FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY Section / /\0 ^O e<*^< :)(>; ■; 0^> 31 " Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not : for of such is the kingdom of God." St. Mark, x, 14. Is there a Creed, that shuns the folds Of Christ's divine embrace For babes, and innocence withholds From that so blameless space : That bosom, where, when children come, Opens unknown a Heavenly home ? Our little ones we did not keep From solemn font and fane : Eager betimes for them to reap The rich baptismal gain. These fingers traced the Holy cross, While Heaven did earthly love engross. Not dully did mine ears, I trow, List to each word and tone, As sponsors syllabled the vow, God asketh of His own. «J.V SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN That solemn hour I noted well A ray on each young forehead dwell. A ray that spake of better things, Than earthly grace could give : 'Twas wafted here on spirit- wings ; And here its light shall live, Undimixi'd, till, as the world creeps in, The paradise is marr'd by sin. Far be the day when it shall pale On your broad brows, my sons ! And God forbid that shame should veil Your cheeks, my tender ones ! Yirtue and truth may breed a look, Whence Satan ne'er advantage took. I see you pure of heart as yet ! The busy slaves of guile Fail to enclose you in the net Of all that may defile. His little ones in Christ are safe, Howe'er the storm of sin may chafe. -TFFER THE LTTTLE CHILDREN. 33 How will it be when seasons change, And tides of trial beat On natures warm, to all things strange. Beyond their home-retreat. When forth they go : and tempters try If Christ for ave doth sanctify. I may not penetrate the deep, That hides vour fate bevond ! I may not know if ye shall keep In riper years the bond, Which pledged you, at the font, to learn The meed of stedfastness to earn. We can but pray, and hope, and strive In thought, and word, and deed, That while the growing wheat doth thrive Thro' Him who sowed the seed, Our handiwork a fence may raise To keep from harm their after-days. To shape our Esther's sprightly form, Light heart, and laughing mien, In suchwise that nor sun nor storm From God her trust may wean. But evenness of mind employ Due times of soberness and joy. D 34 SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN. Forbid it, Lord, that we should check Her present reckless glee, Or curb the sunny locks that fleck Her cheeks so fresh to see. Time teaches — We will work with time, And win her heart to truth sublime. Yes, we will tell her how of old An Esther gently bore A change of fortune : not more bold In greatness than before. Praise and the world o'ercame her not. God and his Church she ne'er forgot. And, little Mary, thou shalt know, And learn, by pattern high, The better part to seek below : Thy long-lashed pensive eye Bespeaks a calm unruffled way, From Jesus' feet averse to strav. Mv sons ! Oh thev should stand erect Above all lying arts, Whose open brows should well reflect Their honest manly hearts ; Yet ever in the sight of God, Bend deep and lowly to the sod. SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN. 35 Still may they cling, as now, in youth, To that dear fount of love, Where after God, the well of truth Simplicity may prove, Their mother's bosom, there to meet True guidance for their boyish feet. Scarce see we with our selfish eyes, Who range a wider field, How to their fond work mothers rise, And truth-stores are reveal'd To meet their needs, and duly teach Such sermons as but mothers preach. My sturdy James, my infant Hugh, Along life's onward road Be ever to this instinct true, And here your hearts unload. Shall ever weight or grief oppress, Unsooth'd by mother's tenderness ? Dreamy and vague the hopes I raise, Yet haply hopes, and sighs, And prayers for their early days, May draw round those we prize From year to year a closer tie "With Him who bade the child draw nio-h. 34 SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN. Forbid it, Lord, that we should check Her present reckless glee, Or curb the sunny locks that fleck Her cheeks so fresh to see. Time teaches — We will work with time, And win her heart to truth sublime. Yes, we will tell her how of old An Esther gently bore A change of fortune : not more bold In greatness than before. Praise and the world o'ercame her not. God and his Church she ne'er forgot. And, little Mary, thou shalt know, And learn, by pattern high, The better part to seek below : Thy long-lashed pensive eye Bespeaks a calm unruffled way, From Jesus' feet averse to stray. Mv sons ! Oh they should stand erect Above all lying arts, Whose open brows should well reflect Their honest manly hearts ; Yet ever in the sight of God, Bend deep and lowly to the sod. SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN. 35 Still may they cling, as now, in youth, To that dear fount of love, Where after God, the well of truth Simplicity may prove, Their mother's bosom, there to meet True guidance for their boyish feet. Scarce see we with our selfish eyes, Who range a wider field, How to their fond work mothers rise, And truth-stores are reveal'd To meet their needs, and duly teach Such sermons as but mothers preach. My sturdy James, my infant Hugh, Along life's onward road Be ever to this instinct true, And here your hearts unload. Shall ever weight or grief oppress, I nsooth'd by mother's tenderness ? Dreamy and vague the hopes I raise, Yet haply hopes, and sighs, And prayers for their early days, May draw round those we prize From year to year a closer tie With Him who bade the child draw nioh. 36 SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN. He will not fail them ! We mav cease By weakness, absence, death, To watch their real wealth increase, To nurse the spirit's breath. But, He who suffer'd, suffers still The child in heart His arms to fill. To Him we trust them. May they trust Their thoughts and ways to Him ! Then, when we mingle with the dust, And e'en their eyes grow dim : Their age shall joy, while sires to son, True service of their God pass on. ^mms 37 THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. Swiftly but silently did the boats fall down upon the tide, unobserved by the enemy's sentinels, who were, or should have been, at their post3 along the shore. Of the soldiers on board, how eagerly must every eye have contemplated the dark outline, it lay pencilled upon the midnight sky ; and as every moment it grew closer and clearer, of the hostile heights. Not a word was spoken — not a sound was heard beyond the rippling of the -tream. Wolfe alone, the tradition has told us, repeated in a low voice to the other officers in his boat, those beautiful stanzas with which a country churchyard inspired the muse of Gray. One noble line — ( The paths of glory lead but to the grave ' — mu>t have seemed at such a moment fraught with mournful meaning. At the close of the recitation Wolfe added, ' Now, gentlemen, 1 had rather be the author of that poem than take Quebec' " — L ■ > d Mahoiis History of England ', Vol. IV, p. 163. Oh ! high is his meed, when the victor gains The glory of hard-won battle plains : When the rich and the poor of his fatherland Are one in the welcome of heart and hand : And his after-life flows with a favoring breath Through a bright summer day to an honour'd death, 38 THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. II. And who would in spiritless ease decline The post of the brave in the mail-clad line ; Lest haply he fall, as his fathers fell, Bearing the brunt of the battle well ? Or lightly would reckon, by land or sea, A death in the moment of victory ? in. Can a soaring spirit have nobler spur Than the hopes in the warrior heart astir ? With a stedfast eye to the heights of fame, Whereon he may plant him a glorious name. Can he climb to the summit a nobler way ? Oh ! can there be nobler ? There can. There may. IV. For what is the hero, by bards unsung ? Tho' his deeds never die, when the lyre is strung. How speedily withers the victors bay With its leaves unfreshened by poet's lay. But the gathering sereness is past and fled, If poesy whispers him life, when dead. THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. 39 V. What lack had the glory of Philip's son, But a Homer to sing of the fields he won ? Go, tell not of fame that a match defies, Yet on others, and not on itself relies. Nay, rather let his be the chiefest crown, Who hath power to win, and record renown ! VI. A ballad may sharpen the sword's dull edge, And the lyre of prowess be surest pledge. 'Twas the keen word-steel of Aphidnse's bard, That dazzled and slew the Messenian guard. For in song-stirr'd vigour the Spartan pressed, Till he chased the foe to his mountain nest. VII. Yet better it were that the minstrel's fire Should kindle to love than to vengeful ire : If he feeleth within him the wond'rous power To waken the brave in the needful hour. But in peace or in war can his fame be less Than the leader of armies, whom kin^s caress ? 40 THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. VIII. Oh no ! it is writ in the fervent heart That a poet is born to the noblest part. Where his hopes scarce venture, his spell extends, Earth's mightiest hero before him bends : And the brave ere now, on the eve of fame, Have sighed for the laurels that song doth claim. IX. Ay ! see ye the boats that in silence glide Down that new-world river's unguarded tide : Lo, there is a leader, intent to win Yon heights, that are teeming with foes within : And his chosen are hush'd, and the oar-plash check,. Tn the dim midnight, as they near Quebec. x. Where the officers group in the foremost boat, Hark ! low measured sounds thro' the night air float. Is it Wolfe, soft-breathing his hopes to rise, Or his thirst for glory the night wind sighs? Doth he dwell on the deeds which shall vet bestow An evergreen crown, tho' he sleep below ? THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. 