual for the Parish Priest." By precepts such as these, of old, Did pious Hooker live ; And such — its graces manifold To Herbert's memory give. By such to " good report'" were led The later years of Donne ; Such meekly crown'd the mitred head Of honoured Sanderson. What can I wish thee, then, dear friend. But that such counsels sage, May with thy early manhood blend, And bless thy riper age. That walking worthy of the claim Thy office should impress. Thou may'st adorn a pastor's name By past'ral holiness. THE KELTaUARY. 129 No higher office man can share Than unto thee is given, Of deathless souls the cure and care, To guard and guide to heaven. I feel the prayers which swell thy heart, Though hid from mortal ken ; Be mine thy clerk's far humbler part : — In hope and faith — Amen ! Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away*." Thou warbling lark, whose buoyant wing Bears thee at heaven's gate to sing ; That flood of melody shall cease. That fluttering pinion rest in peace. Ye trees, now clad in verdure bright. Whose emerald beauties glad my sight. Your vigour hastens to decay, Your lights and shades must pass away ! * Matthew xxiv. 35. 130 THE RELIQUARY. Ocean ! thy dread unfathomM caves. Thy mighty rocks, thy crested waves. Thy bounding billows, now so free. Shall rest, and '* There be no more sea !' An atom in created space, This form shall cease to fill its place; Earth, air, and ocean pass away! The soul shall live to endless day ! There is a stream whose fountain bright Makes glad the City of Delight ; Its source is pure, its waters free. It sprang beside Mount Calvary I Then mourn not o'er the wrecks of time But turn, my soul, to hopes sublime : The Christian's trust shall ne'er decay Tho** earthly joys all fade away! Felixstow, June Cth, 1835. THE RELIQUARY. 131 SONNET TO A PORTRAIT OF MILTON, IN elia's parlour. Semblance of him, who pour'd his soul in song More pure, majestic, simple, and sublime, Than aught achieved by bards of later time, What happier home could unto thee belong ? For sure thy noble spirit it would wrong. Wont, while on earth, toward heav'nly heights to climb. If e'en the portrait of thy manhood's prime Should hold communion with the worldly throng. Look down then upon those who greet thy gaze With gentleness and love ; for they can feel The mute, yet sweetly eloquent appeal Of thy mild glance : — and if, in this world's maze. Their lot, like thine, seem " fallen on evil days,'' May thoughts of thee their wounded spirits heal ! 132 THE RELIQUARY. IT IS SOWN A NATURAL BODY, IT IS RAISED A SPIRITUAL BODY*." The caterpillar's loveless form, As o''er the plant it creeps, Betokens but a grov'lling worm That toils and feeds and sleeps. The chrysalis within its cell, By fragile fetters bound, A lifeless thing appears to dwell. In death-like sleep profound. Yet from that cell on pinions bright. With hues of varied dye, It bursts on the beholder's sight A radiant butterfly. Thus man, while in his reptile state, Midst worldly care and strife. Grovels and labours, soon and late, For mere material life. * 1 Corinthians xv. 44. THE RELIQUARY. 133 He too goes down into the tomb, When life's brief day is fled, And in its silent, dreamless gloom, Appears for ever dead. And thus but for a loftier flight Than insect's wing may try, His spirit soars to realms of light And immortality. The insect in its loveliest guise, And last — from life must sever ; But man at Judgment's day shall rise To bliss, or woe for ever ! 134 THE RELIQUARY. TO S. S. L. 'Tis not for me with patient love To watch beside thy parent's bed, My heart's deep gratitude to prove For kindness o'er my pathway shed ! A husband's tenderness and truth, A daughter's pious, grateful care, A sister loved from earliest youth AiFection's anxious watches share. Yet to that couch my heart will turn And tears of sympathy oft flow, For those who there God's lesson learn, In humble faith to bear each blow. And justly may I mourn for one Whose constant, kind, and gen'rous heart. To mme, hath many a kindness done, To me, perform'd a mother's part. THE RELIQUARY. 