OICES \^ /. VOICES FROM A BUSY JAIM 1934 ^^ '.\>vV;. OR SELFXTinXS FROM THE POr.TICAL WORKS OF THK LATE EDWARD A. WASIIBURX, D.D. NEW YORK ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY 9C» BROADWW, COR. 20TH STREET COPYRIGHT, 1883, BY ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY. NEW YORK : EDWARD O. JENKINS, ROBERT RUTTER, Printer and Stereotyper^ Binder^ 20 North William St. 116 & 118 E. 14th St P R !• F A C E *' /;; everythim^ ye are enriched by him : in all utterance." Such is the Apostle's description of that faculty of our nature which gives outward expression to the Spiritual element within us. To the many friends who never knew this side of his nature^ this little book will shew the rare pcncer of poetical utterance which enriched the nature of the late Dr. fj 'ash- burn. \Vm. \Vilbi:rforce Newton. August 23, 1S83. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library http://archive.org/details/voicesbusyOOwash MOTTO FROM DAXTKS PARADISO. " Here arc clcs<'riccl Those who with modesty themselves confessed Work of his jroodness unto whom they owe The high attainments that have made them blest. Whence throuc^h enlit,'htening grace, from Hf^avcn obtaine'i. And their own miTH, ihry raised their s.\^Ji' >' 'ir^/:, A will complete and steadfast they have gained." CONTENTS PAGE Preface 3 Motto > Thorwaldsen*s Chrisi The Lost Thought'.. u Requiem 14 The P'ountain of Youth. i' Twilight on the River. 20 The Minnow 22 The Cid and the Leimr 25 Pygmalion ?: Leaves 34 The Vision of Youth 35 The Aurora 3S Love Thou? — The Heart's Answer i<> '* Love Not " 41 Silent Love 43 The Air-Plant 44 Song — •' Love is Blind '' 45 The Trysting-Tree. 48 The Maiden's Prayer 50 Song 53 5 CONTENTS. PAGE The Portrait 55 The Banian 57 Voices of the Sea 60 The Deserted Convent 62 Easter on Mount Olivet 66 A Bunch of Fucus Natans, gathered off the Azores 71 Lines Written in a Volume of Latimer's Sermons 73 Oxford Tracts 74 The Sage of the Pollen 75 The Freshet 79 Hungary 83 The Century Flower 86 The Burial at Gettysburg 88 The African Colour-Sergeant 91 The Battle of the Dead Cid 93 The Grass-Gro\vn Rampart 98 Giuseppe Mazzini 1 00 1875 , 102 CA ROLS. Ring Out the Bells 109 Softly the Night is Sleeping 11 1 Joy to the World 113 Christ Hath Arisen 115 Wake To-Day, Ye Gladsome Voices 117 Spanish Hymn 119 6 cox TEXTS. TRANSLATION'S OF ANCIENT CHRISTIAN HYMNS. PAGE Children in Paradise Sf. Ephraim. 123 Llcis Largitor Sflendide Hilary. 125 BcATA Nobis G audi a Ililary 1 27 Aurora Lucis Rutilat Amhrosi-. 1 29 /ETLRNA CHRISTI MUNERA " 1 30 O Gens Beata Ccelitum ! . . Augustin. 132 Quid, Tyranne ! Quid Minaris... " 135 Jam Mcesta Quiesce Querela.. ./VW^//////^. 137 De Cruce Christi Fortunatus. 139 NUNTIUM VOBIS FeRO DE SUPERNIS . C7ri i— Si\imi Regis Cor, Aveto. Be mar J of Clairvaux. 1 5 2 In Terris Adiilc Positam AbilarJ. 1 56 Hymni Nocturni Abelard. 1 57 MUNDI Renovatio Adatn of St. Victor. 1 59 O Esca Viatorum ! Thomas Aquinas. 160 Recordare Sanct.E Crucis . . .Bonaventura. 161 Omnis Mundi Q^Y.\Y\JKK.. .Alanus Insula f!us. 164 Vita Nostra Plena Belli s, ■ p 7 All Angels Thomas a a, m/^is. i() , Antiphona ad Nocturnos Anonymous. 171 7 CONTENTS. PAGE St. John Evangelist Anonymous . 172 Altitudo, Quid Hic Jaces? " 175 Parvum Quando Cerno Deum.. " 177 Pone Luctum Magdalena ! " 179 O ! Quanta, Qualia Sunt Illa Sabbata. Ano7tymous. 181 Ave Rosa Spinis Puncta " 183 In Natali Domini " 184 Cum Me Tenent Fallacia Alard. 186 8 THORWALDSEN'S CHRIST. q^IlOUGIITI- ri, stands i],r -rav-haircd ■1 sculptor. Silent as the silent stone. From the chaos of the marble To the livinpj Godhead grown ; But a gloom is on his forehead, Pales the fire within his glance, Till at last the brooding sorrow Breaks in sad, high utterance. Holy Art ! thy dreams of beauty Carved my cunning hand before ; Still above the earth-born image Bodiless my thoughts would soar ; Still tlie pure, unfound Ideal Would ensoul a fairer mould : In this faultless work I perish, And Thorwaldscn now is old ! 9 THOR WALD SEN' S CHRIS T. Noble artist ! thine the yearning, Thine the great, creative word, By the wakeful mind forever In its nightl}^ watches heard. For the earthly it is pleasure Only earthly end to gain ; For the seeker of the Perfect To be satisfied is pain. Visions of the unseen glory Milton saw in his eclipse, Paradise to outward gazers Lost with no apocalypse : Holier Christs and veiled Madonnas Painted were on Raphael's soul ; Melodies he could not utter O'er Beethoven's ear would roll. Ever climbs the high Ideal Rosy peaked above our eyes ; Ever near the Happy Islands, Shoreless the horizon flies. Not the brim.ming cups of wisdom May the thirsty spirit slake, And the molten gold in pouring Will the mould in pieces break. ID THORWALDSEX'S CHRIST. Voice within our inmost being Calling deep to answering deep ! Smiting like the morning sunbeam On the leaden lids of sleep ! All our joy is in our Future, And our march our only rest : Still the True reveals the Truer, Still the Good foretells the Best. January, 1S50. II THE LOST THOUGHT IN the soul's morning, when it stood wide open As heaven gate, whence airs breathed dewy laden From rosy buds, and fancies, half-fledged an- gels, Around it played ; Came there a Thought, still floating as the twilight, Folding its gracious wing around me, bearing The mind a happy captive in its fetters Of soaring joy. In that strange dream faded the world of shadows ; And as the seer, caught in unbodied vision, Heard I a music the heart's lips can never Whisper aloud. 12 THE LOST THOUGHT. What was my Thought ? alas ! I know no longer ; Only a trackless wonder, come, unstaying ; Only on memory's shifting sand a foot-print Washed by the wave. Only I beckon back a gliding spectre ; Only I hear in the still, windless night-time The eternal murmur of a billow, plashing On far-off shores. Return'st thou ncn, O Thought ! O long-lost treasure ! Thou shalt return, when from this sleep-exist- ence We waken, when the sea of Memory Gives up its dead. Januar}', iS^jc;. REQUIEM. LIGHTLY fall ; fall thou ah ! lightly Over the maiden, kind earth ! Never a burthen hath pressed On the white, joy-loving breast. Fresh with the dew of its birth. Vex not her sweet sprite with sighing ; Why for the happy one weep ? Staining with envious eyes The pillow of green, where she lies Smiling in innocent sleep. Bloom, ye first buds of the springtide, Over the new-scented bed ; Faery cups, wet from the snow, Violets, nestle ye low, Close to the slumbering head. There from his flowery chalice Sips still the wild honey-bee ; There the red oriole sings, Shaking the drops from his wings, Piping his matins of glee. 14 REQUIEM. There in soft dream of the morning Leans she with half open ear ; Ripples of sunshine she quaffs, Lists when the meadow-brook laughs, Creeping thro' cool mosses near. Blossom and song of the woodland, These were the faery child's breath ; She is a song ever staying, She a spring bud undecaying ; Thou canst not change her. () death ! Sfpi(mbtt\ 1847. «5 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. 'T^HE Old Year's hour is come. In silence -■■ kneeling I drink its faint, low breath ; As the fond Roman caught the spirit stealing In the last kiss of death. O, sister ! latest born of our dear mother, Bud that half opened hung Fresh with the morning dews, forgive a brother, Whose love would keep thee young. I see thee woman, yet I strangely linger 'Midst those green, roseate days, And fain would stay with a regretful finger The blooms that seem decays. Yet ah! we may not thwart with weak endeavour The happy law that binds With life's swift change the beauty ripened ever In flower or blossoming minds. i6 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. O, sister mine ! I cull from caskets olden Of weird, sweet histories, A tale, wherein as in a setting golden The pearl of wisdom lies. In the long twilight of the dreaming ages. Where childlike fancy strayed, A fount of youtli — so was the lore of sages — In some lone earth-nook played. Whoe'er those faery waters should discover, Bathing wan face and limb, A lean, dry grey-beard, a sad limping lover, New life-blood danced in him. When the New World burst on old Europe's vision, A boundless dreamland rare, That fount of youth, that hidden well Elysian They deemed was bubbling there. To that sweet shore, whose flowery wilder- nesses Bloom in its gleeful name. Where summer stays the year with fond caresses, A band of pilgrims came. 17 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. Alas ! in dank savannas, poison-laden, Full many a seeker lay ; From weary quest to many a woful maiden Came back a gallant grey. Yet, sister mine ! that legend was no dreaming ; Doubt not 'tis wisest sooth ! Though in no spot of earth, yet ever streaming Is that lost well of youth. Not in the infant smile, the brow unshaded, The play of dimpled cheek, But in a deeper life there dwells unfaded The childhood that we seek. The soul that wears a freshness all unwasting, The heart as warm and free As April buds, not earth's mad revels tasting To bring satiety. The life that garners, in a world of folly. The beautiful and pure. This, maiden best beloved ! the childhood holy, Whose spring-time shall endure. i8 THE FOUXTAIN OF YOUTH. In those baptismal waters Christ hath sprinkled, Forever bathe thy heart, And He shall keep thee spotless and unwrin- kled, As now a child thou art. Kach thought of joy, each guileless recollection Shall linger ever near; And golden cups of hope and bright affection Bloom by that fountain clear. Still come thy early days, young birds return- Tho' wanderers from the nest, Still homeward look with instinct of glad yearn- ing Toward the mother breast. O, sister! may the children's angels, waiting Before the Father's throne. Watch over thee, new, happier years creating, When the dear Past is flown. N'fw Yfar's Evf, December 31, 1 849 . 19 TWILIGHT ON THE RIVER. SEE soft-footed twilight creep Into the bosom of the stream : Breathless the broad shadows sleep ; Yonder oaks, in voiceless dream, Bend as with a fond amaze, While another self they see. Silvery leaf and branching tree, Nodding to their nodding gaze : Only o'er them broods the change Of a slumberous beauty strange. Silently the wondrous Past Over the shapes of faded life Doth his twilight shadows cast ; All its wind-tossed boughs of strife Clear reflected here again, Real as in days gone by. But in softened hues they lie ; Painless images of pain ; Steeped by that unearthly charm In a trance of holy calm. 20 TWILIGHT OX THE RIVER, O sweet world of memories ! Gleaming in the peaceful heart ; Passing time the shadow is. Thou our real being art ! Loves and joys, tho' seen no more, As the sea nymphs in their cave In still deeps beneath the wave Builded on the ocean floor, An unwrinkled, ageless race Have their silent dwelling-place. Pakker Rivkr, Nkwhiryhikt. Oitobcr, 1850. 21 THE MINNOW. HAIL to thee, brave voyager ! Sea King of this stormless meer ; Pigmy, madcap water sprite, Shooting left and shooting right As an arrow of the sun ; Brimful of thy gushing fun ; Minnow gay, thou art to me A fresh thought, a laugh of glee. Sleepless, limber, frolic thing ! All thy life a gambolling, All thy rest an endless motion In thy small Pacific Ocean. Say, thou tiny fish, hast known Of a world beyond thine own ? Haply legend dim and hoar May have reached thine inland shore, Of the monster ships that sail Broad winged in the howling gale ; 22 THE MIXXOW. Where the hui^e Lev'iathan, Kaiser of the tumbling main, Rides amidst his scaly court ; Where the merry sea gods sport ; And in trail of doomed bark Cruiseth keen the pirate shark. But, sweet minnow, what are these Save fond, silly fantasies? Naught for thee hath breath or being, That transcends thy orb of se<"inc: ; All the unknown and the far Uncreated nothings are : Naught to thee doth lie beyond The horizon of thy pond ; 'Tis thy vast <>/ vop;/''i';/, Bounded by the dark world sea ; For no deeper lor(^ thou rarest. Backward, forward ever farest, Save perchance some hardy band Sail for rumoured new-found land, Or a thrice-adventurous Cook Circumnavigate the brook. Never danger, never din. Save when boy wMth crooked pin 23 THE MINNOW. Some young Izsiak, all untried, Angles by the water side. Naught thou deem'st, unlearned elf, Bigger than th}^ simple self ; Thou the centre, thou the heart Of the circling system art ; Life for thee has riddles none ; All is daylight and broad sun ; Yesterday nor unborn morrow Brings a care nor leaves a sorrow ; Haunted thou by no ideal ; Dwellest only in the real. All untinged with hope or fear ; Happiest in thy corner thou ! Thine Eternity is now, And thy universe is here. Laughing sage within the brook ! Better from thee than a book I the hints of wisdom gain ; Many a thought for larger brain, Many a truth within whose span Floats the minnow mind of man. That shall make thy silent stream More musical than Academe. February, 1S44. 