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RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY; 
 
 SELECTIONS SPIRITUAL AND MORAL, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 POETICAL WORKS 
 
 THE REV. R. MONTGOMERY, M.A. Oxon. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LUTHER," "GOSPEL IN ADVANCE OF THE AGE." 
 
 &C. &C. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 
 
 BY ARCHER GURNEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " KING CHARLES THE FIRST," TRANSLATOR OF " FAUST.' 
 
 " The noble thought, the wise reflection, or the beautiful idea, each 
 has its hour and scene of influence ; though often, like a trackless 
 Angel on some errand of love, — acting silent, secret, and unobserved." 
 
 PREFACE TO "THE OMNIPRESENCE." 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION. 
 
 1847. 
 

 LOND O N T ! 
 
 Printed by Schulze and Co., 13, Poland Street. 
 
 205449 
 '15 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The influence of Poetry in general, and its 
 importance as a moral agent for intellectual culture, 
 can scarcely be over estimated. A great Contem- 
 porary Poet has beautifully remarked that, " Poetry 
 is the breath and spirit of all Knowledge ; the 
 impassioned expression which appears on the 
 countenance of all Science." By those whose 
 hearts respond to this sentiment, it will be admitted 
 that the Poet is fulfilling his mission only in 
 proportion as he devotes his genius and his talents 
 to the service of Christianity, and to the illustration 
 of whatever is most elevating and beautiful in the 
 moral and natural world. 
 
 In Montgomery's own language, the function of 
 the Poet, when his heart beats with spiritual loyalty 
 to the Cross, is so to invest all nature with an ideal 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 radiance, that every religious eye may be capacitated 
 to read and admire 
 
 " That Mighty Poem which the Heavens and Earth 
 Exhibit, written by Eternal Hands." 
 
 " THE MESSIAH." 
 
 It is true that Poetry has been but too often made 
 the instrument for degrading, rather than elevating 
 Man's spiritual nature ; but beyond a doubt, its 
 legitimate aim and highest effort ought to be 
 directed to the awaking, refining, and exalting our 
 Consciousness, and carrying it beyond and above 
 the beaten track of ordinary life, into the pure 
 and lofty regions of Christianity. 
 
 It is in this point of view that the Poet ought 
 to excite our gratitude as well as our admiration, 
 when we see him dedicate his powers to such 
 hallowed purposes. Perhaps no English Poet has 
 more thoroughly rendered Poetry subservient to 
 this sublime object than Robert Montgomery. 
 Spirituality is not the mere accidence, but the 
 essence of his Poetry ; and we cannot read a page 
 without observing how intensely he strives to 
 realize Divinity, as the secret life and law which 
 actuate and mould the universe of Matter and 
 Mind; and in an age of sensual tendencies and 
 frivolous excitement, it is no slight merit thus to 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 magnify the Eternal, and celebrate the Unseen. 
 His first poem has now been before the public 
 for nearly a quarter of a century ; and the inte- 
 rest with which each succeeding work continues 
 to be regarded, bespeaks a healthy tone of moral 
 feeling in a very large, and we trust, an increasing 
 body, of intellectual Christians. His mental sway is 
 daily becoming more felt ; while, like Wordsworth 
 and Coleridge, he steadily advances into the higher 
 regions of hallowed sentiment and thoughtful taste, 
 boldly contending against those rationalizing and 
 sensualizing principles so prevalent in our current 
 literature. The spirit of Robert Montgomery's 
 Christian Philosophy fully harmonizes with a 
 profound truth so beautifully expressed by Ullman 
 in his "Worship of Genius." — "However sublime 
 may be the idea which the word Genius awakens 
 in our mind, something infinitely greater arises 
 before us at the short and simple word — God ! 
 Though centuries have mused over the idea signi- 
 fied by those few letters, we cannot believe that 
 it is yet exhausted, or that it has lost its power 
 over the mind ; we cannot believe that such Idea 
 must abdicate its supremacy, and have another for its 
 substitute, in order that the human mind should 
 ascend to its loftiest and truest object of reverence. 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 The word "God" still is, and ever will be, the 
 highest problem for the thinker, the watch-word 
 of hope for the pious, the thunder-bolt for the 
 sinner, and thus wield an influence which the name 
 of Genius will never attain." 
 
 Believing as we do, that almost a complete body 
 of Christian truth might be collected from 
 Montgomery's works, it occurred to the Editor 
 that an interesting and valuable selection might 
 be made on a plan differing from mere extracts 
 from the writings of any other Poet in the 
 language ; and that by arranging under distinct 
 theological and miscellaneous heads the scattered 
 thoughts and original conceptions which characterize 
 this Author, — a valuable volume, unique in its kind, 
 might be composed. Such a publication is now 
 offered to the reader ; and it is hoped it will be 
 acceptable to all who reverence the moral develop- 
 ment of our nature ; who can be touched with 
 what is pure in motive and lofty in feeling ; or 
 who can appreciate that tenderness, and those 
 images of innocence and happiness, with which 
 our Poet delights to illustrate the diversified scenery 
 of human experience. 
 
 Having obtained the Rev. Robert Montgomery's 
 kind permission to make such a selection from his 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 poetical works, on the plan proposed, the Editor 
 has gone through his various poems with that 
 view; and though he has far from exhausted the 
 subject, it will be found that, as far as this volume 
 extends, the most interesting passages of the 
 Author's Poems, have been arranged under distinct 
 heads : and, as there is scarcely a great Gospel 
 truth or Moral sentiment, which Robert Mont- 
 gomery has not clothed in the graces of poetical 
 language, — the title of the work has been chosen 
 as indicative of what appears ever to be his leading 
 aim, namely, the alliance of Poetry with Religion. 
 The reader will here find nothing but what tends 
 to lift our redeemed humanity into holy communion 
 with its reconciled God; while at the same time 
 the Author's genius shines in every page pre-eminent 
 for whatever is beautiful in sentiment, noble in 
 aspiration, or catholic in sympathy. Ever may 
 the spiritual loftiness of the following passage from 
 his "Universal, Prayer," receive a responsive 
 echo in the souls of all who believe that the 
 Gospel is the sublimest Philosophy of Man, 
 
 " And oh ! may those, the gifted few, 
 
 Archangels of the Earth, before whose thrones 
 
 Mortality doth bend, and half adore, 
 
 Forget not what they owe to Thee, and Man ! 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 May Genius never stoop to pander vice, 
 
 But fix her eye on Heaven, and Walk the Earth 
 
 A Spirit conscious of her native Sphere." 
 
 The depth of religious earnestness in Montgo- 
 mery's Writings will not render this volume the less 
 acceptable to those who are engaged in the arduous 
 and responsible duties of training the youthful 
 mind ; while his sound views of the Reformation 
 make his writings peculiarly valuable at the present 
 juncture in the Anglican Church. Nor ought the 
 opinion of the most eminent men of foreign coun- 
 tries be overlooked : the judgment of Tholuck, one 
 of the most eloquent of living German Divines, 
 is peculiarly valuable, as confirmatory of the Editor's 
 estimate of Montgomery's services : thus then, has 
 that illustrious theologian spoken of our poet's 
 highest work — "Luther" — " I should think it," he 
 says, " an injury done to us Germans, not to make 
 known to them, your Poem, on that giant of 
 Theology, Martin Luther." 
 
 In conclusion, the Editor must now remark, 
 that it was not deemed necessary to name the 
 separate Works from whence the extracts are 
 taken ; but only to indicate by spaces, that they 
 have been selected from the Author's different 
 poems, and classified under their appropriate heads. 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 It only remains then for the Editor to thank the 
 accomplished author of " Charles the First," for 
 the fine specimen of effective criticism which forms 
 an Introduction to this volume. 
 
 S. J, IL 
 
 MAY, 1847, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introductory Essay ..... 1 
 
 Attributes of the Deity . 
 
 
 
 . 77 
 
 Atonement 
 
 
 
 79 
 
 Britain's Safeguard 
 
 
 
 . 81 
 
 Christ the Centre of Truth 
 
 
 
 . 83 
 
 Christ's Eternity 
 
 
 
 . 84 
 
 Christ the Head of the Church . 
 
 
 
 , 85 
 
 Christ the Conqueror of Death . 
 
 
 
 . 86 
 
 Childhood of Jesus 
 
 
 
 . 87 
 
 Blessedness of Early Death 
 
 
 
 . 89 
 
 Christ the Friend of the Lonely . 
 
 
 
 . 90 
 
 The Babe, the Bible and the Mother 
 
 
 
 . 92 
 
 Christ in Prayer 
 
 
 
 94 
 
 The Avenging Conscience 
 
 
 
 94 
 
 Adoration of the Saviour's Attributes 
 
 
 
 96 
 
 Christ raising the Widow's Son . 
 
 
 
 96 
 
 Principles taught by Christ 
 
 
 
 98 
 
 Christ walking on the Sea 
 
 
 
 101 
 
 Perfection of Christ's Human Nature 
 
 
 
 101 
 
 Christ in Gethsemane 
 
 
 
 103 
 
 Christ's Agony in the Garden 
 
 
 
 104 
 
 Christ on the Cross 
 
 
 
 105 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Christ's Resurrection 
 
 Christ's Ascension 
 
 A Churchyard 
 
 Creation . 
 
 Creation Incomplete 
 
 Creation of Woman 
 
 Deity in Creation adored 
 
 Hymn of Adoration at the Birth of Christ 
 
 The Ideal of Christ beyond the Actual of Art 
 
 The Saviour hidden in an hour of Grief 
 
 Primeval Innocence 
 
 Fall of Man 
 
 Immortality of the Soul 
 
 Incarnation 
 
 Power of Faith 
 
 Christian Peace 
 
 Duty 
 
 Millennial Glory . 
 
 Glories of Revelation 
 
 Prayer . 
 
 Creation, a Type of the Redeemer's Glory 
 
 Connexion between the Mind and Nature 
 
 The Sympathy of Nature 
 
 The Inspiration of Nature 
 
 The Christian, the only true Interpreter of Nature 
 
 Man a Fallen Creature . 
 
 Redemption was predestined 
 
 Insufficiency of Natural Religion exemplified 
 
 Memory is Undying 
 
 Justification .... 
 
 The Elective Sovereignty of God 
 
 The Apostolic Church of England 
 
 The Prodigal's Return . 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Reconciled God 
 
 Death . 
 
 A Holy Death . 
 
 Eloquence of Tombs 
 
 Comfort for the Christian 
 
 Reason, Sense, and Faith 
 
 Satanic Influence 
 
 Power of the Spirit 
 
 The Spirit needed to interpret Scripture 
 
 Reflections on visiting a celebrated Cataract 
 
 The Temptation . 
 
 Infancy . 
 
 The Solitary Monk 
 Luther's Death . 
 
 Luther's Character 
 
 Dreams . 
 
 Mystery 
 
 Night . 
 
 Contemplations suggested by Night 
 
 Instinctive dread of Death 
 
 To Die, — what is it ? 
 
 Jairus' Daughter 
 
 Love . 
 
 Human Love. 
 
 Power of the Affections . 
 
 Woman's Love . 
 
 Reflective Stanzas 
 
 Christian Home . 
 
 The Charms of Home . 
 
 Influence of Early Impressions 
 
 Jerusalem 
 
 Life in its true Signification 
 
 The Sacramental Rock . 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Sinai of the Conscience 
 
 The two Worlds 
 
 The Forgiven Most, Love Most 
 
 Now is the accepted Time 
 
 The Sisters 
 
 The Virgin Mother 
 
 The Miraculous Stream . 
 
 Friendship 
 
 No Contingency in the Lot of Man 
 
 The Friendship of Luther and Melancthon 
 
 Congenial Tastes cannot alone constitute Friendship 
 
 God the Author of Holy Friendship 
 
 London .... 
 
 Reflections on London by Midnight 
 
 The Power of Prayer 
 
 The Infant in Prayer 
 
 Romanism 
 
 Popery springs from corrupt Nature 
 
 The preaching of the Word 
 
 Morning 
 
 Sunset 
 
 Moonlight 
 
 A Moment 
 
 Reflections on the Departed Year 
 
 Incommunicable Feelings 
 
 Retrospection 
 
 The Ocean 
 
 The Ocean preaches God 
 
 Poetry .... 
 
 Music .... 
 
 The Magic Power of Melody 
 
 Stanzas on Music 
 
 The Organ-Boy . 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Pains of Genius . 
 
 Milton .... 
 
 Consumption . . . 
 
 Local Association 
 
 The Visioned City 
 
 A Dream of Worlds 
 
 The Power of Genius 
 
 Apostrophe to a Departed Mother 
 
 Lost Feelings 
 
 The Plague 
 
 Parental Fondness 
 
 The Magical effect of Love 
 
 A Brother 
 
 The Holy Dead . 
 
 A Retrospect 
 
 The Power of the Scriptures 
 
 The Domestic Bliss of England . 
 
 The Hollowness of the World . 
 
 The Diversity of the Human Mind 
 
 The Evening Hour 
 
 England 
 
 The true Sphere of Woman 
 
 A heautiful Sunset, and Night 
 
 The Spartan Mother 
 
 Loneliness 
 
 A Sad Thought . 
 
 The Undefined . 
 
 The Return Home 
 
 A Poet's Farewell 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Ballad Singers 
 
 Painting . 
 
 The Sabbath 
 
 The Teachings of the Sabbath 
 
 Privilege of Christian Suffering 
 
 Our Cross the prelude to our Crown 
 
 The Mystery of Human Sufferings 
 
 Affliction one form of Communion with Christ 
 
 Affliction tends to purify from Sin 
 
 Solitude . 
 
 Solitude not Morose 
 
 The Past, Present, and Future . 
 
 The Melancholy of Youthful Genius 
 
 Intellectual Greatness . 
 
 Intellectual Responsibility 
 
 Mental Depravity 
 
 Intellectual Martyrs 
 
 Power of the Press 
 
 The British Press 
 
 The Awfulness of Books 
 
 Chance exists not 
 
 Providence is Individual 
 
 The Individualizing tendency of Deity 
 
 Consolations of Individual Providence 
 
 The Minuteness of Providential Care 
 
 Nothing Insignificant in the Moral World 
 
 Wonders of Moral Connection . 
 
 The Divine Will encircleth the Human 
 
 Doctrine of the Resurrection. 
 
 The World of Spirits . 
 
 The Bards of Earth 
 
 The departed Bride 
 
 Etherialising power of Poetry . 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY 
 
 ON THE POETRY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REV. ROBERT MONTGOMERY, M.A. 
 
 Rarely has any subject engaged the attention of men 
 on which more conflicting opinions have been expressed than 
 the degree of merit attributable to the poetical works of the 
 Rev. Robert Montgomery. Not literary differences alone have 
 originated and sustained this literary strife : Religion and 
 Theology have evoked the critical spirit of those who felt, 
 or imagined themselves, aggrieved by the author's conclusions, 
 and somewhat of that envy which frequently dogs success 
 as its attendant shadow may have rendered the eyesight of 
 objectors peculiarly, if not exclusively, keen to certain man- 
 nerisms which did not really interfere with the merit of the 
 Poet. At the same time, profundity of thought, — undoubted, 
 though occasionally not done full justice to in the delivery — 
 a deep religious earnestness, and a command of language, only 
 too strikingly exhibited, could not fail to have their due weight 
 with the reading public, which has, indeed, learnt to pay but 
 little attention to the anonymous criticisms of the day : and 
 thus the strange spectacle was presented to the observer's 
 eyes, of a poet of twenty or thirty editions, the mark of 
 unceasing and would-be-contemptuous ridicule in the pages 
 of very many of the chief periodicals of the day. 
 I have before hinted that the charges brought against Mr. 
 
2 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Montgomery, or let me rather say, against Montgomery, as 
 a poet, were not altogether without foundation. As I have 
 been asked to furnish a critical Essay to a volume of extracts 
 from the poetical works of this author, and as my duty, having 
 accepted this task, is not to give my reflections to the world 
 upon all imaginable objects in it, but chiefly to express my 
 honest convictions with reference to the merits or demerits 
 of the works commented on, I shall proceed at once to clear 
 the way, (if I may use such an expression) by removing all 
 objections "in limine" to that admiration which I regard 
 as justly due to this poet, and by disposing forthwith of that 
 general censure, at least, which will form the least pleasurable 
 portion of my duty. For it surely need scarcely be stated, 
 that however keen my perception may be of certain defects in 
 Robert Montgomery's compositions, my individual judgment 
 on the whole is decidedly in their favour, since I should not 
 otherwise have undertaken what may be regarded as a preface 
 to a series of extracts from this poet's works. 
 
 But first, let me apologise to the reader for the apparently 
 authoritative tone, which the avowed critic, who subscribes 
 his lucubrations with his name, is necessarily driven to adopt. 
 This tone is adopted invariably by anonymous writers, or 
 scribblers, and the public, if it does not exactly believe them, 
 is still content that they should promulgate their anonymous 
 decrees, feeling rarely shocked by the autocratic vigour of 
 their decisions. And here I may be permitted to observe, 
 that the time has arrived for the utter abolition of this system 
 of literary " Secret Police," which can only be compared, for 
 mystery and despotism, to the government officials of ancient 
 Venice, or of modern Russia. What a man really thinks, he 
 should be ready publicly to proclaim, not under the mantle 
 of the ubiquitous " We," but as the acknowledged result of 
 his own individual perceptions. If he does not feel sufficiently 
 assured of the justice of his conclusions to do this, let him for 
 ever hold his peace ! — He will not then be so likely to 
 denounce and ridicule what he is utterly incapable of under- 
 standing; nor will he dare to commend, from motives of 
 private friendship, or on other baser grounds, what he does 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 6 
 
 not in his heart approve. Then, too, the reading public will 
 be no longer liable to be deceived, even for a time, by the 
 high-sounding pretensions to critical infallibility of men, who 
 have been endeavouring themselves to compose for the whole 
 of the?r lives, and have never succeeded in one single literary 
 undertaking. The opinion of the man of sense will no longer, 
 in the eyes of the multitude, be confounded with the " dicta" 
 of the fool. The less learned portion of the public will have 
 some guide to the degree of importance which they should 
 attach to the critical praises or censures of individuals. Young 
 and aspiring authors will no longer be in danger of being 
 crushed, or of imagining themselves so, (to them nearly as 
 bad) by the awful and seemingly omnipotent " We" of some 
 wretched literary hack. Critics themselves will learn to 
 advance no position which they are not prepared to support 
 by arguments and facts, and will thus gain vastly with respect 
 to modesty, justice, and truth. All classes then will reap 
 an equal advantage from the abolition of the present Anony- 
 mous System : nor let it be imagined that critical identification 
 will lead to an individual literary despotism. There are too 
 many men of talent avowing opposed opinions, and maintain- 
 ing conflicting causes, to render this possible. Even a 
 Johnson could not again assert an absolute supremacy over 
 the intellects of his fellow mortals. 
 
 But to return from this somewhat lengthy digression, which 
 was, however, partly called for in vindication of the boldness 
 with which I intend to express my literary opinions in the 
 following pages. I can only say that I in no respect profess to 
 speak authoritatively and " ex cathedra" — a position, indeed, 
 which no critic whatever is, in my opinion, ever justified in 
 taking. Still every affirmation, whether of moral, religious, 
 or literary truth, must, of its very nature, be absolute as well 
 as relative : relative, that is, with reference to Truth itself, of 
 which no finite perception can present more than a shadow 
 or indistinct image; absolute to him who makes it, that is, 
 to his individual perception, which is, after all, what he is 
 concerned with, and what it is his business to place distinctly 
 before the public, if he once allows the mantle of the critic 
 
 b 2 
 
4 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 to descend upon his shoulders. But, without imposing my 
 convictions on any other person, I am bound to express them 
 honestly and boldly, since I have once undertaken the task 
 of ushering this volume into the world, and I must conse- 
 quently needs assume a tone of decision, which might give 
 offence to some amongst my readers, were it not thus overtly 
 explained and apologized for. One word too may be per- 
 mitted me on the special motives which have influenced me to 
 undertake this task, and thus openly to force my individual 
 perceptions on the public, contrary to the general custom of 
 the day. 
 
 The requisites for a perfect critic, for the ideal of critics, 
 will rarely or perhaps never be found combined in one man : 
 certainly / do not profess to lay the slightest claim to them. 
 I have neither the deep learning on which a critical system 
 may be accurately based, nor the acute sense of memory by 
 which it is perhaps most fitly sustained. Yet, as one who 
 himself lays claim to the title of poet, I trust that I may not 
 be altogether deficient in that poetic discrimination which is 
 as quick in the perception of the Beautiful as in the instinc- 
 tive dislike of all that is opposed to it : i.e. in a literary, and 
 not a distinctively moral or religious point of view. It is the 
 hope that this natural power of perception and discrimination 
 has been in some degree bestowed upon me, which has 
 induced me to enter the critical arena at all. What, however, 
 I have felt myself justified in doing, in common with so many 
 others, under the cover of Anonimity, I should not, and cannot 
 shrink from repeating in the open light of day; and I am 
 more particularly moved to this public profession of my 
 critical opinion, because so much unsparing ridicule has been 
 lavished, by a certain set of critics, on the writings and the 
 admirers of Robert Montgomery, in the apparent hope of 
 annihilating his literary fame : ridicule, however, which has 
 over-reached its aim, because it naturally excites a just and 
 generous indignation in the breast of every impartial thinker, 
 and so, as necessarily, involves a corresponding counter- 
 action. 
 
 Having had the pleasure to express my anonymous appro- 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 5 
 
 bation of Mr. Montgomery's " Luther," and other works, in 
 the " Theologian," " British Churchman," " New Quarterly," 
 &c, &c, I could not hesitate to comply with a request made 
 by the selector of the following pages, when he did me the 
 honour to solicit the full and clear expression of my unbiassed 
 opinions, in the form of the critical Essay now laid before the 
 reader. There is, it may be remarked, this great advantage 
 in acknowledged individual criticism, which the anonymous 
 can never possess. There is no need here for the concealment 
 of any private motives or causes whatsoever, I can profess 
 publicly that the author of " Luther," &c, is my friend, and 
 that I have undertaken this task, at the selector's solicitation, 
 without fear of misconstruction, and without any injury to the 
 possible weight of my statements or arguments, because I am 
 personally responsible for whatever I may advance, and my 
 regard for my own reputation is, to a certain extent, a 
 guarantee that I shall not be influenced by any undue 
 considerations. 
 
 The fact that every word of praise will, in all probability be 
 quoted against me by certain more or less influential literary 
 journals, weighs, I can assure the reader, as little or nothing 
 in the scale ; nay, if this have any influence at all, I rather 
 think that it would lead me, from a love of fair play, to 
 extenuate even the occasional literary offences of the author 
 under my consideration, and defend him even on points where 
 his adversaries have not assailed without some cause. This, 
 however, would be nearly as incorrect, though not perhaps 
 as mischievous, as injudicious abuse. And so, endeavouring 
 to steer my course midway, and attain, as far as in mortal 
 lies, a standard of critical impartiality, I will start by alluding 
 to those defects, which are more or less incidental to the 
 works of all men, and the existence of which is certainly not 
 to be denied in the productions of Robert Montgomery. That 
 I shall not be influenced, in some degree, by my sympathy 
 with the Christian — whom the infidel has so furiously assailed — 
 in my consideration as a critic of the poet, I do not pretend to 
 affirm ; nor would I, if I could, deprive myself of the natural 
 bias of sympathetic feeling. 
 
O INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 So much said, be it at once and distinctly acknowledged, 
 as far as my individual perceptions are concerned, that Mr. 
 Montgomery appears to me, in many instances, verbose beyond 
 all reasonable limits, and occasionally mysterious, from a 
 substitution of undoubtedly poetic sound for sense. To yield 
 examples of these supposed errors here, would be an ungra- 
 cious and an altogether uncalled for task. My primary duty 
 is rather to point to the excellencies than dwell on the defects 
 of my author. To this list of the latter, however, I must be 
 permitted to add one of an even more important character, 
 namely, the occasional overstepping of the boundaries of good 
 taste, when the author, carried away by the genuineness and 
 ardour of his conception, allows himself to be hurried into 
 lengths, and seduced to expressions, which are not altogether 
 justifiable. To these principal shortcomings may be added an 
 occasional monotony of tone, which is perhaps, however, more 
 or less inseparable from the nature of a long didactic poem. 
 
 On the other hand, the most superficial reader of Mont- 
 gomery's poems, cannot fail to perceive their occasionally 
 daring, and always more or less striking sublimity of thought, 
 their moral and religious grandeur, their vast and sometimes 
 astonishing force and power, the poetical beauty of the 
 descriptive passages occurring in them, and the great com- 
 mand of language of the author, despite the drawback of 
 an occasional exaggeration. Add to these the undoubted 
 rythmical beauty and variety of Montgomery's blank verse, 
 which is commonly relieved by the most artistic pauses or 
 stops of various kinds ; not, be it observed, introduced on 
 system and for effect, but obviously the external development 
 of that " inward melody of the poet's soul," which un- 
 doubtedly resides within him. It is easy for a certain class of 
 critics, or, indeed, for any men, to deride the equal and 
 oft-times majestic flow of Montgomery's " heroic stanza," even 
 in which his " Omnipresence" is composed ; but it may be 
 greatly questioned, whether many or any of these contemners 
 could attain to similar effects. Still Mr. Montgomery's forte 
 does not reside in these, but in that blank verse which is 
 the fitting garb of his greater didactic works, and which, of 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 7 
 
 all mediums of poetic expression, is the truest test of genius 
 or mediocrity. Many beautiful, I may say, exquisite images, 
 may also be discovered in Mr. Montgomery's poetical creations, 
 exhibiting much of that ideal imaginativeness, for which many 
 of his admirers even are wont to give him the least credit : — 
 
 " Oh ! there are feelings, rich but faint, 
 The hues of language cannot paint ; 
 And pleasures, delicately deep, 
 Which, like the palaces of sleep, 
 Melt into dimness, when the light 
 Would look upon their fairy sight." 
 
 Montgomery 's " Woman" p. 46. 
 
 And of such aerial and fanciful beauties Montgomery oft- 
 times conveys the poetic perception to his readers. In the 
 same volume which contains " Woman," I find a purely and 
 sweetly imaginative illustration of "The Ballad Singer," 
 wherein the poet, after apostrophising the " poor minstrel of 
 the street," and alluding to the many wants and miseries 
 which may have harassed her through years, continues : 
 
 " Hast thou not felt them, maid 
 Of many sorrows ? — yet so sweetly flows 
 The tide of music in thy homely song 
 Of tenderness, that when I hear thee sing, 
 As in a vision thou art beaut'fied 
 
 Above thy lot ; and, tripping o'er the green-dew'd hills, 
 When young birds pipe their anthem to the morn, 
 Like some bright creature whom the wood-gods love 
 I see thee, in thy youth's elysian prime." 
 
 I might close the quotation here, but cannot refrain from 
 citing the five next exquisite lines : 
 
 " That voice — oh ! was it born of Misery, 
 Or breathed by Happiness into thy soul, 
 When, hand in hand, o'er far remember'd fields, 
 Down briery lanes, by margins of clear brooks 
 And chiming streams, She led thee in her love ?" 
 
8 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Mr. Montgomery's keen, poetical perception of the beauties 
 of nature is deeply felt in this, as in so many other passages in 
 his works. Yet, however many beauties of this order may 
 present themselves in this author's pages, it cannot be 
 denied that his religious, his eminently christian, and (used in 
 no party sense) his peculiarly evangelical tone of thought and 
 feeling, is what mainly distinguishes him from the common 
 herd of his contemporaries — nay, what has affixed a character- 
 istic and distinctive mark to his poetry regarded as a whole, 
 which will probably secure him his own peculiar and separate 
 " niche" (if we may so word it) in the literature of his native 
 country. Of course it is not to be inferred that the religious 
 grandeur of a Milton, or the mild and fervent piety of a Keble, 
 combined in either case with whatever special views, is dis- 
 paraged by this statement. But it is contended, that a system- 
 atic and intellectual exposition of Christianity in the guise of 
 poetry, has nowhere been so attempted, or so consistently 
 achieved as in the poems of Robert Montgomery. It is for this 
 cause that the distinctive title of this work (whether " Poetry 
 and Religion" or " The Religion of Poetry" I know not), has 
 been assumed. 
 
 It must be admitted, as a distinctive characteristic of Mr. 
 Montgomery's religious poetry, that it is addressed not only 
 to the heart, but also to the mind ; that the intellectual as 
 well as the moral glories of Christianity are poetically realized 
 by him ; that he does not content himself with comforting and 
 cheering the believer (mainly the labour of the other Christian 
 bards of the day, Keble, Trench, "Williams, &c.) but proceeds to 
 encounter, to denounce, and, if possible, to awaken the infidel, 
 who either through active pride or negative indifference, re- 
 fuses to receive the testimony of Revelation. And this is why 
 the writers of a certain infidel school are so peculiarly severe on 
 Mr. Montgomery, and acute in the detection of his errors. 
 Tbey do not indeed take much notice of a Keble, but they 
 are content that he should sing undisturbed. He lies beyond 
 their sphere. Between him and them (let us say it without 
 irreverence) " there is a great gulf fixed" which they are by no 
 means anxious to bridge over. Such poetry, addressed exclu- 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 9 
 
 sively to Christian sympathies, assuming a Christian basis 
 without alluding to the objections to it, apparently taking it 
 for granted that the common world without has nothing to do 
 with Christianity, and may be allowed quietly to pursue its 
 beaten track (I say apparently only, for no conclusion could be 
 further from the minds of these poets than this,) such in- 
 offensive passive religious poetry, mainly dealing with the 
 affections, and not addressing itself (or not chiefly so,) to the 
 intellectual powers, has been received by the advocates and 
 adherents, secret or professed, of infidelity, with a species of 
 benevolent contempt, the quiet indifferent smile of tacit appro- 
 bation. Otherwise fares it with the glowing and energetic 
 strains of Robert Montgomery, with his fiery but true-hearted 
 and more than justified denunciations of the despicable Pyrr- 
 honism of the day, the oft times affected, but alas ! still more 
 real indifferentism of that vague and negative stupidity, which 
 is now regarded in many quarters as the very height of 
 earthly wisdom. 
 
 Never was there an age in which more curious contrasts 
 presented themselves to the observer. On the one hand, in the 
 physical world, we have a species of adoration of the actual, 
 the positive, mere facts as facts, independent of their utility to 
 man. But in the moral world, this tendency, this longing for 
 the positive, which is considered so praiseworthy elsewhere, is 
 held to be altogether empiric and unphilosophical. The true 
 philosopher, a certain class of thinkers will tell us, receives no 
 truth as absolute or certain, not even the truth that Truth is 
 Truth, for it is a question with him whether Truth and Falsehood 
 may not be convertible terms. This general unreality, for 
 which it is difficult to express sufficient loathing and contempt, 
 is infinitely more dangerous and more destructive to Truth than 
 any direct negation of it whatsoever. A direct negation must 
 rest on some positive basis, which may be examined, criticised, 
 and eventually rejected if proved unsound. But the mental 
 obscuration which refuses either to accept or to reject, to see or 
 not to see, the pitiable weakness which progresses for ever round 
 the circle of known facts but refuses to make one step towards 
 the centre where resides the Absolute, presents no object of 
 
10 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 assault ; and so it cannot be intellectually confounded, save 
 indeed by the assertion cf Positive Truth, which works negatively 
 though not actively against it. Such Pyrrhonism can be 
 actively assailed by nothing, because it proceeds from nothing, 
 rests on nothing, and truly is nothing. Let us hope that the 
 common sense of all mankind will soon chant its requiem ! 
 
 To return, however, to our poet : he has exposed the 
 wretched weakness of this supposed philosophical superiority 
 to universal truths ; he has shewn us that Revelation must either 
 be an incarnate he, or the greatest of all facts ; and then, 
 having supported and illustrated the latter hypothesis by ap- 
 peals to the reasoning faculties of man, he proceeds to condemn 
 most sternly, nay, to denounce as abhorred by the Almighty 
 that small and egotistic indifference of unbelief, puffed up by 
 its own preposterous self-conceit, " which refuses to hear the 
 voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely." Mont- 
 gomery has anatomized the secret causes and motives of infi- 
 delity, and has laid them bare before the eyes of all men ; he has 
 caused that little vanity to writhe which plumed itself upon its 
 supposed higher standing than that of those around it ; he has 
 advocated the positive claims of Christianity on the intellect, as 
 well as on the heart, and has thereby conferred the greatest 
 benefit on a materialistic age. From his first poem to his last, 
 we trace throughout the ardent desire to o'er-mform the minds 
 of men with the abiding sense of the Divine presence, and in 
 his latter works more especially we recognise the Christian 
 development of Truth which teaches us to look everywhere for 
 the presence of God in Christ. 
 
 It is not to be supposed, however, that a poet exposed to 
 such virulent and almost ceaseless assaults, and at the same 
 time read and admired to so great an extent by the general 
 public, should remain without critical supporters. I may be 
 permitted to refer more especially here to the work of 
 Mr. Clarkson, entitled, "Robert Montgomery and his Re- 
 viewers," which appeared some years ago, and obtained, I 
 believe, an extensive circulation at the time. Without pledg- 
 ing myself to the approval of all the opinions expressed in the 
 passage which I am about to extract from this singular work, 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 11 
 
 I may be allowed to say, that the boldness of the writer's 
 conceptions is as manifest as the nerve and energy of his 
 expressions, though both occasionally hurry him to lengths 
 not warranted by the rules of good taste. At page 144 of 
 this work, I find the following remarks : — " Besides the 
 eminent and elevated merit of Mr. R. Montgomery's poetry, 
 (which for any critic to deny, in the face of the evidence here 
 adduced, and in the face of the public, would be, to use the 
 energetic language of St. Paul, ' to lie to his own soul') his 
 didactic works are characterised by a peculiarly high and 
 equally-sustained tone of morals and of religion. Hence one 
 class of objectors. May he not breathe the ether of loftier 
 sentiments than may suit the marsh-miasma of certain literary 
 coteries, Epicuri de grege porci ; — may not the mountain 
 heights to which the 'broad sail vans' of his eagle wings 
 ascend, be such an atmosphere as the measured and measuring 
 materialism of Utilitarian literature cannot breathe in and 
 live ? The " Literary Gazette," referring to the religious 
 character pervading Mr. R. Montgomery's didactic poetry, 
 announces its appearance as a new poetical era. In this I 
 concur. Master-minds either are created by, or themselves 
 create and indicate great social and poetical eras. It is when 
 the waters are stirred, that the most buoyant and valuable 
 order of minds rises — like the fire containing inextinguishable 
 oil of the naptha springs — to the surface. Great genius 
 requires great excitement. Extraordinary events are requisite 
 either as the precursors, the stimulants, or the accompani- 
 ments of genius. Galvanized into giant force by them, 
 common events touch not its governing nerve ; but if it be of 
 Heaven — Heaven-born, it will, in its own unhurried and sure 
 time, make itself manifest, and stand. Shakspeare, Milton, 
 Dryden, Darwin, Byron, were kindled by the feeling of their 
 several eras, and represented that feeling. Milton embodied 
 the Puritanical perfectibility of his age. Darwin, with a 
 different neology, and wielding the new and opposite energies 
 of a deified Materialism, harbingered the great revolution 
 which ravaged France, and shook Europe to its foundations — 
 whose vital momentum was a philosophical perfectibility — 
 
12 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 1 earthborn of the earth, earthy.' Byron, and Napoleon, (and 
 correctly the first called himself — 
 
 1 The great Napoleon of the realms of rhyme'), 
 
 represented the matured aspirations of the Revolution in the 
 full colossal strength of its intellectual ambition, and in the 
 startling contrast of its termination, — both dying when the 
 convulsive throes of the departing giant, yielding up the 
 ghost amidst eclipse and earthquake, proclaimed ' One woe is 
 past.' The smoke of the evil cycle has now passed away, and 
 it may be hoped that a day of moral enlightenment will 
 succeed : historical analogy confirms the hope. Tracing our 
 road by its suggestions, we may presume that the next era 
 will probably be characterised by a re-ebbing tendency to- 
 wards a deep and possibly progressive and permanent religious 
 feeling. Poetry, as the expression of a nation's more elevated 
 and excited feeling, will, as before, accompany the change ; 
 just as it rushed at once, with the change of morals and 
 manners, from the lofty chastity and republican rigour of 
 Milton, into the licentious ribaldry which stained the poetry 
 of the Restoration, when the— 
 
 ' Willing Muses were debauch'd at Court.' 
 
 If reasoning may warrant this anticipation, facts too numerous 
 to be cited here, facts pressing on us on every side like the 
 air, above, beneath, around us, evince that a great crisis of 
 some kind is even now at hand ; ' imo vero etiam instat in 
 foris.' Cowper boldly predicts that the crisis will be a 
 millennium shortly to appear — (" Winter Walk"). Croly, 
 Irving, Faber, Frere, and Wolfe concur. There is more 
 splendour than probability, or orthodox warrant, in this 
 magnificent expectation. A Christian community, embracing 
 the world and universal man in one brotherhood of reciprocal 
 good will; an universal empire of civilization, in which the 
 only competition between nations might display itself in the 
 emulation of intellectual and moral improvement, is desirable, 
 and perhaps, though improbable, possible. It is the only 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 13 
 
 perfectibility — the only terrestrial millennium, which philo- 
 sophy could, which orthodox religion should acknowledge. 
 Towards this great social diapason, it has been the strong 
 impression of many wise and good men, that all the separate 
 melodies, all the mingling harmonies of human aspiration, 
 have been, and still are, ascending through the gamut of 
 successive eras, through octaves of deepening or decreasing 
 power, through many a changeful bar, and many a dissonant 
 key-note. The possibility of such an era being admitted, 
 the question may be fairly mooted — * Is Mr. Montgomery the 
 poetical harbinger of this re-action — of this crisis — of this 
 predicted and hoped for era of religious philosophy V I think 
 he may challenge this character !" 
 
 And a little way further on, this undoubtedly brilliant, 
 though perhaps somewhat transcendental writer, sums up in 
 favour of the opinion, that Montgomery is one of the greatest 
 poets of the age. "And this I do," he continues, "when 
 T look to the dispassionate result of this long and careful 
 analysis of Mr. R. Montgomery's poems, as concerns his 
 invention, his sentiments, or his diction; whether to comparison 
 with the only poets who can compete with him ; whether to 
 the puny nature of the objections, and their utter untenability ; 
 whether to the testimony of all the most respected and 
 influential critics of the day, or to the popular voice in his 
 favour ; most especially when I look at the wide and original 
 grasp of Christian philosophy, which the poems of Mont- 
 gomery embrace; when I look at this never deluding mark 
 of original genius, which heralded the different geniuses of 
 Napoleon and Byron with forcible signs which he who ' ran 
 might read,' namely, the synchronism of his appearance, as 
 a religious and anti-infidel poet, at the precise crisis of a vast 
 religious re-action in masses of opinion, which he has, in fact, 
 grouped together, and poetically rallies and represents." 
 
 Without denying that great occasions may call forth great 
 talents, I beg leave to remark, that great talents will always 
 find great occasions. In every age the current of popular 
 opinion is setting in some direction ; in every age the powers 
 of good and evil are at war in the moral as in the physical 
 
14 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 world ; in every age undying souls are lost and saved. VTe 
 need not suppose then that a Robert Montgomery would, not 
 at any time, and under any circumstances, have attained to real 
 poetical eminence. Still is it true that under other impelling 
 motives and causes, his genius might have taken an essentially 
 different road. It is true, that individual mind of a very 
 high, even of the highest order, is partially moulded by, just 
 as it moulds, the age. And we cannot doubt that the un- 
 reality of the fashionable philosophy of the day, greatly 
 influenced our poet in assuming a position so directly positive, 
 with reference to the leading truths of Revelation, and by 
 a necessary consequence, so diametrically opposed to the 
 unmeaning negations of indifferentism. Mr. Montgomery has 
 made it his special duty poetically to proclaim a most 
 important truth, too often controverted in the present day, 
 that man is a free agent, practically responsible for his creed 
 as for his life. 
 
 It is not meant to be denied, that owing to the prejudices of 
 education, or weakness of understanding, peculiar individuals 
 may not be incapacitated from grasping or retaining Truth as 
 Truth : it is simply contended that in the majority of cases, 
 or at least, in very many, this blindness proceeds from a 
 disinclination of the will, not from dimness of the sight, and 
 must therefore be punished accordingly. For in what consists 
 the happiness of the creature ? Surely in its peaceful har- 
 mony — its moral oneness with the Creator. In the sub- 
 mission of its finite, to the infinite Will. In its abandonment 
 of self, and union with Eternal Love. And what lies at the 
 very root, — what is the motive cause of Sin or Evil, if not the 
 attempt of the creature (whether man or angel) to erect its 
 own Ego in opposition to that of the Eternal God ? This is 
 the mean selfishness, the paltry pride, which seeks for inde- 
 pendence of its Maker, and would be God in its own eyes. 
 This is sometimes the haughty arrogance, but more often the 
 in^alan^, though miserable indifference, which seeing will not 
 see, and hearing will not hear. The will is diseased to the 
 very core, and the understanding can no longer distinguish 
 good from evil. But though the privilege of discernment may 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 15 
 
 be lost, the punishment for that loss will not be the less 
 inevitable, because the corruption of the will is here the 
 origin of evil, and that will is self-corrupted. As Coleridge 
 finely says in his " Aids to Reflection," " The Unbelief which 
 prejudges and prevents the experiment," (of realising Chris- 
 tianity) " has its source elsewhere than in the corrupted 
 judgment: not the strong free mind, but the enslaved Will 
 is the true original Infidel in this instance." 
 
 The mention of the honoured name of Coleridge, leads me 
 to advert to another great poet, one of the greatest, indeed, 
 who have ever adorned our country's literature, the friend and 
 associate of Coleridge — I mean, the pure, and noble, and true- 
 hearted, and grandly imaginative, and high-souled Southey, to 
 whom justice has in no degree been done by his contempora- 
 ries ; but who inevitably, sooner or later, must be ranked 
 amongst " the foremost heirs of time." He, then, though not 
 an indiscriminate, was a sincere and great admirer of Robert 
 Montgomery's poetic powers. I mention this fact, because 
 the applause of one such man is sufficient to counterbalance 
 the censures of a thousand Macaulays, " et hoc genus omne" 
 
 Since this name of Macaulay has found its way to the page 
 before me, I may be allowed to say that a more pitiable dis- 
 p lay of one-sided literary spite, if not of something worse, was 
 never exhibited, than in this writer's assault upon Montgomery's 
 " Omnipresence of the Deity" in the pages of the Edinburgh 
 Review. It is characteristic too, both of the writer and his 
 school, that although all the passages to which Mr. Macaulay has 
 with some shew of justice made objections, all the imagined 
 exaggerations held up to ridicule, have, perhaps with almost too 
 unsparing a hand, been swept avmy, the critic yet embalms this 
 charitable, I might almost say, this fragrant, composition, in 
 the recently published collection of his critical lucubrations, 
 without any attempt at extenuation of his most remarkable 
 offence against good taste and good manners, and without the 
 slightest allusion to the alterations and corrections effected in 
 the meantime by the Poet ! Such a procedure carries its own 
 condemnation with it. It manifests, I fear, but too plainly, that 
 Mr. Macaulay delights in this opportunity of insulting and 
 wounding the feelings of the Christian, who has so sternly 
 
16 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 condemned that class of " semi-indifferent" literary men to 
 which he himself too probably belongs, and who has carried the 
 sympathies of the public with him in so doing. The indignant 
 tone of these remarks can call for no apology. They are 
 prompted by a recent, a glaring, a most unjust, and most un- 
 necessary insult, and I am quite sure that I shall carry the 
 judgment and the feelings of nine tenths of my readers with 
 me in making this assertion. 
 
 To leave this unpleasant subject, a reference will be perhaps 
 permitted to one or two distinguished admirers of Mr. Mont- 
 gomery's poems, before I proceed to the more immediate con- 
 sideration of those poems, one by one. I allude to the great 
 historian, Alison, and to Professor Wilson, who appreciated 
 " The Omnipresence" most highly in " Blackwood's Magazine" 
 on its first appearance. Let it not be supposed, that I am 
 endeavouring to support a poetic reputation by the mere 
 citation of authorities ; or that I at all wish to bolster up my 
 own individual judgment lest I should appear peculiar in 
 the maintenance of certain opinions. Still, looking upon 
 them merely as facts, my readers may be interested in being 
 informed, or reminded, that such judgments have been passed 
 by men of vast acknowledged intellectual power on Robert 
 Montgomery's poetic works. 
 
 And now let us proceed to the long promised, and perhaps 
 too long delayed, examination of the separate fruits of Mr. 
 Montgomery's genius, — leaving for the present his prose works 
 on one side, and dealing but cursorily with some even of his 
 poems. We cannot indeed afford space for a minute exam- 
 ination of any of these, but must confine ourselves to tracing 
 on the one hand the gradual development of the bard's poetic 
 creed, whilst on the other hand we express our general opinion 
 of the merits or demerits of each of these poems, and point at- 
 tention to some of the beauties they contain. Let me not be 
 thought hasty in my judgment, if I am not on every occasion 
 enabled to detail all the separate perceptions whence my con- 
 clusion has originated. An Essay, such as the one I am now 
 writing, should not extend beyond a certain moderate limit, 
 lest it fatigue the reader, and it is necessary for me to remem- 
 ber, that the beauties of my author, and not my own ideas 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 17 
 
 alone, are what I have to lay before the public. Without 
 further preamble then let us turn to the consideration of the 
 first of Mr. Montgomery's longer poems, which has enjoyed the 
 widest circulation of all his works, and is still in very high 
 favour with the reading public. And let me confess at once, 
 that though I recognize the existence of great merits and great 
 beauties in " the Omnipresence of the Deity," it yet appears to 
 me more open to objections than any other of Mr. Mont- 
 gomery's longer works ; and that I believe a lower rank must 
 be assigned to it than either to " Luther" or " the Messiah," 
 or " Satan," though this latter poem, replete with the 
 most remarkable beauties, is also by no means free from 
 defects. " The Omnipresence of the Deity" is characterized by 
 great pomp of diction and display of rhythmical power. Its 
 theme or subject matter is very grand, and this is no doubt 
 grandly illustrated, and many passages are beautiful in the ex- 
 treme. I shall have the pleasure of laying two or three of 
 these before my readers, ere I proceed to a critical examination 
 of the poem's merits or defects, the former of which may 
 undoubtedly be held to be " high in the ascendant !" 
 There is concentrated power in these lines : 
 
 " Creation's master-piece ! a breath of God, 
 Ray of His glory, quicken' d at His nod, 
 Immortal man came next, divinely grand, 
 Glorious and perfect from his Maker's hand :— - 
 Last, softly beautiful as music's close, 
 Angelic woman into being rose." 
 