135 His " will be done !'' whose ways are wise He only knows the future's page ; Whether on high her soul shall rise Or lingering here, our love engage. The shepherd's care oft gently leads The lamb, whose strength begins to fail, Till safe within the fold he feeds Sheltered from every adverse gale. The choicest flower is earliest borne To some retreat where storms ne'er come ; Before rude winter's piercing storm We safely sing our harvest-home ! Oh thus will God his garner fill With souls redeem'd from sin and woe : Then let us ever trust him still. Thro' all our pilgrimage below ! 136 THE RELiaUARY. FOR THE OPENING LEAF OF AN ALBUM. " 'Tis good to be merry and wise 'Tis good to be honest and true." — Old Song. How shall poet's tuneful skill Best the page before me fill ? Shall I write in sportive mood ? Time and change have mirth subdued Or shall graver thoughts engage This thy album's opening page ? Think not happiness on earth Dwells alone in hours of mirth ; Nor imagine sober thouglit Is with melancholy fraught : Both should be thy heritage. Both may claim this opening page. Cheerfulness is virtue's fruit, Sober thought its hidden root ; If we fail the root to nourish Can we hope the fruit to flourish ? Blend them in life's every stage As in this thy opening page. T HE RELIQUARY. 137 Be, then, time's brief journey through. Merry, prudent, wise, and true ; Mirth to gladden life is given Prudent wisdom points to heaven : Each becomes both youth and age. Both, thy album''s opening page ! TO A LADY, ON THE DEATH OF HER SON. The world, the heartless world may deem But lightly of a loss like thine ; And think it a romantic dream For such an one in grief to pine : A gentler creed, my friend, is mine. Knowing what human hearts can bear, And how a mother's must enshrine The object of its love and care. For was he not, though on him fell A cloud that wrapt his soul in night. The tenderest tie, the strongest spell That could thy heart to earth unite .^ K 138 THE RELIQUARY. His was a child's endearing right, By helplessness but made more dear \ Nor can he vanish from thy sight Unwept by nature's mournful tear. But when the bitterness of grief. Hath been allowed its sacred claim, What soothing thoughts must yield relief, And fan a purer, holier flame ! Whatever plans thy heart might frame, Had he survived thee, for his sake, Could others have fulfilFd each aim, Each effort — love like thine must make ? A mother's heart, and hand, and eye Alone could do as thine have done, And unremittingly supply The wants and claims of such a son : But now thy love its meed hath won. Thy fond solicitude may cease ; His race of life is safely run, His spirit fled — where all is peace ! THE RELIQUARY. J 39 And who can tell how bright the ray Of light and life from heaven may fall On minds which in their mortal clay, Seem'd bound in dark affliction's thrall* ? Think not that He who governs all, Whose power and love no bounds can know, Would one into existence call To suffer helpless, hopeless woe. With humble hope to Him entrust Thy mourn'd one ; in strong faith that He Can call forth from his slumbering dust A spirit — from all frailties free ; And yet permit thy soul to see One who on earth seem'd vainly given, A form of light — to welcome thee Hereafter, to the joys of heaven. * The subject of these verses, an only child, lived nearly, or quite, to the age of manliood, in hopeless and helpless im- becility. 140 THE EELIQUARY. THE ROSE, THE SHAMROCK, AND THISTLE. " The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand for ever." Isaiah xl. 8. With beauteous tints the rose is dyed, Glossy and green the shamrock's leaf, Bright is the hardy thistle's pride, Yet all, alike, are brief. Such is, alas ! the certain doom Of flower or leaf that must decay ; And he who sings them seeks the tomb, His song as brief as they. But fresh, and fadeless are the palms Which saints redeemed in glory bear ; Holy the hymns, and sweet the psalms. Which rise for ever there ! THE RELIQUARY. 