24 THE CID AND THE LEPER. DAWN o'er castled hill-top glances ; Rides Rodrigo of Bivar, 'Midst the gleam of twenty lances, Flashing as the morning star : To the shrine of Compostella Rides, our Lady's grace to gain ; Gentlest heart 'neath stoutest corslet. Soul of chivalry and Spain ! See ! a lothely leper lying Whelmed within the miry road : ' Help, good Christian men, the dying ; Help me for the love of God ! ' Spur the knights with idle jeering, But Rodrigo stoopeth low ; And the hapless beggar nearing, Lifts him to his saddle bow. At the hostel board he seats him. Crowned with meats and amber wine : And with kindliest welcome greets him ; 'Taste, my brother, all is thine !' 25 THE CID AND THE LEPER. Chafing like an angry billow, From the hall each lordling fares ; But Rodrigo spreads the pillow, And the beggar's bed he shares. Sleep thou like a child, pure-hearted ! But in holy dead of night, Blew a piercing wind ; he started ! Lo ! he saw a form in white ! Lifts it o'er him hands caressing, Bends a face with winsome smile ; *• Take thou saintly Lazarus' blessing ; I am he, yon leper vile. * When this wind blows on thy shoulder. Strike, for God shall wield thine arm ! Bold Tizona's blade, but bolder Edged by me with saintly charm. Thine, O Cid, the battle holy. Thine the Christian palm and song ; For the gentle heart and lowly Is the comrade of the strong ! ' February, 1 854. 26 PYGMALION. ALL day the enamoured sea claspeth the shore With cestus of brit^ht waves ; the frolic winds Toy with the half shut lili ,-s, or they creep Thro' haunts of broken gloom, where myrtles drop Circcn twilight at hot noon, white altars gleam, The musk rose swings its censer, and the doves Coo to each other, till the drowsy sun Kisses the forehead of yon blushing hill. Then blooms the star of Love ; by silver beach Dances the chariot of the gracious queen, Swan yoked, with wreaths of merry, laughing maids, Flecks on the purple tide : and thri)ugh the groves Jet fountains of high song, and winged feet Flash o'er the pansied lloor. But tar witliin, A forest nook there lies, beneath the brow 27 P YGMALION. Of great Olympus nestled. Noisier sound Scares not the slumbering woodland, than the laugh Of Lycus, babbling o'er his pebbled bed To the lush grasses. There in sleepless grief Sits young Pygmalion, glory of the art That can ensoul the marble : by his side Chisel and ivory hammer, careless flung Amidst the ashes. Lit the flickering lamp The midnight of his face, as th' altar fire Glares on the bleeding victim, while the priest Uprears his gilded axe. But there above, From yonder pedestal one dazzling beam Clove as a faulchion thro' the scattered dark ; A marble grace, it stood as if a god Envious of eating age, that beauty stayed In its full opened flower. From fringed shores Looked the still lake of her deep eyes, and fell The spray of her light tresses ; rose the breast. As winds lift softly a round wave that sinks To happy sleep again. Upon her brow Sate Guilelessness, knowing no blush of shame, Covering with awful robe of the white thought That unclothed wonder, as the queen of love Crowned upon Ida, yet as Pallas girt 28 PYGMALION. With armour of an unveiled chastity. But voiceless as the stone Pygmalion lay ; And if a moment o'er his haggard cheek Stole a quick glance, anon it died away, Moaning along dry lips, and raged within The torrent of his grief, until it brake In a wild wail of speech. O empty close ! Sad outcome of my toils I for in this soul A dream of beauty, an unearthly shape Fadeless has dwelt, and tliro* the stainless years, Scorning all low-born love, winged by chaste hope. Mother of skill, still on the virgin stone Gladsome I wrought, for still by day and night From the rough block looked an immortal eye. And not in vain. Behold the perfect thought, Behold the unseen beauty, worshipped long In my heart's holy caves. But Art, alas ! What see I, clasp I in these arms but stone ? Not life, not love, but only cold, dull stone ; Nor smiles the eye, nor blushes the red wave Through the white veins, nor answer the dumb lips 29 P YGMALION. My burning prayer. O fool ! Pygmalion, fool ! Poor worshipper of marble, to forego All nearer joy, cheating thy youth with dreams, To sink an unblessed phantom at the last Into this stony tomb. Speak, cold, dear mouth ! Send from thy icy lids one beam ! In vain, Yet may the gods have pity. Hear, O queen, Smile on thy Cyprus, bend to my great wo ! By my pure hopes, my toils, my sinless love, Breathe on this stone, or let Pygmalion die. For this his triumph is his crown of grief. And death of life. He spake, and wildly now. With a last sigh, as when the gasping wind Pours his full voice and falls, he clasped again That lifeless form, when lo ! he started back Shivering with fearful joy : for in his arms Thrilled the cold stone, and a warm throbbing pulse Shot through his own ; now heaved the virgin breast. And drooped the head as in a new-born dread Within the trembling hands ; the crimson stream Darted at one quick bound from the pale brow 30 PYGMALION. To the blue veinlets of the tiny feet, As in the north upleaps the wizard lip^ht In flashing arrows, then a climbing flame Bathes in one swelling flood the joyless skies. Dumb stood Pygmalion there, dumb marble now Before the living stone ; a fresh-made shame Bloomed on his forehead, and those eager eyes, Feasting so late on a chill pleasure, dared Snatch only stealthy looks, then turned away Hiding themselves in depths of his great bliss. And through the night rippled a brook-like voice : " Take thou, O worshipper, thy guerdon true ; To him who loves chaste Beauty, do the gods Grant Beauty, Love and Life." The whisper ebbed, And as a sunbeam from the pillar sank That living marble into living arms. O sculptor of sweet Cyprus ! fadeless type Of the creative soul, thy legend strange Whispers to-day as the Dodona leaves Loosed by a wind divine from speaking boughs. For our fresh budding youth is still a dream 31 PYGMALION. Of the unseen, unearthly Good we carve In the white marble of our thought ; but now Faultless it stands before our longing eyes, We clasp it, and alas ! 'tis cold, hard stone. O riddle of all earnest souls ! O life Seeking the True, the Good, the Beautiful, And finding only falsehood, wanton love, And mocking hope : so cometh weariness Of the first visions, till the sickened heart Sinks in despair, or plunges with the herd Into the pools of earth. This is the curse Of time ; a restless, tossing wave Whereon we sail, as the tired seaman sees A sunny glint far o'er the purple waste, A phantom shore, and straight his fanc)^ builds The lang-sought wonder of the Happy Isles, Already smells the musky gums and treads O'er the enamelled mead, but nearer now The golden bank melts in a cruel cloud, Above the endless heaven, and all around The endless sea. Yet dream thou on, brave heart ! Thy dream is truth. Let the iow-thoughted world Call these but idle phantoms. Hath the spring 32 P YGMALION. For naught her dreams ? within her rathe, pale bud There lies the golden summer. Tho' the child Become the man, tho' the young callow brood Of fancy change, yet never the pure mind Loses its holy vision. Give me, then, Thy soul, O sculptor, thine unfainting will ! O deathless youth, with all thy heaven of stars, Unquenched, thro' the deep shaft of memory seen At noonday ; all thy rainbow hues of hope Arching the fresh, green earth : ye glens, and flowers, And song of the first bluebirds, prattling sweet The child's own thought, to me, to me return ! Make me again a glad, immortal child ! Breathe still the early faith, and 'neath the ice Of doubt or care let the warm hidden spriiigs Keep summer at the heart : give me again The dreams from out the ivory gate, again The happy, holy dreams, that are not sleep. But life's true waking. The Eternal Good Waits on the pure : and still the vision pure The high mind shapes shall to full beauty grow, And the white marble to a living soul. 33 LEAVES. AMIDST the wild, bare mountains, Groweth the sacred tree, Upon whose leaves are written The words of mystery. From topmost twig are hanging The broad, green tongues divine ; On the young shoot thou spellest The faintly graven line. I bring the mystic leaflets, In dewy freshness now, Close by love's hallowed temple, Plucked from the wondrous bough. Each hath the magic letters. And meaning manifold From the soft, trembling touches To the last writing bold. O priestess ! thoughtful priestess ! Ask thou of Buddha wise, Of past, to come, and present. What truth within them lies. October, 1 8 52. 34 THE VISION OF YOUTH. VISION of strange beauty, hovering o'er The charmed eyes of the soul, whom 1 adore With fixed and passionate gazing evermore. Thou floatest still across my floating dream, As o'er the wind-tossed grain a waving gleam Doth now a shadow, now a sunshine seem. From childhood's dawn, a wondrous presence thou Camest unsought, unknown, in manhood now I gaze on the same form, the holy brow. Fair art thou, clearly seen as earthly face, Yet an embodied light, a lustrous grace, Whose features I behold, but can not trace. I look upon thee in a silent trance ; And on the river of my spirit dance The golden ripples of thy smiling glance. 35 THE VISION OF YOUTH. Thou seem'st as one, within whose image dwell Dear, life-long memories, I know full well ; Yet can I not unfold thy magic spell. Sometime, a lone Chaldean, from afar I watch thee on thy throne, a distant star ; Then thy near rays within me gliding are. In joy's full noontide, at the happy hour, When the whole heart lies open to love's power, x\s lies beneath the sun the open flower. Then comest thou ! and my glad soul in quest Of thy fresh dawning goes ; upon thy breast Lean I mine own, and feel that I am blest. In the dark season of my mournful mood, When sweeps with grisly wings a spectre brood. Making a midnight of my solitude ; Then comest thou ! I see in thy soft eyes A glistening tear, and in thy stealing sighs A whispered voice of consolation lies. 36 THE VISION OF YOUTH. As drops upon the grass the soothing rain, Its still, sweet music, so upon my pain Drops thy dear presence, and I breathe again. Art tiiou of earth or heaven ? O love divine, Only I kneel in faith before thy shrine, Only I know in soul that thou art mine. Yet ever and anon I hear a tone : — ** O restless heart ! thou shalt not be alone, But thy youth's vision soon shall be thine own." Jiinttary, 1S4I. 37 THE AURORA. REMEMBEREST thou, sweet love, that dream of wonder We saw, lone watching on the starlit ocean, A Northern morning walking on the bosom Of the soft eventide ? Low hung the moon, her bashful brow yet fairer Thro' thin, transfigured cloud ; a silvery shore- line, Strange towers 'mid groves of palm, and vapoury hill-tops; Sate on the desert sea. Now shot from silent deeps a weird light, play- ing As smile o'er parted lips, with winsome dim- pling Round the warm cheek, then madly leaped and kindled The high, o'erarching blue. 38 THE AURORA. Then throbbed that mighty breast with arrowy pulses, Bathed the pale forehead in its flood of crim- son, And thro' its blushes glowed the \'irgin Pleiads, As eyes of dancing glee. Mingled were sea and heaven, a twin ocean ; Above, the surging, billowy light ; below it, A wave of flame, rushing and melting ever Into one fond embrace. O ! happy vision, gleaming still upon me ! The image of my h)vo, in thought's pale night- time Struggling to life, in faint and quivciin-^ flashes From the heart's hidden deeps. Then brake its rosy fulness o'er my heaven. And thro' the cloud the holy stars looked smiling. And met our kindred souls, a mingling tor- rent Of light and billowy joy. 39 THE AURORA. O ! morn new risen on night ! and shalt thou vanish From our young life ? only as that dear vision, Shall passion's flush die in the fuller noontide Of Love's undying peace. November, 1S51. 40 I LOVE THOU. THE heart's answer TO "LOVE NOT.* IOVE thou ! love thou ! for born to love -' thou art : Its mystic ties entwine this life of ours ; And opens to its smiles the yearning heart. As bends towards the light the darkened flowers. Love thou ! love thou ! tho' in the mournful tomb The frail, decayint^ forms of joy may lie ; Yet love eternal is ; the nobler bloom Of its fresh spring-time wakens not to die. Love thou ! love thou ! tho' poured the lavish tide O'er barren sands, thro' doubt, thro' false- hood cling : Sad, sad the spirit in its fountain dried, But holier, purer grows from suffering. 41 LOVE THOU, Love thou ! love thou ! O voices sweet that roll, An angel music trembling on the breeze From distant shores, ye whisper to the soul. Its perfect peace, its endless melodies. November, 185 1. 42 SILENT LOVE. ''piCLL me, what yon bright bird dreameth ^ As he sits, with folded wing, And f(jrgets awhile to sing ? Blessed mood of joy ! meseemeth, Wooed by him sweet Silence is To unfold her harmonies. Know you, what the fond flower telleth To the dew-drop on her breast ? She that in her nook of rest Ever meek and quiet dwelleth : Ah ! licr loving smiles express All her silent happiness. Know you, what the low wind sigheth To the waters of the rill ? Hark ! in murmurs soft and still Now the virgin stream replieth. These shall teach me, dear, to woo : Silence is my song to you. November, 1S51. 