11 XI. Not such is the whisper of men that thirst In daring and danger to rank the first. Unbroken and even its cadence falls. Such is not the speech that for ardour calls. But a sobering influence sheds its balm, Where the morrow shall usher nor peace, nor calm . XII. Or is it the chieftain had learn'd to weave Such lays as the tranquil of heart conceive ? And that now, as the night on his senses steals, >\veet rest to the fever of war he feels : As he tarries awhile on the early vein : And sings of his home and its haunts again. XIII. Oh ! never before in so strange an hour Came tribute so rare to the minstrel's power. x\s when hailing the prospect of conquest near Wolfe clung not to dreams to the warrior dear. But in stillness so awful could backward roam In thought to the lays of his English home. 42 THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. XIV. For that spirit so daring yet soft of mould Was afar, mid the pleasures it loved of old. And threading in fancy its boyhood's way, Met a scene that had kindled the muse of Gray : And its voice found issue, composed and free, In the strains of his churchyard elegy. xv. Each stanza rolled forth in a soft sweet tone, And the fate- winged moments had onward flown When ceasing he noticed the gaze intent, The group on their spirit -stirred chief had bent ; And said, " It were fairer my name to deck " With the fame of that poem, than take Quebec. XVI. " The valour of thousands yon heights might scale. " And subtlety vanquish, or strength prevail. " And a trophy be raised on fields of gore, " But oh ! higher and harder the aim to soar, " To the temple of song, and to reach emprize " By the ladder of tenderest sympathies. ,! THE WARRIOR AND THE POET. 43 XVII. He spake. And the gleam of the morning's sun Scarce paled from the hills, ere his course was run. He fell in his glory — his task atchieved — His country had triumph'd : his country grieved. But Poets will treasure his midnight word, That the glory of verse doth eclipse the sword. 44 LUDLOW CASTLE. AN ELEGY. I. Nought save the wild wind breathes along thy towers, Thou fair wan fortress of " the people's hill ! ' E'en if one ghost-knight flits from hall to bowers. Dead are the pulses of once-giant will. ii. Yet didst thou boast thy giant hearts of yore, Giant in daring deed, in minstrel song : To clothe the war-field with the foeman's gore, Or wake sweet sounds thy stately courts among. ii. Lude-low, in purer Saxon Leode-hloew, signifies the " hill of the people." — WrigkCs History of Ludlow, p. 13. LUDLOW CASTLE. III. Those sounds arc mute : those fields are grassy-green ! Those roofless chambers are the owl's domain ! Life shuns the tomb of glories, that have been, Where crumbling piles of blighted hopes complain. IV. All, all are hush'd — Impassive in their place The wrack of age thy mocking fronts abide ! An empty thing of stone ! a heartless face, Like some bright soul of beauty — petrified. v. But many an age life re veil' d on thy steep : Yon brow of towers, that tips the broad town's eye, Hose ever frowning, watch and ward to keep, And Cymry's legions undismay'd defy. VI. Not yet hath song those elder days forgot ! Afield beside the smoothly gliding Teme, Wrapt as I view the memory-haunted spot, T catch each feature of the changeful theme. 46 LUDLOW CASTLE. VII. Of border wars, of sieges writ in blood, 'Mid ample space, my Muse refrains to tell. Efface the record grim, thou tranquil flood, Of old empurpled as the hero fell. VIII. A winsome vision beckons with a smile To calmer thoughts than battle dins recall : (xladlv I track — one hour of ease to while— One peaceful fancy, blent with yonder wall. IX. Yes, for on woodland knoll, by Whitecliff 's heights. Alike on turret, as by river sides, A brighter halo bay-crown'd temples lights, And round a bard in radiant lustre bides. This is thy glory, Ludlow ! who shall trace With bold idea paths that Milton trod ? Who guess, where erst that form of wond'rous grace Reclining haply bless 'd the unconscious sod ? U'DLOW CASTLE. 47 XI. Hush ! as I rove upon these dreams intent, And o'er the stream bank gaze on Burway meads, Light falls my step, lest I perchance prevent Some song he weaveth to the vocal reeds. XII. For poets die not ! — Haunted by thy shade, Thou bard of Comus, let me deem the scene, AY here Nature vies with works, that man hath made, Yet each are debtors to thy might serene. XIII. Yet wooing echo in thy choral song, Yet moulding noble youths, and sister pure, Dost thou not joy those triumphs to prolong, To tell of which von courts erect endure ? xiii. The "Mask of Comus" was first presented in the ban- queting hall of Ludlow Castle, a.d. 1634, before John, Earl of Bridgewater, then president of YVales. John Milton and Henry Lawes (a celebrated musician, who was retained in Ludlow Castle) were intimate friends. 48 LUDLOW CASTLE. XIV. Thou that didst paint vice hideous, virtue bright, Above all other limners, linger here ! And let thine heaven-born genius guide aright An earthly rhymer, where thou once wast dear. xv. Poor though the rhyme he builds, yet doubly blest Some passages at least his life hath found, Once while it halted, where thy footsteps press'd The groves of Christ's : now on this hallow'd ground. XVI. Thee, in the song of boyhood proud to hymn, Thee did he later woo in cloister'd cell ! Here, where so early grew his mind and limb, Here, hath he come in age mature to dwell. xv, xvi. The author of these Poems commenced his edu- cation in the Grammar School of Ludlow, in which he is now head-master. He began his university course at Christ's College, Cambridge, where Milton's rooms and mulberry tree are still shown. LUDLOW CASTLE. 49 XVII. Like thee (how far beneath thee !) he would blend The teacher with the poet : train the young In wiser saws, than should with bovhood end, Sweet with the honey of a poet's tongue. XVIII. Oh ! might he, courting oft the tuneful Muse, Amid these scenes bard-haunted, bard-beloved, Seek their high converse, seek and not misuse, In humbler strains, 'mid humbler strains approved. XIX. Thrice glad, if future lays were worthy fee For Ludlow's early nursing : glad to close The poem of a lifetime nearest thee, Thou pile, 'neath which his youngest day-dreams rose. <§^%£® E 50 SONNET ON HEAKING OE THE APPOINTMENT OP THE EEY. JOHN ARMSTRONG, Vicar of Tidenham, Gloucestershire, TO £Jje SStsfjoprtc of ^rafjam's &obm, itotttf} Africa, God send thee well, true champion of the Cross ! Go forth upon thine errand, nobler now, Not in thine aim, but in thy mitred brow, Than when those dales (that best may speak the loss The gain of Afric, and the waves that toss A precious freight, bring to them :) learned how Thou didst fulfd thine ordination vow, While love for men did all thy days engross. Go forth ! true worker ! in the strength of love To higher service : and, as thou hast been Foremost to lift the weak, the strong: to move To deeds of mercy here, may'st thou be seen Kindling afar the hope that points above, By charity unfeign'd and faith serene ! 51 INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. Seven or eight years ago, a monk, remarkable only for holy life, saw a vision. The form of our crucified Redeemer was presented to him in superhuman beauty and marvellous dis- tinctness. A voice bade him impress this form indelibly on his memory, for that he was destined to work out a representation of it for the good of his own soul, and the edification of others. When he awoke he set himself in faith to work at a model, though lie had neither artistic knowledge nor skill to help him. He was aided from time to time by the reappearance of the vision, in the same form and beauty, till at length, after two years, the model was finished, and executed in ivory. It was brought by some Americans to England from Italy for sale, and is said to be of the finest description, and equal in point of correctness of anatomical detail, to anything of M. Angelo or Benvenuto Cellini. Those who would gather more informa- tion on the subject are referred to " Lectures on the Principles of Imitative Art," delivered to the University of Oxford, by G. Butler, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter. I. Father, never mortal art Wrought those eyes, that fondly dart From the Christ, thou claspest there, Glances of unspoken care. 54 INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED X. What were cunning arts to me, Blest in holy privacy ? What, if when my years were told, I my Saviour might behold ? XI. Days and years the closer drew Holy thoughts and things to view. Meditation, praise and pray'r, Left the world but little share. XII. Never heart had been so blest In a contemplative rest. For in single hope and aim, Changes found my life the same. XIII. Once, as undistinguish'd day Yielded to his sister's swav, As I mused, resistless sleep Seemed my watching eyes to steep ; INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. 55 XIV. Yet no darkness round me clung, Though the face of night was young. Glistering above the gloom Floods of radiance bathed my room. xv. From that sea of perfect light Kose to mine astonished sight, Not as men his likeness gloss, Christ Himself upon His cross. XVI. Palsied awe, and wistful love Mightily within me strove : Till, lest that rich sight should pale, Yearning bade my love prevail. XVII. Tranced gazing rendered clear Pallid mien, and anguish drear Yet, above our faith to guess, Beauty clothing heaviness. 56 INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. XVIII. Beauty, born of love sublime, Strong in sorrow's darkest time, Graceful in the clutch of death, Fled not thence with parting breath. XIX. There it rested on that brow, Sweetly calm in pain, as now. Mouth and lips alone bespoke Pangs the ruthless nails awoke. xx. AH beside was sorrow deep For the blinded souls that keep Now, as then, their plight to sin ; Vassals to their prince akin ! XXI. Golden eloquence were vain, Though, my sons, my heart is fain To express the loving grace Gather'd in that woeful face. INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. 0/ XXII. Sudden on my senses fell Accents I have treasured well. Oh, that human love could teach ^Yith as mighty charm of speech ! XXIII. " Gaze," it said, " and note, and scan " This, thy Lord, the Son of man ! " Thus my passion mark'd my frame : " Thou must liken Me the same. XXIV. " Marvel not, thv name is known " At the feet of Heaven's throne. " Upward sped on spirit wings, " Thee it marks for greater things. XXV. " Shrink not, though My words assign " Task so high to hands like thine, " Take thy fill and write thy part " On the tablets of thine heart. 58 INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED, XXVI. " Persevere ! and I will be " Hand and graving-tool to thee! " Ever, if thy memory fear, " To refresh it, I am near." XXVII. Pass'd the vision. 'Twas no dream, Imaging my daily theme. Morning found its traces scroll'd Heart-deep, real, clear, and bold. XXVIII. Strange as ye may deem the word, To the bidding of my Lord, All unapt tho' I might be, I did gird me fearlessly. XXIX. Those, whose science is to scan Closely all the frame of man, By symmetric figure please Deftlv : — I was none of these. INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. 59 XXX. Yet I felt how high the trust Offer 'd to a child of dust. Feebleness before me fled : Could I doubt when God had said? XXXI. Toil and watching, care and zeal, These, methought, might set the seal, When 'twas finished, — on success, Such as He, who gave, would bless. XXXII. So I bent me to my task, Sure of aid, if I should ask : Long and thrice-laborious days Blended progress with delays. XXXIII. Ever, if remembrance fail'd, Ambassage from Heaven I hail'd. As I strove, and wrought, and sigh'u What I lacked, He supplied. 