141 SONNET, ON VISITING HELMINGHAM HALL. I WALK as in a dream ! The rich and great, The beautiful and brave have trod each floor. Which now re-echoes to their steps no more : Through passages and rooms now desolate, Where liveried troops of menials used to wait, When pomp and splendour sojourned here of yore I wander on, and pensively explore The touching relics of departed state. To me more noble far than in its hour Of festive mirth this antique pile appears ; A solemn spell which softens and endears The haughtier pride of rank, and wealth, and power, Is cast around, making hall, court, and tower, Objects my spirit silently reveres. 142 THE RELIQUARY. SONNET, ON THE PORTRAIT OF LADY DYSART IN THE HALL AT HELMINGHAM. Reynolds! I never had beheld till now One trophy of the splendid grace thy art Was wont to lifeless canvass to impart ; But well that form, those features, and that brow The deathless triumph of thy skill avow : Appealing through the eye unto the heart, Till tears unbidden from the bard might start Who to such living loveliness should bow, Oh ! say not that the silent lapse of time Can render this a dream of one gone by ! The MIND embodied there can never die ; And still the form it wore in beauty's prime Borrows from painting's mastery sublime All it could give of immortality ! THE RELiaUARY. 143 WRITTEN AT FELIXSTOW, May 31st, 1835. Once more, once more, thou glorious sea. Upon thy breast I gaze ; Not as when first I looked on thee In boyhood's by-gone days. Then every varying light and shade, And every thrilling tone. Thy bosom echo'd or displayed Found answers in my own. But now thy lights and shadows seem Like those which chequer life ; The tumult of thy waves a dream Of human care and strife. It is not that my heart is dead To nature's potent spell ; But years have o'er my spirit shed Thoughts which far deeper dwell. 144 THE RELiaUARY. Tlioughts which no line can ever sound Their silent depths to show ; Feelings surpassing far the bound Which even thou must know. Vast as Thou art, from thee I learn But lore allied to time : Mine are imaginings that yearn For knowledge more sublime. Before my spirits eagle eye, In meditative mood. The ocean of eternity Unfolds its awful flood. Might faith of vict^-y rob the grave, Its sting from death but tear ; — Glad would I plunge beneath its wave, And grow immortal there. THE RELiaUARY. 145 SHALL BE COMFORTED*. When hopes that on our pathway bright Of early being, shed their ray, Are shadowed o'er by sorrow's night Or pass Hke morning-dreams away : — What cheers us in that hour distressed ? What heals the pang of " hope deferred P' Christ has pronounced his mourners blest, And seaFd it by his holy word. But not for passion's bitter tears, Or hearts by worldly anguish torn — Engrossed by selfish hopes or fears — Is hope from this glad promise born. 'Tis theirs, and theirs alone to claim The blessing promised by His Son, Who glorify God's holy name. And meekly say, " Thy will be done !" • Matthew v. 4. 146 THE RELIQUARY. To these by pure confiding faith, By treasured hopes laid up in heaven,- By love that triumphs over death, — This bright beatitude is given. These shall confess its truth their stay, And prove the Gospel cannot err ; For God will wipe their tears away. And Christ will be their comforter. A MEMORIAL OF DECEMBER 19th, 1835. Winter's stern winds sweep round The sepulchre where thy cold reliques lie ; But thou hear'st not their sound. As mid the lofty, leafless limes they sigh. While we who went to-day. With thoughts too deep for tears, unto thy worth Our last sad debt to pay. Think but of thee beside the blazing hearth. THE RELIQUARY. 147 And as the night-blasts chill Howl round our homes, thoughts faithful memVy stirs, Our eyes and bosoms fill, And are our sorrow's best interpreters. But not with griers dark gloom, As those who know not hope, we mourn for thee ; Thy quiet, peaceful tomb A source of soothing thought should rather be. Though we may greet no more The brightening gladness of thy voice and smile ; Memory shall oft restore Their recollection anguish to beguile. Thouffh we no more behold Thv self-forgetfulness, thy love to all ; We must, like thee, be cold, Ere we can cease their influence to recall. Selfish our grief must be. If hopelessly we sorrowed for thy sake ; And not one thought