43 THE AIR-PLANT. THERE grows a plant in the sunny dell, Hanging with earthless roots and bare, And drinks, a gay, bright miracle, Its nectared life from out the air. My heart a happy air-plant is, And on love's balmy breath it feeds ; Nor coarser soil, nor sweeter bliss Its pure, unearthly being needs. Thy wordless thoughts, thy soft, dear sighs. Thy smiles, distilled in silent showers, Quaffing in thirsty joy it lies. And spreads its rich, fantastic flowers. December, 185 1. 44 S O X G " LOVF. IS nriM)." WHO speaks that slander old, " Love's eyes are dim " ?— A purblind babbler he ! Love laughs at him. Keener than Jove's own bird, Who heavenward flies, Mocking the shafts of noon. Are Love's bright eyes. He sees the soul beneath The shews of pride ; Nor robe, nor jewelled wreath The churl can hide : He counts gay fashion's face But painted dust ; He scorches with a glance The leer of lust. He scorns the huckster base Who e'er has sold 45 SONG. Fair woman's virgin grace For earthly gold : He dowries him with hate, The marriage ring He makes a molten death To burn and cling. He seeth beauty pure, That lowly grows, As o'er the cottage porch The briar rose : He sees the throbbing hopes, Stirring the breast. As new-born birds that chirp In one soft nest. More than the cold, shrewd brain, Shrivelled in youth. He chooseth childhood's mind And heart of truth ; More than the monarch's gem, To him are dear The blush of one fond cheek, One pearly tear. 46 SOXG. Who speaks that slander old, " Love's eyes are dim " ? A purblind babbler he ! Love laughs at him. yuiy, 1S52. 47 THE TRYSTING-TREE. MERRY is the woodland smile With kiss of balmy May ; With jocund breeze, and jocund bird On every dancing spray : But sweeter far thy pleasant song Than all the wild birds' glee, And greener are thy budding joys, Thou happy trysting-tree ! We stood upon the lonely deck ; Above the starry deep, Around the calm, blue ocean lay Rocked in a dreamy sleep : The low winds murmured thro' the sail, The mast hung o'er the sea : And there beneath its shadows dark We had our trysting-tree. The low winds sang, the waters sighed ; One voice alone I heard, A music softer to my ear. Of one, half-whispered word : 48 THE TR > 'S TING- TREE. I pressed to mine thy throbbing heart, I felt it beat with me ; I knew thy love, O maiden dear, Beneath the trysting-trce. Ah I blessed tree I thou bloomest gay With summer beauty now ; Willi fullest leaf, and golden fruit Upon the naked bough ; And from the holy shade there steals A soul-like melody. As still we stand in joy beneath The dear loved trysting-tree. Noxemht-r, 1 85 1. 49 THE MAIDEN'S PRAYER. C "GUARDIAN Powers, that ever dwell ^ Watchful of this sacred well, Whose bright waters give again Health to sickly heart and brain, Hear a hapless maiden's grief; Grant, O grant, a swift relief. With your potent spells restore My true love to me once more. Once he was the gravest sage ; Ever from his earliest age Might his visage be mistaken For a Leibnitz or a Bacon ; Learning dwelt within his looks, Deep as his old parchment books ; And his trivial conversation Was a long and large oration ; Never from his mouth would fall Sentiment and poor romance ; And for love, he scorned it all ; Only studied us, weak creatures, As gay butterflies or plants. In our scientific features. 50 THE MAIDEX'S PR A YER. But a change has o'er him passed Since the eve of Friday last : All day long entranced he walks ; In his sleep most strangely talks ; Now he laughs, and now he sings ; Chatters the absurdest things ; Reads no books, but spends his time Weaving namby-pamby rhyme ; Writes a sentimental sonnet To my shoe-string or my bonnet ; Sits and gazes in my eyes, Now he smiles, and then he sighs ; Kisses me till ne'er a skin Lingers on my features thin : Now, perhaps, — the jealous fool ! — he Asks me if I love him truly ; Like a thunder-cloud he'll mutter, Call me false, deceiving, heartless, If to others I should utter Word or smile with freedom artless ; Then as suddenly he's jolly, As this moment melancholy : Calls me darling, rosebud, lily, And a hundred names as silly ; Says the same fond things forever, Tedious as he once was clever ; 51 THE MAIDEN'S PRA YER. In the coldest winter weather Drags me with him hours together, Gazing at the moon perhaps, With most crazy rhapsodies, While I yawn for loss of naps. Or in speechless torment freeze. Vain my crying or complaining ; I've no patience now remaining ; Every day he seems the more Wild and frantic than before. Well-a-day ! what damsel e'er Had a harder grief to bear? Tell me, gracious spirits, tell. Is his case incurable ? Must I give him up ? Alack ! He might prove a maniac, And he's dearest to his Fanny, Even tho' a "wee uncanny." Should I wed him ? marriage might Set his addled senses right, And a plain domestic diet Make him rational and quiet. Grant, O healing spirits, grant Pity to your suppliant ; With your cooling waves recover My forlorn and foolish lover. November, 185 1. 52 SONG. FLY, winged dreams I Hover, where the lonely maiden On her couch of sorrow lies, With your sweet love-philters laden, Softly charm her sleepless eyes : I'rom the earth of heavy care, Lifted on your purple wings, To the world of beauty bear, Of bright imaginings ! I-'ly, winged dreams ! Where the unseen morrow dances Far upon the shadowy hills ; Breath of flowers and silvery glances Waft to her from distant rills ; Flash upon her unveiled sight Visions dimmed too long with tears, Glimpses of the cloudless light, Bliss of coming years ! 53 SOA'G. Fly, winged dreams ! Drop into her heart, as falleth The dew-drop in the sleeping rose Whisper, as the spring-time calleth To the daisy 'neath the snows ; Bathe her in fresh waves of hope From the touch of cankering pain Then her smiling eyelids ope To glad life again. Fly, winged dreams ! April, 1852. 54 THE PORTRAIT. 'Ayt ^ojyfjacpcjr a/jiffr^. — Anacreon. COME, best painter, draw, I pray thee, Her I love, with lifesome ait ; I will give thee her sweet image Pictured on my steadfast heart : Paint a brow as sun-bright morning Lights the pink of Alpine snow : P. lint a check as fresh-blown rc^''"! With a blushing heart below : Paint a mouth, witliin whose dimples Mirth and Love together play, As the bees 'mid honeysuckles, Singing thro' the gladsome day. Next her eyes ; — thy soul, O painter, Into the cunning pencil send : Eyes where every changeful feeling In a sweet confusion blend : 55 THE FORI Ix.ll r. Let them twinkle now as starlight ; Then as still, as clear, as deep, As upon soft Como's bosom Twilight shadows love to sleep. Next, but why ? I see thy pencil From the listless fingers fall ! Yes, 'tis true ! no face, no feature Have I given thee, friend, at all : Only the fair, inward image ; But, good artist, this is she ; Even this embodied beauty, Thought and Joy and Purity. Ah ! the wizard Love, dear painter. His is skill outrunning thine ; He the fairest earthly likeness Changes into soul divine. Put away thy needless pencil, I have learned more lifesome art ; Let me keep the picture gleaming On the canvas of the heart. July, 1852. 56 THE BANIAN. COME dream awhile with me, sweet maid, Under this giant banian's shade ; Look how its stately branches bend, Loving, childlike arms that cling. The mother trunk engarlanding, Springing, clasping without end. And in a pillared temple blend, A grey, cloistered solitude, Barred from eye of envious day, Save some tattling sunbeam stray Through the leafy lattice peep ; Ever pale green twilights brood, Low winds whisper in their sleep ; And we, hermits of the wood, With the still birds have our nest, I'\)lding our wings in voiceless rest. So, fond heart, our lite shall be This o'er-arching banian tree ; 57 THE BAh'IAN. Every thought, each holy tie, Dropping its lithe, quick root below, Upward a new-born arm shall grow, Until its branching infancy Blossoms to a sacred grove, A Dodona of green love. Where the heart, a priestess, dwells. And every leaf sings oracles. There, within our cool retreat, In life's noontide, dear, we'll lie, Listening to the busy feet Of the mad world hurr5^ing by : Thought profane, nor carking care Ever vex that charmed air. Then, as the long twilight holy Of our old age creepeth slowly. We the soul of former years Into our magic ring will call ; Blessed memories, one and all ; Loves that grew, baptised in tears. Heart buds wet with healing dews ; Pleasures, that as sunset hues Thro' the kindling branches cast Bars of gold along the past : 5^ 77//: B.IM.IX. Griefs, that bound our souls in one More than all delights have done ; Till our common life shall seem Fairer than a poet's dream ; And as this banian, ever spring In fresh, green boughs o'ershadowing. >/,'. 1852. 59 VOICES OF THE SEA. ''T^HOU ever-sounding sea ! ■'- What say thy billowy voices To the 3"oung heart, that in its strength re joices Of faith and hope ? We leap with footsteps free, Singing unchecked, exultingly By rock-girt cape, or isles AVhere deathless summer smiles, From shore to passing shore, Evermore — evermore. O might}^, tossing breast ! What to the sad soul weary Utters thy voice ? We roam a desert dreary, Champing th' eternal chain, nor may we rest By golden islands of the Blest, But round the icy pole Again our waters roll. With loud, com.plaining roar. Evermore — evermore. 60 VOICES OF THE SEA. What say'st, great Ocean, now, When after long years lonely The yearning soul finds rest? the storm-winds only Can vex the changeful face ; but far below Pure and untroubled waters flow ; As God's heart calm and deep, Licth mine heart asleep ; His peace soft broodeth o'er, Evermore — evermore. Ah ! many-voiced main ! Thy mirth or moaning madness Are but the spirit's own ; in grief and gladness She hears her music floating back again ; Tlie hills, the varied woodland strain, The heaven gay or paU\ The winds that laugh or wail, The same heart's echo pour Evermore — evermore. November, 1S51. 61 THE DESERTED CONVENT. n^HE stately cliff hangs gazing o'er the wave , ^ The wave sings sadly to the pebbled shore, A sleepless ghost, who wanders by the grave, Low moaning for the years that bloom no more. A gaunt, grey ruin bend the convent walls ; The giant cactus clasps the tottering stone ; With a wan smile the setting sunbeam falls Across the moss-grown walk and cloister lone. No more are heard, as in the bygone days, The ringing lauds, the aves of sweet prayer ; But fitfully the gust of autumn plays, And the shrill sea-bird smites the startled air. No more, awaked with chime of gladsome morn The white -robed priest before the altar kneels ; 62 THE DESERTED CONVENT. Mor vesper-bell, on quivering breezes borne, As a soft blessing o'er the ocean steals. Yet here, amidst these waste, unpeopled cells Linger unseen pale Thought, and holy Dread ; Still in her faded home Devotion dwells. To lift a prayer for the forgotten dead. Xor lot harsh l)igotry with anc^ry eyes This mouldering tomb of buried years in- vade ; Or the meek heart of piety despise. That whilome bloomed beneath the convent shade. Dim was the sun that thr<»' the cloister stole. The glimmering twilight of a truth divine ; Vet burned unqucnched the taper of the soul, A flame of love that lit the inner shrine. Here foreheads, pale with midnight vigil Jong, Bent o'er the scroll with Austin's wisdom stored ; And here the incense of sweet Ambrose' song Was evermore from golden censers poured. 63 THE DESERTED CONVENT, Here rested hearts, once crushed with heavy years, Who chose the pahii of toil for earthly ease ; These walls were washed with balm of healing tears, And worn the stony floor with bleeding knees. Nor scorn, ye madly daring ones who climb Upward to ice-clad, dizzy peaks of fame. These lowly souls, tho' no far-soaring rhyme Utter with trumpet peal their hidden name. Not theirs the glistering gems that monarchs wear, The blood-flecked laurel, withering with the strife ; Enough for them the daily cross to bear Along the rugged Golgotha of life. Not theirs the pride that decked the lowly man In robes of purple, and a mocking crown ; That hurled the thunders of the Vatican, And blasted Caesars with one deadly frown. Sweeter the song of yonder tinkling brook, Than shouts the torrent in his headlong path ; 64 THE DESERTED COX V EXT. Happier the daisy in her woodland nook, Than giant oak, scarred by the lightnin^r's wrath. Call not their little lot a sluggish dream, If from the well-head in the sheltered glen, Its bounty stole in many a winding stream To bless green dales, and cottages of men. Ah ! well Religion loves the cloister sweet, And while she fares along the dusty way, Seeks oft the mountain-top with noiseless feet, Where with the Master she alone may pray. Then let the heart of reverence steal around Each sp(n where'er a saintly soul has trod ; Be mine to kneel upon the hallowed ground. And lay fresh roses on the mouldering sod. Macao, 1852. 