60 INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED XXXTV. Then what joy across me stole, When a promise of the whole, Nearer now in sweet surprise, Dawned upon these longing eyes. XXXV. Touches I might deem inspired Gave at last what I desired : Till perfection's self it stood ; God within me whisper'd " good. 5 5 XXXVI. Ye have swell'd the witness band, Which would learn the master hand, Gave so rare an image birth, ModelPd from no form of earth. XXXVII. Mine the hand ; The glory His That shall be, and was, and is ! I was nought but heedful slave, Welcoming the light He gave : INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. 61 XXXVIII. Well content such task should fill Thoughts, ambition, purpose, will : Cent'ring on this master aim, Every stake for after- fame. XXXIX. Fame, that Angel hosts would bless, If its owner lived t' express, Christ's atoning sacrifice, As He bade, to mortal eyes. XL. Children, would ye learn of me, Singly aim, and constantly. Cumber not your spirit's soil With a vain and shifting toil. XLI. Foremost let the Son of God Win you to the paths He trod. Patient waiting servants find Each his proper work assign'd. 62 INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED. XLII. Learn it : Do it : with your might ! None that strive, will vigils slight. And, as ye would best ensure End and prize of faith, be pure ! XLIII. Swept and garnish'd hearts aspire ! Patience tends the spirit's fire. Concentration points its blaze To the heights of singlest praise. XLIV. Onward strive in faith awhile : Christ shall light you with His smile. Yours shall be the approval given, Those who win the prize of Heaven. <^mw»& 63 ON A SEPIA DRAWING OF REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY, WHERE I FINISHED MY SCHOOL-DAYS. I. Not only for the days ye bring In gay and fleet review : And boyish forms, that lightly spring On fancy's gaze anew : Not for the tales, that arch could tell Of hearts, that early learn 'd to swell With joy to cross the Rubicon Between them and the prize they sought, All reckless of the penance, brought By hopes that led them on. 64 REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY. II. Not for the spire that spake not then So clearly to our hearts The " sursum cor da " which as men Must tone our after parts. I may not say its symmetry Spake much of heavenly things to me ; Tho' then, on many a summer eve, I built my air-capt towers as high, And gazing on the cloudless sky Would soaring schemes conceive. in. Not for the sparkling depths we proved, The mine that endless seem'd, When under guidance, better lov'd Than wilful fancy deem'd, In yonder school on lips we hung, That forth such varied treasures flung Of new and old ; of poet-lore, Of anecdote and sober prose, That from our master's feet we rose With ever growing store. REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY. 65 IV. Nor yet, in peopling yonder space, As I beheld it trod, To follow playmates on the race : How some have met their God, From future struggles call'd away : How some are blythe of heart to-day, Blest with the same deserved success, As when our rivalry began, And eager boy but typed the man, Emerging from the press. v. No, not for these remembrancers Of mimic school-bov life, To which the memorv oft recurs In later storm or strife : Tho' never doth the world unteach, Or worldlv wisdom's craft out -reach, The truths of human nature shown To minsrlers in that busv swarm, Or later joys dispel the charm Youth claimeth for her own. F 66 REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY. VI. For memories twined with that mute art, The pencil's wondrous skill, Which bids the scenes we cherish'd, start Fresh to our eyes at will : It is for these my grateful Muse Chiefly its smouldering fires renews ; Perhaps the quicken 'd light may shine On her, whose tasteful hand atchieved The gift her kindly heart conceived Would reach the nearest mine. VII. She knew from constant nearness then, That all the tempting change From school to ways and haunts of men Would ne'er my love estrange From that my life's first battle-field — She knew — and, woman-like, would yield Her aid to re-create the past : To foster aims design' d to keep My footsteps to the scarce tried steep I hoped to mount at last. REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY. 67 VIII. Between us rolls a stream of vears, Our once convergent ways Each to a wider distance veers, Than deem'd those sunny days When it was sweet abroad, at home To cull from some poetic tome Wreaths for the maiden painter's taste. Say, doth she need this tell-tale rhyme, To witness that nor rust nor time Hath that first-gift displaced. IX. Oh, if remembrance mirrors true The scenes of long ago To other hearts — a fitful hue Of light and joy will glow, (Methinks, to her awaken'd thought,) On one small room, wherein she wrought, What, time, as happy days sped on, My fancy recked not they could pass ; Or twelve years thence thro' memory's glass Grope for the past and gone. <-)* REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY. X. I mind it well. Two maidens bend O'er self-elected tasks, While tints and colours finish lend, As taste their presence asks. A seeming failure gathers now, A tear-cloud on one earnest brow — The other cheeringly suggests How what was failure may be gain : My sister summons heart again, Which all her work invests. XI. A thousand words, and thoughts, and tones, With those attempts return — Both works atchieved my study owns : Prom each at times I learn How fate doth earthly visions bar : Of those kind painters one is far, Tho* hope had fixed her ever near ; The other is not. There abide But these mementos, side by side, Of forms and seasons dear. REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY. 69 XII. Yet, it may be, my gratitude For what recalls the past, May on her distant gaze obtrude, If, o'er these pages cast, It light on words which she can read, And to their truth and scope give heed, As from her backward-stealing eyes Warm gleams of ancient kindness look Acceptance of my venturous book, And these vague memories. XIII. For vague they are — and better so, Than if my muse should fill The shades and lights, that all might know, How some must rank her stilL And better, if this outline prove How impotent is time to move, Howe'er oblivion-dipped his wings, Long cherish'd tokens from the sight : Or newer groups to chase in flight Youth's early gatherings. 70 THE TEACHING OP THE SNOWDROP. U To-day the grave is bright for me." Tennyson* s In Memoriam. Oh \ guard in safest keeping, Thou waving beechen shade, The spot, where gently sleeping, Our sister's form is laid : Till as the waning earth grows dull, Untrod by mortal feet, Awaking from the wondrous lull, Man with his Judge shall meet. E'en thus I saw you leafless, With branching arms outspread, When hopeful, yet not griefless, We buried there our dead : We gave a sister's earthly part In kindred dust to lie Beneath vour shade : a faithful heart To wait eternity. THE TEACHING OF THE SNOWDROP. 71 Like you, to Heaven upsoaring, In hope she rais'd her head ; And, her meek Lord adoring, Her own meek spirit fled. But ne'er to God, in selfish love, Did her fond thoughts ascend : She ever strove to point above The hopes of each dear friend. For, as the scene was closing, And life was ebbing fast, Unmixt with pain or dozing, Few tranquil moments past ; Yet found she time to speak her will, And this last boon to crave : " Oh ! if it may be, let me fill " Some plain and lowly grave. " I know my Saviour liveth ! — " I too shall rise again : " New life the same Lord giveth, " Who gave and blest my pain. " Then dot my grave with snowdrops o'er ; " Perchance I thus mav tell " To others, when myself no more, "The truth I mark so well. 72 THE TEACHING OF THE SNOWDROP. " These snow-white flowers remind me " Of saintly righteousness ! " Oh ! that my Lord may find me " Meet for so pure a dress. " These, peeping from the wintry ground, " Bespeak the Saints' new spring : " Their golden rings the glory crown'd, " Their sweet rest entering. " In all and each a token " Of life past death I see ! " Those inner streaks have spoken " Of noblest prize to me. " They tell me of the palms in hand, " Which cleansed spirits bear : " When at th' Eternal throne they stand, " And praise succeeds to prayer." She spoke : her words were graven On hearts, which loved her best : She now hath reach' d the haven, We trust, of holy rest. But, being dead, she yet doth speak : Her earnest voice and eye, The spirit strong in frame so weak To us still testify. THE TEACHING OF THE SNOWDROP. 73 A loved and loving brother This simple lay doth weave : Meet present to the mother, Thy death did most bereave. He was not there to see thine end : He could not close thine eyes : But where his footsteps might not tend, His yearning spirit flies. A dying sister listens ! His written thoughts are read ! Awhile her dim eye glistens, Perchance a tear is shed. She passes from her friends away, In calm unbreathing sleep, So stilly, that life's parting ray Forewarns them not to weep. mm^p 74 PALM SUNDAY IN DEAN FOKEST. {First published in the Churchman's Magazine, March, 1853.) 'Tis even ! and the setting sun His leave of earth hath ta'en, When garland bearers, one by one, Peer forth from dell and lane : How earnest must the errand be, Their footsteps onward bear ! Is it some gay festivity ? Some village wake or fair ? Nay ! deem not theirs a selfish joy ! They seek no private ends : These spring-tide chaplets they employ In love for absent friends. PALM SUNDAY IN DEAN FOREST. 75 Soon will they gather round each spot, Where child or kinsman lies, Proud to enrich the garden plot Of fondest memories. Yon churchyard will their gifts receive, No weeping throng to-night ! Sweeter than halm to hearts that grieve, These graves with flowers bedight ! And sure they speak the living truth ; — Our simple forest deems, That, with men's death, in age or youth, It is not as it seems. Thev cannot think the barrier wide, That parts the quick and dead : Or hold to aught but sight denied. The spirit which hath fled. They love the thought, that those are near, Whose lives with theirs were twined : And court th' approach of spirits clear, In every rustling wind. 76 PALM SUNDAY IN DEAN FOREST. Oh ! 'tis no city -cherished faith, But Nature's simple child ; Such as nor fiery zeal hath scath'd, Nor fancy hath beguiled. Amidst our trees, and nooks, and dells, The heart untutored grows ; Not trained in truth, where organ swells, But where the hoarse wind blows. Not wide their range I yet plenteous light Flows streaming from above ; And bursts the shadowy clouds of night, Inspiring holiest love. Love to the Lord, and love to men, Thrive ofttimes kindly here ; As flowers scarce known to worldly ken, Yet bright and never sere. Still keep your custom, foresters ; Still deck your graves anew ! Still, as Palm Sunday morn recurs, Bright be the churchyard's hue ! PALM SUNDAY IN DEAN FOREST. 