of thee Feelings to self confin d should ever wake. 148 THE RELIQUARY. Rather, with thankful heart, Let us thy cherished memory enshrine ; And, if our tears must start, May they be brightened by a hope divine. The hope to meet again, l^hrough our Redeemer, in a state more blest, Where sickness, grief, or pain. Shall have no power to trouble or molest. Rest in thine ivied cell ! Till the last trumpet shall its silence burst ; When at its quickening spell, The dead in Christ shall joyfully rise first. Then, with its inmates rise ! Refin'd from every taint of earthly leaven, To form 'neath sun-less skies A re-united family in heaven ! f THE RELIQUARY. 149 I THE SPIRIT'S AIM: Bright is Spring's blue and balmy sky, And fair her opening flowers ; And grateful, when the sun is high, Are Summer'*s leafy bowers. Lovely is Autumn's russet field, With harvest's bounty crown'd ; And solemn is the music pealed By Winter s tempests round. But these are full of chance and change. And tell of tide and time ; Well may the spirit sigh to range, 'Mid marvels more sublime. Immortal from its birth, 'twould soar Above all objects here. The viewless realms of space explore. And seek its native sphere. 150 THE RELIQUARY. Can REASON hope to guide its flight Through regions all unknown ? Or its own virtues claim a right, To call heaven's bliss its own ? No ! FAITH must hear the heavenly call, Hope prompt the humble prayer ; And LOVE to Him who died for all. Must lead the exile there ! THE RELIQUARY. 151 THE STARTING-POST; OR, CLARKSON AT WADESMILL. " Coming in sight of Wadesmill, in Hertfordshire, I sat down • lisconsolate on the turf by the road-side, and held my horse. Here a thouglit came into my mind, that if the contents of the Essay were true, it was time some person should see these cala- mities to their end. Agitated in this manner, I reached home. This was in the Summer of 1785." — Clarkson's History of the Abolition, Vol. I., p. 210. A WANDERER by the road-way side, Where leafy tall trees grow, Casting their branching shadows wide, Sits on the turf below. Though rich the landscape, hill and plain. Before him there outspread ; One hand holds fast his bridle-rein, One props his thoughtful head. 152 THE RELIQUARY. The flush of youth is on his brow, Its fire is in his eye ; And yet the first is pensive now, The latter nought can spy. Does proud ambition's fitful gleam Light up his soul within ? Or fond affection's gentler dream Prompt him love's bliss to win ? These are forgotten, or unknown : — For o'er the Atlantic main, His ear has caught the captive's groan. Has heard his clanking chain. Nor less from Afric's land afar. Borne by the billowy waves, The hideous din of sordid war. The shrieks of kidnapped slaves. The iron of that galling yoke Has entered in his soul ! How shall power's tyrant spell be broke ? — The sick at heart made whole ? THE RELiaUARY. 153 Who, e'en on Albion's far-famed isle, Where freedom gives her laws, Nobly forgetting self the while. Shall live but for her cause ? Who, the apostle of her creed, Shall journey to and fro, Her universal rights to plead, And slavery overthrow ? " Thou art the man!'" the prophet cried; The awe-struck monarch heard ; And while his heart with anguish sighed, Compunction's depths were stirred As clear, as vivid the appeal To freedom's champion given ; And God himself hath set his seal, — The message was from heaven ! 154 THE RELIQUARY. THE GOAL; OR, CLARKSON IN OLD AGE. Near half a century hath flown ; That way-side wanderer now A venerable sage hath grown, With years traced on his brow. More bent in form, more dim of eye, More faltering in his pace ; But time has stamped in dignity, More than it reft of grace. And joy is his, age cannot chill. Memories it need not shun ; The lone enthusiast of Wadesmill His glorious goal hath won ! Not vainly has he watched the ark Wherein his hopes were shrined. Nor vainly fann'd fair freedom's spark In many a kindling mind. THE llELIQUARY. 