65 EASTER ON MOUNT OLIVET. \ T morning twilight, when the dreaming soul -^ *- Gropes in the grey of dim and weird-like thought, A sweet voice whispered : " Lo ! the Christ hath risen. And walks among the Olives." In glad haste. Still through still city, and adown the street Of Sorrows, crept I to the gate, whose stones Yet weep with Stephen's blood. The bearded guard Upturned a half-shut eye ; near broken tomb Shivering, a Jewish leper slept. All slept ; Only the wind moaned thro* the hollow gorge. As of a prophet wailing in his grave. And the leaf quivered on the gnarled bough, Ghostlike beside dry Kedron. Up I clomb, And with me clom.b the mists, white-winged, swift ; Till, gazing from the brow, lo ! a wild sea. They surged above the rock, above the wall Of the lost city ; tomb and topmost tree, 66 EASTER OX MOUNT OLIVET. Sank sudden, hoary mosque and battlement ; And, as the sailor in the stormy trough Sees earth nor heaven, but crested ocean peaks, Swooping upon him, so stood I alone With the drear hilltop and the swallowing mist. When lo I this music sang : "A little while. And ye shall see me"; then the shaping cloud Seemed struggling to a smile, a deep, soft eye. And brow thorn-crowned, and from each thorny edge Trickled a drop of light. ** I am," it said, " One who left heaven, when the Christ arose, Wearing, so love I Ilim, the face He wore, And in his holy foot-prints aye I walk, Till that He come again ! Behold thou now His coming messenger." Thorough the wall Of cloud, a sword of fire, the sunbeam clove ; It smote the hilltop, the grey olives burned As the red bush of Moses, down the slopes Joyous it leaped, till calm it stayed and bathed In wondrous flood the lone Gethsemane. Before me, as the landscape of a dream. Rose up the gleaming mount, and thro' the gorge Out to the hollow waste the surly mist 67 EA S TER ON MO UNT OLI VE T. Fled, as a baffled monster of the sea Back to his caves. In dumb, deep joy I drank the vision, when, " Behold again ! " Heard I the bodiless voice. And lo ! no more The grey, old walls, storm riven, and barren hills, But in that mystic light a city of God, Unspeakable, e'en by his golden lips Who saw the Bride of Christ, and in his trance Fell words as flashes from the crystal gates, And sunlit ripples of the River of Life. But mine how dumb ! nor can I know or tell The image of my joy : — a melody Dim whispering to me now, as if I stood Upon a lonely shore, and heard afar Snatches of song still billowing on the breeze Over a moonlit sea : — a towering pile. That crumbles at the touch of after-thought, As in the tropic sunset rise afar, Fair golden palaces 'midst groves of palm, Gleaming and gone : — arched court and pin- nacle Of a vast Temple, where yon Paynim mosque Spurns Sion, and a dome dashing its waves 68 EA S TER OX MO I 'X T OLI VE T. Of light o'er walls of light : about it walked Forms wonderful ; one with craggy brow Like Sinai, and a veil half lifted up ; A kingly harper chaunting as he went ; An eye from a dark mantle, gazing keen Into the cloud-rift as a written scroll ; A head, grief-whitened, but a crown it shone Of silvery rays ; gently she leaned on him, Who leaned on the Lord's bosom, and with these New, starry groups, as when the watcher sa.l> Toward the Southern Cross, in clusters rich As love had blent tlu-ir torches, and afar Three vapoury piles, that art- the golden dust Of starry worlds. Then in my waking dream, Sang I this matin song. Shine. Laster Sun, Risen in thy strength ! O City of my God I Long tombed in mists of sorrow, from tlie mount Where oft those eyes have wept, those blessed knees Have knelt, thy morning breaks. O holy hill, Beloved above all hills that clipib to heaven, Tho' loftier peaks look snow-clad on the vales 69 EASTER ON MOUNT OLIVET. And greener slopes smile joyous, holy thou With memories und5^ing as His Love, Still walking here ; thou, Kedron, who no more Hearest the ripple of thy wave ; ye trees, Gnarled with grey age, bending your loving arms Over the garden, ye shall wear the bloom Of Easter morning on this mount of God. Jerusalem, 1853. 70 I A BUXCII OF FUCUS XATAXS, GATH- ERED OFF THE AZORES. POOR weed, that tL...., .. .,_, A pilgrim o'er the desert of the wave ; A lingering bloom, by nature's withered grave Lifting thy smiling eye ! No gardens gave thee birth ; Nor knewest thou the happy, woodland bowers, Where sips the honey-bee, and sleep the flowers In the green nests of earth. Child of the ocean hoar ! Foam-born, thou drinkcst at its mitxhty breast • With all thy hanging roots, and without rest It rocks thee evermore. With the ship-wafting breeze Tliou sail'st a mariner to Western isles, By Afric's sands or where the swart -^un smiles On the gay Caribees. 71 A BUNCH OF FUCUS NATANS. Poor weed ! thy presence tells The mystery of Life ; the murmuring tide Of Being, that thro' every channel wide Of shoreless Nature swells. In the mute sand it sleeps, The peopled water-drop, in winds that bear Germs to the lonely heath, in swarming air ; In the vast caverned deeps. Where joyous verdure curls Round coral grots, gleaming beneath the sea ; In fields of light, where budding nebulae Ripen to starry worlds. And what are we, slight thing ! But kindred weeds, upon the tossing stream Of human life, this vexed,, half waking dream. Forever wandering ? N'ovember^ 1S51. 72 WRITTEN IN A VOLUME OF LATI- MER'S SERMONS. c IIIEFTAINSof England's hero race I whose life Wrestled for Christ, and in the burning flame Walked unconsiimed ! Still have we kept your name ; But where the spirit that shall c^i^v wi.. .^i.iie? Within our halls to-day your armour hangs, The rusted pride of the old battle-field, The empty helm, the sleeping spear and shield ; While ever and anon an echo clangs, As if your stalwart hands the war-note pealed, Then dies away, a hollow funeral wail. Dwarfs of a little day ! that heavy mail. That sword of God our lean arms cannot wield, Only we view, awe-struck, the statue vast, And giant thews of a forgotten Past. January, 1S50. 73 OXFORD TRACTS. MEDIEVAL sexton, thou Who would'st in decent grave-clothes dress The modern century, that now Exults in savage nakedness : Whether to choose, perplexing case ! The sans-culotte who shameless stands ; Or mummy, with his yellow face, Wrapt in a hundred swathing bands ? Thou fool ! who thinkest truth is cant. And piety is gown and stole ; What the irreverent times most want, Is not a surplice, but a soul. o. I 74 THE SAGE OF THE POLLEN'. IN the fine pollen of a flower, that spread Its petals ^ay o'er a potato-bed, A wondrous insect had his dwelling. Unknown to barbarous men his fame, But world-embracing was his name, It we their glorious insect records grant, As the all-into-nothing crushing Kant, Spinoza, Fichte, Hegel, Schelling. .Eons of animalcule ages, So say their great cosmogonies, chrnTi.)l.vri(-^ And palco-entomologies, Had passed since out of Chaos and old night These mighty races sprang at first to light. High bards and heaven-illumined sages Had borne them onward till the earth Saw now its ripe, consummate birth In this divinest of the wise, This prophet of the grand To-be, In whom transcendent truth should rise. Full-orbed upon the animalculoe. 75 THE SAGE OF THE POLLEN. His early infancy the wonder saw Hid in the acorn of his soul ; his babble Was Orphic wisdom, of idea, law. Of pollen-life, and primal flower-stalk ; Far from the empty rabble Of insect youths, his \valk Amidst all philosophic thoughts sublime ; And now at last in wisdom's perfect prime, Pupils as Plato's bees, glad hung To sip the honey of his tongue. ^' Listen " — he cried — " O animalculae ! World-atoms of Infinity ! Listen, for I now rehearse The riddle of the universe. Caught by a few, unconscious seers, Dimly thro' the elder years. Ages long our God-born race Hath swarmed this wondrous dwelling-place. Yet have they grovelled for a season, As if creatures of the dust, Not heirs of the Eternal Reason : Centuries of sloth and rust Despotic priest and dogmatist On childish Bible myth insist ; 76 THE SAGE OF THE POLLEN. Nor science with its timorous oar Hath sailed beyond the narrow shore, Of mysteries ridiculous Still prating, occult truth extolling Above our reason ! mysteries to us ! The incarnate world-souls of the pollen ! Away with faded faiths, away ! Upon us beams the perfect day. I lath not the insect vision trod Thro* all nature, spirit, God ? Hath not our science now unfurled All the mighty pollen world, Cycle with epicycle whirled ? Our keen Laplaces and Lagranges Mapped heaven in * mecanique celeste ' Our gifted Darwins read the changes, Since our race killed off the rest ? Now waits the world a wisdom yet Beyond what all the sages wit. Listen ! I drop the riper fruit : The one religion absolute ! All things within the ever-shifting wliole Are but the reflex of the Eternal Me ; The one, pervading animalcule soul ; All from that full, unbottomed fountain roll. And back return as rivers to the sea. 77 THE SAGE OF THE POLLEN. Through each form the Protean God Passes from the primal fire ; Still from out the heavy clod, Thro' all subtle changes higher, In the flowering plant ascends, In the man he drops the ape, Till at last each grosser shape In its perfect Typus ends ; . And lo ! revealed the Being true we find, The rational, self-conscious insect mind. We are the glorious world-flower ; we The essence of Divinity ; For us the blooming earth is given, For us the ever-circling heaven ; Onward through the ages vast The animalcule soul has passed ; Still pour its golden waves along Of art, philosophy, and song. Till reason gain its holy sway. All myths of folly fade away ; Then shall the coming, full-orbed aeon dawn Upon this pollen universe new-born, x\nd each in ripe development shall be A true, incarnate, insect deity." Jamtary, 1852. 78 THE FRESHET. -lyET! wet! wet! ^ ' Chaos old hath come acjain, And the goodly world's upset ! Moist and dry, earth and sky Tumbled, jumbled all together : Who is clerk now of the weather ? Under whose heavy reign are we ? It is, sure, the demons' reign : Pluto, that jailor old, is napping, And the spirits every one Of shower and mist, of spite and fun Are up and out on a jolly lark : Hear them at the chimney, hark ! With their fists of fiendish rapping. Water ! water ! ghost of Pindar, Could'st thou from this dismal window See yon river's mighty piston O'er the streets its deluge fling, Nevermore thy lyre should sing That absurd *'v6cop ajjiarovP 79 THE FRESHET, Rain ! Rain ! Never was such a wondrous May. Venerable Mythos, say, Man of 1672, Twin-born of- the Charter Oak, Tell us younger Hartford folk. Hast thou seen so moist a fact As this modern cataract ? '!Q TTonoi, ai ai, w cpev ! In what world, pray, are we thrown ? Call ye this the temperate zone. This incorrigible soaker ? No man, but a wet rag am I ! Body and soul have got the cramp ; Boots and coats and spirits damp ; All the starch o' the world is out ; Not a churchman, high and dry, Not remaining a dry joker : All that were so staunch and stout ; None are left, except the sellers Of Macintoshes and umbrellas. Rain ! Rain ! Never was such a flood before. Since that old sea captain Noah Built him a safety boat of gopher ! 80 THE FRESHET. Watchman, on the state-house vane ! Tell us, tell us what o' the night? ' I saw the great Connecticut, Swaggering like a tipsy loafer, Tumbling left, and tumbling right, Through the streets of Hartfonl town ; Storied house and Irish hut Bobbing up and bobbing down. I saw a porpoise smooth his head On Mrs. Jones* best feather-bed ! I saw a babe in a crib of wicker Floating along like infant Moses ; I saw old topers to their noses Steeped in a most unusual rK]uor: I saw a thousand salt-bags sink. Overcome with mighty drink : I saw the shad up Market Street Swimming each on his own hook ; I saw a grocer smiling look, As he watered his best old brandy-butt With the best old Connecticut ; I saw a boy on a chimney-top Angling over a fruiterer's shop ; I saw a parson take his seat. Riding all serene and high, 8i THE FRESHET. On a barrel of dry discourses, The only things that can stay dry : Cats and dogs, and men and horses. Pots and kettles, neck and neck, Sinking, drinking, struggling, bubbling. Soaking, choking, splashing, smashing, All the world a floating wreck ! Woe is me ! I saw and sate On my lonely Ararat ; And I cried : the demons rain ! Chaos and night are come again." May, 1856. 82 \ HUNGARY. AWAKE, strong heart of an insulted earth ! Where sleeps thy manhood at this fearful hour ? A hero nation, writhing at its birth. Strangled within the coils of brutal Power ! Ah ! shame ! unpitying Europe stands, With coldest glance and folded hands, While on the bloody field pale Hungar)' lies ; And see ! alas ! with sadly-lingering eyes, As fade their happy plains away. Afar her hunted chieftains stray, With broken swords and broken prayer, Asking of Moslem hearts in their despair The last, poor boon by Christian men denied, A home, a grave, their war-worn heads to hide. Not fallen, O noble land ! tho' now Trampled beneath a despot horde ; A conqueror in thy suffering thou ! A holier strife than of the sword ! 83 HUNGAR V. For thee the stars in their high courses fight : For thee the hills, the streams, whose ancient might Laughs at man's fetters as it seaward rolls ; For thee, the hopes, the aims of deathless souls. Rise, Freedom, from the living Past, With all thy sacred legions vast, From Alpine heights, from stormy coast Of the long ages, see ! they march. Hear ye the voice, ye crowned traitors, hear, And tremble, for it bodes your judgment-day ! That word, once breathed upon the atmosphere Of living men, shall never pass away. Whispered by some weak lip, now dumb, It echoes thro' the years to come ; Onward it rolls, yet louder, louder wakes The mighty music, till at last it breaks In volleying thunders ; wild and deep Tosses the surge o'er cliffs of wrong ; A startled nation in its sleep Listens and knows the stern, prophetic song, The tyrants' death-knell, the last trumpet peal; Lifts its glad head and shakes the avenging steel. 