77 Such simple acts shall tend to free Your hearts from earthly pride ; And raise you to their company, Who with their Lord abide. Simplicity and pureness twine In one unfading wreath : So when your bodies ye resign, To feed the worm beneath — So tho 5 the grave your forms immure, Aloft your souls shall fly ! — Ye shall not die ! your life shall dure Eternally on high. 78 ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF SYDNEY. The late Dr. Broughton, Metropolitan Bishop of Australasia, was educated at the King's School, Canterbury. One of his schoolfellows, Sir Gr. G ipps, late Grovernor of Australia, was his friend through life. The Bishop died early in the year 1853, on the occasion of his first return to England after his consecration. His remains lie in the Cathedral Church of Canterbury, beside those of his friend, and within a slight distance from the scene of his early education. — The following stanzas appeared in the € Churchman's Magazine,' in April, 1853. The simple-hearted yearn for youthful scenes, E'en when the mind is worn, the head grown gray, No charm of spot so potent intervenes, As e'er to dim the light of boyhood's day. The priest who bears the Christian banner forth, To plant it in new climes, on Austral plains, His orders, rule, his doctrine, and the worth Of all his works, from home-tradition gains. DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF SYDNEY. 79 Hence, with no treason to his holy call, When dutv draws him back to father-land, How calm his joy ! how sweet the tears that fall, As he surveys the memory-haunted strand ! So too did he, on whom was laid the care Of all Australia's churches, cross the main ; And, to their weal devoted homeward fare, Well pleased to view familiar haunts again. That two-fold mother won him to her breast, Who nursed him first, and then his mission gave ; That holy fane his boyish footsteps press'd ; That solemn spot, " which must not be his grave. ?: So deem'd the pilgrim bishop ; he must wend, Ere long, to shores where God had fixed his lot : A little space — and soon each early friend That saw him first, again shall see him not. Soft ! while he lingers, where his world began, Cheer'd by remembrance, young of heart once more, There comes between a Will o'er-ruling man, Its perfect dictates 'stablished long before. 80 DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF SYDNEY. Hand to the plough, and heart on work intent, His God descrying would not further prove ; Then to his servant swift-wing' d herald sent, To quit no more the country of his love. Death was that herald ! In thy holy shade, Thou chief cathedral of his native isle, Beside the cloisters, where his boyhood played, Beside his friend, doth Sydney sleep awhile. God loved to grant him, what he would not ask, ("For 'twas not his to tempt Thy will, God !) Thy message found him girt for further task — It left him girt by no unfriendly sod. There by his grave — from home, and far away, Bent aged bishops, knelt the surplic'd priest : Soon shall his escort be a bright array, Compar'd with which, yon band is less than least. Soon shall the angel host, with glad " well done," The Christian standard-bearer welcome home ; Yield him the praise of labours bravely won ; Admiring, hail him to the joys to come. 81 LINES ON KINGTON CHURCHYARD. " Attractive as home is, there is one other place that is stil nearer the human heart, and that is the churchyard which holds our friends. A mother's grave is the Mecca that our memory ever kneels to, be our pilgrimage where it may." I stood beside those dear old trees, And calmly wooed the western breeze That up the valley sung : The path I trod was holy ground : On each green turf, each verdant mound, Some precious memory hung. 'Twas solemn, yet not sad, I ween, That churchyard walk, that sylvan scene Of days when we were young. Strange that to us the place of death Is where we drew our earliest breath G 82 KINGTON CHURCHYARD. In childhood's joyous spring : Strange that our boyish rendezvous Was where, around yon darksome yew, Tall tombs lie clustering. No superstition marr'd our walk : No ghost behind our steps did stalk, To our imagining. Methinks it was but yesterday, Tho' years and years have pass'd away, When my young heart did dream, E'en here, of olden power and might, Of Barons bold and ladies bright, And many a courtly theme, Which yon fair prospect yet might raise Alas ! the buoyant fancy strays Into the worldly stream. For down the vale old Hergest's pile,* In ruin fair, would oft beguile * Hergest Court was built a.d. 1430, for Thomas ap Kosser, second son of Sir Koger Yaughan, of Bredwardine, and his wife Glwadus, daughter of Sir David Gram. KINGTON CHURCHYARD. 83 My roving brain. 'Twas dear To muse on Nature's lovely guise ; To scan with ever fresh surprise Her glories far and near ; They never tired ; I never knew A choicer spot from which to view Wood, dale, or mountains clear. Was there a hand that strangely led The living thus to seek the dead ; That made me joy to stand, A thoughtless lad, ah me ! at best, Where kindred in their deep dark rest Await the last command : That bade me court the shade, and cling As round some old familiar thing ? Faith says there was a hand. I see it now — one act is o'er : Chat churchyard charms not as before, No outer prospects come To cheat it of its inward grace ; No footlength of that hallow'd space But speaks to me of home. New ties endear mine old retreat, And manhood finds it passing sweet, Amid von graves to roam. 84 KINGTON CHURCHYARD. My sister ! is thy spirit nigh ? Doth not thine olden sympathy, Now washed of earth's alloy, Still cling to him, whose eye doth turn. To gain from thy sepulchral urn, The secret of his joy In themes like this — whose nray'r ascends That he may meet, as saints, the friends He cherish 'd from a boy. Thine ashes lie beneath the sod, Which, at the call to meet our God, Shall yield not thine alone, But many an elder kindred form : God knoweth if, where life is warm As yet round thew and bone, Our bodies, who survive thy death, The same scant breadth of earth beneath, On the same terms, shall own. It should not be ! yet when I raise These fabrics to my mental gaze, Old Barzillai's prayer * Comes wafted as by chance, unsought, With its calm choice and tranquil thought, * Sam. xix, 37, KINGTON CHURCHYARD. 85 Its wish so simply fair ; ** I pray thee let me turn again, " That where my parents long have lain, " I may be buried there. " Where I was nurtur'd let me die : " In mine own city close mine eye : " An old man's hopes and fears " Have fettered choice, have marr'd my taste, " Why should thy servant vainly haste " To drink, with straining ears, " The youthful voice of minstrel song ? — u Thy servant seeks not to prolong " The weight of fourscore years." The good old man had rightly deem'd, Yet errs my heart if e'er it dream'd My bones could fitly lie, In death, afar from yonder fold, Where God hath will'd that I should hold The pastor's staff, and cry Repent, and turn ye, while 'tis day ; Should gather in the lambs that stray, And all their needs supply. 86 KINGTON CHURCHYARD. Yea ! where mine earthly labours cease, 'Tis meet that I should rest in peace ; And that my humble tomb Should speak of one, who knew his sin, Yet hoped in Christ, and strove to win Dark steps to light from gloom. Why should I wish it otherwise ? Where shall I leave my closer ties ? For love where wider room ? What recks it where my bones are dust, If at the rising of the just I share the glad " well done ; ' With faithful servants now asleep — If I the wished -for harvest reap, With those before me gone ? What matter tho 5 our graves should be As far apart as sea from sea, If then we join as one ? To this my solemn thoughts aspire, Tho' fancy wins my weak desire To dream of common earth : Be this our union : to be borne To one blest home, upon the morn KINGTON CHURCHYARD. 87 Of everlasting birth. — Nerve me and mine, God, to strain For prize so fair, so rich to gain, Of such transcendant worth. Yet outward things may fix our love, The heart may soar to Heaven above, With seldom drooping wings ; If we but seek more oft the power To fly from earth, which one brief hour Of churchyard musing brings. Oh ! may I find, if spared to age, Sweet solace to my pilgrimage, By such calm wanderings. By me at least congenial found, This lay hath reach' d its utmost bound, Its highest end be this, That years to come, my darling child May love the lines that erst beguiled Her father's cares, nor miss That churchyard's charm ; to him so dear, That it must bid the rising tear Be partner of his bliss. 88 KINGTON CHURCHYARD. Yes ! she will love them — One kind guide, Who loves my lay, and joys to glide, Where'er my footsteps stroll, Will teach our child both lay and spot, (And when are mother's words forgot ?) — So shall that church-crowned knoll Become to her, as 'tis to me, A secret, simple agency, To wake and cleanse the souk 89 GREENWOOD MEMORIES. Lights and shades of changeful wood, Mile on mile, and rood on rood ; When I miss the fresh and true, How my Spirit yearns to you ! Forest paths, I loved to track, To my mind's eye welcome back : Threaded oft in bygone days ; Nurses of my love and lays. For ye fenced my wedded home : Twain we loved thro' you to roam : Day-dreams in your company Gathered form and strength with me. 90 GREENWOOD MEMORIES, Yet ye could not wholly scare With your freshness hateful care : Children told, we must not dream, Latticed from the broad Sun's beam. We must quit our leafy shade For the garish world's parade : Face nor fear the heat of life, Take which came, its joy or strife. Forth we sped : and God hath given Much for which our hopes had striven Yet, methinks, those days are o'er ; Forest days return no more^ Is it that, whene'er we muse On the past, we fondly lose All that in it gave us pain, And the joys alone retain ? Nay, we had our sorrows there : Green and sere were both our share : But the friendships there, I ween, They, oh they were evergreen. GREENWOOD MEMORIES. 91 There, should sorrow's eloud arise, All were quick to sympathize — Quick, in joy's unclouded sky, Kindred joy to testify. Thev ne'er changed — The seasons came — Pass'd : — but these were aye the same. Like the woods, whose beauty shews Fair in sunshine, fair in snows. Glorious is the forest scene, When it looks one sea of green : Glorious still its leafless sight, When the turf is wintry white. There is charm in this for me ! Emblem of our friends I see : Friends, whose truth, tho' time speeds on, Still will bear to look upon. Gather round me, kindly souls, Whom my chart of debt enrolls ; If unpaid, yet unforgot, Dwellers in manse, court, or cot. 92 GREENWOOD MEMORIES. Thou, whose passing-mortal years, Pilgrims in the vale of tears, Of a crown of glory tell, Sought in quiet, sought how well ! Thou, whose unpretending walk Hath no food for common talk : Yet the savour of whose deeds Many a pompous worlding needs. And whose pastor-life to me Points a wise simplicity : Trimly order'd, as the fane, Where thy holy lot hath lain. Nor again will ye decline Place within my memory's shrine : Gentle hearts, whose home of shade Letter 'd tastes had brighter made. In my fancy's temple-wall Spacious niches stand for all : Meetly — for the structure rose Where true heart, and tall oak grows. GREENWOOD MEMORIES. 