 There is great descriptive beauty in this night scene t 
 
 " See ! not a cloud careers yon pathless deep 
 Of molten azure, — mute as lovely sleep : 
 Full, in her pallid light, the Moon presides, 
 Shrined in a halo, mellowing as she rides ; 
 And, far around, the forest and the stream 
 Wear the rich garment of her silver beam. 
 The lull'd winds, too, are sleeping in their caves ; 
 No stormy prelude rolls upon the waves ; 
 
18 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Nature is hush'd, as if her works adored 
 The night-felt presence of creation's Lord !" 
 
 But perhaps more characteristic still of the poet and the 
 Christian, is the following passage, addressed to the mere 
 idolator of nature. 
 
 " From whence does moral elevation flow ? 
 What pang is mute, what balm prepared for woe, 
 Though ocean, mountains, sky and air impress 
 Full on the soul a felt Almightiness ? 
 Can ocean teach magnificence of mind ? 
 Is truth made vocal by the deep-voiced wind ? 
 Can flowers their bloom of innocence impart, 
 Or tempt one weed of vileness from the heart ?" 
 
 The following section commencing, 
 
 " There is a Presence spiritually vast 
 Around Thy church, arisen Saviour ! cast" 
 
 is grand throughout, and I regret that I have not space to 
 quote it. The descriptions of a vagrant or street-wanderer, 
 and a captive are admirable. The latter pants, the poet says 
 very forcibly, 
 
 " To breathe, and live, and move, and be as free, 
 As nature is, and man was made to be." 
 
 There is great beauty also in the sea-paintings under the head 
 of " storm and shipwreck ;" but I must refer my readers to the 
 poem itself for coufirmation of my assertions. The influence 
 of Darkness is afterwards very grandly illustrated. 
 
 " 'Tis night : and mutt'ring comes the winter wind, 
 While cloud-battalions slowly march behind." 
 
 And finely is it said of the way-worn pilgrim : 
 
 " Firm o'er the starless wild he moves his way, 
 For He pervades the night who form'd the day." 
 
 " The Young Convict" is a picture finely conceived and 
 executed ; but it is surpassed by that of " the Maniac Boy." 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 19 
 
 11 Down yon romantic dale, where hamlets few 
 Arrest the summer pilgrim's frequent view, 
 The village wonder, and the widow's joy, 
 Dwells the poor, mindless, pale-faced maniac boy : 
 He lives, and breathes, and rolls his vacant eye 
 To greet the glowing fancies of the sky ; 
 But on his cheek unmeaning shades of woe 
 Reveal the wither'd thoughts that sleep below. 
 A soulless thing, a haunter of the woods, 
 He loves to commune with the fields and floods ; 
 Sometimes along the woodland's winning glade, 
 He starts, and smiles upon his pallid shade ; 
 Or scolds with idiot threat the roaming wind, — 
 But rebel music to the ruin'd mind ! 
 Or on the shell-strewn beach delighted strays, 
 Playing his fingers in the noontide rays, 
 And when the sea waves swell their hollow roar, 
 He counts the billows plunging to the shore : 
 And oft, beneath the glimmer of the moon, 
 He chants some wild and melancholy tune, 
 Till o'er his soft'ning features seems to play 
 A flick'ring gleam of mind's recovered sway. 
 Thus, like a living dream, apart from men, 
 From morn to eve he haunts the wood and glen ; 
 But round him, near him, wheresoe'er he rove, 
 A shielding angel tracks him from above, 
 Nor harm from flood or fen shall e'er destroy 
 The lonesome wand'rings of the maniac boy." 
 
 There is a very graphic description of the ice-oceans of the 
 far north in the next section, and then follows a distinctive 
 Christian passage on the glory of Missions, in which the follow- 
 ing two magnificent lines occur : 
 
 li Go forth and teach / — and ye have gone, and done 
 Deeds that will shine, when thou art dark, Sun !" 
 
 The lines on a village christening are very pleasing, and 
 equal praise must be awarded to " a Marriage Scene." Much 
 
 c 2 
 
20 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 more is there deserving of special commendation in this part of 
 the Poem ; but we pass on, though unwillingly, to part the 
 third and last. Here we find many noble thoughts and feel- 
 ings, nobly expressed, but less of pictorial poetic beauty. The 
 denunciation of the French Revolution is as bold as it is just. 
 The lines commencing, under the heading of " Hope beyond 
 the Grave," 
 
 " Monarchs of mind ! and spirits of the just ! 
 Are ye entombed in everlasting dust ?" 
 
 are very fine. And very touching is the apostrophe to a 
 mother of which we quote the four first lines : 
 
 " And thou, for ever fond, for ever true, 
 Beneath whose smile the boy to manhood grew ; 
 To sorrow piteous and to error mild, — 
 Has death for ever torn thee from thy child ?" 
 
 The death-bed of a Sceptic is described with great power, 
 where it is said that he 
 
 " Rounded his eyes into a ghastly glare, 
 Locked his white lips, — and all was mute despair." 
 
 " The Final Doom" contains passages of vast grandeur, and 
 the concluding lines of the poem, which we cite, are at once 
 grand and beautiful. 
 
 " But here let silence our religion be, 
 And prayer become the Muse's poetry ; 
 Nor must the power of meditative song 
 Grasp the high secrets which to God belong. 
 Struck with due awe, let Fancy then retire, 
 And Faith divine the dreaming soul inspire, 
 Under the shade of that Almighty Throne 
 From whose dread face the Universe hath flown !" 
 
 The " Times" in its first notice of the first edition of this 
 poem said very justly : "A glowing spirit of fervid devotion 
 characterizes the whole work. In every page we find — 
 
 i Thoughts that breathe and words that burn/ 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 21 
 
 " The author appears to have felt that he stood in the pre- 
 sence of Him whose greatness he was celebrating ; to Him he 
 has prayed for inspiration, and from Him he has received it." 
 
 Still there are various defects in this poem, and the most 
 striking of these is the want of close connection betwixt the 
 various sections of the poem. Frequently the poet passes 
 rapidly from one subject to another, and supplies no link 
 between them ; and even when the link is found, the connection 
 appears ofttimes arbitrary and not based on the natural order of 
 things. Of course, the very theme itself, " the Omnipresence 
 of the Deity," necessitated a wide range of thought and of 
 description, but I cannot but think that a more logical order of 
 treatment might have been adopted. Mr. Montgomery rightly 
 commences with the Creation, and paints in conclusion the 
 terrors and the blessings of the Final Doom, but he passes 
 from the narrative to the descriptive far too rapidly, and more 
 than once repeats himself in so doing, more particularly in his 
 tempest scenes. Sometimes too, I must confess, the sense 
 appears to me, if not sacrificed, at least subordinate, to sound : 
 and that intellectual power of piercing to the very centre of 
 truth, so grandly manifested in " Luther," is but suggested here 
 in passages few and far between. Still, the great, and long 
 continued success of this poem proves that its merits must be 
 both striking and peculiar ; and this is indeed the case. Graphic 
 power, strength of expression, devotional fervour, and a keen 
 perception of the beauties of Nature, all Montgomery's charac-* 
 teristic excellencies as a poet, are to be found here. We need 
 not wonder therefore at the work's success. ^ The leading idea 
 of " the Omnipresence," is, of all those common to Chris- 
 tians the most calculated, perhaps, in its realization, to render 
 them worthy of eternal and immediate communion with their 
 Creator. 
 
 The next poetical publication of Mr. Montgomery was 
 " Death ; a Universal Prayer, and Miscellaneous Poems." 
 
 " Death" was at first by far too sombre in its conception, but 
 has been since altered and much improved. It contains some 
 of the most beautiful passages in Mr. Montgomery's poetry, 
 
22 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 amongst which we may particularize the story of " the Fallen 
 Lady ;" " the Vision of the Pestilence in the City ;" the night 
 scene with the two lovers in their hark on the sea, and the 
 maiden's subsequent death ; and the apostrophe to the poet's 
 own childhood, commencing, " I sing of death ; yet soon may 
 darkly sleep." 
 
 All these possess beauties more or less attractive and 
 winning ; even the horror of the City of the Plague is softened 
 by poetic grace. Other sterner passages, however, are perhaps 
 more characteristic of the work. The descriptions of the evil 
 Ministers of Death have all Mr. Montgomery's graphic power. 
 I cannot quote from this poem, because my citations would be 
 necessarily too long. I do not so much admire " A Universal 
 Prayer," though it is fine in parts. Some of the minor poems, 
 on the contrary, which appeared first, I believe, in this volume, 
 are very beautiful. The stanzas, entitled " Infancy," have 
 much merit in their simplicity. 
 
 " That cherub gaze, that stainless brow, 
 So exquisitely fair ! — 
 Who would not be an infant now 
 To breathe an infant's prayer ? 
 
 " manhood ! could thy spirit kneel 
 Beside that sunny child, 
 As fondly pray, and purely feel 
 With soul as undefiled : 
 
 " That moment would encircle thee 
 
 With light and love divine ; 
 
 Thy gaze might dwell on Deity, 
 
 And Heaven itself be thine." 
 
 One of the finest of Montgomery's minor poems is un- 
 doubtedly "London by Midnight." Can any description be 
 more graphic than this ? — 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 23 
 
 " O'er all a sad sublimity is spread — 
 The garniture of night ; amid the air 
 Darkly and drear yon airy temples rise 
 Like shadows of the past ; the houses lie 
 In dismal clusters, moveless as in sleep ; 
 And, towering far above the rest, yon dome 
 Appears, as if self-balanced in the gloom, — 
 A spectre cowering o'er the dusky piles. 
 
 " And see ! I stand on ground whose glorious name 
 Might turn a coward brave ; on thy huge bridge, 
 Triumphant Waterloo ! Above — how calm ! 
 There moon and star commingling radiance shed, 
 And bathe the skies in beauty. Smooth and pale 
 The pearly-bosom'd clouds recline, enlink'd, 
 Like wave festoons upon the glossy deep. 
 Below, the Thames outspread, serene and dim ; 
 And, as I gaze, a cooling breath ascends, 
 And melts upon my brow ; like the worn heart 
 When stormy cares have slept, the river seems 
 Peaceful and still, save when the wind-sighs stir 
 The waveless slumbers of its breast ; like dreams 
 That quiver on the marble face of sleep. 
 
 " Along each side the darkling mansions frown 
 Funereal in their gloom. Afar, and faint, 
 The bridge lamps glimmer o'er the tranquil stream, 
 As if enchain'd upon the air ; beneath 
 Are thrown out quiv'ring columns of red light ; 
 And, here and there, a tower and shadowy spire 
 Are imaged on the water ; sad and shrunk, 
 Like flower-leaves wither'd by the summer-blaze." 
 
 I know no picture-poetry in the English, or any other 
 tongue, superior to this, and very little equal. The rest of the 
 poem is as beautiful. The " Organ Boy," and the " Ballad 
 Singer," (the former before alluded to) deserve as high praise. 
 Of the former the poet says : — 
 
24 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 " He hath a spirit bright in its content, 
 And playful in its poverty ; the rain 
 Of English clouds, and atmospheric gloom 
 Of this brave island-clime, have not bedimm'd 
 The merriness of his brown cheek, nor quenched 
 The lustre of his deeply-laughing eyes, 
 That sparkle forth the sunbeams of the soul ! 
 
 " Then breathe no pity on the organ-boy ; 
 From Ms gay land a stock of sterling joy, 
 And proud young feelings, that can well outwear 
 Each frown of fate, the stripling wand'rer brought : 
 His mother's smile still brightens round his heart ; 
 His father's blessing, when he climb'd his knee 
 At night, still sounds upon his inward ear ; 
 And when the streets grew cloudy, and the tones 
 His organ weaves fall fruitless on the air, 
 He dreams of home, deep-bosom'd in bright vales 
 Of beauty ; hill-spread vines, and fairy streams, 
 That trifled sweetly as a sister's voice 
 Who prattled in her slumber : — days will dawn 
 When he again shall thread those glowing vales, 
 And tell his travels, with unwearied tongue, 
 To fond ones nestling round his own fire-side." 
 
 But we must hasten on our way, for there is much before 
 us, and if we devote so much space to these minor effusions, 
 we shall be compelled to do injustice to the longer poems. 
 The work which has given rise to the most startling difference 
 of opinion, which has been used even in malicious mockery as 
 a soubriquet, but which has justly sealed the fame of its 
 author, must next engage our attention. When I name 
 " Satan," my readers will no doubt agree with me, that no 
 hasty ipse dixit should be ventured on its merits or demerits ; 
 the general plan of the poem is so remarkable, and its execu- 
 tion so singularly accords with that plan. Before we proceed to 
 examine separate passages of this poem, it will be necessary to 
 take a general survey of it as a whole, and to endeavour to 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 25 
 
 ascertain whether its conception may be more fitly designated 
 extravagant or grand. 
 
 The attempt to develop the thoughts and feelings of the 
 great Antagonist of Good, the enemy of man, and the rebel to 
 God, in one long soliloquy of several thousand lines, was 
 undoubtedly bold in the extreme ; and, I may add, was not 
 susceptible of anything approaching to a perfect realization. 
 Of course, all human works are more or less imperfect ; but a 
 work striving to realize so extraordinary a monodrama was 
 subject to a peculiar difficulty which precluded the possibility 
 of attaining a thoroughly satisfactory result. The poet namely, 
 (he being a creature of mingled good and ill, a human being — 
 in fine a man,) undertook to enter dramatically into the 
 innermost recesses of a fallen angel's soul — a soul of which 
 the capacities for ill are boundless, and altogether unrelieved 
 by a single instinct of moral goodness. A nature, in its 
 present condition based on rebel pride, and issuing in relentless 
 hate, is too dark, too terrible in its unearthly horrors to 
 permit of human reproduction ; as, indeed, earth's shades may 
 be considered beams when contrasted with the darkness of 
 eternal night. The bare attempt to lay such a nature bare 
 before us, in all its unutterable vileness, would have alike 
 repelled both the poet and his hearers ; it would be felt, at 
 once, that man, in this finite state, could not contemplate such 
 infinity of ill. This exposition of "deepest and dreadest 
 horrors," Montgomery accordingly has not striven to attain : 
 he has cast the veil of a softening and shadowy humanity over 
 the incarnation of evil, and, in thus acting, he has done most 
 wisely. Still the question recurs : was it expedient to treat 
 a theme at all which could but be imperfectly realised ? I 
 think this question may be fairly answered in the affirmative. 
 The object of the poet was to typify Intellect without God, 
 under the form and in the nature of Satan, and to present this 
 Intellect to us as sympathizing with the material beauty of the 
 creation, sympathizing even, in a certain morbid poetic strain, 
 with the fallen condition of man, and yet totally devoid of the 
 principle of true Love. A living great historian, Alison, says, 
 finely and justly, alluding in his History of Europe to a hero of 
 
26 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 the French Revolution, " ' He was the perfection of intellect 
 without moral principle/ — an expression of the Rev. Robert 
 Montgomery, who has unconsciously but graphically portrayed, 
 in the character of the Prince of Darkness, in his noble poem 
 of i Satan ; or, Intellect without God/ much of what historic 
 truth must ascribe to the ruling principles and leading charac- 
 ters of the Revolution." Mr. Clarkson, the critic above 
 quoted, says, (writing, however, at a time when neither 
 " Luther," nor " The Messiah" had appeared), " * Satan/ 
 boldly daring as the title and conception are, appears to me 
 the best of Mr. Montgomery's poems. It is at once more 
 defined in outline; more magnificent in effect, and more 
 finished in detail ; more affluent in imagery, and more vigorous 
 in reasoning ; more logically analytical in its thoughts, and yet 
 more sonorously eloquent in its diction. The monodramatic 
 character of ' Satan/ has been either wilfully or unintentionally 
 mistaken. It is an original and unique creation of the poet ; 
 as much so as is the Prometheus of Greek tragedy. It is 
 distinct from the coarse and vulgar Mephistopheles, the menial 
 and harmless Devil of Marlow ; nor is it less distinct from the 
 devilish sceptic, Gothe's Mephistopheles, devilish in every 
 thing, whether mirthful or scoffing, whether he depreciates, 
 despises, or detests. His self-concentred and self-torturing 
 research are equally distinct from the too elevated pride, and 
 the too god-like sublimity of ' Milton's hero ;' and still more so 
 from the character of Lord Byron's ' Lucifer/ a spirit dephlogis- 
 ticated of his vulgar elementary flames, and nearly as innocent 
 of bad intentions ("Cain," p. 10,) as the nonchalant and 
 quiet-loving Gods of Lucretius. Mr. Montgomery's ' Satan' 
 is a deeply-reasoned abstraction, logically and metaphysically 
 consistent ; a personification of the greatest of the archangels 
 fallen, still vividly alive to the perceptions of eternal beauty, 
 not fallen in intellect, though debased in morals, and therefore 
 more intensely wrung with remorse and despair for the 
 ambitious folly which divorced him so irrevocably from the 
 ' fair and good.' " 
 
 There is much truth and justice in these remarks : the poem, 
 as a poem, has all the merits the critic ascribes to it ; the 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 27 
 
 character of Satan, as here embodied, is an original and very 
 
 fine conception. Still, although the fallen angel must be 
 
 supposed capable of admiring physical, intellectual, and perhaps 
 
 even moral beauty, it is not probable that he should delight 
 
 in surveying this, but rather hastily avert his eyes from the 
 
 detested sight, and revel in the contemplation of evil only. 
 
 Such thoughts and ideas as Montgomery attributes to the 
 
 chief of the spirits of darkness, may indeed arise before him, 
 
 may occasionally crowd upon him against his will, but they 
 
 can scarcely be supposed to be expressed voluntarily, clearly, 
 
 and at length, by one to whom they must be unwelcome. 
 
 Regret, Satan can not be held to feel : pride is ever his 
 
 ruling principle, and even in his depths of anguish, that 
 
 so-called freedom must be dear to him which permits him 
 
 to erect his own Ego in opposition to that of the Supreme, 
 
 There are passages in which Montgomery has magnificently 
 
 embodied this truth, but others scarcely consistent with it. 
 
 There is, occasionally, too direct a recognition of the abstract 
 
 beauty of piety and obedience to God, which Satan surely 
 
 could never permit himself to contemplate, (whatever might 
 
 be his deep internal consciousness), without the expression 
 
 of loathing and contempt. But we may be told, the poet 
 
 would really present us with the innermost thoughts of the 
 
 Prince of Darkness : not with his dramatic utterances. He is 
 
 only compelled, from the insufficiency of human means, to 
 
 embody those thoughts in external words, and thus to give 
 
 a semblance of improbability to what is both probable and 
 
 possible. But this can scarcely be received as a sufficient 
 
 answer. The incongruity remains. The poem, undoubtedly, 
 
 is monodramatic, and consists of one long external utterance. 
 
 Satan apostrophizes the Elements, Earth, and Heaven. He is 
 
 obviously not thinking only, but actually speaking; and we 
 
 cannot but recognize a defect in his enthusiastic recognitions 
 
 of the morally and physically Beautiful ; a defect, indeed, which 
 
 has been the source of some of the poem's greatest beauties, 
 
 but which in itself is scarcely capable of defence. So much 
 
 said, be it at once acknowledged, that the idea of " Intellect 
 
 without God," in as far as it can be realized by man, regarded 
 
28 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 apart from that active hatred which is alike infinite and 
 terrible, is admirably illustrated in this great poem : great I 
 call it without hesitation, because its beauties are numerous 
 and of the first order, and its leading idea is grand, despite the 
 perhaps unavoidable incongruity which I have above endea- 
 voured to demonstrate. The development of the poem is in a 
 somewhat peculiar direction, namely, internal, to a centre of 
 actual fact and reality ; not outward, from less to greater. In 
 this poem, Satan commences by contemplating our earth as 
 a whole; he proceeds, in the First Book, to survey three 
 quarters of the globe ; in the Second, he passes to the region 
 where civilization has attained its highest sway, where the 
 arts have exercised their fullest influence, where mind may be 
 said to reign supreme : that is — Europe. In the Third Book 
 he pauses to survey the world of mind, mainly within this 
 region; not that it may not be found in full development 
 elsewhere, as in America, but because the inhabitants of 
 Europe may fitly be regarded as representatives of the more 
 intellectual portion of mankind. In the Fourth Book, the 
 Prince of the Powers of Evil takes a retrospective historical 
 view of man's fortunes, from which he deduces the misery 
 of the human race, and concludes with a bold defiance of 
 the Almighty's power to secure the happiness of men. And 
 now, in the Fifth Book, the poet proceeds, or makes the 
 adversary of man proceed, inwardly, from Europe to England ; 
 regarding the latter as the core of true civilization, the home 
 of liberty, and the champion of good on earth. In the Sixth 
 Book, Satan contemplates the metropolis, the centre of this 
 England, from which converge the various radii that permeate 
 the Empire — an Empire whose fall he prophecies, and in the 
 destruction of which he hails the prostration for long, if not 
 for ever, of the hopes and glories of mankind. It may be said 
 that the point of view of the poet is too exclusively patriotic ; 
 but this I cannot perceive. Speaking as a man, I cannot but 
 hold the fate of Europe and the world, of Right and Liberty, 
 and even Christianity, to be inextricably interwoven with that 
 of England. We know, indeed, as Christians, that Heaven 
 shall prevail in the deadly conflict sustained on this earth 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 29 
 
 betwixt the Powers of Light and Darkness. But whether 
 that Antichrist, who now is, and so long has been in the 
 world, may not first attain to a seemingly despotic empire 
 over the minds and souls of men; whether for a time, at 
 least, Evil may not absolutely appear to triumph ; whether a 
 long period of moral and religious Darkness may not await 
 this earth of ours — who can presume to give positive answers, 
 to these great questions ? It may be that Antichrist is thus 
 for a season to prevail; it may be that England, as the 
 champion of God's truth and guard of the rights of humanity, 
 is to be swept away by the gathering tempest, is to be morally 
 and mentally annihilated. And if so, well may Satan be 
 supposed to rejoice in the contemplation of such a future, 
 and attain a climax of revengeful joy in heralding the destruc- 
 tion of this mighty Empire. 
 
 Commencing at the remotest point, the poet thus gradually 
 brings us to what is most immediately near and dear to us, 
 so that the course of his poem may well be said to be internal, 
 and towards a centre of reality. Still some objections may 
 be, perhaps, justly urged to the scheme of construction adopted 
 in this work. The Third and Fourth Books can with difficulty 
 be brought into connection with the two opening and two 
 closing cantos. They appear, to a certain extent, to break 
 the chain of thought* Mr. Montgomery is undoubtedly too 
 careless of attaining a climax. The grand idea, that the 
 liberties and rights of earth and England are identical, and 
 that they will probably be lost together, should have been 
 expressed in some way in the closing lines of the poem, 
 lest the reader lose sight of the unity of the conception, and 
 imagine a chaos where artistic order should be clearly manifest. 
 Let us now extract a few of the more striking passages 
 of this work, which will illustrate our former remarks, and 
 justify our high admiration of the poem. " Satan," the 
 monodrama, then, commences with the apostrophe of the 
 Prince of Darkness to the powers of nature, urging them to 
 convulsive rage and fury, he standing on the peak of Ararat. 
 This idea is at once grand and artistically appropriate, and 
 it is finely embodied. The rising of the sun, which follows the 
 
30 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 tempest, is grandly described, and the general contemplation 
 of earth ensuing is thus fitly and naturally introduced. Very 
 fine is the passage commencing, — 
 
 " Ere man was fashioned from his fellow dust 
 I was ; and since the sound of human voice 
 First trembled on the air, my darksome power 
 Hath compassed him in mystery and might." 
 