84 IirXGARY. Joy, patriot chiefs ! for souls so great No idle tears to-day we shed ; Ye are no broken tools of Fate ; Rejoice, for Freedom is not dead ! A life eternal she within her bears : Hers is no exile, but where'er she fares, All climes, all noble spirits are her home. And still, tho' far your toil-worn feet may roam, Walks Hungary with uplifted eyes, Still to your hero ears she sings The chaunt of her high destinies ; A glorious rest after long wanderings ; A nation yet to be ; tho' banished now, Wearing her crown upon her queenly brow. 85 THE CENTURY FLOWER. '''T^IS holy night ! in slumber pale -■- The dreaming soul of nature lies : Now lifts the flower its mystic veil, And flashes morning from its eyes. A hundred years of waning earth ! Of frost and sunbeam, blight and bloom ; And man, who saw its infant birth, A frailer flower, has sought the tomb. A hundred years ! what empires sped As eddies on the whirling tide ! Lands ruled beneath Napoleon's tread, And greater Goethe sang and died. Yet dumb, in shadowy stillness strange, Its fringed eyelids wait the hour ; Till ripening thro' each mighty change. It blooms. Time's rich, full-opened flower. A hundred years ! the soul of truth Has fettered lain in death-like rest, 86 THE CEXJUKYrLOWER. Yet lives a Thought, its budding youth Wrapt in some holy prophet's breast. It dawns ! the spell of ages breaks ; Stately it towers o'er barren men, A world of perfumed beauty wakes, Then drops its seed, to rise again. 1843. A hundred years ! our fathers lie Calm sleeping on the field of t fc^c. Yet free the colours wave. Borne by yon Afric brave, Above the storm-blast higher; But ah ! that flashing fire ! He sinks — the banner falls From the faint, mangled limb ; And droop to mocking walls The star folds dim ! Stay, stay the taunting laugh : See ! now he lifts the staff, 91 THE AFRICAN COLOUR-SERGEANT. Clenched in his close-shut teeth ; Crawls from red heaps beneath, Crowned with his starry robe, Till he the ranks has found : — " Comrades ! the dear old flag Ne'er touched the ground." O deed, so pure, so grand, Sidney might clasp thy hand ! O brother ! black thy skin. But white the pearl within ! Man ! who to lift thy race, Worthy, thrice worthy art : Clasps thee in warm embrace A nation's heart. December^ 1863. 92 THE BATTLE OE THE DEAb CID. [I rom tl-.e " Cronica del CiU.'J SH.ENT sleeps the tented city ; only rings the sentry's tread : Stand I long in frosty starlij^ht, dreaming back the stately dead : And I cry with restless longing — Might to-day some elder ghost. From the cloudland of the heroes wake to lead the bannered host ! Tlien as clang of answering trumpet, thro' the hollow gorge of yore, Comes the legend of tlu' hattlt . of the dead Campeador. Woe the day for thee, Valencia ! Close the Moorish pennons fly, As the white-caps of the billi-vv wli.n tlie storm-wind dashes high In his gilded mail, King Bucar 'mid his swarthy thousands lay, And he laughs, in dreams of triumph, at the breaking of the day. 93 THE BA TTLE OF THE DEAD CID. But no sleep is in the city ; thro' the street stole faces white ; At St. Mary's half-lit altar, masses wailed that sable night : There were prayers upon the cross-hilt ; women knelt in moaning fear, For the Cid, the sword of battle, lay in silence on the bier. Then his parting word they whispered, " Tell ye none that I am dead, Place me upright in the saddle, wave the ban- ner o'er my head ; Ride ye forth, my brave Bermudez ; ride ye dauntless, for I wis I shall win my stoutest battle. God the mor- row, grants me this." In his ivory chair they found him : all in silence gazed and feared ; Shot his starry eyes, wide open, from above the snowy beard ; Firm his. flesh and passing comely, by the Soldan's balsam kept ; And the hero smiled as when a victor on the bloody field he slept. Then in sendal green they robed him ; on the burnished cresses prest ; 94 I THE BA TTLE OF THE DEAD CID. Rich he shone in blazoned surcoat, and the red cross on his breast ; On his head a parchment helmet, cunning veined like gleaming steel : God ! a conqueror undying, rose my Cid from head to heel I Joyous danced tlie ancient banner, joyous Bavieca neighed, And the darkling path was lighted by Tizona's flashing blade. Silent mount the knights around him ; through Valencia's gate they stream : Silent where the white tents glisten, sweeping like a ghastly dream ; Silent as the frost of midnight falls upon the flowery brake : Hark the tambour! hark the terror I 'tis the Cid ! the Cid ! awake ! Vainly leaps the maddened Bucar : vain the awe-struck army flies : Thro' the morning mists as sunbeams, smite those stern, pursuing eyes ; And beside him, lo ! a chieftain on a snow- white charger came, In his hand a snow-white banner, and a sword of scorching flame. 95 THE BA TTLE OF THE DEAD CID. Santiago ! Santiago ! lo ! the glorious day is won ! On the drifting wreck of battle bursts the red, exulting sun ! Gold and jewels, tents and corpses : — and afar King Bucar's pride, As a flock of screaming sea-gulls, dips below the ebbing tide ! Lift thy lids to-day, Mount Vernon ! where our Greatest rests no more ; But within his marble coffin, starts to hear the cannon's roar ; Dreams he of his broken country, dreams he in heroic pain : And methinks his voice is calling : — Raise my palsied bones again : Plant me upright in the saddle, bare the sword within my hand ; Let these ashes lead the battle, to redeem a noble land ! O ! my country ! God thro' trial bring the man as pure, as strong ! O ! blind giant, shorn and fettered by thy little masters long ! THE BA TTLE OF THE DEAD CID. Grinding still for greedy factions, groping dim thro* years of sleep ; Long enow the lazy currents in thy drowsy veinlets creep ; Long enow thine iron manho(jd eaten hangs by selfish rust ; Wake again that mighty spirit ! stand (^rect that hero dust I For a hundred living pigmies not to-day shall victory v.in, As a hero's parchment helmet, with a hero's soul within I March, 1864. 97 THE GRASS-GROWN RAMPART. STAND with me on this grassy mound ; A battle-field, a bloody grave ! To-day the nodding harvests wave Their mimic banners o'er the ground. See ! in yon trench, whose broken crest Sank 'neath the angry cannon wheel, A troop of conquering daisies steal, And on the very summit rest. And on this slope, where thickest fell The rain of death that stormy day, I see the laughing children play With fragments of a rusty shell. Long mused I there. Within my ear ' Rang thy sad voice, O gentle Lord ! " Not peace, I come to bring a sword ": But now I read their meaning clear. No Peace, till Thy cause conquereth ; No peace on earth, till Wrong and Right 98 THE GRASS-GROWN RAMPART. Have wrestled in their mortal fight ; Then peace from war, then life from death ! Stand on the battle-field of thought I A lurid waste, and through the strife Now truth, now error ; a great life Torn headlong, vanishing in naught. Vain sceptic ! never truth has died ; No Saviour who himself could save, Yet every victim from the grave Breaks like the Master glorified. Welcome tlie battle ! Earth-born lies Arm still their crowned and mitred powers. Let God take care of peace. Be ours The tears of blood, the sacrifice. Rt'St never ! Let mine heart repeat Thy cry, brave Arnauld ! ** Have I not Eternity to rest in ?" What Repose like this, well-learned and sweet? So God sends peace. New harvests bloom Out of our sweat, our pain, our toil, Flowers nestle in the furrowed soil, And cliiklren play on our green tomb. i86g. 99 GUISEPPE MAZZINI. R EST, fiery heart, at length ! Roman of elder race, thy life-blood poured For the pure commonweal, thy dying strength Grasping the broken sword ! A grey-haired dreamer still In a changed world ; grave, proud and passion- ate. Steel eating out its scabbard ; Titan will Sternly defying fate. Yet in thy visions high, Like all great dreamers, hast thou kept the faith Of virgin youth in God, in liberty 'Mid dungeon walls or death. While foreign gamesters played For thy fair Italy ; and priestly ban Palsied her sons, and a crowned phantom swayed The Christian Vatican, lOO GUISEPPE MAZZINT. Thine the unfaltering voice Of Rome's last freeman. Let a conquering might Bribe all the gods to silence ; Cato's choice Be with the conquered Right ! Thy doom an exile sore. With Dante "climbing up another's stairs," Yet Rome thy Holy Land, Rome evermore The temple of thy prayers. Peace, weary heart ! not vain That dream of waiting manhood, withering years : It comes, tlu- fruit of all heroic pain, Of toil and bloody tears. Ah yes I some happier day Shall a fond people bear thine ashes home, To hoard them in its urn, and proudly lay Within a new-born Rome, Where ! 'neath the Palatine I^reaks the primeval city from its graves. And its immortals wake to hail the line Of sons no longer slaves ! March, 1-^72. Id 1875. TWELVE ! on the midnight silence Smites slow the drowsing bell, As if God's hand were tolling The dead world's funeral. I sate in my empty study And gazed in the flickering fire, As from the floor to the ceiling Climb the tall shadows higher. And as to the scared Eelshazzar, A phantom finger came, And traced on the wall before me Figures of cloudy flame. Methinks in the changing picture Faces I knew appear ; And each in the still procession Turns as he passes near. I see the Past sweep o'er me, As to the drowning man 102 1875- The whirling years are gathered Within a moment's span. Yes ! 'tis my youth's bright playmates Who laughed in the sunrise rays ; Long, long ago they vanished At the parting of the ways. Now lo ! as the frost of night-time Shrivels the glancing dew, Change they to palsied grey-beards, A lean and ghastly crew ! See ! one in childhood singing A lark in upper sky, With chains of gold now UU' rrci, A slave he totters by. Here one, a gay, bold atliletc, Crawls on with gouty limb, And the coals of wasting passion Glare in those ashes dim. And there a dear loved maiden Creeps now a wrinkled crone, Thro' her painted mask is looking An eye of soulless stone. 103 1875. See one, whose skinny fingers Clutch at a laurel crown ; In bitter rage he grasps it But drop the handfuls brown. See ! there that fleshless spectre, Eyes from the sockets gone, Wears his bare skull a mitre And flaunts the Bishop's lawn. And from his tongue long palsied, As he drones his dreary prayer, A slimy snake creeps coiling About his thin, white hair What are ye, grisly phantoms. That o'er my memory stream ? Where is the thoughtful prophet To read my bodeful dream ? What are ye, grisly phantoms ? Then as the autumn blast An angry wail came shrieking, "Ghosts of the vanished Past." Then sank that fiery horror Within the ashes cold ; 104 i«75- And lo ! on the soft, fair radiance New faces I behold. I see the pale-browed scholar, Who has worshipped God's own truth, Brave souls, who had not bartered For gold their golden youth, I see the meek, true comrades, Who bore the scars of strife ; Th(! pinching want, the sorrows, The thankless loads of life. Mcthinks, as in Giotto's pictures Those lights of evening play, As a halo of gold and crimson, Around ihcir foreheads grey. Mcthinks in the magic firelight As the youths of old they trod, And there was walking with them One like a Son of (lod. And a soft voice murmured o'er me Like the Old Year's passing breath, "The unseen is eternal : Its years can know no death." 