93 Long may both in freshness bloom Round the mynds of heath and broom : Live and breathe still unconfined, Proof against each searching wind . Fare ye well — mine olden friends : Whom, when past to present lends, As the types of kindness rise : Fare ye, as your worth I prize. 94 AMANTIUM mm AMOEIS INTEGRATIO EST." Oh ! wish not thai thy hasty word Should cause me no distress : Forbid me not to rest on thee So much for happiness. If sunshine clad for aye the sky, No space were left for rain : The grass would wither : streams be dry, And Nature's self complain. But let the wind and storm arise, And drench the thirsting earth : Full soon the genial warmth we prize, And hail the sun's new birth. And even so with us, my love ! 'Tis well that I should grieve If thou art vexed : thy thought I move, And so new joy receive. " AMANTIUM IILE AMORIS INTEGRATIO EST." 95 For well I know thy gentle heart, When touched, shall well repay With love the breast it caused to smart, And its chance wounds alia v. Enduring warmth shall quick dispel The momentary chill, And thou shalt weave thy wonted spell, My own sweet Fanny, still. Then let thv brow be overcast, If when the storm is o'er, Thy kind heart shall forget the past — Thv love be more and more. *-*+ 96 COMMEMOEATIVE VEESES. Deem not memory fails to linger, Round the scenes where first we met ; Deem not Time's recording finger Needs to bid me not forget. Dear for aye to me is dwelling, As the racing hours flow past, On the vows which I was telling When this season met us last. Thanks to thee, love ! nought but gladness Eills my breast, when I review Times when, tho' 'twas counted madness, First I told my love so true. I had only heart to offer ! Love can maddest schemes conceive ! Lo ! thy kindness did my proffer, Poor in all but faith, receive. COMMEMORATIVE VERSES. 97 Shall I praise thy warm affection, And thy trusting spirit's love ? No ! the joys of retrospection In my thoughts alone shall move. Verse shall not record the blessing, Which to me thy love hath been : I will cherish, by repressing All their mention, joys unseen. H 98 " Waking, she never wandered in her mind save once ; and that was at the sound of beautiful music, which she said was in the air. God knows, it may have been." — Old Curiosity Shop (Dickens). It was. It was. Eefined and tried. The baser metal cast aside, Her senses heavenward wend ! As fainter grow her mortal pains, In surer nearness flow the strains, Which to the Throne ascend. No wandering back to things below Chills the clear spirit's genial glow : Aloft it burns to rove — Fear not — thine ear, sweet saint, is true The seraphs throng th' expanse of blue, And bid thee share their love. 99 To F ON THE FOURTH ANNIVERSARY OP OI'R WEDDING-DAY. And have I flung my lyre away ? And shuns my Muse the face of day, Long hushed in slothful care ? Shall she not break her solitude, And yield to be sedately wooed, Not rudely forced by glare ? Yes, she shall take a blyther spring, And soar to-day on lighter wing, Meet errand forth to bear. For I would by her aid impart Some token to another heart Of joy that reigns in mine : — I would no cloud should intervene, To dull the charm of what hath been, 100 OUR WEDDING-DAY ANNIVERSARY. The sun that yet doth shine As fresh, as bright on wedded life, As when, four years ago, dear wife, I linked my lot with thine. Four checquered years have onward sped Since, on this morn, we bent each head Above the altar rail : And vow'd, in love, that hand in hand We would go forth — the holy band, Which ne'er till death should fail, Then knit — for mutual aid in health, In sickness, poverty, or wealth, As each might chance prevail. Boldly our boat did put to sea ! Our little craft right gallantly Stood out to breast the tide — Smooth waters first — and then full soon Came rocks of care : and, long ere noon, Grief dashed our vessel's side. She who was well beloved by me, And scarcely less, dear heart, by thee, Our sister, sank and died. OUR WEDDING-DAY ANNIVERSARY. 101 Then had I singly faced the blast, The loss of much, that bound me fast To childhood's blissful shore, Had eaten thro' my cords of hope : But there was left one trusty rope, Which lent me aid to moor : The nearer view of future joy, A fair-hair'd girl, or laughing boy, Bade down-cast fancy soar. We named our child by that dear name Of her, whom God from us did claim : A name I ne'er can hear, But it recalls each much-loved face, Which found it thrice amidst our race Familiar to the ear : And now that death hath closed thine eyes, Mother of more than Mother's ties, It wins a tribute tear. Yes ! for we deemed our daughter's love Might, in the lapse of years, remove Our Mother's weight of grief. And when our boy was born, the sight, We prayed, that anxious face might light : 102 OUR WEDDING-DAY ANNIVERSARY. Alas ! that hope was brief. She raised her from her last sick bed, A bright joy wreath' d her weary head, Too sad, too short relief. She blessed his innocence ! and then Sank to her rayless couch again — I thank Thee, Lord of all, That Thou didst keep this joy for me, Brief tho' it was, such sight to see : And next to thee doth fall My debt of thanks, my love's best pay, Dear helpmate, to thy gift I lay, The blessing I recall. True heart, thy wedded life hath proved Thrice blest to him, whom thou hast loved Blest for thy faith to him ; Blest for thy love to that dear shade, Who called me son, ere death had made Her mortal vision dim : — Tho' space did sever, ne'er a week Passed, but thy pen to her did speak Each serious thought, each whim. OUR WEDDING-DAY ANNIVERSARY. 103 And more than all, as blest, I bless Thv fond maternal tenderness, To our dear offspring shewn : Thy full devotion, heart, and thought, To every care their life hath brought, While pleasures round them strewn, Betoken that thv waking dream Embraces for its fondest theme Those sunny babes we own. What tho' not wholly smooth our days, Yet care, I ween, but lightly lays His marks, where childhood's song Rin^s clear and fresh — and brings us back In thought to each familiar track In our youth's memory strong — Grief flies before their mirthful smile ; And such sweet solace doth beguile Our path, else drear and long. We boast not riches — Xay to flee From what the world calls poverty, Each gift to mart I bring That God hath given. Yet, welcome toil \ Come work, to last this mortal coil, 104 OUR WEDDING-DAY ANNIVERSARY. I grudge not lord or King, If I may find mine hours of ease Pass sweetly mid such joys as these, From wedded life that spring. Who said, "Love tires ? ,: a falser sage Ne'er taught mock truth to faithless age — Four years of trial give Us, who have proved them, claim to speak Hear then my verdict ! Week by week, Each onward hour we live, Makes love more fresh t binds fonder ties : Lights kinder beams in those dear eyes : Bids each more soon forgive. Forgive ? Yes, even so ! A word That once the fires of wrath had stirr'd, Now finds excuse with each : Hearts grow attuned : each strives to find The key to ope the other's mind, Then checks untimely speech. Time wears apace — yet grows our will In mutual purpose stronger still, Each other's wish to reach. OUR WEDDING-DAY ANNIVERSARY. 105 God knoweth what is yet in store, What length of davs to errant us more? Him for the past we praise : To Him for blessings yet to come Pray we — But should He call us home, May He true guardians raise For each young heart we leave on earth, To mould, as fitteth their new birth, To knowledge of His wavs. %**§)(§**?• 106 TO A LITTLE FRIEND, WITH A PRESENT OP A BUXCH OF " CHAEMS. There's a little magic In each charm I send, Meant to win your spirit, Merry little friend. Not to make it duller, When you learn to think : But to point, where young hearts Truest pleasures drink. To the well of waters, Whence these pleasures flow, These three " charms " may lead you, If the way you'd know. TO A LITTLE FRIEND. 107 For the cross reminds you, How your Saviour died ! You must learn His meekness, In His love abide. He would have you patient ; He would make you kind ; Bearing and forbearing, Child in heart and mind. And the anchor teaches Ground of Hope in view, On the Lord, whose lessons Are not closed on you Him, who welcomed children To His loving arms, Giving then his blessing, Keeping now from harms. Much he loved the warm heart That for others felt, Every tale of sorrow Led His own to melt. 108 TO A LITTLE FRIEND. Hettie, if she wishes Highest love to earn, In the Heart will fail not Charity to learn. Thus her toys may help her To be kind and good ; When some day their meaning Shall be understood. J trK+ 109 TO F. Y M WITH A BOOK. Gentle maiden, let the token, Which my lay would fain present, Prove regard for aye unbroken, Not an empty compliment. Let it shew the bard's devotion To thy slightest wish exprest : Testing all his heart's emotion Quicken'd to thine interest. Amply will he feel requited, If, when it thou dost unfold, Memory's lamp again be lighted, And thy smile be as of old. 110 TO F. Y._, WITH A BOOK. If, when on the page the traces Of the giver meet thine eye, Thou shalt feel that, scorning spaces, He to thee in heart is nigh. Chiefly t'will afford him pleasure, If the book shall haply give Aid to her he loves, to measure Well the life she ought to live. If her gay and serious moments By its teaching shall be spent So, that mirth with thought be mingled, Thoughtfulness with sweet content. Ill A BIRTH-DAY. Thou wilt not, dearest girl, despise Thy would-be poet's lay : Nor bid him check the thoughts that rise Upon thy natal day. Faint token is the gift he gives, And faint the votive line, To express that all the life he lives, His thoughts, his hopes are thine, Yet still, as such the gift receive : And tho', alas ! 'tis small ; Do thou in kindness, love, believe I fain would give thee all. May distant years recall to-day : And each succeeding prove Of me, the truth I strive to say, Of both, our constant love. 112 A LAMENT FOR THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD : SUGGESTED BY THE STATEMENT THAT THERE IS A LACK OF STUDENTS AT ST. AUGUSTINE'S COLLEGE, CANTERBURY. I. The fields are white, And the sickles bright, And the harvest-prospect fair : In the plain once drear There is hope and cheer ! But the reapers — where ? — oh where ? Why tarry they Till close of day ? For the night winds lay the crop. Is there lack or scant Of the call to plant The Cross on the lone hill-top ? THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. 