155 At times, indeed, those hopes might seem Lost in the whehiiing wave ; That spark, a faintly struggling gleam — Quench'd to the hapless slave. Anon the dove with weary wing. Her olive-branch would bear ; A sign to which his hopes might cling In hours of anxious care. The bow of promise has come forth ; It stands as erst it stood. When the old landmarks of the earth Emerged above the flood. And Christian states have own'd His right. Who bade the waves recede. As Freedom's champions, in her might. For Afric rose to plead. Well may the veteran of that band, In life's declining days, Offer, with Hfted heart and hand. Thanksgiving, glory, praise ! L 2 156 THE RELIQUARY. His name, with those of his compeers, Have travelled earth ""s wide round : And grateful hearts and listening ears, Have haiFd their welcome sound. His toils are o'er, his part is done; The captive is set free ; But Europe ! though his goal be won, Much yet devolves on thee. The bondage that made Afric vile Can ne'er be wrapt in night. Until her barren wastes shall smile Beneath the Gospel's light. Till where the scourge created fear, The cross shall waken love. And Afric's children altars rear To Him who reigns above ! THE RELiaUARY. 157 SONNET. ON THE DEATH OF JOHN WILSON SHEPPARD, ESQ. OP ASH HIGH house; LATE HIGH-SHERIFF FOR THE COUNTV OF SUFFOLK. Thou wilt be miss'd and mournM, tho' young in years ! As landlord, neighbour, husband, father, son, Equaird by few, surpassed perchance by none ; And oh ! how much that gladdens and endears Our toilsome passage through this vale of tears Is link'd with names like these for every one ; — Brightly though briefly thy example shone, And memory still its sterling worth reveres. Would there were more like thee ! men taught to prize Not joys in quest of which mere fashion roves ; But household virtues, and domestic loves, And all those fond, familiar, home-born, ties. Dear to the good, and honoured by the wise. Who dwell amid their old ancestral groves ! 1830. 158 THE RELIQUARY. ASH HIGH HOUSE, A SKETCH FROM MEMORY. With much of arfs proud pomp array'd, Adorn'd by nature's gentler grace, I felt in all that I surveyed The magic genius of the place. IVitlmi, the ceiling's ample height, Each panneird and each pictured wall, Or wrapt in shade, or rich in light, Seem''d days departed to recall. Without, it was a varied scene Of strange enchantment, ever new, Here living walls of brightest green, 0''er the broad paths their shadows threw. There, ancient cedars, tow'ring high. Or, widely branching from the ground, And stately beech of purple dye. Silent, and dream-like rose around ! vT THE RELIQUARY. 159 Beneath the willow's quivering shade, Saird the proud swan, reflected clear; While under limes or chestnuts strayed. In scatter d groups, the graceful deer. All these beheld in that rich hue. By sunset lent to aid the vision, Made every walk and avenue Vistas to fairy land Elysian. And many a glory, many a grace. Which then struck admiration dumb, Shall memory faithfully retrace, With fresh delight in days to come. For unto hearts that truly feel. And minds that estimate their worth. Such objects make no brief appeal, But waken thoughts of loftiest birth. Of upstart wealth — the transient might. Has less to charm than to repel; — While these — by old, ancestral right, O'er feeling cast a purer spell. 160 THE RELiaUARY, They speak of home-born virtues old, Once wont to dwell in scenes like this ; Making their halls, seem worth's strong-hold. And rallying-points of household bliss. They tell of days when power and wealth, Were look'd at with no evil eye. Diffusing unto sickness — health, And aid to grief and poverty. Thou ! who from childhood hast upgrown 'Mid haunts by many a tie made dear ; When manhood shall make these thine own. Thy glorious privilege revere ! Be like thy grand-sire in his day, Thy father's virtues emulate. And prove how godlike is the sway Which fortune gives the good, and great ! THE RELIQUARY. 