105 CAROLS CHRISTMAS. RIXG out the bells for Christmas ! The happy, happy day ! In winter wild, the Holy Child Within th(! cradle lay ; Oh, wonderful ! the Saviour Is in a manger lone ; His palace is a stable, And Mary's arms His throne. On Bethlehem's quiet hillside, In ages long gone by, In angel notes the Glory floats. Glory to God on high ! Yet wakes the sun as joyous As when the Lord was born, And still He comes to greet you On every Christmas morn. Where'er His sweet lambs gather Within this gentle fold, The Saviour dear is waiting near, As in the days of old : 109 CHRISTMAS. In each young heart you see Him In every guileless face, You see the Holy Jesus, Who grew in truth and grace. In many a darksome cottage. In many a crowded street. In winter bleak, with shivering cheek The homeless child you meet ; Gaze on the pale, wan features, The feet with wandering sore, You see the souls He loveth, The Christ-child at the door. Then sing your gladsome carols, And hail the new-born sun ; For Christmas light is passing bright, It smiles on every one. And feast Christ's little children. His poor. His orphan call ; For He who chose the manger. He loveth one and all. 1861. no CHRISTMAS. SOFTLY the nijTht is sleeping On Bethlehem's peaceful hill ; Silent the shepherds watching, The gentle flocks are still. But, hark ! the wondrous music Falls from the opening sky ; Valley and clitT re-echo, Glor}' to God on high ! (ilnry to God ! it rings again : Peace on the earth, good-will to men ! Day in the East is breaking ; Day o'er the crimsoned earth ; Now the glad world is waking. Glad in the Saviour's birth ! See, where the clear star bendeth Above the manger blest ; See, where the infant Jesus Smiles upon Mary's breast. Glory to God ! we hear again : Peace on the earth, good-will to men ! Ill CHRISTMAS. Come with the gladsome shepherds, Quick hastening from the fold ; Come with the wise men pouring Incense and myrrh and gold : Come to Him, poor and lowly, Around the cradle throng ; Come with your hearts of sunshine. And sing the angels' song, Glory to God ! tell out again : Peace on the earth, good-will to men ! Wave ye the wreaths unfading, The fir-tree and the pine, Green from the snows of winter. To deck the holy shrine ; Bring ye the happy children ! For this is Christmas morn ; Jesus, the sinless Infant, Jesus, the Lord, is born. Glory to God, to God again : Peace, peace on earth, good-will to men ! iS6i. 112 EASTER. JOY to the World I fresh joy Dawns on its second birth ; And with the Risen Lord Rises aj^ain the earth ! All things Thy power obey, Victor divine o'er death ! All hail Thy holy day With livini^ breath. Now heaven is passinj^j fair ; Calmer the restless main ; More softly steals the air Over the smiling plain ; Each withered flower awakes From winter sleep to bloom, Each gladsome torrent breaks Its icy tomb. Life conquers death ! Arise, O race of ransomed men ! "3 i86g. EASTER. Your long-lost Paradise Opens in joy again ; See ! where the living Lord Stands at the happy door ; The cherubs' flaming sword Guards it no more. 114 EASTKR. CHRIST l.ciu. aM>cn ! Death is no more ! Lo the white-robed ones Sit by the door. Dawn, golden morning, Scatter the night ! Haste, ye disciples glad. First with the Uy^hi. lircak forth in singing, O world new-born ! Chaunt the great Easter-tide, Christ's holy morn. Chaunt Ilim, young sunbeams, Dancing in mirth ! Chaunt, all ye winds of God Coursing the Earth ! Chaunt Him. ye laughing flowers, Fresh from the sod ; "5 i86i. EASTER. Chaunt Him, wild leaping streams, Praising your God ! Break from thy v/inter, Sad heart, and sing ! Bud with thy blossoms fair ; Christ is thy spring. Come where the Lord hath lain, Past is the gloom : See the full eye of day Smile through the tomb. Hark ! angel voices Fall from the skies : Christ hath arisen, Glad heart, arise ! ii6 I EASTER CAROL. W\KK to-day, ye jrladsome voices ! Wake the song that angels sing ; Heaven is bright, and earth rejoices ; Christ IS risen, the Lord and King ! Roll away the stone that bound Ilim ; Lift your heads, ye gates of gloom, See the shining ones around Him ; Morning (loi^xls the empty toml). See ! He o{h*s llie heavenly city ; There the Lamb is all the light ; See the walls (^f gleaming jasper ; There is day that hath no night. There no sickness is nor dying. Fadeless flower the blissful years ; There no more of pain or crying, Ciod shall wipe aw.iv the ti-ars. I'^rom the throne a crystal river Doth through greenest meadows glide ; 117 EASTER CAROL. 'Neath the tree of life forever Walks the Lord, His saints beside : Ended all their cares, their trials, Robes of spotless white they wear ; Ever from their golden vials Rise the odours sweet of prayer. Now before Him bend they lowly ; Now the song of love they pour, Saying, Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! Lord and Saviour evermore ! Ring ye out that hymn unending, Roll, ye angel tides, along ; Earth to-day with you is blending In one wave of joyous song. [862. 118 SPANISH IIVMX. [From the Hymnal of the " Iglesia de Jesus." Mexico.] WHY Icavest Thou Thy sheep, Good shepherd ! 'mid tliis darkling vale forlorn, In loneliness to weep? And Thou thro' aether borne, Afar to the immortal rest art ^one ? What can these rapt eyes see On wliich the beauty of Tliy face has shone, That shall not joyless be ? Who Thy sweet voice has known, To him all else has deaf and tuneless grown. Upon these tossing seas Who shall the bridle lay? whose hand beside Stay the mad, angry breeze ? If Tht^u Thy presence hide, What pilot else to the fair haven guide? 119 SPANISH HYMN. Ah ! envious cloud, ah ! why Canst thou our short-lived joy so soon betray? Ah ! whither wilt thou fly ? What wealth thou bear'st away ; How blind, how poor, we who behind thee stay ! 1 20 ANCir:\'r ciiis^isri.w ii\'m\s. CHILDREN IX PARADISr:. T^RAISE: to Thee, O Gud our 1-atlicr, *^ From the mouths of babes shall flow Who in greenest fields of heaven As the spotless Lambkins grow. Hy the Spirit's voice aye guided 'Xeath the trees of life they feed : Gabriel, the angel shepherd, Doth the flock forever lead. IIIl^Ii are they and passing lovely More than saints or virgin host : Children of our God the dearest, Nurslings of the Holy Ghost. Heavenly playmates, there they mingle Happy with the Sons of Light : Dwellers of the sinless city, Far from this sad world of night. CHILDREN IN PARADISE. At the blessed Easter's daybreak Newly clad they wake to mirth, Now for them their happy freedom Darkened by no stains of earth. Short below life's little morning, For they live in Eden fair ; Ah ! our old hearts yearn how fondly Soon again to find them there. 1863. St. Ephraim (Syriac), [From the German version of Zwingli.] 124 LUCIS LARGITOR SPLENDIDE. ALL-GLORIOUS Giver of the U'^hi. In whose unclouded ray, After the shadows of the nit^ht, Blooms the new-risen day ! Thou art the world's true morning-star, Not he, that lesser one, Twinkling a feeble speck afar, Pale herald of the sun. O brighter than the noontide gleam ; Day, sun full-orbed Thou art, Piercing with Thine eternal beam The cloisters of the heart. Builder of living worlds, draw nigh ! Smile of the Father's face : Our happy souls wide open lie To Thy soft-coming grace. Filled with Thy Spirit, may we keep God's presence aye within ; 125 LUCIS LARGITOR SPLENDIDE. Nor through these hallowed portals creep The stealthy feet of sin. Amidst thick-coming cares, that fill The hours of daily time, Our law shall be Thy perfect will, Our conscience clear of crime ! With virgin shame may the chaste mind Our earth-born passions chain ; And in this body, pure enshrined. The Holy Ghost remain. Be this glad hope our matin song, This, Lord, our sacrifice ! O morning light, through midnight long Watch with unsleeping eyes ! Hilary. 1859. 126 BEATA NOBIS GAUDIA. GLADSOMK feast ! of all most dear, Circling with the sacred year ; When upon the waiting host Burning fell the Holy Ghost. Quivering like a cloven tongue. Heavenly light above them hung ; On their lips a word it came, In their hearts a living flame. Now in every voice they spake ; Awed the listening heathen shake ; Theirs no fire of maddening wine, Drank they from the cup divine. Mystic truth ! to Israel old. In the Paschal symbol told ; When the closing Jubilee Set the happy bondsmen free. F27 BE A TA NOBIS GA UDIA. God of boundless Pity, now With a lowly face we bow ; Give Thy Spirit from above, With the largess of Thy love. Thou, whose gracious tides could pour On those hallowed hearts before ; Let our sinful bondage cease, Bring our Jubilee of peace. Hilary. 1859. 128 AURORA LUCIS RUTILAT. MORNING purples now the skies ; Warbles heaven with harmonies ; Earth in jubilee rejoices ; Groaneth hell with ani^ry voices. Lo ! awakes th' Alinigiity King : Death lies bruised and grovelling ; Shaking Hades with I lis tread, Leads He forth the unfettered dead. He in rocky prison barred, Slumbering 'neath the keen-eyed guard, Conqueror from His funeral gate, Marches with triumphal state. Loosed the pains of souls below, Hushed are all the sighs of woe ; And the gleaming angel cries : " See the living Lord arise ! " St. Ambrose. i860. 129 STERNA CHRTSTI MUNERA. ETERNAL offerings of the Son : Trophies by martyr valor won ; For these the homage of our praise "We yield in our rejoicing lays. Kings of the holy churches crowned, Chiefs on her famous battle-ground, Guards in the palace of the King, True stars the world illumining. Above the fear of man upborne. Trampling the flesh in noble scorn, A holy death to them was gain The life eternal to obtain. Meek sufferers ! in the burning pile. Or torn by savage teeth they smile ; In maddening rage the torturer stands, And brutal weapons arm his hands. 130 jETERNA CHRIST I MUXERA. Bare hang the mangled limbs, and wide Pours every wound its sacred tide ; Yet all untouched amidst the strife, The grace of an immortal life. The faith that fires the saintly still. The yearning hope no doubt can kill. The perfect love of Christ, the Lord, Has triumphed o'er the foeman's sword. In them the Father's glory shone ; In them Christ's lowly will is done ; In them exults the Holy Ghost, And smiles with joy the heavenly host. Redeemer, grant Thy servants' prayer ; Grant us Thy holy cross to bear, And in the noble army found. With palms of endless life be crowned. St. Ambrose. i860. 131 O! GENS BEATA CCELITUM. HAPPY ones of heavenly race ! Bright phalanx of the holy powers ! What overflowing fulness showers Upon you from the Fount of Grace ! The Highest Lord, His solace best Hath given to you, ye spirits blest : Vision of our eternal rest. Before the splendour of your light The quivering lamps of heaven pale ; The royal sun himself doth fail, And all the marvels of the night : And if, beyond these feeble eyes More golden suns than ours arise, Dark are they to your upper skies. Forms as the crystal, pure of stain. Your minds of piercing thought enfold ; And as the threads of finest gold. Or tbe red coral every vein ; 132 01 GEXS BEAIA C(ELirL'M. Thro' these the gracious life-blood glows, And sweeter far than earthly rose, Or than the dropping balm it flows. Ye in the sinless Eden dwell, Wreathing, as pass the eternal hours, Crowns of the many-coloured flowers, Lily and j)urple daffodil ; One only blossom, opening there, Flings thousand sweets upon the air. As ])rcath i'>{ ymir own spirits rare. There doth the Father's table stand, Ever with heavenly banquet graced, And with our God Himself ye feast, Tasting rich dainties from His hand : The river of all sweetness rolls, Ambrosial cates, and nectared bowls ; No thirst, no hunger for your souls. What joys that happy palace throng ! What music glad that W(^rld inspires ! The harmony of myriad lyres ! All voices, yet one holy song : 133 ! GENS BE A TA CCELITUM. Breaks in full tide the choral strain ; How sweet, how soft it melts again : Earth echoes that high chant in vain. On the unveiled God ye gaze, Seeing His presence face to face ; The bliss that floods the holy place, From His unshadowed glory rays : Eye cannot pierce, tongue cannot tell The life wherein your spirits dwell : To the dull world ineffable. St. Augustin. 1859. 134 QUID, TVRANNE, QUID MINARIS' WHY, O tyrant Sin ! thy rai^ini^? All thy bitter woes combine, All thy arts of malice waging ; Naught are these to love divine. Sweet to me is every torment, Feeble is the power of pain : Love is greater, Love is stnmger ; Better death than earthly stain. Light the cruel pile around me, Smite me with the sharpest sword ; To the cross of anguish bind mc. Dying with my dying Lord : Sweet to me is every torment, Feeble is the power of pain : Love is greater, Love is stronger ; Better death than earthly stain. Mild, too mild for Thee my trial ! Death but once, how brief its stroke ! 135 QUID, TYRANNE, QUID MINARIS? Mine life's cross of self-denial, Mine to bear Thy easy yoke. Sweet to me is every torment, Feeble is the power of pain ; Love is greater, Love is stronger : Better death than earthly stain. 1859. ^"^^ AUGUSTIN. 136 JAM MCESTA OUIKSCE QUERELA. TO more, ah, no more sad complaining ; Resign these fond pledges to earth : Stay, mothers, the thick-falling tear-drops ; This death is a heavenly birth. What mean these still caverns of marble. Fair shrines that the dear ashes keep? How sweetly they tell of the loved ones, Not dead, but soft resting in sleep I What though on the pale, icy forehead, No gleam of the intellect break ? A moment it slumbers, till nobler Its pov/ers in their beauty awake. Soon, soon, through the uiMtiouless body. The warm, loving life-tide shall pour, And blushing with joy, shall revisit Tlie home it has dwelt in before. These clods, 'neath the hillock reposing, Long wasting in silent decay, 137 JA M MCE STA Q UIE SCE Q U ERE LA . Shall follow the souls that have loved them, On winged wings soaring away. So green from the seed springs the blossom, Long perished, long hid in the mould ; And fresh from the turf, it remembers The wide-waving harvests of old. Take, Earth, to thy bosom so tender, — Take, nourish this body ; how fair, How noble in death ! we surrender These relics of man to thy care. This, this was the home of the spirit. Once built b}^ the breath of our God ; And here in the light of His wisdom, Christ, Head of the risen, abode. Guard well the dear treasure we lend thee : The Maker, the Saviour of men, Shall never forget His beloved. But claim His own likeness again. Speed on, perfect year, to the morning ; God's fulness shall dawn on the just, And thou, open Grave, shall restore us This holy, unchangeable dust. 1859. Prudentius. 