 Very graphic are the descriptions of ancient Judea, Egypt, 
 Persia, and Chaldea ; nor must the denunciation of Napoleon, 
 introduced by the contemplation of Asiatic Russia, pass without 
 its due meed of praise. China is portrayed with peculiar power 
 and accuracy ; we extract three lines only from an admirable 
 passage : — 
 
 " Antiquity, the childhood of the world, 
 Broods like a torpid vapour o'er thy clime, 
 Dulling its vigour into drowsy calm." 
 
 Hindostan is then surveyed, and finally America ; and the 
 Book concludes with a species of ambiguous prophecy of the 
 future dominion of Freedom, which, however, Satan appears 
 (naturally enough) to connect with the idea of Licence; 
 for he says, 
 
 " Slaves 
 
 On earth are victims that I scorn to see. 
 
 No ! let them in their liberty be mine !" 
 
 And again he (Satan) contemplates with pleasure the possibi- 
 lity of future lawlessness, when he says, 
 
 " from deepest agony, 
 With the proud wrath of ages in her soul, 
 Freedom arise, and vindicate her name !" 
 
 Upon the whole, the First Book, whatever its defects may 
 be, is no doubt replete with grand conceptions, many of which 
 are as grandly executed. The Second Book describes, in turn, 
 the chief lands of Europe. A very fine passage, which I have 
 not here space to quote, occurs in the poetical survey of Italy, 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 31 
 
 portraying Byron by night in the Colosseum. Spain, Switzer- 
 land, Greece, France, England, are graphically, and on the 
 whole justly described in this canto. Germany is strangely 
 omitted. The Book concludes with a magnificent embodi- 
 ment of the beauties of external nature. I quote a portion of 
 this fine passage as an illustration of the gentler charms of 
 this poem : — 
 
 " But lo ! the day declines, and to his couch 
 The sun is wheeling. What a world of pomp 
 The heavens put on, in homage to his power ! 
 Romance hath never hung a richer sky, 
 Or sea of sunshine, o'er whose yellow deep 
 Triumphal barks of beauteous foam career, 
 As though the clouds held festival, to hail 
 Their god of glory to his western home. 
 And now the earth is mirror'd on the skies ! 
 While lakes and valleys, drown' d in dewy light, 
 And rich delusions, dazzlingly array'd, 
 Form, float, and die, in all their phantom joy. 
 At length the Sun is throned ; but from his face 
 A flush of beauty o'er creation flows, 
 Then faints to paleness, for the day hath sunk 
 Beneath the waters, dash'd with ruby dyes, 
 And Twilight in her nun-like meekness comes : 
 The air is fragrant with the soul of flowers, 
 The breeze comes panting like a child at play, 
 While birds, day-worn, are couch'd in leafy rest, 
 And, calm as clouds, the sunken billows sleep. 
 The dimness of a dream o'er nature steals, 
 Yet hallows it ; a hush'd enchantment reigns ; 
 The mountains to a mass of mellowing shade 
 Are turn'd, and stand like temples of the night : 
 While field and forest, fading into gloom 
 Depart, and rivers whisper sounds of fear ; — 
 A dying pause, as if the Almighty moved 
 In shadow o'er his works, hath solemnized 
 The world." 
 
32 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 All this is not only most beautiful, but also possible, from 
 the lips of Satan, but we cannot extend this latter praise to the 
 fine passage which concludes this Book, commencing, 
 
 " No wonder moonlight made idolators." 
 
 It is dramatically incorrect, and if not in itself peculiarly 
 grand, the reader would be driven to condemn it utterly. 
 Unfortunately, however, it is in unison with many other 
 passages in the poem, and could not easily be removed. 
 The Third Book contains much that is very beautiful, but much 
 also that is open to the same objection ; let us instance Satan's 
 enthusiastic praises of Benevolence, which are indeed supposed 
 to be extorted from him, though we see not well wherefore. 
 And again, is it not contrary to Satan's nature to say, though 
 the idea in itself is most true and most beautiful, 
 
 "So love is wisdom with a sweeter name." 
 
 We must pass onward to the Fourth Book, although we 
 could, with pleasure, quote pages and fill more with comments 
 on them from the Third. Limited space, however, warns us to 
 proceed. Perhaps of all the cantos of this poem, the Fourth 
 is the finest and dramatically the most correct. Its retrospec- 
 tive view of history is truly grand. Almost every sentence is 
 overfraught with thought. Paradise is exquisitely described ; 
 but still nobler are those passages which refer to the Great 
 Redeemer, God and man alike. Towards the conclusion of the 
 Book, Satan appears to harden himself in his pride against the 
 convictions of despair, and bursts into the following magnifi- 
 cent and, in its awful sublimity, unequalled address to the 
 God-head. I quote " in extenso," for there is perhaps nothing 
 finer, or more eminently dramatic, or more powerful, in the 
 whole range of English poetry : 
 
 " Thou dread Avenger ! ever living One ! 
 Lone Arbiter ! Eternal, Vast, and True ; 
 The Soul and Centre of created things, 
 In atoms or in worlds ; before whose throne 
 Eternity is weighed ; who look'st — and life 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 33 
 
 Appears ; who frown'st — and life hath pass'd away ! 
 Thou God ! — I feel Thine everlasting curse, 
 Yet wither not : the lightnings of thy wrath 
 Burn in my spirit ; yet it shall endure 
 Unblasted, — that which cannot he extinct. 
 
 " Thou sole Transcendency, and deep Abyss, 
 From whence the universe of life was drawn ! 
 Unutter'd is thy nature ; to Thyself 
 Alone the proved and comprehended God : 
 Though once the steep of thine Almightiness, 
 My tow'ring spirit would have dared to climb, 
 And sat beside Thee, God with God enthroned, — 
 And vanquished fell, — Thy might 111 not disclaim. 
 Immutable ! omnipotence is Thine ; 
 Perfections, powers, and attributes unnamed 
 Attend thee ; Thou art All ; and oh, how great 
 That consummation ! Worlds to listening worlds 
 Repeat it ; angels and archangels veil 
 Their wings, and shine more glorious at the sound : 
 Thus, infinite and fathomless Thou wert, 
 And art, and wilt be. In thine awful blaze 
 Of majesty, amid empyreal pomp 
 Of sanctities, chief hierarch, I stood 
 Before Thy throne terrifically bright, 
 And heard the hymning thunders voice thy name, 
 While bow'd the Heavens, and echoed Deity. 
 Then heaved a dark and dreadless swell of pride 
 Within me ; an ambition, huge and high 
 Enough to evershadow The Supreme, 
 In bright magnificence before me tower'd, — 
 And fronted pride against Omnipotence ! 
 Thus rose the anarchy, the hell of war 
 Amid the skies : then frown'd embattled hosts, 
 In unimaginable arms divine :•*-»■ 
 But why recount it ? — We were disarray'd, 
 And sent in flaming whirlwinds to the deep 
 Tartarean, where my throne is fix'd in fire. 
 
34 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 " And yet divided empire have I won. 
 Behold ! the havoc in thy beauteous world : 
 And have I not,— recount it, space and time !— - 
 Thy master-piece, creation's god of clay, 
 Dethroned from that high excellence he held, 
 When first man walk'd a shadow of Thyself ? 
 Prostration vile, an alienate from Thee 
 Man is ;— and shall his fallen nature rise, 
 Her height regain, and fill ethereal thrones ? 
 Many a cloud of evil shall be burst 
 Ere that day come ; severe and dread the strife 
 Of sullied nature with the soul of man ! — 
 Wherever localized, whate'er his creed, 
 Temptation like a spirit tracks his path ; 
 Though every pang, by sin produced increase 
 The agonized eternity I bear ! — 
 The blackest midnight to the brightest day 
 Is not more opposite than I to Thee : 
 Thou art the glorious, I the evil one4 
 Thou reign'st above ; my kingdom is below. 
 On earth 'tis thine to succour and adorn 
 The soul through Him the interceding Judge 
 By thoughts divine and agencies direct, 
 To cheer the gentle and reward the good, 
 And o'er the many waves and woes of life 
 To pour the sunshine of almighty love : 
 'Tis mine to darken, wither, and destroy, 
 Creation and her hopes, — to make them hell ! 
 
 " Then roll thee on, thou high and haughty World ! 
 Still be thy sun as bright, thy sea as loud 
 In her sublimity, thy floods and winds 
 As potent, and thy lording elements 
 As vast in their creative range of power, 
 As each and all have ever been : build thrones 
 And empires, heap the mountain of thy crimes 
 Be mean or mighty, wise or worthless still, — 
 Yet I am with thee ! and my power shall reign 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 35 
 
 Until the trumpet of thy doom be heard, 
 
 Thine ocean vanished, and thy heavens no more ! — 
 
 Till thou be tenantless, a weltering mass 
 
 Of fire, a dying and dissolving world :■ — 
 
 And then, — Thy hidden lightnings are unsheathed,— 
 
 O God ! the thunders of despair shall roll : — 
 
 Mine hour is come, and I am wreck'd of all, 
 
 All, save Eternity, and that is mine !" 
 
 Despite our preceding remarks, it is impossible not to wish 
 that these lines were the last of the poem. In power and 
 grandeur whatever follows them must be an anti-climax ; and 
 our theory of the centralising progress of the work will avail but 
 little against this fact. The Theology of this passage, however, 
 is most sublime : the conception of the Prince of Darkness here 
 embodied is more than Miltonic ; there is a consciousness of 
 weakness in it blended with unutterable pride, a stern despair, 
 than which nothing more terrible can be conceived. Further 
 praises were altogether superfluous. The passage may well 
 speak for itself. The fifth and sixth books must be viewed, 
 apart from this magnificent burst, as a continuation of the first 
 and second, and then great beauties will be discovered in them, 
 though we can trust ourselves with no more long citations. 
 The charms of nature are again painted with glowing lines. 
 Finely is it said : 
 
 " Such cloudy pomps 
 Adorn the heavens, a poet's eye would dream 
 His ancient Gods had all return'd again, 
 And hung their palaces around the sun !" 
 
 Striking thoughts will be found in almost every passage : 
 
 " Partaken mercies are forgotten things ; 
 But expectation hath a grateful heart, 
 Hailing the smile of promise from afar : 
 Enjoyment dies into ingratitude, 
 'Till God is buried in the boundless stores 
 Himself created." 
 
 d 2 
 
36 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Here again is a beautiful description : 
 
 " A sweet unwillingness to be observed 
 Dwells in that maiden glance, and oft away 
 From the bright homage of adoring eyes 
 In delicate timidity thou glid'st ; 
 Like a coy stream, that from fond daylight speeds, 
 To hide its beauty in sequester'd bowers." 
 
 How pointed and how forcible is the poet's satire, where 
 alluding to literary men or rather " literateurs" of the day, he 
 denounces those — 
 
 " Who club together to recast the world, 
 And love so many that they care for none! 1 * 
 
 The last lines of the poem, completing the Satanic prophecy 
 of England's downfall are fine, and may fitly be quoted here in 
 illustration of our remarks on the poem's general bearings. 
 The work, it may be observed, begins and ends with an earthly 
 tempest : — 
 
 " I love this passion of the elements, 
 This mimicry of chaos, in their might 
 Of storm ! — And here, in my lone awfulness, 
 While every cloud a thunder-hymn repeats, 
 Earth throbs, and Nature in convulsion reels, 
 Farewell to England ! — Into other climes 
 I wing my flight— but on her leave the spell 
 I weave for nations, till her doom arrive. 
 And come it shall ! — When on this guardian cliff 
 Again I stand, the whirlwind and the wrath 
 Of desolation will have swept her throne 
 Away ! A darkness, as of old, will reign ; 
 The woods be standing where her cities tower, 
 And ocean wailing for his desert isle !" 
 
 This poem, as a whole, may undoubtedly be pronounced a 
 great work. Its defects are, to no slight degree, inseparable 
 from its nature : its merits are such as powerful genius could 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 37 
 
 alone have evoked. It is perhaps too long, or at least some 
 passages in it might be spared without any injury to the work ; 
 but it is fraught with noble thoughts and fervid descriptions of 
 the beauties of nature. The conception of Satan, here presented 
 to us, though only perfectly realised in passages, is fine in the 
 extreme. The moral of the poem that " the highest intellec- 
 tual refinement may be associated with the greatest moral 
 debasement," (Mr. Montgomery's own words) is eminently 
 important at the present day, and cannot be too much taken to 
 heart by the unfortunate idolators of mind. The contempt 
 with which the poet obviously regards Intellect, when separated 
 from Divine Love, has roused the ire of too many of our living 
 critics, who have accordingly seized on some few verbal exag- 
 gerations scattered here and there throughout this long poem, 
 and held them up, in a distorted form, before their readers' 
 mental vision. Montgomery's " Satan," despite the sneers of 
 those who fear, and the denunciations of those who hate it, 
 despite even its own undeniable deficiencies, will and must con- 
 tinue to live, as a really fine poem, for all time. The passages 
 which I have cited, alone would suffice to seal the fame of 
 any earthly poet. Having bestowed so much space on the 
 consideration of " Satan," though far less than that poem 
 might justly command, I shall be compelled to do great 
 apparent injustice to three of Mr. Montgomery's longer 
 poetic productions, — I mean " The Messiah," " Oxford," and 
 " Woman." Each of these must be treated of, however, in 
 its order, however briefly and insufficiently. 
 
 Their subject and modes of treatment are, as need scarcely 
 be observed, essentially dissimilar. The one which illustrates 
 the highest theme, the highest, in truth, of all themes earthly 
 or heavenly — " The Messiah" — also the first in point of time, 
 would justify, and indeed requires an extended and careful 
 analysis. It cannot be said of this poem that it rises fully to 
 the level of its subject : what earthly production could ? What 
 angels desire to look upon, how should man comprehensively 
 and fully express ? If even Revelation affords but a shadow 
 of eternal light, if even there we see not clearly, but " through 
 
38 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 a glass," what perfect manifestation can be expected from any 
 earthly source ? The Redeemer's glories are chanted by 
 myriads of angels, they are hymned by heavenly harps innu- 
 merable : the most ideal, the most fervent earthly bard, can 
 merely hope to catch some few sweet echoes from that celestial 
 world of harmony. But, it will be asked perchance, should 
 he not shrink then from the attempt to embody such infinite 
 truth in mortal accents ? Surely he should not shrink. His 
 power of perception in heavenly things may stand in the same 
 ratio to those of his fellow men, as that of some loving angel 
 to the choir of seraphim around him. Not only is earthly 
 expression bounded, but earthly perception also. If the 
 glories of the Almighty were revealed on earth as in Heaven, 
 the beams which are there the daylight of eternal joy might 
 prove here the instruments of man's destruction. As man, 
 then, is justified in conceiving and realising Redemption's 
 glories, in as far as his imperfect faculties allow him to do so, 
 so may he also express his praise and adoration in the most 
 glowing accents he can command, and thus endeavour to 
 awaken a kindred flame in his brother-mortals' breast. Jt 
 might seem unnecessary to prove, almost to maintain, so self- 
 evident a proposition as this ; still, as it is frequently dis- 
 puted, and that too by the assailants of Mr. Montgomery's 
 poems, it would have been scarcely right to have passed over 
 the subject altogether. 
 
 Exonerating Mr. Montgomery then altogether from the 
 plea of irreverence on this score, or, indeed, on any score, 
 in as far as the spirit and intention of this work are concerned, 
 I must still be permitted to give expression to a feeling of 
 censure suggested by various passages of "The Messiah." 
 The poet, then, as it appears at least to me, whilst he fully 
 recognises and frequently realises the doctrine of the Trinity, 
 yet does not invariably approach God Incarnate, our Blessed 
 Lord and Redeemer, with sufficient holy awe and fear. That 
 there is a morbid mystery too prevalent in some directions 
 which should not be imitated, I am perfectly ready to admit ; 
 but there is a boldness in such expressions as the one I am 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 39 
 
 about to quote, (and only one will be needful) which, though 
 consistent with Christian love and fervour, to me, at least, is 
 not altogether satisfactory : — 
 
 " * Tis written/ answer'd our undaunted Christ. ,, 
 
 And one great omission, that of the solemn and direct proclama- 
 tion of the Trinity in Unity, on the occasion of our Blessed 
 Lord's baptism, at which it was so distinctly revealed, must 
 not be passed over in silence. Such proclamation is, indeed, 
 to be found elsewhere ; but here was its most fitting place, 
 and there are certain central truths which are always welcome 
 to us. Unlike earthly joys they never pall. 
 
 I may appear severe in my estimate of this fine poem, but I 
 must go on to state distinctly whatever omissions or deficien- 
 cies I imagine to have discovered in it. The chief reason 
 why its effect, though undoubtedly great, is not so over- 
 whelming as might be expected, I hold to lie in the plan of 
 the poem, which embraces (in my opinion) too wide a field, 
 and deals too specially with the various manifestations of our 
 Redeemer's boundless love. I should have preferred the 
 selection of five or six of the principal events or moments of 
 His earthly pilgrimage, from which retrospective and prospec- 
 tive glances might have been directed to the other main 
 incidents of His glorious career. In this way, I think, that a 
 greater unity of conception and execution might have been 
 attained, and, above all, the records of the Redeemer's lore 
 in action, might have been more intensely devotional, because 
 more fully and carefully embodied, than they possibly could 
 be in a poem of moderate length, in which the attempt was 
 made to illustrate the whole external and internal history of 
 Redemption. Thus, the two first Books, if the truth must 
 be plainly told, appear to me far greater, from a poetical point 
 of view, than the remaining four, (with the exception of some 
 very magnificent passages,) from the poet's endeavour to 
 supply so many details within such insufficient limits. Thence 
 I believe, and thence only, arises the apparent bordering on 
 
40 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 irreverence in some passages, which I have before alluded to. 
 The divine simplicity and brevity of Holy Writ appear to 
 preclude all earthly imitation. Any attempt, however unin- 
 tentional, to rivalise them in the union of brevity and holy 
 majesty, must be necessarily at least a partial failure. So 
 much admitted, I should indeed act most unjustly were I to 
 refuse the tribute of my high admiration to Montgomery's 
 " Messiah." It is, with all its (partially unavoidable) defi- 
 ciencies, a truly great poem, and as such will it be hailed 
 when the present generation of men shall have passed away 
 from earth. It contains passages of surpassing beauty and 
 grace. I may particularise that episode in the Second 
 Book, which narrates so lovingly the mental progression of a 
 kindly-intentioned, though erring unbeliever. Perhaps the 
 unhappy Shelley may have suggested some traits in this 
 delineation of character. 
 
 Returning to the First Book, let us place a few of its briefer 
 and more concentrated beauties before our readers' eyes, 
 which occur in the course of a majestic and nobly developed 
 argument, and which in themselves demonstrate the intellec- 
 tual superiority of Montgomery to the host of his petty critics 
 and assailants. Thus we find in the course of a passage 
 inculcating the duty of loving submission to the Divine 
 Will*— 
 
 " Let Nature hope, and while her blessings thrive. 
 To secret Heaven resign the vast unknown" 
 
 This is immediately followed by the bold but lofty declaration 
 
 " The Mind was grander than the universe, 
 Andy when corrupted, changed a world !" 
 
 Merely pointing attention to the poetical illustration of the 
 wilderness, where " Israel camped," and the very beautiful 
 narration of Eve's dejection and subsequent hope,f we pass 
 to Abraham's intended offering of his only son at God's 
 command, where we find the following sweet lines : — 
 
 * Page 3. t Page 8. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 41 
 
 " The patriarch bowed, and o'er the mountain path 
 Both child and parent took their solemn way, 
 But each was silent , for they thought of Heaven." 
 
 The subsequent delineation of the ancient Patriarchs* is very 
 grand, and the poet rises to high sublimity, when, alluding 
 to the visions of the Prophets, he says, 
 
 " Like phantoms towering from eternity, 
 Dim Ages rose and answer'd to your spell !" 
 
 Once more, how fine is— • 
 
 " And a brave soul, though earth and hell combine 
 To scatter tempest round its blighted way, 
 Beholds a God, in all things but despair." 
 
 The subsequent special apostrophe to Isaiahf has much 
 grandeur ; but my brief extracts from the First Book are 
 already as many as the space allotted me permits of. Four lines 
 from the very fine passage in the Second Book already alluded 
 to, illustrating an unbeliever's sorrows, will not be unwelcome 
 here. (Probably the whole of the passage may be quoted in 
 the body of this work, but of this I know nothing, being 
 altogether unaware what passages the selector may have 
 deemed most fitting for his purpose. This incidental remark 
 will be pardoned, no doubt, though perhaps somewhat intru- 
 sive here. It is right that every man should bear the respon- 
 sibility of his own deeds.) To resume, what melancholy truth 
 is there in this description of the withering influences of In- 
 differentism, even upon a lofty soul : — 
 
 " A dismal trance of dull satiety 
 This lone world grew ; a dampness of despair, 
 The sullen winter of a broken heart 
 Was all he felt, — was all he wish'd to feel!" 
 
 One particularly fine passage, that is, intellectually fine, must 
 be quoted. J Others have, indeed, proclaimed the same 
 truth, but have never carried conviction in so doing more 
 fully to their readers' minds. This too is one of those 
 
 * Page 14. t Page 25. % Page 47. 
 
42 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 central verities frequently denied, and still more frequently 
 ignored, which cannot be too constantly brought before 
 the world. 
 
 " There are, who deem no revelation true 
 That doth not by divine compulsion awe 
 The universal mind to one belief. 
 But, where the freedom of inviolate will, 
 If truth descend with overpow'ring blaze ? — 
 The lines of human character are lost, 
 No principle can act, no feeling sway, 
 No passion on the altar of pure faith 
 Can nobly die, in sacrifice to Heaven : 
 As heave the waters to a reinless wind, 
 So, led by impulse, would the spirit yield 
 To Fate's high will, without one virtue blest. 
 For what is virtue, but a vice withstood, 
 Or sanctity, but daring sin o'ercome ? 
 Life is a warfare, which the soul confronts, 
 Whilst good and evil, truth and error clash, 
 Or rally round it in confused array ; 
 And he, who conquers, wins the crown of Light 
 Which Heaven has woven for her warrior saints." 
 
 Many most poetical passages I have not space to quote ; one 
 very brief one is — 
 
 * A life of glory is a dream fulfill'd 
 That fades in acting ; as a gorgeous cloud, 
 E'en as it dazzles, is but dying air." 
 