161 HUMAN LIFE. Hast thou mark'd the sunbeam brighten Rocky glen, or common bleak ? Thus can love's soft lustre lighten Thoughts stern brow, care's pallid cheek. Hast thou on the boundless ocean Watch'd far off the tossing bark, Waves beneath in wild commotion And above it clouds as dark ? Let but sunshine light the billow, Brightly gleams its distant sail Like the leaf of some fair willow. Fanned by Summer's gentle gale. Thus affection's smile can gladden Features grave, and even stern. And when gloomy clouds would sadden, Grief itself to raptiu'e turn. 162 THE RELiaUARY. Such is human life's condition, Bleak and stormy sometimes found ; Then, in changeful, quick transition, Sunshine scatters brightness round. None are doom'd to hopeless sorrow If their duty they fulfil, From its good fresh courage borrow. And with patience bear its ill. TO E. H. WRITTEN AT THE SEA-SIDE. I CANNOT tune my humble lyre for thee. Or bind with broken rhyme the " ever-free f Too deep within my heart its beauties live, And nought but silence has my muse to give. For, ocean, who shall sing thee in thy might When in thy robe of terror, storm-bedight ; Thy foaming billows lash with surge the shore, And seamen find a grave beneath thy dread uproar. THE RELiaUARY. 163 What harp of light, by fairy fingers played, Shall sing of thee, in morning light arrayed ? Thy girdle, foam wreaths white ; whose sunny gleams Over thy pearly bosom dart their beams. And who can paint thee in thy stillness beaming. When moonlight over thee is softly gleaming ? Oh earth-born passion ne'er should quench the fire Of hearts who dare thus boldly tune their lyre. Then ask me not, dear friend, to sing to thee Of ocean dread, the untameable, the free ! Turn thee to memory's tablet, thou wilt find. Sweet echoes of its music, there enshrin'd. 164 THE RELIQUARY. THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. In safety through the parted deep Have journeyed Israel's bands ; And now upon the craggy steep Their prophet leader stands. He looks upon the floods below, And hears the stifled hum, Which tells him the pursuing foe In vengeful triumph come. On, on their ocean-path they tread Between the severed waves. That Jacob's sons may back be led, A band of hopeless slaves. Calmly he waits until the last Of Israel reach the shore : — 'Tis done ! the tyrant's hour is past, And mercy pleads no more. THE RELIQUARY. 165 Then Moses lifts his gifted rod, Gifted with power divine, He names the name of Israel's God, And ocean owns the sign. As when by some dread earthquake's shock, A mighty city falls, At once the deep foundations rock, And sink its liquid walls. Back, back, recoils the beetling surge ! And, from their towering height, Their headlong fall the waters urge, Overwhelming Egypt's might. Troops fall on troops, hosts rush on hosts, Beneath each meeting wave, Leaving, for loud and haughty boasts The stillness of the grave. Silent, except the solemn sound Of billows bursting o'er The proud, the mighty, the renown'd In thunder on the shore. 166 THE RELIQUARY. But Israel's thousands, free from harm, Spectators of the sight, Behold with awe God's outstretched arm For their deliverance fight. Themselves, by one triumphant stroke, Rich with their spoilers* spoils, Their galling chains of bondage broke, And clos'd their captive toils. They see the column'd flame that led Their hosts through waters dark, Its glorious light yet deigns to shed Upon their hallowed ark. Around it, camp'd in peace and love. The tribes of Israel lie ; Glory and praise to God above. Who gives the victory ! THE RELIQUARY. Wj GOD SETTETH THE SOLITARY IN FAMILIES' Thy mercies, Lord, of life and love ! Are unto all thy creatures shown ; Thou lookest down from heaven above, E'en from thy star-encircled throne. On those who seem to sit alone : For such, thy mercy, and thy power, Are graciously at times made known, To cheer the solitary hour. Thy presence, in the darkest dearth Of social and domestic ties. Can bid around their silent hearth Feelings and thoughts of joy arise. Whose influence purest peace supphes For these can bear their souls away To forms unseen of mortal eyes, And beings disenthralled from clay, * Psalm Lxviii. 6. 