113 Oh ! it must not be, That, in lethargy, When the prospect thus is fair, Sad isles complain, " We have wasting grain : But the reapers — where ? — oh where ? ' ii. It was not so, In the years ago, When the words of mission sprung From the centre of earth, Where the faith had birth, Though with strength untried and young. " Go forth," said they, " On world-wide way : " Each nation of earth baptize, " From Salem's hill ' •' All spaces rill, " To the land that farthest lies." A little time — And the truth sublime Had reach'd to the western shore : And the Briton knelt. And the savage Celt, To his idols of stone no more. I 114 THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. III. That hideous rout, From the lands cast out, Tor the temple and fane made room : And a goodly sight Was the church spire white, In place of the orgy's gloom. For rites of blood In dismal wood, Stand nourishing English homes, 'Neath the eye and care Of the House of Pray'r, Wherever the stranger roams. And blest, thrice blest, Is the sabbath rest, That a favor' d nation knows : And the parish priest Is a gift not least, From the bounty of Heaven that flows. IV. But hark ! oh, hark ! There are lands yet dark, That entreat with a piteous cry, " Come over and aid ! " With your ships and trade "Let a share of your grace draw nigh. THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. 115 " Your bodies live " By gifts we give : " Your sons our riches share, " But of spirit-health, 1 ' Which alone is wealth, " Ye wittingly leave us bare. " Oh, barter not "Of the things that rot " For the fruits we have in store : " But offer us bread, " For our souls instead, " And feed them for evermore. " v. Then reck we not Of their unblest lot, Who in voice, that calls aloud, Have a witness given To the earth and Heaven, Of a longing to pierce the cloud ? Dark, dark beside Our tents they bide On Afric's thirsting sod : And though wasting war Would estrange and mar, Still yearn to the white man's God. 116 THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. But, deepest shame To a mighty name, We are yet scarce half awake To the claim so clear, We are loth to hear, For the light, which we partake. n. One gift appears In the passing years. That fain would itself atone For the narrow Creed, That in utmost need Could famishing souls disown. A college fair, With omen rare, Hath open'd its ample doors, And the name of Hope Giveth verge and scope To the vision that farthest soars. And the spot is dear To the Christian's ear, THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. 117 As the scene where Bertha's love * Gave Austin place, That his work of grace Might thrive, as it after throve. VII. There gather in From the outer din, For a brave self-sacrifice, To a nursing breast, And a brief brief rest, That must for a life suffice — True hearts, that feel A strong calm zeal, And a call to the Mission's work : And in this retreat They may gird their feet To combat the sins that lurk. Till at length sent forth To the East or North, * "Bertha, Queen of iEdilberct, King of Kent, won her royal spouse to consent to the settlement and maintenance of Augustine in Canterbury." — Bede, Heel. Hist, i, 25. 118 THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. They herald the bright Day-spring Of the Harvest-Lord : And the spirit's sword Bids wayfarers own their King. VIII. Yet why is this ? Hath the hope of bliss, And a crown, when the warfare ends ? But a measured charm To our youth, to arm For the legion our Mother sends. In vain, in vain, Those walls complain They have tenantless cells e'en now : And a bare supply Doth the trust belie Which the eager of heart avow. Nav ! let us rouse For the Bridegroom's spouse An ample and goodly train, To attend her way O'er the salt -sea spray To the realms she must soon regain. THE DARK PLACES OF THE WORLD. 119 IX. Nay, let us raise, In the latter days, A sickle of sharpest edge From the forges, where There is metal rare, And prompt to redeem our pledge* Of yore we waved As a crop unsaved, Our fields as a wasting seed : But the reapers came. Let us send, for shame, To harvest the lands that need* For it must not be That, in penury, When the prospect round is fair, Sad isles complain, " We have wasting grain : " But the reapers — where ? — oh where ?' : TRANSLATIONS. TRANSLATIONS. THE PREFACE OF AUEELIUS PRUDENTIUS TO HIS SECOND BOOK,* AGAINST THE PETITION OF SYMMACHUS. Euddier glows the saffron even, Ere the light hath said farewell : Or the murky night hath given Boding signs of storm and swell. * The Second Book of Aurelius Prudentius (a Christian poet, of about a.d. 405) against Symmachus, consists of a refutation of the statements and arguments in the petition of that heathen to the Emperor Yalentinian, praying for the restoration of the altar and statue of Victory, cast down by Gratian. Symmachus was chosen to make this petition, on account of his surpassing eloquence. 124 AURELIUS PRUDENTIUS. To the lake the venturous Peter, Weighing anchor, trusts his bark, Deems the gales, that waft her, fleeter Than the gathering shades of dark. Fain would he the lake be crossing, He, the chosen of his Lord : Eeckless of the vessel tossing, And the winds that roam abroad. Shouts of fear, and creaking cable, Bending soon the troubled air, Aid and tact of man disable, Nought is left but black despair. Ocean depths must soon be pillow To the pale and drowning crew, When with firm foot on the billow Christ in season meets their view ; Treading unsubstantial hollows With as calm a self-command, As at other bests he follows Beaten pathways on the land. AURELIUS PRUDENTIUS. 12") Lo ! while each to awe surrenders Senses spell-bound, as in sleep, Peter only bravely tenders Faith to Him, who walks the deep : Faith in Him, whom earth confessing, Firmament, and trackless main, Own as Lord ; whose might expressing, Surging seas His feet sustain. Now the servant's hands betoken Trust upon his surest friend : Now the Teacher's word hath spoken ! "Fearless let the taught descend !" Simon heeds his Master hailing : Scarce the spray hath touch'd his feet, Ere his eager steps are failing, In the gulf that bars retreat. Then the God-Man, gently chiding Human fear, and faith's defect, Stormy billows faintly biding, On His own late pathway wreck'd ; 126 ATJRELIUS PRUDENTIUS. To His drowning servant reacheth Arms outstretch' d to lift and save, And his succour'd spirit teacheth How to walk the heaving wave. So my tongue, in heedless daring, Leaves at length its safe retreat, Quick in over- eager bearing Peril-compass'd ways to greet. Peter's faith might well have lifted Duteous feet, in duty strong. Mv frail bark must soon be drifted. Ill-sustain'd by fault and wrong. For I mark the darkness clinging, In a sin-cloud, round my life ! Yet my boat is rashly springing Forth to breast a sea of strife. Aye ! a sea disturb 'd by thunders Eoaring surge, and bursting tide Of an eloquence, whose wonders Few have met, and few defied. AURELIUS PRUDENTIUS. 1:27 Tiiese may drown beneath their shower Crafts, that heed not weak command, If the Christ, in whom is power, Stretch not forth His cheering hand. Then might speech her torrent-forces Gather vainlv round mine head ; Then might I the ocean-courses Firmly, safely, calmly tread. @^fe*@ 128 THE GLORY AND JOYS OP PARADISE.* Yearningly my fond heart thirsteth for the springs of endless life, And my prison 5 d spirit burst eth in her hope from earthly strife. Hence, ye barriers, fleshly, sinful, which my struggling soul restrain, Wistful as the eager exile, bent his dear home to regain. Whilst she mourns a life's subjection, and a vessel trouble-tost, Upward comes the sad reflection of the glories sin hath lost ; And the thoughts of present evil do but add to her unrest, As the mindfulness of blessings, which are forfeit, swell the breast. * Translated from a Latin Poem, written by Peter Damiarri, Bishop of Ostia, who was born at Ravenna in 1002, and died as Abbot of Sta Croce d'Avellario, in the States of the Church, in a.d. 1072. This translation appeared in 1849, in the c Church- man's Companion.' THE GLORY AND JOYS OF PARADISE. 129 For 'tis surely past expression what the sum of joy shall be, To the heirs who win possession of a calm eternity ; Where the proudly rising mansions walls of living pearl unfold, Where the high domes blaze in splendour — couches gleam of burnish'd gold. Costly gems the joists encompass, where with story story meets, And of pure gold, like as clear glass, is the pavement of the streets : Far removed is all defilement — nothing sordid meets the eye: Not a vestige of corruption canst thou in the whole descry. Rugged winter lacks its power, scorching summers never rage. But the rose, for aye in flower, cheats the constant spring of age ; Whilst beside the snow-white lily blooms the crocus, saffron-hued, And from out the swelling balsam gums in fragrant drops exude. 130 THE GLORY AND JOYS OF PARADISE. Lo ! within and all around them streams of honey'd sweetness flow ; Waving corn, green meadows bound them, liquid perfumes incense blow : Sweetly-scented moisture fails not — whilst there bloom in every grove Pendant fruits no blight doth canker, nor the blust'ring tempest move. There no moon doth mark her changes : there the stars their courses cease ; Earthly sunshine never ranges o'er the city of our peace : But the Lamb is its indwelling brightness, its unfading light, While He gives eternal day spring, what to Him are time and night ? For the saints on high shine glorious, even as the clear bright sun : Bound with chaplets, as victorious, blend their ceaseless chants in one ; And rejoicing in the blissful, the unbroken rest they know, While he licks the dust, tell over all the struggles of the foe. THE GLORY AND JOYS OF PARADISE. 131 There all fleshly warfare endeth : they are purged of guilty stain ; Since the flesh to spirit bendeth, there is union of the twain. Peaceful rest in calm abundance citizens of Heav'n enjoy : No offence doth need endurance — slander doth not breed alloy. Cast aside the fickle robing, which the mortal frame assumes, They their source delight in probing, as the truth their path illumes ; Yea, the truth is alway present, on its radiant form they dwell. Hence they draw the living sweetness of the life -imparting well. Hence their being's sweet fruition, still for evermore the same, Clear and fresh their glad condition reeks not of mis- chance's name. Pale disease is ever distant, for each cheek is bright with health ; And the constant prime of manhood spares old age his march of stealth. 