 Of course mere earthly glory is alluded to ; not that of the 
 true patriot, or the real benefactor of mankind. A very beau- 
 tiful description of night follows.* The Third Book opens 
 the direct narrative of our Lord's life and death for us. 
 Here occurs a fine burst of fervent adoration : 
 
 " O world ! and was it thus thy Saviour came ?— 
 Rich as the chorus of creation's morn 
 From every region should thy lips have poured 
 
 * Pages 56 and 57. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 43 
 
 A loud Hosannah, to proclaim the Lord, 
 
 The skies have bent, the mountains clapp'd their hands, 
 
 The cedars waved on every hallow'd hill, 
 
 And sun and moon and each melodious star, 
 
 And ocean, with his jubilee sublime, 
 
 Have thrill'd the universe with natal joy !" 
 
 The magnificent passage, commencing — 
 
 " Empires have sunk and kingdoms pass'd away," 
 
 need not be cited. Nor will I quote those truly exquisite 
 lines, — 
 
 " As when a mother for an absent child 
 Laments," 
 
 at large. They are too well known. Let me remark, how- 
 ever, the beauty of the expression, addressed to Judea : 
 
 " For the homeless race afar 
 Thou yearnest with a soft maternal grief :" 
 
 and again, the last lines, with their type of Judah's restora- 
 tion — 
 
 " Like music sleeping in a haughty lyre, 
 Whose muteness only to the master-touch 
 Breaks into sound that ravishes the world." 
 
 Passing the very beautiful description of the Baptist's life in 
 the wilderness, and the fine apostrophe to the " Oracles" of 
 God,* I must quote these few lines; on Prayer : — 
 
 " True adoration, what a voice is thine ! 
 From earth it wanders through the Heaven of Heavens, 
 There from the Mercy-seat itself evokes 
 An answer, thrilling the seraphic host 
 With added glory of celestial song ! — 
 For prayer is man's omnipotence below, 
 A soul's companionship with Christ and God, 
 Communion with Eternity begun !" 
 
44 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 The last three lines are very bold, but they are also very 
 grand, and, above all, eminently truthful. The Fourth Book 
 has far less of beauty or of power. The Fifth rises again in 
 various passages into high poetry, but we have no space left 
 for citations. The eulogy of meekness has great merit.* 
 The whole narrative of the miraculous revival of Jairus' 
 daughter is admirably given. Five lines, which closely follow 
 this, from their excessive grandeur must find admittance 
 here : — 
 
 " But not as ours are Thine unfathom'd ways, 
 
 Jehovah ! in the mean Thy might display'd 
 
 Its vastness ; on the low Thy lofty truth 
 
 Descended ; out of weakness wisdom sprung ; 
 
 So light from darkness, worlds from nothing, came f" 
 The reunion of the widow of Nain and her son is touchingly 
 told.f The passage chronicling the humble offering of 
 "the sad and silent Magdalene" is justly celebrated. We 
 cannot dwell longer on this Book. The Sixth is very 
 fine, and yet does not satisfy the mind. I know not, indeed, 
 what earthly record of the Crucifixion could. Extracts it 
 would be impossible to make with propriety, at least, not 
 in the course of this cursory notice. The reflections at the 
 conclusion of the poem may be observed to possess great 
 beauty, which rises into sublimity in the last three or four 
 pages, shadowing forth the Day of Judgment. We shall cite 
 the last few lines of the poem, the grandeur of which is 
 worthy of their exalted theme, while the spirit of loving hope 
 and humble piety breathed by them endears the poet to his 
 brother Christians : — 
 
 " The Spirit of eternity descends ; 
 
 Seven thunders speak ; to Heaven He lifts His arm, 
 
 And utters, — ' Time and earth shall be no more !' 
 
 Creation withers at his dread command, 
 
 And like a shade the Universe departs. 
 " Oh, in this agony of Nature's death, 
 
 May he, who dared from erring fancy's gloom 
 * Page 130. t Page 153. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 45 
 
 To lift his spirit to the Light of Light, 
 And shadow forth the lineaments divine 
 Of God Incarnate, by redemption seen, — 
 Unblasted look upon the Lord he sang ! 
 And in some world unutterably bright, 
 Where thought is holy as the heaven it breathes, 
 By angels taught, around the Throne renew 
 The song eternal fleeting time began." 
 
 For more general observations on " The Messiah," I have 
 not space. It is, I repeat it, a great poem, which must live ; 
 and so I pass at once to the consideration of " Oxford" and 
 " Woman," which I must treat more briefly and sketchily. 
 
 Compelled to turn abruptly from heavenly to earthly themes, 
 I fear lest an appearance of irreverence should thereby be 
 unavoidably attached to this Essay. We have just dwelt on 
 the Redemption of mankind, and glorious as may be many of 
 " Oxford's" memories, we cannot but feel the descent, when 
 leaving this empyreal theme, we discuss the practical virtues 
 and vices of the inhabitants, past and present, of an university. 
 But thus is it in the world. As man is constituted, he cannot 
 but pass rapidly from high to low, from the sublime to the 
 common place around him. The perpetual contemplation of 
 the Deity is not intended for him in his present state : 
 perhaps never intended ; for even the heavenly host are 
 always engaged in action. The very essence of created 
 being appears change ; the mind stagnates when confined to 
 one sole theme. 
 
 " Oxford" then, is a vigorous and instructive poem. It is 
 far more than the best of companions for the stranger who 
 visits this seat of learning : commemorating, as it does, with 
 appropriate praises, many of our Britain's greatest worthies, 
 " the hallowed memories" of Oxford ; eulogising and justly 
 illustrating the value of our university education ; maintaining 
 the high superiority of virtue and intellect to the recklessness 
 which is too often regarded as manly spirit ; and doing all 
 this in bold, yet generally chaste language, which " oversteps 
 not the modesty of nature," — this poem claims an established 
 
46 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 position, and by no means a mean one, in our country's litera- 
 ture. It must, of course, have a peculiar interest for Oxonians, 
 describing, as it does, with graphic force, all Oxford's natural 
 and architectural beauties, but for the general public too, it 
 has an enduring value in its combination of uncompromising 
 truthfulness, with the spirit of just reverence and praiseworthy 
 sympathy. We quote a passage near the commencement 
 of the poem as illustrative of its general tone and treat- 
 ment :— - 
 
 " There are who see no intellectual rays 
 Flash from the spirit-light of other days ; 
 Who deem no age transcendant as their own, 
 And high the present o'er the past enthrone. — 
 Yet not in vain the world hath aye adored 
 The treasured wisdom ages gone afford, 
 Or loved the freshness of that youthful time, 
 When nature thrill'd, as man became sublime. 
 For then the elements of mind were new, 
 And fancy from their unworn magic drew ; 
 Creation's self was one unrifled theme 
 To fire a passion, or to frame a dream ; 
 As yet unhaunted by inquiring thought. 
 Each track of mind with mental bloom was fraught. 
 The first in nature were the first to feel 
 Impassioned wonder and romantic zeal ; 
 Hence matchless vigor nerved their living page 
 That won the worship of a future age : — 
 From ancient lore see modern learning rise ! 
 The last we honor, but the first we prize." 
 
 And then behold the impartiality of justice in the poet's 
 powerful contrast ! — 
 
 " What soul so vacant, so profoundly dull, 
 What brain so wither'd in a barren skull 
 As his, who, dungeon'd in the gloom of eld, 
 From all the light of living mind withheld, 
 Can deem it half an intellectual shame 
 To glow at Milton's worth or Shakspere's name !" 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 47 
 
 Montgomery's satirical powers, which are great, peep forth, 
 as it were, from this passage. His portraiture of Johnson 
 is admirable. Speaking of his somewhat rough manners, he 
 says most aptly, 
 
 " They were the bark around some royal tree, 
 Whose branches tow'ring in the heavens we see." 
 
 But we have really no space for quotations from this work. 
 One perhaps almost too vigorous sketch of youthful Oxonian 
 folly may not, however, be omitted here. Those who have not 
 yet perused the work, may possibly be tempted to do so by 
 this specimen : — 
 
 " But who can languish through the leaden hour 
 When heart is dead, and only wine hath pow'r ? 
 That brainless meeting of congenial fools 
 Whose highest wisdom is to hate the schools, 
 Discuss a tandem, or describe a race, 
 And curse the Proctor with a solemn face,* 
 Swear nonsense wit, and intellect a sin f 
 Loll o'er the wine, and asininely grin ! 
 Hard is the doom when awkward chance decoys 
 A moment's homage to their brutal joys. 
 What fogs of dulness fill the heated room, 
 Bedimmed with smoke, and poison'd with perfume, 
 Where now and then some rattling tongue awakes, 
 In oaths of thunder, till the chamber shakes ! 
 Then Midnight comes, intoxicating maid ! 
 What heroes snore, beneath the table laid ! 
 But, still reserv'd to upright posture true, 
 Behold ! how stately are the sterling few.— 
 Soon o'er their sodden nature wine prevails ; 
 Decanters triumph, and the drunkard fails : 
 As weary tapers at some wondrous rout, 
 Their strength departed, winkingly go out. 
 Each spirit flickers till its light is o'er, 
 And all are darken'd, who were drunk before. 
 
 * The Italics are mine. 
 
48 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 This is true vigorous satire, at once beneficial and amusing, 
 
 and may effect more good than graver discourse. We trust, 
 
 however, that from year to year there will be less occasion for 
 
 such satirical reproaches* 
 
 I know not how to pass from " Oxford" yet : so much of 
 
 valuable matter, and even of true poetry does it contain. 
 
 Southey is justly eulogised. It is said, that he saw at 
 
 Oxford— 
 
 " the orb of Liberty arise, 
 To gild the earth with glory from the skies. 
 What wonder, then, if his Chaldean gaze 
 With glowing worship met her morning rays, 
 Beheld them bright as freedom's rays should be, 
 And thought they darted from a Deity ? 
 Who did not feel, when first her shackles fell, 
 The truth sublime that France inspired so well ? 
 There is a freedom in the soul of man, 
 No tyrant quenches, and no torture can ! 
 But, when high virtue from her throne was hurl'd, 
 And Gaul became the dungeon of the world, 
 No mean deserter was the patriot proved 
 Whose manhood censured what his youth had loved." 
 
 Here again is a beautifully descriptive night-scene : 
 
 " And ne'er hath city, since a moon began 
 To hallow nature for the soul of man, 
 Steep'd in the freshness of her fairy light, — 
 More richly shone, than Oxford shines to-night ! 
 No lines of harshness on her temples frown ; 
 But all in one soft magic melted down, 
 Sublimer grown, through mellow air they rise, 
 And seem with vaster swell to awe the skies ! 
 On arched windows how intensely gleams 
 The glassy whiteness of reflected beams ! 
 Whose radiant slumber on the marble tomb 
 Of mitred founders, in funereal gloom 
 Extends ; or else in pallid shyness falls 
 On gothic casements, or collegiate walls. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 49 
 
 The groves in silver-leaf d array repose ; 
 And, Isis ! — how serene thy current flows, 
 With tinted surface by the meadowy way, 
 Without a ripple, or a breeze at play." 
 
 We break off unwillingly. Yet again, who feels not the 
 force of this ? — 
 
 " A moment ? — Well may that a moral be ! 
 Whoe'er thou art, 'tis memory to thee : 
 A tomb it piled, a mother bore to heaven, 
 Or, like a whirlwind o'er the ocean driven, 
 Rush'd on thy fate with desolating sway, 
 And flung a desert o'er thy darken'd way !" 
 
 Six more vigorous lines and we take leave of " Oxford," 
 which must be confessed on the whole to be a very admirable 
 work. — 
 
 " Though Shakspeare sang, and Milton's soul aspired, 
 Must Gray be scorn'd, nor Goldsmith be admired ? 
 As well might Ocean of the Earth demand 
 To let no river roll, no stream expand ; 
 As well might mountains that embrace the skies 
 Entreat the heavens to let no hills arise." 
 
 One word be permitted on this subject. Mediocrity does not 
 generally condemn new intellectual or poetical creations, 
 because they do not pertain to the very first order of sublimity : 
 on this point it is almost always unable to decide ; it is the 
 novelty of these works which renders them obnoxious in the 
 eyes of critics, who are unfortunately, for the most part, 
 disappointed authors. This is an unpleasant subject, and it is 
 useless to say more on it, as no change can be effected for the 
 better, until the present system of Anonymity has received 
 its death-blow. 
 
 And now, to "Woman," a very pleasing and poetical 
 creation, (in its literary embodiment, we mean), which we 
 shall be compelled to treat somewhat slightingly. This work 
 displays, as was before suggested, much true grace and much 
 ideal fancy. The fault of the poem is a certain rhythmical 
 
 £ 
 
50 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 monotony, which might have been more frequently broken. 
 It is at present too level, and falls on the ear too smoothly. 
 It is true, that water may be at once clear and deep ; but 
 sight may easily be deceived by such a combination : thus 
 the very union of sound and sense, if too continuous, may tend 
 to lessen the effect of either of the twain. Here the stream 
 is too lucid, and flows too placidly along. We want small 
 whirpools, and pointed rocks, and gurgling rills, to yield us 
 the advantages of contrast. Owing to this circumstance, 
 "Woman" (the poem) will always please better perhaps in 
 detail, than as a whole. The passage commencing, — 
 
 " Alas ! how oft since time began, 
 Hath woman been abased by man," 
 
 is very vigorous, but not characteristic of the general merits 
 of the poem. The commencement of Canto II., which con- 
 ducts us to Eden, is very soft and beautiful. But we pass at 
 once to a still sweeter passage, which must be our only 
 extract from this work : not from any deficiency of truly poetic 
 extracts, were there space to introduce them here. — 
 
 " Queen of the hamlet ! years have flown, 
 And still thou art unwooed and lone : 
 Yet time, with magic unconfess'd, 
 Has moulded feelings in thy breast, 
 That now like buried music float 
 With soft and secret under note ; 
 So delicate they scarce appear 
 To haunt thy spirit's maiden sphere, 
 But waken'd once, and they shall be 
 A soul within a soul to thee ! — 
 Emotions of themselves afraid 
 A temple in thy heart have made, 
 Wherein they flutter, like a bird 
 That trembles when its voice is heard ! — 
 And fancy loves a Being now 
 Whom shaping words can not avow, 
 A form of fine imaginings 
 To which attracted nature clings. — 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 51 
 
 At length he comes ! that nameless one, 
 
 The eye of dreams had gazed upon ! 
 
 The magic and the mystery 
 
 Of life have now begun for thee, 
 
 And thou the type of heaven wilt prove, 
 
 In primal, deep, and deathless love !" 
 
 I feel that I am doing Montgomery injustice in rushing 
 thus rapidly from theme to theme ; hut I must consult that 
 unity of purpose which I have recommended so strongly to his 
 artistic reflection ; and as my present purport is rather a 
 general survey than a detailed review, my speed cannot be 
 misinterpreted. It will not be imagined that I think little of 
 the poem of " Woman," because I do not dwell upon its 
 beauties. 
 
 Our attention must be next called to a series of scriptural 
 meditations, published in the form of a Christian annual, with 
 very fine engravings, and entitled " The Sacred Gift." This 
 work, with many additions, has been recently republished, as 
 " Sacred Meditations and Moral Themes, in Verse," in a cheap 
 and compendious form. " Christ amongst the Doctors," is 
 one of the finer of these. It is fully imbued with that holy 
 awe here and there lacking in the Messiah, and has also much 
 poetic beauty, particularly in the description of our Lord and 
 Saviour's childhood. In " The Raising of Lazarus," there is 
 likewise much beauty. Martha and Mary are well contrasted. 
 " The Prodigal Son," and " Christ appears to Mary," are 
 also deserving of great praise. Indeed it may be observed, 
 that Montgomery's spirit rarely rises to such a height as when 
 contemplating the glories of Redemption. This entire work 
 is fraught with many and deep thoughts, and characterized by 
 great argumentative power. 
 
 And now we approach Mr. Montgomery's last and greatest 
 poem — " Luther," which, already much read, and much 
 admired, and highly praised, has still not received that 
 national recognition, (if I may so express myself) which of 
 right pertains to it. It is an eminently practical poem, 
 bearing on all the great questions, social, moral, and religious, 
 
 e 2 
 
52 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 of the day. In a literary point of view, it is perhaps more 
 finished than any of Mr. Montgomery's former poems, and, 
 indeed, hoth in conception and execution, it may be said to 
 combine their merits. Grace and dignity, and deep thought, 
 and high poetic beauty, may all be found in " Luther." 
 What we said of " The Messiah," and might also have said of 
 " Satan," we emphatically repeat of this work — " it is a great 
 poem." — Of course it is not devoid of defects. 
 
 In the first place, I am inclined to consider it too long : not 
 that I should like to miss any separate section ; but the 
 general effect might perhaps be heightened by curtailments. 
 It must be observed, indeed, that Mr. Montgomery appears to 
 think more, in general, of parts than of a whole. Each 
 section, each sentence, each period may be valuable, and yet 
 an artistic oneness may not be preserved. Now this is 
 decidedly less the case — that is, there is more true unity, in 
 " Luther," than in any other of Mr. Montgomery's longer 
 poems : indeed there is a very stately unity of design, though 
 the details are not kept perfectly subordinate; but it is 
 perhaps impossible for the didactic poet to emulate the 
 dramatic bard in conciseness. The truth is, that his work 
 must be judged by a totally different standard. It is not 
 intended to be heard or perused from beginning to end at one 
 and the same time, but is to be recurred to again and again 
 for the sake of its separate parts or sections, and it is necessary 
 that each of these should be in itself complete. 
 
 " Luther" is of course, essentially a didactic and reflective 
 poem : narrative there undoubtedly is in it ; but this is but the 
 roll on which the poet's thoughts are strung ; we may even 
 say, but the enclosure which contains the lake and marks its 
 limits. The core of the work lies not in its narrative portions : 
 they are but the necessary adjuncts, which give an external 
 form and unity to it. "Luther" is a bold and powerful 
 protest against Romanism, delivered in no mean party-spirit, 
 expressing no narrow bigotry, but recognising that great 
 mediceval Apostacy as the predicted Falling away within 
 the Church of God itself, " for a time, and times, and half a 
 time." 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 53 
 
 Before we proceed to a discussion of its special beauties, 
 let a sweeping notice be permitted us of the general course and 
 bearings of the poem, in which I may perhaps quote a few 
 sentences from my own review of Montgomery's " Luther," in 
 the " British Churchman." The poem commences then with 
 an exposition of the fundamental truth, that Christ is all in 
 all; and most nobly is this truth expressed. The mystical 
 body of the Church is next considered, and more especially 
 the necessity of that Body's sufferings on earth. Man's 
 prerogative of suffering for Christ, is nobly realised here. 
 In the third section, Luther is introduced; the chief object of 
 the section being, however, rather to point the need for his 
 coming, than carefully delineate himself. The next reviews 
 the various events and discoveries which proved the prologue 
 to " the swelling theme," the mighty train of circumstances 
 which led to the final consummation of the Reformation. The 
 genius of Dante, and the discoveries of America and printing, 
 are especially dwelt on. At last the poet proceeds to a fuller 
 and most noble portraiture of Luther's soul. We know few 
 passages in any poem, finer than that beginning — 
 
 " Still what is life, but Imperfection's breath," 
 
 and ending — 
 
 " Gush'd into force when Feeling's reign began." 
 
 It is at once grand in conception, and vigorous in execution, 
 and, above all, intensely true. Luther's childhood is next 
 described, very beautifully ; and then several sections follow, 
 in which a hideous but unhappily too correct portraiture of 
 the Papacy is given to the world. These are followed by the 
 poetic treatment of Luther's youth, his friendship with 
 Melanchthon, his gradually waxing perceptions of the truth, 
 his bold defiance of Pope and Council, his abode in the 
 Wartburg, his Patmos, his conflicts with his own rough 
 spirit, his doubts and fears, and mental agonies, his eventual 
 triumph over the demon of despondency, his assertion of 
 " human right divine," in his selection of a female helpmate 
 for weal and woe, his domestic bliss, his unwearied struggles 
 
54 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 for the cause of Christ, and his eventually saint-like and most 
 Christian death. 
 
 I have said that Montgomery has admirably exposed the 
 errors and corruptions of Romanism in his " Luther." — No 
 man can feel more abhorrence than I do of this Great but 
 False Development of the Catholic Faith. Predicted by 
 Isaiah, and the other Hebrew prophets, as also by the 
 apostles and our Lord Himself, this Development or Corrup- 
 tion, has been but too fully realised within the Roman 
 Communion. Still it behoves us never to forget, that though 
 the Visible Church of Christ has fallen into the grossest 
 errors, " the gates of hell never have prevailed against it :" 
 it has retained its hold on the central doctrines of Christianity 
 — the Trinity in Unity, and the Godhead and Manhood of 
 Christ ; it has dispensed the Christian sacraments ; it has not 
 abandoned the lawful powers of the ministry. The Church of 
 England, we knew, was in communion with Rome, was under 
 her domination even, for many years, and was consequently 
 guilty of idolatry, and a teacher, on many points at least, of 
 falsehood. Still she did not cease to be the Church. Idolatry 
 justifies the individual in leaving the Church's communion, 
 but it does not un-church the Church. The Medioeval Church, 
 with all its errors, ruled by the man of sin, animated in a 
 great degree by Antichrist, was still the Church of Christ, an 
 appointed channel of grace. 
 
 We do not find this distinctly asserted in our poet's work. 
 He appears, in words, at least, td have confounded the 
 Medioeval Church, too generally, with the Antichristian and 
 Romish spirit, which partially ruled and pervaded it. — Well 
 would it have been perhaps also, had more pity been 
 expressed for those Churches, which still lie stifled and 
 oppressed beneath this mighty moral and religious Incubus. 
 I have no hesitation in avowing, that I believe the Papacy 
 to be — not Antichrist — but the Man of Sin. Yet it must be 
 remembered, at the same time, that each individual Pope is a 
 Catholic bishop, and may even (though the assertion appear 
 strange,) be a good Christian in his personal capacity, and 
 "Man of Sin" (of course unconsciously) by office. The 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 55 
 
 Roman Churches then, (and I dwell upon this fact, because 
 it is essential to a successful warfare against Romanism), are 
 still Catholic Churches ; not catholic as orthodox, but in as 
 far as they are still branches, though corrupted branches, of 
 the Universal Christian Church. 
 
 The pernicious and soul-destroying heresy which attributes 
 saving merit to human actions, is vigorously and powerfully 
 refuted in this poem. Indeed, the discovery of this truth is 
 exhibited as the moral centre of the Reformation in Luther's 
 mind, and in that of the world at large. And here let me be 
 allowed to remark, that if this doctrine of human merit be 
 once acceded to by men, they are extremely inconsistent if 
 they do not, also, adopt Romanism as their creed. This 
 error is the flood-gate which yields admission to an anti- 
 christian deluge. 
 