168 THE RELIQUARY. And thou canst link them even here On earth — to many a kindred mind, Which feels, with sympathy sincere, The loneliness to theirs assigned ; Whose spirits like their own have pined With solitude's and sorrow's thrall. Till taught with gratitude to find That thou canst still be all in all. Then glory, thanks, and praise to thee ! Who setf St the solitary still In families — that they may be Thankful adorers of thy will ; To thee who every void canst fill, And so for every loss atone. That aching hearts with grateful thrill Can " love thee for thyself alone!"" THE RELIQUARY. 169 SONNET, TO THE REV. J. J. REYNOLDS, CURATE OF WOODBRIDGB. Dear Friend, and Christian Brother; if thy creed May not on every point agree with mine ; Yet may we worship at one common shrine, While we each feel alike our urgent need Of the same Saviour ; as a broken reed Count all — except his righteousness divine ; And equal honour reverently assign Unto that Spirit, who for both must plead ! Since in these grand essentials we agree, Oh what are modes of worship, forms of prayer, Or outward sacraments ? I would not dare To doubt that such are helpful unto thee ; Nor wilt thou fail in charity for me, Seeking within to know axidfeel them there ! lyO THE RELIQUARY. INVOCATION TO SPRING. Haste ! O, haste ! delightful Spring ! Glad birds thy approach shall sing ; Mounting larks, with matin lays Shall ascend to hymn thy praise ; Countless warblers of the grove, All shall tune their notes of love ; Haste ! O, haste then ! to set free Harmonies which wait for thee. Haste ! O, haste ! delightful Spring ! Over earth thy mantle fling ! Flowers shall ope their blossoms sweet, Thy reviving smile to greet ; Grass shall clothe the lowly mead, Where the lambs shall sport and feed ; Leaves and blossoms on each bough Shall unfold to wreath thy brow. Haste, O, haste! delightful Spring! Winter's storms are on the wing; Gentler breezes round us sigh, Whispering hopes that thou art nigh ; THE RELIQUARY. IJl Milder showers in silence fall ; — Come — O, come tlien at our call, — Come and tinge our brio;ht'nino: skies With thy rich and varied dyes. Haste ! O, liaste ! dehghtful Spring ! To the captive freedom bring ; Torpid insects, buried deep, Wait thy voice to rouse from sleep ; Others, yet unborn, but stay For thy warm, enlivening ray ; Haste ! O, haste, the signal give. At whose summons they shall live. Haste ! O, Haste ! delightful Spring ! Fonder hopes unto thee cling. Glowing feelings, thoughts refined, Stirrings of th' immortal mind. These, at thy reviving breath, Waken as from wintry death ; And see, emblemed in thy bloom. Endless spring beyond the tomb ! M 2 172 • THE RELIQUARY. " But your iniquities have separated between you AND YOUR God, AND YOUR SINS HAVE HID HiS FACE FROM YOU*.' — Isaiah lix. 2. How long, O Lord ! w ilt thou forsake ? How long must I thy absence mourn ? For thine unfailing mercy's sake, Return, my gracious God ! return, And all my doubts and fears control ; Revive my drooping hopes once more, And to my restless, anxious soul Communion sweet with Thee restore. Whence springs this dark distrust of Thee ? Why heaves with sighs my careful breast ? Why am I like the troubled sea When tempest-tost, it cannot rest ? Tis conscious guilt, — my sins arise Like a dark cloud before thy throne ; And veil thee from my weeping eyes. Hiding the little I had known. * These verses are not by either of the writers whcse names are given in the title-page. THE RELIQUARY. 173 Lord ! to thy chastening hand I bend, And own the just correction kind — O ever thus in mercy send Severe rebukes, when I inclined To wander from thy holy way, Forget that 'tis to faith alone, Which humbly seeks it day by day, That thy salvation shall be shown. When once renounced, I vainly thought Self-righteous trust would rise no more ; Nor dreamt I could again be brought Beneath the law I serv'd before. Oh ! to that law let me be dead, And thou, my Saviour, " make me free," That I, releasM from slavish dread, May live by holy faith on thee. Reveal to me that righteousness By thee wrought out for guilty man, Deep on my heart the truths impress Of free salvation's glorious plan. No more let me aifront thy grace, Or dare to mix my works with thine ; But in thy blood each stain efface. And in thy full obedience shine. 