132 THE GLORY AND JOYS OF PARADISE. Hence they own an endless essence — passing things are passed away, 5 Mid the boundless efflorescence perish'd is the foe, decay — ■ Here is nought but greenness, freshness, warmth of an immortal breath : For eternal life and vigor have absorb 'd the power of death. They who know the God All-knowing, is there aught they must not know ? Interchange of secrets, flowing deeply, passeth to and fro : Every wish and each aversion with the Heavenly mind is one, Union blest and single hearted, with the Spirit, Sire, and Son. Tho' to each the meed of labour varies with the task atchieved, What is lovely in a neighbour is as common grace received : Such the spell of mutual fondness ; so the proper praise of each, Doth o'er all shed widest lustre, and to every spirit reach. THE GLORY AND JOYS OF PARADISE. 133 Even as the eagles gather surely where the car- case is, Saints and servants of the Father will be with the Son in bliss : Citizens of either country ! angels, and the risen just, Are refresh'd and live for ever — one their food and one their trust. Ever eager, feasting ever, still they yearn and still they have : Plenty cloys not : famine never doth the tortured frame enslave : Are they open mouth'd, 'tis only on the instant to be fed. Feed they, it is still for ever open mouth'd to lift the head. Chants for ever new are flowing, as from one sweet voice and clear, Into deeper transport growing, many an organ charms the ear : Worthy is the laud they tender ! glorious is the Hail ! they sing, To the might by whom they conquer, to the high Al- mighty King. 134 THE GLORY AND JOYS OF PARADISE. Happy Spirit ! that beholdeth nigh th' Eternal Monarch's seat, And in gaze the world enfoldeth, lying 'neath His cloud- wrapt feet : Ay ! enfoldeth all the round world, and its wondrous vast machine, Sun and moon, and stars and planets, studding all the depths serene. Christ ! Thou palm of souls contending, into this blest town convey My poor life, when warfare ending, I shall cast my belt away. No reward I seek of merit ! All the boon I ask, is this, Make me partner in Thy bounty with the citizens of bliss. Grant me strength to battle boldly in the contest, yet unspent, And when aged blood runs coldly, to my pray'r for rest assent : Oh ! that I by toil might win Thee ! for I know that Thou shalt be Noblest prize to Christian warrior : — prize to last eternity. 135 ON A SPOT, ONCE THE SCENE OF MAETYEDOMS, BUT NOW USED FOE A BAPTISTEY. Prudenthts, p. 176. Lo ! the Christ-chosen spot, where the pathway to Heaven Opens wide to tried spirits and true : Where an entrance by blood to the martyr was given, And now water dead hearts doth renew. It w T as here, for the name of our Saviour and Lord, That the turf was empurpled of old : — When two witnesses fell for the faith they ador'd, And in hope of high glory were bold. And 'tis hence, even now, that forgiveness doth flow In a limpid and life-giving flood : And the washing of water doth pureness bestow From the stains that have ages withstood. Wouldst thou joy to ascend to the regions of bliss, And be heir of eternity's day ? Come and slake thy hot thirst at a fountain like this, Lo ! the water is near, and the way ! 136 ON A PASSAGE IN PRTJDENTIUS. As the martyr of old, with the crown he had won, Eeached the halls he had striven to gain, ' So to souls now renew 'd is their high course begun By the cleansing from blemish and stain. Then the Spirit descending the palm to award Thro' the ether would viewlessly glide .- Now he hangs o'er the spot with a loving regard, Nor is grace to the suppliant denied. From the font or the blood, oh ! how hallow' d the dewSj Which are drained by the neighbouring soil : Nor doth earth to her God a due tribute refuse, In the waves on her surface that boil. And the Lord of the spot is the same, from whose side, Thro' the two wounds so ruthlessly gor'd, Thro' the one issued forth a pure crystallous tide, By the other the dark blood out-poured. Seek then, each as ye may, by the wounds of your Lord, To ascend to the home ye have prized — For the martyr shall rise by the stroke of the sword, And by water the newly-baptized. 137 OF THE LIFE OF THIS WORLD. EROM A LATIN POEM IN TRENCH' S COLLECTION. Ah ! thou lamp of worldly light ! Why art thou to me so bright ? Since from thee I needs must go, Why wilt have me love thee so ? Ah ! thou fickle life, and fleet, Worse than harmful beast to meet ; If I may not thee retain, Why didst seek my heart to gain ? Life, whose proper name is death ! Llateful : all our love beneath : Since no goods abide in thee, Shall I crave thy gifts to see ? 138 OF THE LIFE OF THIS WORLD. Worldly life ! diseased and pale ! Than the blushing rose more frail ! In thine ever tearful face, Wherefore seek I winning grace ? Earthly life ! a thing of toil ! Fraught with fear and vain turmoil ! Languid ever, past relief, Art thou worthy this my grief ? Worldly life ! about to flee ! Prone to crash, incessantly ; If so brief must be thy stay, Let me fling thy cares away. 139 OS CONTEMPT OF THE WOKLD. Daniel's Thesauri's, toI. ii, p. 379. Oh ! why sides the vain world with pcmp and with show, Whose joys are all fleeting and come but to go ; Whose loftiest power is prone to decay, As the potter's creation, the frail vase of clay. Trust rather to letters on brittle ice writ, Than the hollow world's falsehood : — its airy hopes flit, Its honours deceive us — and virtue's fair guise Is cloke to false merits, which time never tries. Fine glass may deceive thee — yet trust to its wiles, Thou shalt find them less false than the wretched world's smiles. Its madness, its emptiness rest on deceit, And its choicest pursuits yield us bitter for sweet. 140 CONTEMPT OF THE WORLD. Brief festival yields it — this glory men clasp, Its pleasures — as shadows — soon melt in our grasp : Whilst they steal all our hopes of eternal reward, And beguile their lost victim to cross paths and hard. Thou bait of the worm brood ! thou poor mass of dust : Quick dew of the morning \ oh, why this self- trust ? Canst pledge thou wilt answer, when next dawn shall call ? Nay ! work while to-day is, and do good to all. This glory of human life, rated so high, Is, in Scripture, the flower of the grass that shall die. And swift as the dry leaves are borne by the wind, Man's life is all vanished — no vestige behind. If loss can befall it, call nothing thine own, Whatever the world gives, to take back 'tis prone, Look up ! let thy true heart to high thoughts arise : Deem those only happy, who this world despise. Say, where is the wisest of kings and of men ? Or Sampson, whose prowess no age saw again ? Where Absalom's fair face, so rich in its charms ? Or Jonathan's sweetness ? Death each one disarms. CONTEMPT OF THE WORLD. 141 Why look we for Caesar, with glory erect ? Or Dives, the glutton, in fine robes bedeckt ? The sweet voice of Tully, which ruled men of yore ! The Master of Reason, why leads he no more ? These high renowned worthies — these ages of things — The fabrics of empire — the graces of Kings — Yea ! Earth's many rulers — her pomp and her might — Ere mortal eye twinkles, are buried in night. 142 "THE LORD IS RISEN." Magdalene, banish sadness ! Let not weeping dim thine eye ! Simon's feast had nought of gladness ! Here is nought for wailing cry. Joy hath cause for thousand voices, Cause that every heart rejoices. Let the Halleluia sound ! Magdalene, smiles resuming, Let thy brow be smooth and bright ! Fled is sorrow darkly glooming — Glows the morn with gorgeous light Christ hath ransom'd every sinner, And in strife with death is winner. Let the Halleluia sound THE LORD IS RISEN, 143 Magdalene, shout for pleasure ! Christ hath risen from the tomb : Now the sad scene finds its measure : Comes the Lord of death and doom. Him, whom late with tears so burning Thou didst weep, behold returning : Let the Halleluia sound ! Magdalen, thine eyes upraising, Marvel at thy risen Lord ; On His sweetest figure gazing, See the five wounds rudely gored. Pearl-like, see the emblems glorious Of new life o'er death victorious. Let the Halleluia sound ! Magdalene, be thy dwelling Blest : for light succeeds to dark. Let thy veins with joy be swelling, Freed and cleansed of death's sad mark. Bitter griefs no more annoy us : Love re-enters blythe and joyous. Let the Halleluia sound ! 144 THE MASSACEE OF THE INNOCENTS. SALVETE ELOEES MAETYETTM. From Prudentius. Lovely bloom of martyrs ! hail ! On the very doors of light Christ's pursuer, like the gale, Did your budding roses blight. First of victims for your Lord ! At the altar's horns ye play ! Palmy chaplets for your cord : Guileless sacrifice and gav ! Tidings smote the Monarch's soul, That the King of Kings was nigh ! Who should Israel control, Euling David mightily. 1 • THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS. 145 Hear him forth his mandates deal. " One invades ! Am I withstood ? " Ho ! my guardsmen, clutch the steel ! " Every cradle bathe in blood. " Let each infant male be slain : " Strictly search each nursing lap : " That no stealth by chance detain " Hated man-child from the trap ! See the butcher, mad for death, Pierces with his gleaming blade Forms, but lately born to breath, Hearts to throb no more betrav'd. Savage show ! and ruthless scene ! In their limbs minutely small Scarce doth crevice intervene, Where the cruel gash may fall. What avails so dark a deed '? Tyrant, hath thy sin its charm ? While so many thousands bleed, Christ alone escapes from harm. 146 THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS. Brother babes around him slain,. Safe the Virgin-born survives, And while child-reft wives complain. Of its prey the sword deprives.* * This piece appeared in the 'Churchman's Companion' of January, 1850, ^mm;^ 147 A TRANSLATION. When the infant God I view Nestled in His mother's arms, My cold heart is thrill' d anew : And with boundless pleasure warms. Lo ! the boy exults to see, Mother, thine enfolding breast ! By His baby lips on thee Kiss on kiss is fondly prest. Even as the bright sun flings Eadiance on the open sky ; So the babe with fond look clings To His mother's bosom nigh. Lovelv in the warmth of love With her child the virgin glows : Violet, lily placed above, Or the bright dew on the rose. 148 A TRANSLATION. As the flowerets speck the grass, As the stars illume the night, Myriad glances fondly pass, Mutual darts of living light. Oh ! might one, but one of these, Which around Thy mother play, To my share, if it should please, Gentle Jesu, chance to stray. 149 MOENINa HYMN. A TRANSLATION FROM ST. AMBROSE. O Thou everlasting Maker Of the world, beneath thy sway Bows the night, in turn partaker With the order'd course of day : Time succeeds to time by Thee, Who from weariness dost free. Sounds the herald now of davlidit, He hath watched the whole night thro' : Light to bend the steps, that stray, right, Light, dividing night in two. One part darkness unrelieved : Lustre one thro' gloom received. 