 The two great enemies of the Church of Christ are the 
 Papal Apostacy, and Infidelity, or so called Rationalism. 
 With the latter of these powers, Montgomery's " Luther" 
 also grapples boldly, and, let me add, virtually crushes it 
 within his mental grasp. With well-deserved contempt does 
 the poet treat those empty scoffers, who presume to deny 
 what they scarcely seem worthy to affirm. Worthy, we know 
 they are ; for in the eyes of the Almighty the weakest intellec- 
 tual faculties can not degrade his human creatures. Even 
 here, however, I should gladly have seen more pity expressed 
 for these deluded men. In the generality of cases their 
 presumption is only equalled by their dulness of comprehen- 
 sion; but, even when truly earnest and deep thinkers go 
 astray, a charitable hope may surely be entertained, that the 
 truth has never been clearly laid before them, never brought 
 home to their consciences. The bigotry of unbelief is of all 
 bigotries the most narrow-minded and violent. Certain 
 leading falsities are received as truths, oftimes by minds of an 
 even high order. Thus we find men declaring, and apparently 
 believing, the existence of evil to be a proof of the non- 
 existence of the Deity, and Revelation to be undubitably false, 
 because Revelation's God might have placed its truths beyond 
 a doubt, by tracing them on the skies. Strange is it, indeed, 
 
56 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 that a reasonable man should not perceive the weakness of 
 these arguments. The fact that moral freedom cannot exist 
 without choice, and that choice cannot possibly exist in a 
 creature absolutely constrained to do what is right only, can 
 apparently obtain no lodgment in the minds of such objectors. 
 Vainly is it demonstrated that this very freedom, of which 
 the possibility of evil was the condition, would have been 
 altogether nullified by a direct revelation in the skies, which 
 could have left nothing for human intellect and human faith 
 to perform. Such elementary truths as these seem really 
 beyond the range of a certain class of one-sided doubters; 
 men of talent, nay, of genius if you will, but unfortunately not 
 provided with common sense, and the power of perceiving that 
 two and two make four in the moral, as well as in the physical 
 world. 
 
 Utilitarian selfishness, under every form, is strongly con- 
 demned in "Luther." A fine spirit of Christian enthusiasm, 
 and a glowing earnestness pervade the entire work. Intellec- 
 tually considered, it is fraught with the highest excellencies. 
 Perhaps my readers will bear with me, if I return to the 
 opening of the work, and hurriedly go through it with them, 
 quoting brief passages of pre-eminent power or merit, and 
 animadverting on the leading characteristics of the work. 
 
 The first section is entitled " Christ the Centre and Circum- 
 ference of Truth," and embodies a grand conception in worthy 
 accents. Attention may be pointed to the fine passage com- 
 mencing, 
 
 " Oh ! all we have, and are, or hope to be," 
 
 which is not quoted here, mainly because the intellectual 
 rather than the simply poetical beauties of "Luther," are 
 what I now wish to demonstrate. A passage occurs towards 
 the close of the section, which is therefore more to my 
 purpose. — 
 
 " Marts Deity is only dust refined, 
 Himself recast in some ethereal mould ; 
 A finite into Infinite enlarged, 
 And this Dilation for a God mistook !" 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 57 
 
 In " the Mystical Body of the Church," the second section, 
 occurs a noble exposition of the value of suffering. — 
 
 " Suffer for Christ ! — man's pure distinction this ! 
 His high prerogative, his peerless crown 
 Appointed. — Devils for themselves endure, 
 And angels, quick as sunbeams, glide and go 
 At His command, and own Him Liege and Lord ; 
 But Virtue, by the Church's heart revealed, 
 Mounts to a range sublimer, and excels 
 Beyond the burning Watchers round His throne : 
 For she can suffer ; and by sutf ring teach 
 Lessons of Godhead, such as angels prize." 
 
 We are compelled to pass on rapidly, though each of the 
 paragraphs in this section might afford matter for careful 
 exposition. "Man's need and God's supply," heralds the 
 advent of Luther finely. This is followed by "The Divine 
 Prologue," a peculiarly noble section, both in thought and 
 expression. We shall, however, only cite three lines from it. 
 The poet enquires whence books exercise such mighty influence. 
 He continues : 
 
 " Bethink thee, reader ! and the answer comes. — 
 The universe itself was once a Thought ; 
 A thought divine in depths almighty hid." 
 
 Passing on, we soon arrive at that magnificent portraiture of 
 Luther, to which we have already adverted, and which can 
 scarcely be praised too much. This, however, is too long, 
 and, perhaps I may add, too well known for citation here. 
 Later occurs the fine line, — 
 
 " Not as we learn, but as we live, we are." 
 
 The next section, " Childhood," is full of poetic and ideal 
 beauties. One highly imaginative passage we feel constrained 
 to quote : 
 
 u And lo ! in all things youth's poetic faith 
 Beauty perceives ; or by perception makes 
 
58 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 The beautiful, a virgin heart admires. 
 
 Thus, — flowers are fancies by the Earth produced, 
 
 The clouds emotions of the Tempest born : 
 
 The arch of heaven how eloquently high ! 
 
 A bright Archangel of the burning east 
 
 The sun ariseth on his wings of light, 
 
 How watch'd and welcomed ! — Then comes Night august, 
 
 A dread Magician ! with her sybil stars 
 
 Attended ; and the twilight Sea is made 
 
 Creation's poet, with his billowy lyre 
 
 Rolling for ever an unconscious chant, 
 
 Or broken swell of oceanic hymns ! 
 
 Blood, heart, and brain, the beautiful inhale ; 
 
 Matter and Mind a very duel fight 
 
 By sweet contention, in the high- wrought mood 
 
 Of young Entrancement ! — Forms without appeal, 
 
 And thoughts within like answ'ring music play ; 
 
 Till life itself a lovely poem seems, 
 
 Tender, but touched with most impassioned tones. — 
 
 So rapt is youth, and fervidly entranc'd 
 
 When Genius fills it with her hallow'd fire, 
 
 And all the open secret of the world 
 
 Round a lone heart its earthless magic brings." 
 
 Luther's fresh and buoyant, vigorous and genuine nature is 
 finely pourtrayed in the course of this section. We now 
 approach perhaps the most distinctive portion of this work. 
 We accompany Luther to the University, and there witness 
 the internal struggles of his conscience. The system of 
 meritorious human works, availing to salvation, satisfies him 
 not. Gradually the truth dawns upon him. — 
 
 " From righteous Acts no righteous Nature flows ; 
 First form the Nature, then the Acts arise, 
 Spontaneous, free, by fertile love produced, — 
 Not pleading Merit, but proclaiming Christ 
 Within, by transcript of His life without." 
 
 Faith is the groundwork and the source of Holiness in man. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 59 
 
 Works, indeed, deepen — intensify Faith, (for even saving 
 Faith on earth is imperfect,) but these very Works which 
 counteract upon Faith, arise from it, and can by no possibility 
 be the origin of their own source. At last, " The Day- Star 
 rises in the Heart of Faith." Luther begins to realise 
 Christianity. He is sent to Rome, where, though fraught 
 at first with the deepest reverence for long established 
 authority, he eventually grows more and more persuaded of 
 the necessity for some protest against error. Let us remark a 
 fine passage here, reconciling the freedom of the creature, and 
 the existence of evil with the omnipotence of the Almighty, — 
 
 " All the waves of human Will, 
 In lawless riot though they toss and rage, 
 Within the circle of Thy Will supreme 
 Alone are plunging ; if they rise or fall, 
 'Tis only as Thy helming Word decrees." 
 
 And now " The Reformation's Dawn" approaches. But first, 
 a retrospective view is taken of " The Gospel according to 
 Man," or the system of meritorious human righteousness. 
 Theologically, this species of summary, divided into three 
 sections, must be confessed to be very fine, and it contains 
 many striking lines and passages. We quote two brief 
 samples : — 
 
 " True greatness is to know how small we are ; 
 We learn divinity by loving God, 
 And as we love, alone can understand." 
 
 And again, — 
 
 " For what is holiness, but Heaven below ? 
 Or Heaven itself, but holiness above ?" 
 
 I can only refer the reader to the poem before me, for a full 
 and admirable exposition of the errors of Romanism, that 
 gigantic mockery of the truth, which must be held apart, 
 however, from those catholic verities held by Rome in common 
 with other Christian Churches. "The Inspiration of the 
 Ideal," forms the subject of the next section, the general 
 bearing of which is aptly expressed in these three lines : 
 
60 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 " Our heaven of feeling seeks a heaven of fact ; 
 Some outward image, whose responsive mould 
 May body forth imagination's dream." 
 
 In unison with this idea we subsequently find a strong, but 
 indirect protest against the soul-destroying errors of Asceti- 
 cism, which would confound the use with the abuse, and 
 denounce this beautiful world, and, indeed, all Matter, as 
 necessarily and entirely under the dominion of Evil ; so that 
 the very Arts themselves should only be the handmaids of Satan. 
 Our author says, in the course of an eloquent passage : — 
 
 " From hence the poetry of heart begins ; 
 The painter's longing and the sculptor's love, 
 Which purify from sensual dross and guile 
 Our inner life, with all-expanding force ; 
 Hence Homer drew, and solemn Milton drank 
 The inspiration of a deathless song." 
 
 A noble denunciation of the selfish spirit of the age ensues, 
 which might well be cited here. But we pass on to " The 
 Covenant of Hearts," which unites Luther and Melanchthon. 
 Much is said here, and that eloquently, on the value of true 
 friendship, and one fine passage concludes thus grandly : 
 
 " Nor does Faith deny 
 That e'en in Heaven ethereal friendships bring 
 Their calm addition to celestial joy. — 
 For Truth is social in the highest orb 
 Of her dominion ! God Himself is not alone, 
 But in deep light Tripersonally throned, 
 In plural Godhead His perfection holds." 
 
 We pass on rapidly, though we would willingly linger to 
 contemplate the famous Synod of Worms, with Luther's 
 undaunted proclamation of all his soul recognised as truth ; 
 but the literary and intellectual merit of the poem now 
 engages our attention, and we have not space for general 
 comments. Let us content ourselves with two or three 
 striking quotations from the next sections, with little of 
 remark. — 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 61 
 
 " For men live poems in their purest hours, 
 But write them when the heart-song overflows." 
 
 An exquisite descriptive scene ensues, followed by vigorous 
 
 narrative. — 
 
 " Soon the forest-boughs begin 
 In the tranced quiet of a sunset hour 
 To still their waving ; for the languid breeze 
 Drops its gay motion, and the insect hum 
 Low in the grass delights a pensive ear ; 
 While the glad wings of home-returning birds 
 Flap on the air, with audible advance, 
 That bids you track them to their pine-built nest 
 With eye pursuant. But amid this peace 
 Of nature, deep as if with conscious depth, 
 Hark ! tramp on tramp ! — with ringing hoofs, which rend 
 The air before them, while the riven trees 
 Tremble, as if the sudden whirlwind tore 
 Their tangled umbrage, — horse and horsemen arm'd 
 Plunge into view, in panoply complete, 
 And mask'd : then, swift and silent, ere a thought 
 Can think protection, Luther, from his steed 
 Dismounted, by some mailed horseman grasp'd 
 And cloak' d, and on a charger rudely thrown, 
 At once is captured, — as by magic chain' d. 
 And, in a second, hark ! the sounding hoofs 
 Ring the deep forest with a hollow clang ; 
 Then, onward through its beechen wilds and woods, 
 Plunge the mask'd riders, with a trackless speed ; 
 And, Luther ! — where is now thy destined home ? 
 Who can forecast what God or man intends ? 
 Or, tell what dungeon, stake, or crushing wrong 
 Awaits thee, when at once so bright a day 
 Ends in the shadow of so strange eclipse ?" 
 
 We break off here unwillingly. Luther, as is well known, was 
 borne to the Castle of Wartburg. We are now presented with 
 his " Patmos." Here we find the proud but just thought, — 
 
 " A single Mind the universe outweighs." — 
 
62 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 The flowers beheld by Luther, recalling Eden, are beautifully 
 called, — 
 
 " Orphans of dead paradise, 
 That smiled upon him with a mournful grace." 
 
 In this same section we find, in a previous passage — 
 
 " For is not earth an hieroglyphic vast, 
 From the low insect to the lofty star, 
 Where science spells God's everlasting Name ?" 
 
 " The Crisis" is powerfully embodied. Very beautiful, in the 
 section entitled " Mental Resurrection," are these lines, — 
 
 " Till oft, in rapt imagination's dream, 
 Amid the universe of happy worlds 
 This earth appear'd creation's loved St. John, 
 Safe on the bosom of redemption's Lord, 
 Reclining there in glory, and in rest." 
 
 Very fine, theologically and poetically, is — 
 
 " Many have much, but all desire a more ; 
 But less than Infinite to man is nought : 
 The More must be almighty, — or 'tis none ! 
 But who hath Christ, has God by God bestow'd, 
 And dread eternity becomes his friend." 
 
 In " the Affections by the Truth made free," Luther's protest, 
 by his own love, against enforced celibacy, is very admirably 
 treated. If spaGe, or rather want of space, did not forbid, 
 I should extract several passages, and one, conspicuous for its 
 ideal beauty, commencing — 
 
 " Or, in that region where the feelings dwell." 
 
 One admirable domestic scene, however, must be cited from 
 the next section. The most prejudiced adversary of Mont- 
 gomery can scarcely fail to recognise its merit : 
 
 " Behold the man, whom death nor dungeon awed, 
 Serene and simple as a peasant live. 
 No airs heroic in dramatic style, 
 No sickly vapours of abstracted thought, 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 63 
 
 No lofty, loveless, and disdainful looks, 
 Around him here, severest judgment finds. 
 But, plainly bold, with apostolic mien, 
 And full-toned manhood in a free-born style, — 
 A husband in the great reformer see, 
 Like Martin Luther, and like nothing more ! 
 * # # # 
 
 " The Man was never in his Name absorb'd, 
 Chained like a captive to his own renown. 
 Framed in the homeliness of cottage worth, — 
 A racy humour, and a rough disdain 
 For mock supremacies, for mean effect, 
 For little greatness, and for large pretence 
 Were his : — and he, who held all Rome at bay, 
 And bulwark' d Europe by his brave appeals, 
 Looks he less lofty, to the hearts which love 
 The sterling and the true, when playful seen 
 In the mild sunshine of a married state ?" 
 
 This preference of cheerful, active, wholesome piety to morbid, 
 ascetic gloom, we gladly re-echo, though not thereby com- 
 promising our belief, that there should be appointed times and 
 seasons for spiritual humiliation and deep mourning for our 
 sins, with the external accompaniments of prayer and fasting, 
 as appointed by our Church. But such sorrow is the means 
 to an end, not the end itself : not the goal of the Christian's 
 life. That is joy in the very use of this world, and the con- 
 templation of the world to come. The section entitled " the 
 Catechism," has great beauties. The next attains to lofty 
 grandeur. We cite one very noble passage, which in itself 
 would be sufficient to justify high praises of Montgomery's 
 poetic power. — 
 
 " For if deep ocean, with her sumless waves, 
 Not less in majesty of water rolls 
 If haply some expiring billow sink ; 
 Or forest huge, whose patriarchal trees 
 Their wild luxuriance to the winds present, 
 Not less o'erawes us, though some leaflet die : 
 
64 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Then, would no countless throng of worlds, though dead 
 
 Or stricken hy some everlasting blight, 
 
 One shade on his supernal glory cast, 
 
 Who makes and unmakes, moulds and masters all, 
 
 But in Himself consummate God abides." 
 
 What is there in Bailey's " Festus," so much praised by certain 
 critics — and undoubtedly a fine work in parts — to be ranged 
 beyond or above this passage, either for conception or execu- 
 tion ? Here, both these essentials are united. We have no 
 wild and irregular half-thoughts ; no disjointed and unreal 
 imaginings ; no unhappy deficiencies in rhythm disturbing the 
 current of thought. But comparisons are said to be odious, 
 and I do not wish to press them here. Many fine passages 
 on " the Incarnation" ensue, which, it is well said, in its 
 operation upon this earth, — 
 
 " Hath made its inorganic dust sublime, 
 And link'd our clay to being's endless chain !" 
 
 The poet is meeting the fallacies of those objecters, who hold 
 this earth to be unworthy of the Incarnation of Godhead for 
 its sake. Very grandly does he conclude, by asserting the 
 Godhead's independence of all human ideas of greatness : 
 
 " Who might, if thus He will'd Himself to shew, 
 Round the mere centre of an atom cause 
 Thy majesties, Eternity ! to move." 
 
 A very fine passage commences — 
 
 " Thus fiends against, but angels for, our souls 
 Are now contending," 
 
 We cite two lines from it : — 
 
 " Depth within depth, God, how deep art Thou, 
 Ark'd in Thyself, all secret and unshared !" 
 
 Further on we find it said of Luther, — 
 
 " As fact to thought, or law to will is framed, 
 So Scripture to his faith a reason was." 
 
 I can only allude to a very striking passage on the Temptation 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 65 
 
 of our Lord, in connection with the personal being of Satan, 
 citing this one line — 
 
 " They mock the Devil who obey him most." 
 
 A homely trath, yet not the less a truth, and an important one. 
 Luther's dependence on God is finely illustrated in the lines — 
 41 Luther was great, and God would keep him so, 
 By proving in Himself all greatness lay." 
 
 We pass on to " the Destinies of Princes," a most important 
 section, in which it is justly and forcibly said of the Roman 
 Church, or Churches, as at present existing, that they are — 
 
 " A mimic show of what in very life 
 And lustre, form and glory, should the Church 
 As ground and pillar of the truth, have been." 
 
 The poet prophecies the final fall of Rome ; but fears that this 
 may be preceded by a temporary triumph of that Anti-Christian 
 Power. We point attention to this very important portion of 
 the work before us, though we cannot dwell upon it as we 
 should wish to do ; yet a few remarks must be permitted us. 
 We must not expect, we are told, a gradual illumination of 
 the world, without an intervening " Crisis .♦" from every 
 re-awakening of the Church, that Church has fallen to a deeper 
 abyss of ill. When the danger of Philosophic Platonism had 
 passed away, more deadly Arianism succeeded ; and when this 
 was subdued, even in the Church's hour of triumph, Romanism, 
 a yet more insidious and treacherous foe appeared, to assert a 
 supremacy of centuries. This has been stricken, but it is 
 reviving, Jesuitism, that Arm of Satan, has upreared, and 
 still uprears " the Man of Sin." Is Rome to re-assert her 
 sway, to exercise a far more potent influence than of old, — 
 veiling the intellectual corruption — the infidelity of Mankind, 
 beneath the mask of external superstition ? Awful thoughts 
 are indeed suggested by this section of the poem before 
 us ! We pray that God may enable us to resist this mani- 
 festation of Antichrist ; — that England's Church, at least, 
 may uphold the banner of Christ ; — that Light may still beam 
 upon the Isles ! As says the Prophet : ." To the Islands He 
 
66 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 will repay recompence. So shall they fear the name of the 
 Lord from the west, and His glory from the rising of the sun. 
 When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the 
 Lord shall lift up a standard against him"* We despair not 
 then. Though the enemy come in like a flood, somewhere 
 shall the standard of the Lord be uplifted, somewhere, in " the 
 west," and that in " Islands." Seem we too confident then, 
 when we trust, in deep humiliation of spirit and fervent love, 
 that our English nation, as a nation, may not even, for a time, 
 be cast away ? But here this episodical enquiry must termi- 
 nate. We return to the work before us. Pointing attention 
 then, to the very fine passage commencing, 
 
 " And though, by ardency of hope inspired," 
 
 the imagery of which is magnificent, and also to the fearful 
 forebodings of the solemn Warning, which closes with the two 
 dread — let us hope not to be realised — lines, 
 
 " But rather will our Gentile sun go down 
 A bloody Occident, in wrath and gloom !" 
 
 Let us pass at once to the next topic suggested by this work. 
 The anticipation of a Personal Antichrist we know not how to 
 share in : — 
 
 " The sin of Ages into One condensed." 
 
 An extraordinary — a culminating manifestation of Antichrist 
 there may be ; but surely Antichrist is in the world, under the 
 two forms of secret and of avowed Enmity to the Gospel : the 
 former, as most fully embodied and realised in the system of 
 false religion,^ called Romanism : the latter, as Infidelity, 
 opposed to all religion. Romanism appears the greater, and 
 the more fearful of the twain ; because, obviously " the Abomi- 
 nation of Desolation" within the Catholic Church itself. We can 
 imagine these Evil Powers to be drawn to some special Focus, 
 but not that of any one Individuality. Unless Satan himself 
 were to receive human form and embodiment, no single 
 personal Antichrist would appear worthy to excite such alarm. 
 Besides, this interpretation is at variance with the whole 
 * Isaiah, Chap, lx, v. 18-19. 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 67 
 
 analogy of Prophecy. The Man of Sin is the Papacy ; no one 
 individual Pope : even so is Antichrist, that evidently more 
 general and wider appellation, no one single, wretched creature 
 who should attempt to conquer his Creator, but the very 
 Principle of Evil incorporate in Mankind. I am aware that 
 the incarnate and individual Christ may be appealed to, as 
 appearing to call for an individual Antichrist as His opponent ; 
 but it must be remembered that He was Infinite, and that, 
 therefore, no one finite creature — nothing less, indeed, than 
 the Evil of all Creation, could be imagined, even for a moment, 
 to counterbalance His Omnipotence. But no more on this 
 subject ; which has, indeed, already led me too far. Yet, the 
 recent apostacies to Romanism may, in a great degree, be 
 attributed to our unfortunate neglect of Prophecy as a nation. 
 Once lose sight of the predicted medioeval Apostacy, and if 
 you study in a reverential spirit the history of the Church, you 
 can scarcely fail to be subjugated by Romanism in the end ! 
 
 The next section, "Farewell to Time," forms a worthy 
 preparation for the conclusion of this (I repeat it) great poem. 
 Luther's death is therein touchingly and grandly shadowed 
 forth. We do not quote from it, but those who are induced 
 to read by our praises, may, perhaps wonder at our failing to 
 do so. " The Poet's Retrospect and Patriot's Conclusion," 
 however, claims our attention, and from this our last extracts 
 shall be drawn. Here the glories of the Church of England 
 are distinctly and lovingly set forth. The poet says, let us 
 trust with prophetic inspiration — 
 
 " And signs there be 
 "Which stamp her with significant effect^ 
 Teacher of nations, — fated yet to draw 
 The future round her, as a central Ark, 
 Where light, and liberty, and law secrete 
 Their saving essence, to conserve the world." 
 
 The poet sees the possibility of social anarchy which may 
 blast our Institutions in Church and State, and eventually 
 destroy the nation's Christianity. If I name Chartism here, I 
 trust that my readers will not sneer. Possibly they little know 
 
 f 2 
 
68 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 the dread dangers approaching, which consummate statesman- 
 ship and equal justice to all, in the form of protection to 
 labour, can alone now avert. I will not dwell on this terrible 
 practical theme, the contemplation of which might seduce me 
 to a long digression. Let us once more return to the poem, 
 and its beauties. The hallowing influences of the Sabbath, or 
 Lord's Day, (combined as these now are in One,) are dwelt 
 upon with much thoughtful wisdom, by our author. His 
 description of the Sabbath morning is very beautiful. Its 
 religious services are nobly shadowed forth. What a lesson 
 might the following fine passage read to many a haughty 
 intellect ! Nay, what Christian thinker, who imagines that he 
 soars intellectually above many of his fellow beings, can fail to 
 acknowledge his own shortcomings, as he bends over such 
 lines, and cry externally, " God be merciful to me, a sinner !" 
 
 " Glory ! to think, that on this morn, mankind 
 Bow at the footstool of their Common Sire 
 In co-equality of dust, and sin, 
 To plead our mercy at Salvation's fount.— 
 Ye mighty hunters in the fields of truth ! 
 Titans of thought ! ye giants of renown ! 
 Colossal wonders in the world of mind, 
 Who, with the shadow of your souls immense, 
 Cover creation ! though your genius charm 
 The eternal Public of Posterity, 
 Your names are nothing in the balance now ! 
 Bend the stiff mind, and bow the stubborn heart ; 
 And in the pleadings of your helpless dust 
 Go, take your station with yon cottage girl ; 
 Or chant a verse with yonder hymning child : 
 And, happy are ye ! if like them, ye feel 
 That wisdom is, our ignorance to know. 
 There, cast your anchors in the cloven Rock 
 Of ages ; for behind the Veil it towers, 
 Deep as eternity, and high as God !" 
 