138 DE CRUCE CIIRISTI. [Crux benedicta nitet, Dominus qui came pependit.] L)TvESSED gleameth the cross, where hung ^ the Incarnate Redeemer, And in His blood is found hralinc^ for cvrry wound. Meekly in love for our scails the Lamb was the innocent victim, And from the wolf's fell jaws the sheep of His pasture He draws. Pierced were tiie holy palms, to rescue the world from its ruin, And in His own sad doom, shuts I le the gate of the tomb. Here that hand with the bloody nails to the wood was fastened. Which a Paul from his sin, Peter from death could win. Mighty in fruittulness, O thou Tree so sweet and so noble, ^39 DE CRUCE CHRISTI. How do thy branches bear, fresh blooming fruit and fair. x Breathing thy rich perfume, the dead arise from their slumber, And wake to the fairer day, then vanish from earth away. Never scorches the summer under thy wide- spreading shadows, Never the noontide light, never the moon by night. Beautiful art thou, planted where still waters are flowing, Green are thy leafy showers, mingled with richest flowers. Clingeth to thee the vine, en wrapt in thy loving embraces ; Sweetly from thee doth glide, the blood-red, life-giving tide. 1859. FORTUNATUS. 140 NUNTIUM VOBIS FF.RO D\l SUPERNIS 'T^IDIXGS I bear from heaven of joy excel- i linp:; Born is the Christ, Lord of this earthly dwell- ing, In Hethlehefn, as in vision old foretelling The prophets lioly. Him hailed the angel choir with joyous singing ; A star declared Him, the wise princes bringing From Eastern lands, their mystic tribnt*^ fling- ing In worship lowly. Incense to God, myrrli for His death of bless- ing. Spangles of gold for Him, earth's throne pos- sessing, One, yet the Blessed Trinity confessing. Three giving threefold. i860. Gregory. 141 VENI, SANCTE SPIRITUS. COME, O Spirit ! Fount of grace ! From Thy heavenly dwelling-place One bright morning beam impart : Come, O Father of the poor ; Come, O Source of bounties sure ; Come, O Sunshine of the heart ! Comforter of man the best ! Making the sad soul Thy guest ; Sweet refreshing in our fears, In our labour a retreat, Cooling shadow in the heat, Solace in our falling tears. O ! thrice blessed light divine ! Come, the spirit's inmost shrine With Thy holy presence fill ; Of Thy brooding love bereft, Naught to hopeless man is left ; Naught is his but evil still. 142 VEX I, SAXCTE SPIfHTL'S. Wash away each earthly stain, Flow o'er this parched waste ac^ain, Heal the wounds of conscience sore, Bind the stubborn will within, Thaw the icy chains of sin, Guide us, that we stray no more. Give, to Thy believers ffive. In Thy holy hope who live. All Thy sevenfold dower of love ; Give the sure reward of faith, Give the love that conquers death, Give unfailing joy above. [860. Robert of Franxe. 143 GRAVI ME TERRORE PULSAS. \T 7ITH what heavy fear thou smitest * * At my breast, Life's closing day ! Faints my heart ; my reins are loosened Melts my torn and shivering clay ; With foreboding sad that image Doth the troubled mind pourtray. Who to pierce that scene of terror Can his mortal vision send ? When the narrow race is rounded, And the wrestling soul shall rend All the earthly ties that bind it. Hasting to its mournful end. Dies the sense ; the lips are stiffened ; Roll the clouded eyes in vain : Pants the bosom ; hoarse the whisper Gasping from the breath of pain : Pale the face ; the limbs are palsied, Grace nor motion there remain. 144 GRAVI ME TERRORE PULSAS. See ! as mighty currents parted, The unbodied spirits flow : Here the shining powers angelic, There the daemon crowd of woe ; Each unto his doom self-chosen, With resistless feet shall ^o. All our inmost thoughts, endeavours, Words and deeds before us rise, All a marshalled host assembled, Bare to our unwilling eyes. Turn we hither, glance we thither, Lo ! the cloud of witnesses. Ah ! how (loth the gnawing conscience N(nv the guilty bosom tear; Memory calls each ebbing season With the summons of despair ; Saddening sentence ! late repentance Only sighs a fruitless prayer. Now the sweet of earth deluding Into bitter poison turns ; Now the riot of a moment As an endless sorrow burns ; '45 GRA VI ME TERR ORE FULSAS. And in all our fancied greatness Empty nothing it discerns. Hear me, Christ ! O King unconquered Hear Thy hapless suppliant call ! In the day of death, that cometh Thy stern messenger to all, Shield me, that I may not victim To the impious tyrant fall. Perish the fell Prince of Darkness ! Perish all his hellish pride ! Then Thy ransomed flock, O Shepherd ! To the fold of heaven guide, Where in living pastures feeding, They may evermore abide. i860. Petrus Damiani. 146 iS6i. AUDI, TKLLUS, AUDI. HEAR, earth, hear God's decree ; Cave of the mighty sea ; Hear, man, hear every one Tliat dwells beneath the sun. It Cometh, it is near ; The day of wrath and fear ; Wo ! for that bitter day ; When fleetli Heaven away; (jloweth the sun blood red ; The moon no Ioniser burneth ; Morning to blackness turneth ; Earthward the wan stars fall : Upon tluit day of dread. Woe ! woe ! for sinners all. In guilt and misery. What shall our portion be ? Anonymous. 147 CUR MUNDUS MILITAT WHY battles all the world For its vain glory, Whose bravest happiness Is transitory ? So soon its brittle power A light touch shaketh, Even as a vase of clay In pieces breaketh. Write words upon the ice And trust their staying, Sooner than idle cheats Of earth decaying. Flattered with baubles gay. In truth's mask hiding, Thy life's a little day Of false confiding. CUR MUXDUS M/UTAT. Better to plant thy trust In wise men's teaching, Than for the wretched gauds Of fortune reaching. False are its airy dreams, And false its pleasing, Its labours and its lusts A hollow leasing. Say, where is Solomon, Of wisdom vaunted ; And stoutest Samson now, The chiff undaunted ? Say, where is Absalom, Of beauty royal ; And Jonathan, the hccirt To friendship loyal ? Where hath the Cicsar left His empire splendid ? And Dives' banqueting In sorrow ended ? Say, where is Tully's voice In senates burning? 149 CUR MUNDUS MILITAT. And the wise Stagyrite, Master of learning ? Such leaders of renown ; Such bygone spaces ; Such stately brows of old, Such kingly races ; Such potentates of earth, The boast of story ; — One flashing of an eye, And gone their glory ! How brief a holyday Man's pomp abideth, And all his pleasure gay A shadow glideth ! Feast of the crawling worm ! Dust to dust crumbled ! Drop of the morning dew, Be thy pride humbled ! Even to-morrow's fate Veiled from thy blindness. Crowd thou to-day with deeds Of loving-kindness. 150 1859- CUR MUNDUS MI LIT A T. This glory of the flesli, Which man paradeth, The Holy Book doth call A flower that fadeth. Even as the shrivelled leaf On the wind sweeping, So drops the life of man, To darkness creeping. Call not thine own, whatc'er A moment liveth ; The world shall snatch again All that it givclh ; Ponder the things above I Happy, whose treasure, Garnered in heaven, scorns The base world's pleasure. Bl KNARP OF ClAIRVAUX. 151 AD COR CHRISTI. SUM MI REGIS COR, AVETO. HEART of Christ, my King, I greet Thee ! Gladly goes my heart to meet Thee ; To embrace Thee now it burneth, And with eager thirst it yearneth, Spirit blest, to talk with Thee. Oh ! what love divine compelling ! With what grief Thy breast was swelling ! All Thy soul for us o'erflowing, All Thy life on us bestowing, Sinful men from death to free ! Oh, that death ! in bitter anguish, Cruel, pitiless to languish ! To the inmost cell it entered. Where the life of man was centered, Gnawing Thy sweet heart-strings there. For that death which Thou hast tasted, For that form by sorrow wasted, Heart to my heart ever nearest, 152 AD COR CHRIS 1 1. Kindle in me love the dearest ; This, O Lord, is all my prayer. O sweet Heart ! my choicest blessing, Cleanse my heart, its sin confessing ; Hardened in its worldly folly, Make it soft again, and holy, Melting all its icy ground. To my heart's core come and quicken Me a sinner, conscience-stricken ; He Thy grace my soul renewing, All its powers to Thee subduing, Languishing with love's sweet wound. Open tlowcr, with blossom fairest. As a rose of fragrance rarest ; Knit to Thee mine inmost feeling ; Pierce, then j^our the oil of healing ; What to love of Thee is pam ? Naught he fears, whom Thy love calleth, No self-sacrifice appalleth ; Love divine can have no measure, Every death to him is pleasure. Where such holy love doth reign. 153 AD COR CHRIST I. Cries my heart with living voices : In Thee, heart of Christ, rejoices ; Draw Thou nigh with gracious motion, Knit it, till in full devotion Thou its every power employ. Love be all my life ; no slumber E'er my drowsy thought encumber ; To Thee praying, Thee imploring, Thee aye praising, Thee adoring. Thee my sempiternal joy ! Heart Rose, in Thy fulness blossom. Shed Thy perfume o'er my bosom ; Be Thy beauty in me growing ; Light the fires forever glov/ing On the altar of my heart. Aid me, Thy dear image wearing. E'en Thy wounds, my Jesu, sharing, Till Thy very form I borrow, When my bosom feels Thy sorrow. Piercing with its keenest dart. To Thy holy heart, oh, take me ! Thy companion, Jesu, make me, 154 AD CO A' CHKISJI. In that sorrow joy exceeding, In that beauty scarred and bleeding, Till my heart be wholly Thine. Rest, my soul ! now naught shall sever ; After Thee it follows ever ; Here its thirst finds glad fulfilling ; Jesu ! be Thou not unwilling. Take this loving heart of mine ! Bernard of Clairvaux. i860. 155 IN TERRIS ADHUC POSITAM. ON earth awhile, 'mid sufferings tried, Still hears the Church, the holy Bride, Her Lord from heaven, calling with daily cry, Bidding her heart ascend to Him on high. " Draw me," she answers, "after Thee ; Stretch Thy right hand to succour me : On winged wings Thou soarest to the skies ; Without Thy wings, how can I thither rise ? " Ask for the pinions of the dove, To hasten to that nest of love ; Ask thou the eagle's plumes of tireless might. That thou may'st climb to the eternal height. Both wings and eyes will He bestow, That thou the sun's unclouded glow With thy undazzled glances may'st behold. And drink the blessedness to man untold. Only to winged beings given Is that fair home of upper heaven ; And there the holy souls find kindred place, To whom our God shall grant the wrings of grace. i860. r Abelard. 156 1 1 VMM NCJCTrRNI. FRUIT-HEARING trees the earth adorn, And now the heavenly lamps are born. Sun, moon, and stars a living picture glow, Sources of blessing wide to all below. This goodly huildinc: now, O man ! On every side in wonder scan : The realm of heaven confesses it is thine, And for thy service beam these orbs divine. He basks him in liu. wintry rays, For whom no kindly hearth may blaze ; And for his lantern in the night The poor man hath the moon and starry light The rich reclines on ivory bed, The greensward for the poor is spread ; For him the birds their softest carols sing, The flowers their breath of sweetest perfume fling. 157 H YMNI NO C T URN I. O rich man, at a price too dear Dost thou thy tottering palace rear, Painting upon the vaulted ceiling high, False sun, false stars within a mimic sky. Beneath the true, the heavenly dome. Hath the poor man his beauteous home. On that the Maker with His fingers drew A real sun, and starry torches true. Ah ! than man's building nobler far The works of lordly nature are : Created without toil, or earthly gold. Time crumbles not, nor makes them ever old. Man only serves the rich man's state ; But on the poor the angels wait : All tells us how the generous God has given To us, His sons, the highest things of heaven. Abelard. i860. 158 MUNDI REXOVATIO. SEE ! with nature's joyous birth Spring a thousand forms of mirth From its slumber all the earth Rises with the Risen King ; All thini^s know the Maker's sway, Conscious of His holy day Come with festal offering. Cloudless now the heavens blest, Gentlier heaves the ocean's breast, Softly sinks the wind to rest ; Blooming is our valley's face, Green the withered sod awakes, And the ice-bound streamlet breaks. Warmed by loving spring's embrace. Life o'er death the victory wins ; Man anew the joy begins, Lost how early by his sins : Blissful Eden is restored ; Open flies the welcoming door. And the cherub stern no more Waves on high the flaming sword. iS6o. Adam of St. Victor. •59 O ESCA VIATORUM! FOOD for the wayworn given ! Bread that soft drops from heaven ! Manna the angels eat ! Our hungered spirits feeding, Let not one sick soul needing Lose this immortal sweet. O ! spring of love excelling ! Pure wave, forever welling From out the Saviour's heart ! Be thou our thirst's allaying ; Thy gift is all our praying ; Thou all our fulness art. Jesu ! Thy beauty hidden, To our dim eyes forbidden, Daily w^e here adore ; Grant us, Thy face unveiling, In Thine own glorious dwelling To see Thee evermore. i860. Thomas Aquinas. 