150 MORNING HYMN. Roused by him, the star of morning Loosens earth from clinging shade ; Error's various brood takes warning, Each dark agent shrinks afraid. Each forbears his power to hurt, And doth guilty paths desert. At his sound, upstarts the sailor, Ocean's straits are blythely calm : When his matin song doth hail her, Breathes the Church her pray'r and psalm. She, the rock-built, strives to win Early pardon for her sin. Let us up, then, and be doing ! Cock-crow rouseth them that sleep ; With its chiding note pursuing Listless hearts, where slumbers creep. Cock-crow doth convince of sloth, Souls to work in day time loth. Hope revives where hope did stagger ; Health upon the sick man streams. At cock-crow th' assassin's dagger Sheathed at last, no longer gleams. MORNING HYMN. Faith, rekindled, wakes to bide Where the steps but late did slide. Jesu, look on them that waver, And correct us with Thy gaze ! Feeble knees shall stand the braver. If Thine eye their going stays. All our faults, and sins, and fears, Then shall be absolved by tears. Shake Thou off our mental slumbers, On our senses shine again ! Thee, our Light, let earliest numbers, Thee let each fresh chaunt contain. Sins; we Thee, to whom belong Waking praise, and morning song. 152 HYMN ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.* All unlook'd for shall the dawning of the Lord's great day arise, As a thief by night — No warning shall unwary souls apprise. Brief shall then the crowding splendours of the former age appear, When the one-timed crash of all things makes its fleeting nature clear. Clang of trumps shall wake the regions of earth's quarters once for all : And to Christ the countless legions of the quick and dead shall call : # This hymn, which is an acrostic in alternate lines, in the original, is of an uncertain author ; is mentioned by Bede, and is to be found in Daniel's Thesaurus Hymnologicus, Yol. i, p. 195. HYMN ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 153 Down from Heaven's eternal summit shall the Judge, with glory bright, Speed His way by choirs attended, of the Angels robed in light. E'en the Sun shall hide his shining — and the silver Moon grow red : Paly stars be seen declining : and the wide world shake with dread. For the flame shall glow forerunning righteous judgment soon to be, Lighting up the earth, and Heavens, and the deep waves of the Sea. Gloriously shall the great King sit aloft in awful state : Angel-hosts with trembling light wing here and there around Him wait. His right hand shall all His chosen blest for ever gather round ; At His left, as goats, the wicked by themselves in fear be found. Instant calls the Lord His blessed: " Come, partake of realms sublime, " By your Sire for you prepared long before the birth of time : 154 HYMN ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. Kindly souls, whose hand did lift me, brother-like, when I was low, Take ye now the meed of goodness : lasting riches taste and know. Lo, they answer gladly, " When did we behold Thee, Lord, as poor? When have we, O King, expended alms on Thee, before the door ? Mark the words the Judge returns them, "When ye gave to those in need Aid in food, in garb, in shelter, me ye help'd in truth and deed." Nor from those upon His left hand shall the Judge with- hold His ire : " Hence ye cursed ! hence, forlorn band, into everlasting fire, On me, when I sought your bounty, ye did turn a cold deaf ear, I was naked, did ye clothe me ? Sick ; and yet ye drew not near." "Poor when saw we thee? 5 the lost ones easrerlv to Christ shall say, "Thee infirm when saw we, Just one? and with coldness turned away ? ' HYMN ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 155 Quick responding He declareth, " When the beggar, cold and lorn, Found his pray'r by you rejected, I, ye worthless, met vour scorn." Hushing then to names for ever blazing shall the sinful turn : Whose well-fed worm dieth never, and whose fire un- quench'd doth burn. Satan with his evil minions there is held in gloom beneath, Where with weeping all and wailing hapless victims gnash the teeth. Then the faithful shall be hasted upward to their Father- land ; And the joys thereof be tasted with the chaunting spirit- band. Up to thine eternal glories, New Jerusalem, they rise, Visions light and peaceful pleasures ever beaming on their eyes. Where in gladsome contemplation, hosts of blest com- panions view, Lofty themes of admiration : hailing scenes for ever new 156 HYMN ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. Aye ! where all the blest immortals ever gaze on Christ their King, Shining in His Father's brightness, radiant and glistering. Ye who long to reach His glory, flee ye from the serpent's guile ! Kindly hear the poor man's story : shrink from gold's deceitful smile ! Zones of chasteness gird around you — Stand ye firmly, lest ye fall ! Bear your torches forth to meet Him, when the Bride- groom King shall call. o< 157 HYMN AT COCK-CROW. Aurelius Prad.entius. I. The herald bird, the bird of morn, Foretelleth light is near : The Lord, to life uprousing us, Awaken' d hearts doth cheer. " Away with lazy couch," He cries : " Be sickly sloth no more ! " Live chastely, rightly, soberly ; " Watch ! I am at the door." II. The bright Sun up, why sleepest thou ? 'Tis late thy couch to leave : A share of night, from sleep withdrawn, Let dailv work receive. 158 HYMN AT COCK-CROW. The busy call those songsters wake, Ere morning streaks the sky, Just on the housetop pereh'd aloft, Tells that our Judge is nigh. III. It bids the souls, that deepest night In beds of sloth confines, Their rest exchange for busy life At these prelusive signs. So when the dawn o'er Heaven shall speed Its breath in kindling rays, All may go forth in strength and trust To hopeful works and days. IV. These slumbers for a little space Are type of swift-wing'd death. Sins are the gloom of night, that cause The spirit's deep-drawn breath. But lest such sleep enslave the soul, The voice of Christ forewarns, From hill-top high in yonder sky, That Christian daylight dawns. HYMN AT COCK-CROW. 159 V. At its near advent slumber flees, Reft of its life-long power, O'er sluggish hearts, entomb'd in sin, Deaf to the waking hour. Lost spirits, that have revel kept, And roam'd beneath the shade, In scattered flight, so legends tell, At cock-crow shrink dismay 'd. VI. For with it those they hate approach, Salvation, Lord, and Light, To burst the noisome films of gloom, And chase the bands of night. In bitter prescience they own The sign of hope renew* d To those, who wait the Lord's return, By idlesse unsubdued. VII. This omen's force his Saviour's lips Bade Peter's weakness know : Thrice should His service be denied, Ere twice the cock should crow : 160 HYMN AT COCK-CROW. The sin is launch'd, the Lord disown'd, Ere each fresh birth of day At cockcrow lights the haunts of men, And scares their sins away. VIII. 'Twas then the weak denier wept Words of a failing tongue, From heart and soul, that meant not guilt, Alas, too quickly wrung. He knew the sio*n — nor afterward In lying accents spake : Thenceforth begirt with penitence, To sin's assaults awake. IX. At that pure time we hold in faith From death the Saviour rose : That hush of life, when first the cock With joy at day spring crows. 'Twas then he brake the bonds of death, And Hell's constraining Law : Then, stronger in His risen strength, Day bade our night withdraw. HYMN AT COCK-CROW. 161 X. But let the deeds of evil cease ! And sleep thou, dusky wrong ! Now languish in the calm ye hate, Offences' deathly throng. Let faithful spirits rather watch The space that yet remains ; And stand in wakeful labour fast, Till night her goal attains. XI. On Jesus let our voices call, And pray we, fast, and weep : For earnest supplication weans Pure hearts from downy sleep. Enough, with folded limbs, enough, Neglect of holy things Hath clogg'd the sense, that nought uplifts But pleasure's dizzy wings. XII, False are the acts and frivolous In this life's slumber done, At earthly glory's empty beck : "To watch" is truth alone. II 162 HYMN AT COCK-CROW. Pleasure is nought : and gold is nought And joy's uncertain sway : And all the honours, all the power Of fortune's changeful day. XIII. Goods but in name, these ills awhile Our blinded longings sought : But let the day dawn, where are they ? The cock-crow — all are nought ! Then scatter, Lord, our spirit's sleep — And burst the chains of night : So may they hail, absolved from sin, The dawn of living light ! 163 CHORUS FROM THE IPHIGENIA IN AULIS OF EURIPIDES, 543-572. Dindorf. Thrice and for ever blest, Rich in their placid rest, From pangs that rend the breast Even to madness : Are they, who cease to rove, Won by the queen of love, Wed, and in wedding prove Their lot is gladness. He of the golden hair, Eros, hath darts a pair, Pointed with graces rare, These he is bending, One for a happy fate, Blithe day and even late ; One to fell ruin's gate, Whom he will, sending. 164 CHORUS FROM THE IPHIGENIA. This from my bridal bed, Fair Venus, ocean-bred — Hear me repel with dread. Oh, be my graces Tempered with pure desire, Gentle love's equal fire : Not such as soaring higher Recks not of spaces. Varies the bent of men : Differ their ways again : One thing will e'en remain Lastingly treasured : — That which is good and just ! Teaching and nurture must Breed, if fulfilled the trust, Virtue unmeasured. Virtue is self-regard, Would'st thou a meet reward Compass : thy labour hard Amply requiting — See thou the " fitness " know, Which shall a lustre throw O'er thy good name below, Ages delighting. CHORUS FROM THE IPHIGENIA. 165 High is their praise who seek Merit. For woman meek This shall her worth bespeak, Love unpretending : Man hath a thousand wavs : Deftly his parts he plays, Each for his state to raise Glorv unending. INDEX. TO THE FRIEND TO WHOM THESE PAGES ARE DEDICATED TO THE SAME TO MY WIFE TO THE SAME CADWALLON AP MADOC BARTHOLOMEW DIAZ . PHEMIUS TO ULYSSES " SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME" . THE WARRIOR AND THE POET LUDLOW CASTLE ON THE APPOINTMENT OF THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG- INTENSITY OF PURPOSE REWARDED .... ON A SEPIA DRAWING OF REPTON CHURCH AND PRIORY THE TEACHING OF THE SNOWDROP .... PALM SUNDAY IN DEAN FOREST ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF SYDNEY Putre 1 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 18 . 2S . 31 . 37 . 44 . 50 . 51 . 63 . 70 . 74 . 78 168 INDEX. LINES ON KINGTON CHUECHYAED GEEENWOOD MEMOEIES "AMANTIUM ie^: AMOEIS integeatio est" COMMEMOEATIVE YEESES LINES ON A PASSAGE IN DICKENS' c OLD CUEIOSITT SHOP TO F TO A LITTLE FKIEND TO F. Y., WITH A BOOK .... A BIETH-DAY A LAMENT FOE THE DAEK PLACES OP THE WOELD TEANSLATIONS . . ... THE PEEPACE OP AUEELIUS PEUDENTIUS . THE GLOEY AND JOYS OF PAEADISE . ON A SPOT, ONCE THE SCENE OF MAETYEDOMS OF THE LIFE OF THIS WOELD ON CONTEMPT OF THE WOELD u THE LOED IS EISEN 55 THE MASSACEE OP THE INNOCENTS A TEANSLATION MOENING HYMN HYMN ON THE DAY OF JUDGMENT HYMN AT COCK-CEOW .... CHOEUS FEOM THE IPHIGENIA IN AUL1S OF EURIPIDES Page . 81 . 89 . 94 . 96 . 98 , 99 . 106 . 109 . Ill . 112 . 121 . 123 . 128 . 135 . 137 . 139 . 142 . 144 . 147 . 149 . 152 . 157 . 163