 This passage recalls a veiy beautiful one in Marston's " Gerald," 
 a poem in which, be it said incidentally, the Christian will 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 69 
 
 find very much to admire. One more beautiful night scene 
 must be cited here. We quote from a passage, which is beauti- 
 ful throughout. — 
 
 " Lo, her placid brow 
 O'er the dusk air the queenly Moon uplifts : 
 And, e'en as music, solemn, deep and slow, 
 Through the dark chambers of dejected mind 
 Where all is shapeless, oft to order cites 
 Thought after thought, successive and serene, 
 So her wan lustre, as it mildly steals 
 O'er the mute landscape, tree and bough, and bank 
 Each out of dimness and disaster draws 
 To shape and aspect, till the dew-drops gleam 
 Like nature's diamonds on her night-garb thrown 
 In countless sparkles ; but the stars grow pale, 
 Like mortal graces near the excessive blaze 
 Of Thine, Emmanuel /" 
 
 Here we pause unwillingly. Few, indeed, will be found to 
 dispute the poetry of this passage. The conclusion of the 
 poem is characteristic, and very noble. The last poetic 
 paragraph I shall cite in extenso, as illustrative of the hopes 
 and aims of the poet, doubting not that he therein expresses 
 his true and heart-felt desire.— 
 
 " And now, Spirit ! at the noon of night, 
 Under the arch of this poetic sky, 
 While all around me breathes the hush of heaven, 
 Thee I invoke, this erring strain to crown : 
 Without thee, — 'tis but vanity and voice, 
 And mere vexation into language thrown ; 
 But with Thee, weakness is itself made strong, 
 While nature's darkness turns to light divine. 
 And if with me one aspiration dwell 
 For truths, beyond philosophy to preach 
 Or master ; if one thought this perill'd mind 
 Inspire, where Thou, God of Grace, art seen, 
 Prevenient Spirit ! 'tis from Thee derived. — 
 And oh, if life with all its loneliness, 
 
70 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 The glow of youth hath still in heart retained ; 
 
 If all the waste, the fever, and the fret 
 
 Of buried pangs beyond the world to know 
 
 From boyhood in its bleakness, e'en till now, 
 
 Have not untuned me ; but a tone have left 
 
 In concord with the beautiful and bright ; 
 
 If nature thrill me, with as keen a joy 
 
 As in the poetry of pensive youth 
 
 It ever did ; if these for bliss remain, 
 
 Blent with far deeper things, by suff ring taught, 
 
 And faith transmitted for the life within, 
 
 As onward through a bleak and heartless world 
 
 My pathway windeth to the waiting tomb, — 
 
 Spirit of Glory ! take my gratitude, 
 
 And sanctify the closing strain I sing : 
 
 Bear WTth my soul ; Thy blessing o'er it breathe, 
 
 And all who love the Master whom I serve. 
 
 Divine Emmanuel ! peace may all Thy Church possess, 
 
 Till faith shall in sublime fruition end, 
 
 All symbols cease, all sacraments retire, 
 
 And earthly sabbaths into heavenly melt 
 
 For men and angels ; where the host redeemed 
 
 Shall in the Temple of pure Godhead keep 
 
 The sabbath endless of almighty love." 
 
 If we recognise an apparently too melancholy tone in some of 
 the expressions in this noble " close," — for this world is not 
 so entirely bleak and hearless as the poet (here at variance 
 with himself) declares it, yet can we scarcely fail to admire the 
 fervent spirit of devotion which breathes from this last strain 
 of " Luther." The world has recognised, in part, the grandeur, 
 and the beauty, and the value of this poem : it will yet learn 
 to realise this more fully ; and perhaps this very Essay, imper- 
 fect and sketchy as it is, may assist many in so doing. 
 " Luther" will be, in time, the most widely circulated of Mr. 
 Montgomery's poems. It is the most eminently practical of 
 them all, and also the most poetical. We may add, that it is 
 the most spiritual. Indeed, a growing earnestness and power 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 71 
 
 of realising the sublimer mysteries of faith, may be traced 
 throughout our author's works. More and more have his 
 intellect and conscience learnt to feel and know, and body 
 forth " the Incarnation ;" " the Godhead of the Messiah." A 
 tone of deeper awe, and more catholic reverence, marks the 
 advance in the poet's own mind. Be it not said that he has 
 already attained the goal ! — that he can not yet gain in awful 
 and earnest reality ! Man is imperfect ; cannot be absolutely 
 perfect here on earth. But the Christian's graces should be 
 ever on the increase; else must they be necessarily on the 
 decline. 
 
 Here, let us pause for a moment, to allude to the prose 
 creations of our author. His " Reflective Discourses," his 
 " Gospel before (or in advance of) the Age," and his " Christ 
 our All in All," are not only all dedicated to the special setting 
 forth of the Redeemer's Glory, but are also an intellectual 
 armoury against the assaults of Infidelity, in which the same 
 apparently exhaustless flow of new and striking ideas, (so 
 conspicuous in all our author's poetic works), is combined 
 with the calm ratiocination of the earnest thinker. 
 
 One of the greatest historians of this century, who has but 
 just passed from amongst the living — we mean the earnest- 
 minded, the kind-hearted, the high-souled Sharon Turner, 
 who was ever a sincere and warm admirer of Mr. Montgomery's 
 poetical productions, has placed on record his approbation of 
 the " Reflective Discourses," in these striking words : " I have 
 perused nothing that I recollect, which brings our Divine Lord 
 before us in such truth and majesty, in so intellectual a 
 manner, and with such fine fulness and flow of language, and 
 yet select and appropriate. * * * I think the Sermons 
 (Discourses) must gratify the Christian who desires to be a 
 sincere one, and to realise to himself and in himself, the ideal 
 feelings, hopes, promises and blessings, which our gracious 
 Lord sets before us. They are above a common or careless 
 mind; but every mind that at all cultivates itself, (and many 
 of the poorest are now doing so), will not be long in appre- 
 ciating and understanding them. I have in you (Montgomery) 
 
72 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 all the energy and real feeling which my understanding wants." 
 This is a noble testimony from a noble mind. 
 
 I should say, however, that " the Gospel before the Age," 
 not published when this eulogium was penned, was upon the 
 whole the greatest, intellectually and spiritually, of Mr. 
 Montgomery's prose works. In the former series of "the 
 Theologian," I had the pleasure of contrasting this work with 
 Emerson's Essays, in a somewhat elaborate article : here any 
 further comments on the merits of that fine work would be 
 out of place. Let us return to the more immediate subject- 
 matter of the present Essay, though space and time warn me 
 that my general summing up must be brief, and confined to 
 the salient merits or deficiencies of my author. 
 
 Robert Montgomery then, is eminently a Christian poet : 
 offensive and defensive ; one, who not satisfied with maintain- 
 ing the truth as truth, proceeds to denounce falsehood as 
 falsehood ; and is thus, at once, both negative and affirmative 
 in the highest sense. True is it, that we can assert no truth 
 or fact without, by implication, denying its contrary. But 
 this implication is often not obvious ; and it is well that it 
 should be insisted on, more especially by the Christian Poet, 
 as Montgomery does insist on it, and thereby constrain the 
 indifferent even, to choose their side for good or evil. The 
 positive and active sinfulness of what may be called merely 
 negative indifference is constantly asserted and proved by 
 Montgomery, and this is what renders him so obnoxious to the 
 infidel, and so important in the Christian's eyes. His occa- 
 sional deficiency in taste, which it is but just to add becomes 
 less and less apparent as he appears to progress in spiritual 
 realisation of Christianity, is amply counterbalanced by that 
 uncompromising boldness— that straightforward truthfulness — 
 that daring power, which, combined with high imaginative 
 faculties, and an intimate perception of the Beautiful, stamp 
 him as a true poet of a high order. And here the question 
 suggests itself: "Will then Montgomery's poems really live ?" 
 Will they be household-words centuries hence, in the mouths 
 of the English People, or rather of the Anglo-Saxon race ? 
 
INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 73 
 
 We know not this : for, centuries hence — one century hence 
 even — this earth, as at present constituted, may have ceased 
 to exist ; the Millennial Reign may have commenced, under 
 what external conditions we know not ! Nay, in the coming 
 conflict betwixt the Powers of Good and Evil, we know not 
 what deepest thinkers and greatest bards may not, for a time, 
 appear forgotten; utterly lost sight of! Even if many an 
 earthly immortality should thus speedily decay, so much we 
 know, and recognise as sure — the eternally Great and Beautiful 
 dies not ! In a higher state of being, in the immediate 
 presence of the Godhead, he who has devoted his powers to 
 Truth, may yet humbly glory in his mental creations, may 
 derive reflected joy from the contemplation of such " deeds ;" 
 nay, even honoured and loved, with a love at least deepened 
 through such memories, may he be by other blissful spirits, 
 if he have indeed realised the glories of which he sang. Thus 
 may Fame endure beyond the grave. Will it appear unseemly, 
 if I breathe, in conclusion, my fervent hope, that the Christian 
 poet whom I have eulogised may attain the goal of Chris- 
 tianity? May Heaven give him grace to illustrate, through 
 intellectual agency, the holy doctrines of the Cross ; may it 
 purify, as far as possible, the illustrations thus originated, from 
 error and imperfection; and may it finally receive such "works" 
 — imperfect ever, and human at the best — as expressions of 
 that saving Faith and Love, which prepare the soul for ever- 
 lasting bliss ! 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 ftttrttmttg of the Sifts* 
 
 Thou Uncreate, Unseen, and Undefined, 
 Source of all life, and fountain of the mind ; 
 Pervading Spirit, whom no eye can trace, 
 Felt through all time, and working in all space, 
 Imagination cannot paint that spot 
 Around, above, beneath, where Thou art not ! 
 
 Primeval Power ! before Thy thunder rang, 
 And Nature from eternity outsprang ! 
 Ere matter form'd at Thy creative tone, 
 Thou wert ; Almighty, Endless, and Alone : 
 In Thine own essence, all that was to be, 
 Sublime, unfathomable Deity : 
 Thou said'st — and lo ! a universe was born, 
 And Light flash' d from Thee, for her birth-day morn ! 
 
 Stupendous God ! how shrinks our bounded sense 
 To track the triumphs of Omnipotence ; 
 
78 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 From sky-clad mountain, to the deepest den, 
 From the mean insects, to immortal men ; 
 Bless'd with Thy brightest smile, dare we confine 
 Paternal Providence, supreme as thine ? 
 Far as the fancy flies, or life-stream flows, 
 From Georgia's desert to the Greenland snows, 
 Where space exists, Thine eyes of mercy see, — 
 Creation lives, and moves, and breathes in Thee ! 
 
 Thou sole Transcendency, and deep Abyss, 
 From whence the universe of life was drawn ! 
 Unutter'd is Thy nature ; to Thyself 
 Alone the proved and comprehended God : 
 Immutable ! omnipotence is Thine ; 
 Perfections, Powers, and Attributes unnamed, 
 Attend Thee ; Thou art All ; and oh, how great 
 That comsummation ! 
 
 Lord of the Universe ! supreme, sublime, 
 Immense Controller of all space and time ! 
 Though oft thy red-wing'd lightnings sear the sky, 
 And mutt 'ring thunders mark Thy track on high, 
 One omnipresent, ever-sleepless love 
 Pervades, directs, and tempers from above : 
 When from Thy hands primeval earth outsprang, 
 And starry music o'er the launch'd world rang, 
 Thine emblem God was Love nor eye can see 
 Where Love is not the master trait of thee — 
 When bow'd by woe, and bleach'd by with'ring age, 
 Alone the mourner treads the world's cold stage ; 
 His fortune wreck'd, his friends beneath the sod, 
 Where shall he fly, but to the arms of God ? 
 Blest be yon viewless Spirit thron'd on high 
 No heart's too wretched to attract His eye ; 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 79 
 
 No lot too lowly to engage His love, 
 And win the smile of mercy from above ! 
 He gazes on the sleepless couch of wo, 
 And bids the dying light of hope to glow, 
 Unarms the peril, heals the wounded mind, 
 And charms each feeling home, to fate resign'd. 
 
 That God is perfect One, 
 Pervading all things with His presence whole ; 
 Unfelt, unform'd, unheard, and unexplain'd, 
 All Eye, all Ear, all Spirit, and all Power, 
 His centre, Light, and his circumf rence, Love. 
 Yet, what reveals Him Who all else reveals, — 
 The Unexplain'd, who yet explaineth all ? 
 "What Sun to systems, God to truth appears ; 
 But yet, apart impenetrably shrined, 
 A burning unapproachable remains. 
 
 Jesus thy name, beyond all nature loud, 
 Peals like the trumpet of eternity 
 Through all the chambers of responsive faith, 
 Making them echo with the voice of Christ ! 
 Nature was forfeit, when the first man fell 
 To sin ; and whatsoe'er in nature lives, 
 In reason, morals ; or in mind enacts 
 Dominion, from His vast atonement flows. 
 And who but they who thus the earth baptize 
 In Jesus, — half its fascinating creed 
 Interpret ? Not, but myst'ry there abides, 
 And most unfathom'd : for by sense we find 
 Creation is the way of God to man, 
 
80 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 In life or being outwardly express'd ; 
 
 But in redemption, God with God proceeds 
 
 By truth and glory, inwardly resolved : 
 
 And, if the first our reason overtask, 
 
 On what but scripture can the second stand ? 
 
 But this we know, (howe'er the myst'ry shock 
 
 The carnal, or the mind's conceit alarm,) 
 
 Creation once her own creator saw 
 
 In flesh embodied, when for sin he died ! 
 
 Without Him, and this withering earth had sunk 
 
 To hell, for ever blasted by that word 
 
 Of vengeance, which her frowning Maker spoke, 
 
 Who cannot His eternal nature change : 
 
 Immutable in majesty, the same 
 
 In sanction, the unalterably True. 
 
 And therefore by His attributes, the Law, 
 
 When broken, should to violated heaven 
 
 Atonement offer ; — where the Sacrifice ? 
 
 Till God for God, and Man for Man, appear'd, 
 
 In wondrous union of incarnate power, 
 
 Hung on the cross, and saved the guilty world ! 
 
 A God with all his Glory laid aside 
 
 Behold Him bleeding !-— on his awful brow 
 
 The mingled sorrows of a world repose : 
 
 " 'Tis finish'd !" — at those words creation throbs ; 
 
 Round Hell's dark universe the echo rolls ; 
 
 All nature is unthroned ; and mountains quake 
 
 Like human being when the death-pang comes ; 
 
 The sun has wither' d from the frighted air. 
 
 And with a tomb-burst, hark ! the dead arise 
 
 And gaze upon the living, as they glide 
 
 With soundless motion through the city's gloom, 
 
 Most awfully ! — the world's Redeemer dies ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 81 
 
 Hell heard, and shudder'd as it heard, the wail 
 And dying words of Christ ; while Satan howl'd, 
 And gnash' d his teeth, amid the furnace glow 
 Of everlasting fires, to know his wrath 
 Should ne'er be glutted on the world ! — that Heaven 
 Was won, and to rebellious man unbarr'd. 
 
 And now, the Counsel of Eternal Love, 
 Tremendous, vast, unspeakably sublime, 
 Wrapt in the folds of the Almighty Will 
 Before the universe was shaped or born, 
 Concludeth ! — Man's Redemption is complete, 
 And sanction'd ; all the archetypal plan 
 Of Deity, for reconciling sin 
 With justice, by the mediating blood 
 Of covenant, in Christ has been fulfill' d ; 
 The Woman's Seed hath bruised the Serpent's 
 
 Head ; 
 For man hath lived, for man hath bled, and died, 
 Hath rose immortal, and his presence shewn ; 
 Not in the midnight, when the spirit shapes 
 An earthless phantom ; but by living day 
 Was Jesus heard, and manifestly seen. 
 
 §3rttatn'j8 Safeguard 
 
 Without the Bible, Britain's life-blood chills 
 
 And curdles ; in that book, and by that book 
 
 Almighty, — freedom can alone be kept 
 
 From age to age, in unison with heaven. 
 
 Without it, life is but a ling'ring death, 
 
 A false existence that begets decay, 
 
 Or fevers only into restless life 
 
 Whose blood is madness, and whose breath despair ! 
 
 G 
 
82 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 For not philosophy, with Attic grace 
 Bedeck'd, and dazzling ; nor can science deep, 
 Sounding with searchful eye the vast abyss 
 Of things created ; nor politic weal, 
 Transcending all that earthly patriot dreams 
 Of pure, and perfect — our great country guard. 
 And though our banners on the four winds waft 
 Defiance, in the face of this huge world ; 
 Our swords flash vict'ry, and our commerce vie 
 With more than Tyre, upon her throne of waves 
 Once free and famous, — till our country prove 
 The banking-centre of all climes and creeds, — 
 Reft of her Bible, not a drop remains 
 Of holy life-blood in the nation's heart ! 
 
 Land of the Lord ; my own maternal isle ! 
 Still in the noontide of celestial love 
 Basking, beneath the cross of Christ adored, — 
 How bounds the heart with patriotic throb 
 Devoted, till each pulse a prayer becomes, 
 When oft upon thy sea-dash' d cliff we stand, 
 While ships by thousands haunt thy favour' d shores, 
 And in their bosom half the world discharge 
 Of riches and of splendour ! — God is thine 
 My country ! faithful unto death be thou ; 
 For He has made and magnified thy strength, 
 E'en like a second Palestine, to prove 
 The Ark of scripture, where a Christless world 
 May find the truth that makes her spirit free. 
 Thy bulwark is the Bible, in the heart 
 Of Britain, like a second heart enshrined 
 For inspiration, purity, and power : 
 And, long o'er principle, and law and weal, 
 O'er public virtue and o'er private life 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 83 
 
 May Scripture be sole paramount, and test ; 
 The source and standard of majestic Faith, 
 Where morals form, and whence our motives flow. 
 
 ©totst the Gftttrt of Erutiu 
 
 In Christ, the sum and substance of all Truths 
 Are met, and manifest ; in Him, full-orb'd 
 Religion ev'ry saving virtue finds ; 
 For there alone the heart of God unveils 
 Its vast expression : — in the Face Divine 
 Of Him, (the arch Elect, before all worlds 
 In secrecy of Love divine embrae'd) 
 In Christ, the counterpart of Godhead, — shines 
 That moral radiance which Himself repeats 
 By humaniz'd reflection. There alone 
 The fallen spirit, with an eye unfilm'd 
 By grace, from sin and sensual darkness freed, 
 The will and purpose, pardon, love and peace 
 From God to man adoringly may find. 
 All other media which inventive Pride 
 Presumes to fashion, are but barren dreams : 
 Man's Deity is only dust refin'd, 
 Himself re-cast in some ethereal mould, 
 A finite into Infinite enlarg'd, 
 And this Dilation for a God mistook ! — 
 But Thou, Emmanuel ! art the Way we come, 
 The Truth we know, the endless Life secur'd, 
 The all in all of God to us reveal'd, 
 And us to Him restored. Creation's book 
 Lies blotted o'er with sin's perplexing stain, 
 And no erasure can Thy name detect, 
 In full divinity of sound and sense 
 
 g 2 
 
84 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Conspicuous, or complete. And what can Law, 
 
 That dreadful paraphrase of Justice, speak 
 
 To lawless Guilt, but condemnation dire ? 
 
 And how can Reason in her light resolve 
 
 That problem, deep as God, and dark as guilt, — 
 
 How sin is punish'd and the sinner spar'd, 
 
 When falls the sabre of celestial Wrath, 
 
 And in one flash both Heaven and Hell illumes ? 
 
 Or, say, can conscience, whose rebuking voice 
 
 A jealous echo of the jealous God 
 
 For aye reverberates the soul within, 
 
 Can tins Alarmist, to the shrinking gaze 
 
 Of Guilt — the trembler ! — Mercy's plan unfold ? 
 
 Ah ! no : in Christ alone we Godhead find : 
 
 In Christ alone His character evolves : 
 
 On Calv'ry's hill God's attributes were thron'd ; 
 
 Jehovah there in perfect climax shin'd ! 
 
 ChrtjSt'jS Gttrnftg* 
 
 From everlasting was The Christ of God 
 Veiled in the purpose of His love divine ; 
 But God hath no historian ; archives none 
 His past eternity to us presents : 
 For who the motions of His voiceless will 
 Can number ? Saint and seraph here alike 
 Are bafiTd, and the dread I am adore 
 With that religion silent prayer begets. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 85 
 
 etivitit tilt fytalt of the etmvcti. 
 
 Vine of the Church, whose mystic branches are 
 The host elect of sanctified and seal'd 
 Immortals, — even so, as Christ is own'd, 
 Our light is safe, our liberty secure. 
 But, when to human from divine we turn 
 With homage baseless, and to mortal breath 
 A blind religion blinder incense pays, — 
 Our brightest health is but consumption's bloom ! 
 Faithful, or faithless, to her Lord as Head 
 And true Sensorium of all living grace, 
 E'en thus, as our beleaguer'd Church hath stood, 
 Sublime in gifts or sunken into shame, 
 The bride of Jesus hath on earth display' d 
 Both form and features. To a threefold spring 
 Religion only can for creed, or forms 
 Betake her : and that triple source all time 
 Illustrates, — Man, or God, or Priest alone ; 
 As is each master, so her fate hath been. 
 But when the priest his sacerdotal chains 
 (Forged from the links of apostolic truth 
 Perverted) round about pale Conscience wove ; 
 When man, unsceptr'd of his kingly mind, 
 A mere automaton for ritual springs 
 To pull or play, as guile or gain inspired 
 Their priestly mover ; — when to such 
 The Esaus of the soul their birthright gave 
 Of faith, and freedom in salvation's gift, 
 Religion was the Jailer of mankind, 
 And bound the Spirit in a rotting gloom 
 Of Christless errors. But, when God appears 
 Again refulgent on a Throne of grace, 
 
86 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Revival wakens ! — and the Truth reform'd 
 By monk or martyr, is but Christ unveil'd : 
 Prophet, and Priest, and King of souls redeem' d 
 The church adores him. Then, Her powers expand, 
 Her symbols preach, Her sacraments revive ; 
 Her truths Humanity contain, and clasp 
 With fine embraces of effective law 
 And love, commingled ; then indeed, a Ground 
 And Pillar of the Truth she stands, and pleads : 
 Angels admire, and Devils cannot pluck 
 One ray of beauty from her righteous crown ! 
 For then, Ambassadress from heaven to earth, 
 Glad tidings brings she on her mitred brow, 
 And with her full-toned Gospel : then erect, 
 In high pre-eminence o'er heart and head 
 She holds the Saviour, crucified and crown'd. 
 Sinner and Sin, for each her creed presents 
 Befitting argument, both for God and man. 
 There, one is pardon'd, — Mercy be adored ! 
 The other, punish'd, — Justice own the doom ! 
 So in twin glory, Love and Law complete 
 Their vast expression ; thus alike, can Law 
 Glare from the cross a dreadful verdict down 
 On sin, on conscience and on coming doom ; 
 While Love o'er all eclipsing radiance pours, 
 And Mercy in its rapt meridian shines ! 
 
 etitifit tiie €anqutvov of JBcatfu 
 
 Oh ! Thou whose blood redeemingly was shed, 
 The King of Terrors, but for Thee, appears 
 In ghastly triumph on his dreadful throne ! 
 The future languishes, the fainting world 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 8/ 
 
 Departs, and lost in nothingless we lie, 
 
 Forgotten dreams of ever-faded men, 
 
 Till Thou art felt ! then o'er the barren grave 
 
 The flowers of immortality begin 
 
 To blossom ; Glory dwells beyond the tomb ! 
 