160 RECORDARE SANCT.E CRUCIS. pOXDER thou the Cross all holy, A Who wilt tread the pathway lowly To the perfect joy above : Thou the holy cross aye ponder, And with an uncloying wonder, Drink its mysteries of love. "When thou toilest, when thou sleepest, When thou smilcst, when thou weepest, Sad or gladsome if thou art ; In thy coming, in thy going. Whether pain or solace knowing. Keep the cross within thy heart. In the cross, 'mid burdens aching. Heaviest waves above thee breaking. Thine unending comfort find ; Though 'midst cruel foes thou languish, Sweet the cross in every anguish, Refuge of the pious mind. i6i RECORDARE SAXCT^ CRUCIS. Cross, of Paradise the portal, Where have clung the souls immortal, Victors in this earthly strife ; Holy cross, the whole world's healings By it is God's love revealing Marvels of eternal light. Cross of Christ, the soul's w^ell-being, Light unshadowed for our seeing. For the heart its sweetest good ; Cross, the life all saints indwelling. Storehouse of all gifts excelling, Beauty and beatitude. Cross, the glass of brave endeavour ; Leader of our triumph ever, Hope the faithful to inspire ; Badge of the elect of heaven ; Succour in our trial given ; Fulness of the soul's desire. Cross, the tree in beauty growing, Hallowed by Christ's life-blood flowing, Hanging with full-ripened load ; Bounty for all spirits bearing, 162 R ECO R DARE SAXCT.-E CRVCIS. An immortal banquet sharing With the blessed sons of God. Crucified, oh, make me stronger, Wiiile my life is spared me longer, Still to know Thy sufferint^ ; With Thee wounded, with Thee dying. To that Form before me lying On the holy cross, I cling. 85 J. I^ONAVFNTrRA. OMNIS MUNDI CREATURA. SEE in every earth-born creature, As a mirror tells each feature, An illuminated scroll. All our life, and our decaying. All its changeful lot pourtraying ; Truthful image of the soul ! In the rose thy painted glory ; Read thou there thy human story, Emblem of thy fading pride ! See its bud the daylight drinking, Flowerless its stem is sinking With the early eventide. With each breath away 'tis breathing. And its beauty pale bequeathing In the cradle to the tomb : Old with new in fast embracing, Hoary age is childhood chasing, Blight is hiding in its bloom. 164 OA/jVJS muxdi ckeatura. So the sprint^ of life is dawning, Flowering youth at rosy morning Opes awhile its petals white : Soon the day with shadow blendeth, And the creeping twilight endcth In the funeral pall of night. Even its blossom is its wasting, Ever is its beauty hasting Toward age, an ebbing wave ; Gem is clay, the tlow'ret's splendour Withering grass, and man shall render Dust to dust within the grave. All his being, his endeavour Pain and ease and want forever To one mortal limit flows ; Dark on light, and pain on laughter ; Calm, and stormy ocean after. Morn and evening's silent close. Early sormw on us stealing Is decay's sad face revealing ; Toil is but a mimic death ; Every trial its foretelling, 165 OMNIS MUNDI CREA TURA. Every grief the moment knelling, When the brief scene vanisheth. Know, O man, the law that Heaven To thy mortal state has given ; Thine confess this fading lot ; What thou wast, ere born to sorrow, What to-day, and what to-morrow, Know, and ah ! forget it not. Mourn the sin that bringeth sadness, Break thy pride, and curb thy madness. Cast thy lofty looks away : Lord of souls ! our life-course guiding. In Thy narrow path abiding, Never ma)^ our footsteps stray. Alanus Insulanus. i860. 166 VITA NOSTRA PLENA BELLIS. LIFE, O man, is all a battle. Ever 'midst the iron rattle, Ever camped 'mid crafty foes ; Wakes the trumpet sound each morrow^ Crash of arms, and wail of sorrow Breaks on every nij^ht's repose. Yet by ever}' fear uiiuauiurd, In the stormy onset planted. Stand I ail unshaken still ; Not the wrath of man can wound me, Not the marshalled lections round me, Not the bolts of deadliest skill. Lo ! in thickest clouds He marches, He who bends from heaven's arches, Ruler of the starry throne : He against the foeman shieldeth. He the eternal weapons wieldeth, And my battle is His own. i6- VITA NOSTRA FLEX A B ELLIS. He the bow, the arrow breaketh, He the mail-clad warrior shaketh With His everlasting flame ; Fearless stand I, never flying, All the angry host defying, More than conqueror in His name. Alanus Insulaxus. I 1859. I 168 ' J ALL ANGELS. EVER stand the Angel throng, Lauding God in holy song; Gazing on their glorious King, With the heart, the voice, they sing ; Harp-notes flinging, timbrels ringing, Now on golden plumes up-springing, Climbing on the heavenly stair ; Sweet bells blending, white-robed bending Near the highest Trinity ; Holy, Holy, Holy, crying: Flieth sorrow, ceaseth sighing. In that city of the sky. Mingled are all haj>py voices. One that in their God rejoices ; Love in every mind is burning. In pure vision upward turning To the Eternal One, the Blessed Trine. All the glowing seraphim 169 ALL ANGELS. With a heart of fire adore Him ; All the keen-eyed cherubim Veil their faces low before Him ; Awed, the Thrones behold the Majesty Divine. Oh, how wonderful that region ! Oh, how beautiful that legion ! Men with Angels ever bright ! Shining city, aye in Thee Reigneth full tranquillity. In Thy borders peace and light. Dwellers of this city fair, Garments white of chasteness wear ; In one household of sweet love, One unbroken circle move. Naught of darkness, naught of care, Grief, temptation, haunteth there : Free from sickness, ever blest, Theirs of every good the best. Thomas a Kempis. 3 860. 170 ANTIIMIONA AD NOCTrRXOS. IN midst of life We are in death ; From whom may succour ^^'\ O Lord, save Thee, Whose anger just our sins remembereth ? Vet, Holy Lord, Holy and miiijhty ever. Holy and full of grace, Redeemer of our race, To bitter death do not our souls deliver. Anonymous. [Eleventh Century,] 171 ST. JOHN EVANGELIST. [" Verbum Dei, Deo natum."] WORD of God, begotten Son, Uncreate, eternal one. Coming from the bliss above, John beheld Him, and revealed, And to mortal minds unsealed, That deep mystery of love. 'Midst the primal rivers, fed From the Truth's own fountain-head That quick-leaping spirit flowed ; For the w^orld the nectar gave, Drawn from out the crystal wave, Gushing by the throne of God. Heaven he trod, undazzled gazed Where the true sun's axle blazed ; Seer of unearthly things ; And the face of God he saw, As the seraphs look in awe Underneath their shading wings. 172 ST. JOHN EVA NG EI 1ST. Heard he, round the eternal seat, All the Elders chaunting sweet The new song to harps divine ; And on earthly city's gold Stamped he with the heavenly mould, Signet of the Blessed Trine. Bird of God, with boundless flight Soaring from beyond the height Of the bard or prophet old ; Truth fulfilled and truth to be, Never purer mystery Did a purer tongue unfold. In His robe of blood-red dyes, Seen, yet hid from human eyes : To I lis palace Christ withdrew : Heavenly comfort to bestow On His weeping Bride below, Lo ! the prophet eagle flew. Say, beloved one, how fair Our Beloved is ; declare His glad message to His Bride ; 173 ST. JOHN EVANGELIST, Say what food the angels taste, How the sons of heaven feast In that presence glorified. Give us of the living bread, Supper which thy spirit fed, Leaning on the Saviour's breast ; That with thee the endless Psalm, Near the throne, before the Lamb, We may sing in heaven blest. i860. Anonymous. [Thirteenth Century.] 174 ALTITUDO, gi;il) IIIC JACES? HEIGHT of heaven, why art Thou lying Cradled in a stable base ? Maker of the starry torches, Hides a manger cold Thy face? Oh, what marvels hast Thou lavished, Jesu, upon sinful men ! Exiles from the bliss of Eden, Yet Thy li.' irt hath loved again. Might divine becometh weakness ; Infinite a babe could be ; In a mortal womb imprisoned, Born — behold Eternity ! Oh, what marvels hast Thou lavished, Jesu, upon sinful men ! Exiles from the bliss of Eden, Yet Thy heart hath loved again. Thou with childish lips wast clinging To the stainless V^irgin's breast ; 175 ALT ITU DO, Q UID HIC J A CE S ? Tear-drops from Thine eyes were springing, Thou, the joy of heaven blest ! Oh, what marvels hast Thou lavished, Jesu, upon sinful men ! Exiles from the bliss of Eden, Yet Thy heart hath loved again. 1859. Anonymous. [Fourteenth Century.] 176 PARVUM gUAXDO CERXO DEUM. WHEN within His mother's arms I the infant God behold, All my heart the vision warms With a blessedness untold. Leaps He, mother ! leaps the Boy, Gazing at thy holy breast ! Kisses with a smile of joy. Thousand kisses, fondly prest ! As upon the stainless skies Peaceful hangs the new-born ^dh. So upon thy bosom lies. Mother pure, thy Holy One. Ah ! how lovely that repose ! Mother with the Infant fair. Twined as with the tender rose, Violet and lily are. 177 PARVUM QUANDO CERNO DEUM. Many a silent clasp of bliss, Many a look of smiling love, As the flowers the meadow kiss. As the starry eyes above. Oh ! if one such loving dart, Falling on that mother mild. May but fall within my heart. Infant Jesu, Holy Child ! 1859. AnONYxMOUS. [Fourteenth Century.] 178 PONE LUCTUM ^^AGDALENA ! STILL thy sorro>%, Mcij^vldli ..d '. Wipe the tear-drops from thine eyes ; Not at Simon's board thou kneelest, Pouring thy repentant sighs : All with thy glad heart rejoices ; All things sing witli happy voices : Hallelujah 1 Laugh with rajnurc, Magdalena ! Be thy drooping forehead briglit ; Banished now is every anguish, Breaks anew thy morning light ; Christ from death the world hath freed ; He is risen, is risen indeed : Hallelujah ! Joy ! exult, O Magdalena ! He hath burst the rocky prison ; Ended are the days of darkness ; Conqueror hath He arisen. 179 PONE LUCTUM MAGDALENA. Mourn no more the Christ departed ; Run to welcome Him, glad-hearted : Hallelujah ! Lift thine eyes, O Magdalena ! See ! thy living Master stands ; See His face, as ever, smiling ; See those wounds upon His hands, On His feet. His sacred side, — Gems that deck the Glorified : Hallelujah ! Live, now live, O Magdalena ! Shining is thy new-born day ; Let thy bosom pant with pleasure. Death's poor terror flee away ; Far from thee the tears of sadness, Welcome love, and welcome gladness ! Hallelujah ! 1859. Anonymous. [Fourteenth Century.] 180 I O: QUANTA, QUALIA SUNT ILLA SABBATA. T T OW great, how beautiful that Sabbath rest, A 1 Kept in the court eternal of the blest ! Repose for weary souls ! for brave reward ! For there our All in all shall be the Lord. What King! what holy court! what palace fair! What peace ! what solace ! what rejoicing there ! Ye glorious dwellers ! your own joy reveal, If ye can utter all your spirits feel. The true Jerusalem ! that state above ! Whose peace unending is our highest love ; Where longing hope cannot true joy forerun ; Where perfect happiness and hope are one ! There shall our sorrowings forever cease, And Sion's loftv songs we sing in peace ; iSi O! QC/AX7J, Q UA LI A S UX T IL LA SA BBA TA . Thy happy people, Lord, before Thy face, Pay gracious offerings for Thy gifts of grace. There still a Sabbath new on Sabbath rolls. An endless holy day of holy souls, That chant ineffable, rise evermore. Which saints in glory with the angels pour. Thither we lift, O God, our waiting eyes ; And see our fatherland in hope arise, Homeward from Babylon we fondly yearn, After long, weary exile to return. i860. Anonymous. [Fourteenth Centur)-.] 182 ( AVE ROSA SPIXIS PUXCTA. HAIL, O Rose, transpierced with thorns, Hail, O thorn the rose adorns ! Not for sin, but for our cure, Didst Thou, Lord, these thorns endure. Hail, O Rf)se, with thorn-prints cloven ! Hail, O thorn, with roses woven ! Grace divine, that passeth knowing. Gifts of life thro' thorn bestowing In the pity of our Lord. Anonymous. [Fifteenth Century.] ^3 I IN NATALI DOMINI. ON the birthday of the Lord Angel hosts with one accord Chaunt with joy before the throne ; Glory to one God alone. The Virgin bore the eternal Word : The Virgin bore the Christ adored, The Virgin ever stainless. Born is our Emmanuel ; Gabriel did the day foretell ; Prophets hailed the dawning sun, Him, the sole begotten one. The Virgin bore the eternal Word : The Virgin bore the Christ adored. The Virgin ever stainless. Lo ! a seraph tells the tale : Shepherds glad in hill and dale Sing the holy Saviour's birth. Sweetest tidings for the earth. 184 IN NA TALI DOMIXI. The Virgin bore the eternal Word : The Virgin bore the Christ adored, The Virgin ever stainless. Hail to-day the happy morn, Hail the Son from Mary born, Born of God's o'ershadowing might, God of God and light of light. The Virgin bore the eternal Word : The Virgin bore the Christ adored, The Virgin ever stainless. See the Eastern kings adore, Gold and myrrh and incense pour. Bending to the Eternal King, Glory to our God they sing. The Virgin bore the eternal Word : The Virgin bore the Christ adored. The Virgin ever stainless. Anonymous. [Sixteenth Centur}-. 185 CUM ME TENENT FALLACIA. WHEN fleeting earth with pleasures vain Hath bound my soul to heav)^ chain, In heaven the angel bright, who keeps His sleepless watch, beholds and weeps. But when m)^ sorrowing tears I pour, And all my sins to God deplore, Then smiles with joy the angel fair. Whose heart is touched with all nfy care. Away, deceitful world ! away ! Ye shadowy joys, no longer stay ! Come, tears of grief, and ceaseless flow, To wash my sin, to tell my woe. O let me not in reckless years. Still cause those holy angels tears ; But while I mourn 'with sorrow true, Ever those angel smiles renew. i860. Alard. 186