174 THE RELiaUARY. TO MY DAUGHTER. IN THE FraST LEAF OF A VOLUME OF " POEiMS. I HOPE not by these pages To bid my humble name Survive to distant ages, Enwreath'd by minstrel fame. That prouder expectation May loftier bards inspire ; A lowlier aspiration Awaits my simple lyre. Enough, if it shall give me. At memory's sweetest shrine, Thoughts, feelings, which outlive me In hearts belovM, like thine. The wreath that crowns a poet May work a transient thrill ; But who would not forego it For something sweeter still. THE RELiaUARY. l?^ Far purer joy is blended With many a look and smile. Than e'er from fame most splendid The bosom can beguile. Oh ! such, at times, have lightened Like sunshine o'er my way. And by their influence brightened Thy father s darkest day. I have no Foes, to set them As beacons in thy sight ; And if I had, " Forget them r Is all that I would write. But well my Friends thou knowest, And blessings rest on thee As gratitude thou showest For kindness shown to me. 176 THE RELIQUARY. TO A FRIEND. There's not a heath, however rude, But has some Uttle flower, To brighten up its solitude, And scent its evening laour. There's not a heart, however cast By care or sorrow down, But has some memory of the past To love, and call its own." May thoughts, like these, my gentle friend. In sorrow's darker hours, Their blessed soothing influence lend To hearts deprest as ours. Full many a flower hath fragrance cast, And brightness round us thrown ; Full many a memory of the past Our hearts can call their own. THE RELIQUARY. 177 Nor were they only meant to bless, The moment of their birth If we, by wiser thankfulness, Can lengthen out their worth. fVho gave them ? Was it not that God Whose goodness and whose power Plants on the bleak heath's mossy sod Its solitary flower ? The memory of bright days gone by, So dear in hours of woe. The hopes that build their home on high Alike to Him we owe. Nor less, though we may mark it not, When cares and griefs oppress, He portions out our present lot With love and tenderness. Then let us lift our hearts to Him, Their only trust and stay. Who, when the eye with tears is dim. Can wipe those tears away. 17^ THE RELIQUARY. So shall the flowers whose beauty shed Such brightness round of yore, Their lingering odours richly shed, Although they bloom no more. And all sweet memories of the past, Give humble faith but scope. Shall prove in moments over-cast A pledge of future hope. THE RELIQUARY. 179 This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven*." He vanished from their stedfast gaze Wrapped in the distant cloud ; Too keen had been his parting rays But for that heavenly shroud. E'en thus, the glorious hues of even, Subdued for mortal sight, Just open vistas into heaven, Then, leave the world in night. In night ! ah no, a lustre mild So pure, so calm, so still. Now softly gleams o'er wood and wild 0''er valley, lake, and hill. Then, Christian, cheer thee ! tho' awhile The shades of night surround ; There is a Light whose healing smile Can brighten all around. • Actsi. 11. 180 THE RELIQUARY. AVhen He, thy Sun, went up on high Bless'd mansions to prepare : A guard He promised, ever nigh ! A guide, to lead thee there ! But brighter still that light shall glow, More piercing far its ray. As the still waves of time shall flow Nearer the perfect day. That perfect day! no night shall shade. That Sun shall set no more : His glorious beams shall never fade, All sorrow shall be o'er! Behold ! the Lord of Life and Light, Stands with his chosen few — A moment — and they trace his flight To regions ever new ! That sinless blood for us was shed, That side for us was riven. For us, the grave restored its dead, For us, He rose to heaven ! THE RELIQUARY. 181 Yet once again that boundless sea, That vast unfathom'd space : Whose centre is the Deity, Whose light his dwelling-place ! Shall ring with heavenly harps of praise. With choral notes sublime; When Jesus comes, his flock to raise, At the dread end of time. Oh, Christian, watch! for clouds are round, Dark is the night, ere dawn appear Oh sleep not! lest the cry astound. Wake, sleeper, wake! Thy God is near! LoNDo>f : John W. Paeker, West Strand. ERRATA. 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