 Though earth be darkened with the frown of Death ; 
 
 Though hues autumnal, fallen leaves, and flow'rs 
 
 Proclaim him ; and his shadow mar our dreams. 
 
 There is that daunts him, when the trial comes ! 
 
 And what an ecstacy, when first the gates 
 
 Of light unfold, the melodies divine 
 
 Commence, we hear the hallelujahs sound, 
 
 Then, turn to glory, as we gaze and live 
 Before the throne of Deity unveiTd ! — 
 And oh, may I, when restless life is o'er, 
 When mute the tongue, and motionless the hand, 
 Each pang forgot, each pulse for ever still, 
 A glorious voice of some bright angel learn, 
 To sing thy love in far sublimer strain, 
 Immortal Saviour ! where thy presence smiles, 
 Till heaven complete what failing earth began. 
 
 Cfullrfiootr <rf $t$u$. 
 
 How beautiful the brow of Jesus was 
 Methinks Imagination's hallowed dreams 
 Would fain adumbrate ; — Virgin-born was He ! 
 Not shaped by Sin, but through o'ershadowing Power 
 Of The Great Spirit, his conception took 
 Human reality, in flesh and form 
 Embodied ; never did one taint of earth, 
 A touch of sensual feeling, or a tone 
 Of temper, harshly loud, or rudely quick 
 
88 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Assail the Soul of that mysterious Boy. 
 
 And therefore, Beauty's most ethereal power 
 
 Haply upon his forehead's arching grace 
 
 Was throned ; and from His eye's divine appeal 
 
 Broke a soft radiance, exquisitely deep ; 
 
 Or, on his lips pure inspiration sat ; 
 
 Or, from the glory of his Heaven-horn face 
 
 There heamed expression, on the gazer's mind 
 
 Awfully mild, and full of melancholy ; 
 
 And, like the cadence of an angel's sigh, 
 
 Could such he saddened, — moving more than tears. 
 
 What holy life 
 Jesus the " child," in Nazareth's hill-girt vales 
 Experienced ! There his early heing grew 
 Strong in the Spirit, with calm wisdom graced, 
 As day by day some deepening charm endowed 
 His finite Nature ; or, with vaster forms 
 Of truth inspired, the seven-fold unction filled 
 His large capacity ; while earth and sky, 
 Sea, and wide air, with all the Powers that wait 
 On soul and sense from this material scene, — 
 To Him administered their service due. 
 
 What were thy views, divinely-perfect Child, 
 The tainted spirit of our troubled world 
 Imagines not, — when Thou, on this low earth, 
 From the hushed loneliness of lofty hours 
 Didst reap a harvest of unuttered thoughts 
 'Mid rocky glooms, or Galilean dells, 
 While subject to thy parents. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 89 
 
 Slt0£tintt0£ of ©arlg 29*atiu 
 
 But thou fond mother o'er thy pallid child 
 In coflin'd beauty for the tomb arrayed, 
 Cold as the flowers that on it calmly lie, — 
 Hush the wild language of thy heart's despair ! 
 For, in the twilight of our doom there flash 
 Gleams of instruction through the cloud of death 
 By wisdom darted on believing souls. — 
 See, how the Fall when infants die, is proved, 
 Stung by a fatal sting, that stingeth all ! 
 Mute sermons preach they upon primal Sin 
 Beyond all pulpits, in their palmiest hour 
 Of eloquence and truth. Who that feels 
 The wear and waste of this soul-trying world 
 Where life is one long martyrdom to most, 
 However gilded, — back would e'er recall 
 The child of mercy, unto Heaven resumed ? 
 It wears the crown, but has not fought the fight, 
 Reaches the goal, but has not won the race ; — 
 Balm to bereavement let this thought inspire ! 
 But with it, may this added comfort blend : 
 That as eternity the dead absorbs 
 Youthful, or aged, our affections seek 
 That mystic Home with more familiar sway. — 
 'Tis not a solitude which awed Amaze 
 Dreads to encounter ; but a peopled clime 
 Filled with the loved and lost, we long to meet 
 And once more welcome ! — And, beyond this bright 
 Assurance, may consoled reflection press 
 Inquiry ; for when shudd'ring Reason starts 
 To think on millions of unpitied babes 
 Mangled, and massacred in heathen climes, 
 
90 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 How do these words, so tenderly profound 
 Of Jesus, light the path of Providence, — 
 Which tell us, Heaven the murdered child receives ; 
 And its last pang hut lifts the Soul to heaven, 
 Through early martyrdom to glory wrapt ! 
 
 And hence, true mothers ! ye at least are bound 
 To Jesus ; in His words an echo dwells 
 To each inquiry, that beyond the grave 
 Longs to pursue an infant's parted soul. 
 Love to Emmanuel ! — let your motto be ; 
 And so on childhood's brow of beauty gaze, 
 As that whereon the Sacrament shall print 
 A sealing import ; then, your child devote, 
 Like Anna, early to the Lord of love, 
 And, from the cradle, guide it to the Cross ! 
 
 Cfmsrt tixt dFrimtr of tht Honrtg. 
 
 Thou of the mood so often darkly strange ! 
 Or, bent with incommunicable wo ; 
 Weary and worn, whose untranslated mind 
 Leaves thee in crowds a solitary man : 
 Ah ! think not that the pitying Lord of love 
 Observes thee not ; or, with disdaining eye 
 Turns from a pang the World's cold mock condemns. 
 For, ere the wings of Time their flight began, 
 Thee in idea Christ himself embraced, 
 Perceived, and pondered, and, as His Own secured 
 By dateless covenant ; His closing prayer 
 Did for thy soul undying grace secure, 
 And on the Cross confirmed it, with a Blood 
 Divinely precious. — So, in all thy paths 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 91 
 
 Of trial, howsoe'er thy tested heart 
 
 Faint, droop, or sadden, let this balmy truth 
 
 Drop like a dew from Hermon on thy soul, 
 
 In healing freshness, — thou art known, and dear to Christ, 
 
 Though oft on earth by friends misunderstood, 
 
 Or, else by foes, with falsehood over-veiled, 
 
 And so transfigured from thy native mien, 
 
 That thou art mocked, where most respect is due ; — 
 
 Fly to a Sympathy that never fails, 
 
 And on the bosom of Emmanuel's love 
 
 Pillow thy grief, in meditative prayer ! — 
 
 Here is the Architect, who built thy Soul 
 
 And knows the fabric which his wisdom planned, 
 
 Unerringly ; thy thoughts, however deep, 
 
 Thy feelings dark, thine aspirations dim, 
 
 The hopes, and dreams, thy failings and thy fears, — 
 
 All unto Him in clear discernment stand 
 
 For light, for guidance, or corrective love. 
 
 He hears thy heart-throb ; counts thy fev'rish pulse, 
 
 Marks the faint motion of each falt'ring nerve 
 
 By feeling quickened ; views the mental shade 
 
 Excitement summons o'er thy pallid face, 
 
 Numbers the sigh, and notes the quiet tear 
 
 Dropt where no human gaze can see it fall : 
 
 And therefore, unto Christ, beyond all form 
 
 That friendship in this fallen world assumes, 
 
 E'en at the finest, — wearied One ! resort ; 
 
 For He alone man's true sensorium is, 
 
 And to our spirit with responsive thrill 
 
 Moves at each prayer adoring Trust applies. 
 
92 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Wxt ISafo, tfie %Mt nnXf the mother* 
 
 A dew-drop trembling on the stem of Life, 
 
 A rosebud peeping into fairy bloom, 
 
 A billow on the Sea's maternal breast 
 
 Leaping, amid the jubilee of airs 
 
 By glad winds carolled ; or, a dancing beam 
 
 Of sunlight, laughing in its brightest joy ; 
 
 In truth, whate'er is delicate and soft, 
 
 Minute and fragile, innocent or gay, — 
 
 Oft to the poetry of mind presents 
 
 Types of that beauty, which a tender babe 
 
 To feeling manhood's fascinated eye 
 
 Affordeth ; — touched at times with solemn hues, 
 
 Which hearts prophetic cannot fail to cast 
 
 Round a frail heritor of life unknown ! 
 
 But when o'er Revelation's book we bend, 
 There do we find, with more than love confirmed, 
 Whatever Nature by her mute appeals 
 Hath prompted ; for the Bible e'en to babes 
 Lends the sweet mercy of its soft regard 
 And bland protection : other Creeds may scorn 
 Such aidless being, and the gibing laugh 
 Of Science o'er their frailness may uplift 
 Its godless pean, but in this we boast, — 
 That Christianity the cradle seeks, 
 Stoops to a babe with condescending brow ; 
 And, while the Hindoo, by her creed transformed 
 From woman's softness into heartless stone, 
 Commits her infant to broad Ganga's stream 
 Foodless to perish, — Christ in Spirit comes, 
 Commands the Priesthood on its forehead plant 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 93 
 
 The sealing water, and the loving sign, 
 And bids it welcome to His ark of love ! 
 
 But here is comfort, consolation deep 
 As an eternity, and high as heaven. — 
 One half of human beings on the brink 
 Of life new-born, mysteriously departs ; 
 Like visitors from some far world, they come 
 Our atmosphere of sin and wo to face, 
 A moment look upon this blasted Earth, 
 And then, (as if appalfd by what they saw,) 
 Melt into viewless being back again ! 
 But oh, we dream not how a mother's heart 
 Is chorded, if we think the transient babe 
 Home to her spirit hath not sent a look 
 That clings for years ! nor with its feeble hand 
 And touch of instinct, to her frame conveyed 
 A thrill that memory can deathless make ; 
 While the faint cry its faltering Up first breathed 
 Will haunt her, like a tone that never dies ! — 
 Fathers to ripened feeling most incline 
 Their fondness ; and upon their willing knees 
 When romping little ones can laugh and lisp, 
 Or prattle forth the fragment of some truth 
 Or passion, — they begin their God to bless 
 For children, hailing each unfolded smile. 
 But mothers love, before young life was seen, 
 The babe expected ; and though brief its stay 
 In this cold world, one passing breath becomes 
 To them a charm, that like a ripple moves 
 The secret ocean of maternal love. 
 
 Thus will a mother to the trackless world 
 Pursue the spirit of her parted child ; 
 
94 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And round the presence of that imaged one 
 Hover in thought ; while oft at times her soul 
 Puts the fond question, — " Is the babe at peace ? 
 And gaze those eyes, which hardly looked on mine, 
 On Glory endless ? Does that wailing voice 
 Which, but for anguish, scarcely on mine ear 
 Had sounded, — now, a full-toned anthem ring ? 
 Are sparrows counted, and a child despised ? 
 The ravens fed, but innocents forgot I" 
 
 Gturfttt til $ragn\ 
 
 But lo ! The Lord of resurrection lifts 
 Upward His fixed unfathomable gaze, 
 And by that look, the Dwelling-place of God 
 Perchance was moved, throughout its glorious Halls 
 Of light and beauty ! — but no sound is heard 
 Of adoration ; though for prayer approved 
 The Sire divine mysteriously He thanks. 
 Inaudible as thought, beyond the clouds 
 Into the region round about The Throne 
 Celestial, must He then have winged His prayer ! 
 By words to man, by will to God, He spoke, 
 Who was all echo to His pleading heart. 
 
 Wxt &tettgtus €oti$titnct. 
 
 Not day, with all its brilliancy of joy ; 
 
 Or night, with all its quietude of shade ; 
 
 Music, nor riot, nor the gauds of state 
 
 The Still small Voice could ever drown, or daunt ; 
 
 Sleeping, or waking, still his guilt remained 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 95 
 
 A sightless Fury, that with secret lash 
 
 Scourged his pale conscience to the brink of Hell 
 
 For ever ! On his dreams the Baptist rose, 
 
 There on the charger lay the murdered head 
 
 Bleeding and ghastly ! still, the curse of crime 
 
 Fevered the water, ere his lip it cooled, 
 
 Poisoned with bitterness the bread He ate, 
 
 Took from the skies their glory, from the grass 
 
 Its verdure, from the flowers their precious bloom, 
 
 In music made all melody to cease, 
 
 And, often into ghastliness and guilt 
 
 Changed the young beauty of Herodias* cheek 
 
 Before him ! — Life was one long agony 
 
 Felt in the soul, self-crucified by sin. 
 
 Thus did Remorse God's truth defend, and guard, 
 
 When the brave Herald could no longer lift 
 
 His voice for virtue ; that no death could reach, 
 
 Or stifle ; but, in hours of horrid gloom, 
 
 Held by a hah* above the burning Pit 
 
 Of vengeance, did the blood-stained monarch seem 
 
 To shudder ; and in dreams, as if to drop 
 
 Down through its depths, unutterably dark 
 
 And deep'ning ! Thus, when Christ himself unveil'd 
 
 By miracles, which made Creation bow 
 
 In motion, matter and eternal mind, 
 
 The cow'ring Herod in Messiah dreamt 
 
 He saw his victim ! such the power of guilt, 
 
 And such the homage perjured Hearts must pay 
 
 To truth, though death and murder intervene. 
 
96 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 atrorattott of the &abumr'£ &ttrftttt?.e. 
 
 Thou holy, heavenly, angel-worshipp'd Lord ! 
 Far seated in Thine infinite excess 
 Of light seraphic, whose unwearied gaze 
 Is ever fix'd upon the fallen world, 
 As oft in chamber dim, or lonesome walk 
 By leafy twilight arch'd, the Mind foreviews 
 Her own eternity, and dreams Thy form 
 To life again, — how wonderful, apart, 
 By time unsoil'd, by accident, or sin, 
 Thy Being riseth in irradiant truth 
 Before us, purer than the light of light, 
 Of all transcendencies the sum and soul I 
 For when did Earth Thine attribute display, — 
 One vast benevolence, that girt a world 
 Of hearts, in its divine embrace of love ? 
 All time and truth, all empires and all powers 
 That were, or would be, in the march of fate, 
 By Thee were compass' d for th' almighty plan ! 
 
 CiirtSt raiding tht WLittoWS 5bom 
 
 Behold, as Noon 
 Was calming from her hot meridian rage, 
 And Tabor o'er Esdraelon's verdure threw 
 A longer shade, where cooling Kishon ran 
 His midway course, the Lord of mercy reach'd 
 The mountain-dell, where Nam of Hermon stands. 
 But ere He enter'd, came a mournful troop 
 In dark procession from the city-gates : 
 The air was wrung with anguish ; and the dirge 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 97 
 
 Fell sad and frequent on Messiah's ear ! 
 
 While midmost, on a mantled bier upborne, 
 
 A youth was carried to an early grave — 
 
 An only child, the Star of widow'd home, 
 
 In whose fond ray a mother's spirit smiled. 
 
 With what a sense of beautiful delight 
 
 Her ear drank in the father's fancied voice, 
 
 Still in her son triumphant o'er the tomb S 
 
 How tenderly her soul's creative eye 
 
 Gazed on the meanings of his manly face, 
 
 And made each feature all the sire restore 
 
 In proud resemblance ! — while a sacred hope 
 
 Survived, that when her widow'd race was done, 
 
 His hand would smoothe, his gentle voice attend 
 
 Her dying bed ; and tears of filial truth 
 
 Fall on the flowers that graced a mother's tomb. 
 
 But Heaven had frown'd, her living star was set, 
 
 In the bright morning of its beauty gone 
 
 For ever : Pity ! thine are barren tears, 
 
 And unrefreshing as the thunder-drops 
 
 On burning sands, to wo intense as this : 
 
 For life and feeling in the grave descend, 
 
 And sounds of comfort, like the clam'rous waves, 
 
 In heedless revel o'er the ocean dead, 
 
 Awake no echoes in her spirit now. 
 
 But on they come, the sad funereal crowd, 
 And deep o'er all the blended tones of grief 
 A heart-wrung widow's lamentations rise, 
 Distinctive of the mother ! — Not a gaze 
 That is not dew'd, or dim ; the young men weep, 
 As Fancy pictures, on yon cover'd bier, 
 Their pale companion, from whose mirthful brow 
 So many a gleam of young enjoyment flash' d, 
 
 n 
 
98 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Like daily sunshine over kindred hours ■ 
 
 The aged bow their heads, to dreams of death 
 
 Surrender'd ; parents muse on buried hopes, 
 
 Or clasp the living with a fearful joy ; 
 
 And e'en the children, as the mourning train 
 
 Advances, from unthinking revel cease, 
 
 And sadden down the innocence of glee. — 
 
 'Twas then the Lord of Life and Death approach'd 
 
 The long procession ; then a widow's tear 
 
 Was mighty, for it moved the Saviour's soul ! 
 
 At once, majestic, through the yielding crowd 
 
 Beside the corse He came, the bier He touch'd, 
 
 Then, moveless as the dead, that living host 
 
 Stood silent ! — ev'ry throbbing breeze grew loud, 
 
 And motions of the human heart were heard 
 
 In the deep hush of this portentous hour. 
 
 The awful coming of some dread display 
 
 Each soul awaited : then was heard — " Arise !" 
 
 The spirit answer'd, and the youth arose, 
 
 And to his mother took Messiah's hand 
 
 Her only child ! 
 
 ^vincipltfi taught tig Gtirftt* 
 
 O, what a doctrine of almighty depth 
 Messiah founded, when His truth declared, 
 In meekness lies the majesty of man ! — 
 At once the wisdom of the world was dumb, 
 And Fortune blasted on her throne of bliss. 
 The ways of pleasantness, the paths of peace 
 Are dim and narrow, tracks of noiseless gloom 
 Which glory flies, and grandeur seldom walks : 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 99 
 
 The poor in spirit, and the meek in heart 
 
 Who thirst and hunger for Thy righteous Word, — 
 
 Oh ! these are blest, for Thine unerring voice 
 
 Hath calTd them so, and crown'd their lowly lot, 
 
 And sanctified the unrebellious tear : 
 
 To them divinely was the blessing given ; 
 
 And while in shed or cottage, swamp or wild, 
 
 The sacred pangs of poverty endure, 
 
 There Goodness and her Lord may constant meet, 
 
 And Charity, with soft and silent foot, 
 
 Move like an angel to a deed of heaven ! 
 
 And vaster Truths, unspeakably divine, 
 Which live before the Throne, and light effuse 
 O'er all who worship their immortal Source, 
 Did Christ reveal : — of uncomplaining Love, 
 Forgiving as it hopes to be forgiven ; 
 Of Sanctity, within the spirit shrined ; 
 Of Passion rooted from terrestrial ties, 
 And trampled, as the soul's unhallow'd weed ; 
 Of alms in secret, — temples in the mind, 
 Where God in dedicated moments comes 
 To earth unknown ; — and needs no trumpet-voice 
 To tell the world a conscious sinner prays ; 
 Of Providence, life's angel, ever nigh, 
 That feeds the bird, and robes the meadow flower ; 
 Of lofty Hope, and meditative Peace ; 
 And Feeling, touch'd with man's infirmity, 
 O'ercoming wrong with mercy's tender gaze, — 
 That looks aside when human error falls, 
 But loves a virtue in its frailest hour ! 
 Of these He spake, and taught believing man 
 A worship, which eternal Wisdom loves : — 
 He, whom the universal choir of worlds 
 
 h 2 
 
100 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Doth chant, our falt'ring tongues may Father call ! 
 
 Glory of glories ! can archangels boast 
 
 A voice, or language of mysterious love, 
 
 Surpassing this ? — that bids " our Father !" sound 
 
 From lip of mortals, when a soul renews 
 
 Her solemn intercourse with Christ and Thee ! 
 
 A moral, not an intellectual life 
 
 Alone, however rich with mental bloom, 
 
 God's image in the human soul reveals : 
 
 And so taught He, that co-eternal One 
 
 On high, when leaving his Elysian throne, 
 
 He templed his bright Nature in the dust 
 
 Of dim mortality, and unbarr'd heaven, 
 
 Whose gates of glory now expanded shine. 
 
 Philosophy, benighted in the gloom 
 
 Of Pagan wisdom, fondly charming oft 
 
 The shady luxury of Attic grove, 
 
 How failing in her eagle flights ! — To clear 
 
 The clouded intellect was her prime aim : 
 
 The heart, that fountain-source of sacred life, 
 
 Rank'd second in her grand array of words : 
 
 And thus, her wisdom in a weedy soil 
 
 Was sown ; and perish' d in its mortal thirst 
 
 For feelings, that refresh the growing mind, 
 
 As spring-dews foster the awaking flowers. 
 
 But Christianity, the child of truth, 
 With searching light the inward nature ciear'd, 
 And by a conscience, rooted in the soul, 
 And fears, of which unfading hopes are born, 
 And faculties of faith, which all possess, 
 Awoke the mind to wisdom, deep as heaven. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 101 
 
 ©fmsst foalfttng on the Jbes. 
 
 Meanwhile, obedient to a high command, 
 Beloved disciples, in their boat embark'd, 
 Upon the lake are rocking : Darkness weaves 
 Her veil, and, like a tempest-demon, howls 
 The horrid wind, and tears the rising sea 
 To billowy madness, o'er whose heave and swell 
 TV affrighted vessel, like a weary bird, 
 Advances, hung with flakes of plumy foam. 
 And he descended ; on the deep he walk'd, 
 O'eraw'd, in dreadful wonder ! — wave on wave, 
 And wind on wind, in elemental roar 
 Like chaos, — how can mortal faith defy ? 
 His soul hath doubted, and th* apostle sinks, 
 Till, " Save me, Lord !" the drowning Peter cries, 
 And him the affable Redeemer caught 
 From out the billows, in their fierce array, 
 Rebuking thus— " thou of little faith !" 
 His fond disciple : when the toiling bark 
 They both had enter'd, on the waves He look'd, — 
 The lake was silent, and the tempest gone ! 
 
 ^rfcctton of Gtetet'0 Penman Matuvt. 
 
 Behold the beauty of His matchless life, 
 In deed and thought connecting earth with heaven. — 
 Cull eveiy virtue which the mind conceives, 
 Or view Perfection in sublime excess 
 Of glory, such as dreams of God portray, — 
 And what can emulate the Prince of Peace ! 
 
102 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Where once the Seasons, in luxuriant strife 
 Reign'd on the shore of that immortal Lake 
 Whose wave is purple as the heaven it loves ; 
 There in that clime, where fruit and verdure bathed 
 Their tinted beauty in the richest sun, 
 Where all is dreary now, — Messiah dwelt. 
 What alternation of eternal light, 
 And mortal dimness of a low estate* 
 The sacred drama of His life reveals ! — 
 Born in a manger, — yet by guardians bright 
 And wing'd Adorers, heralded and hymn'd ; 
 The Heir of all things — yet possessing none ; 
 Surrender' d now to tears of mortal truth, 
 Or, ministrant at some disciple's feet ; 
 Then, — thunder-greeted by the glorious sky ! 
 Here from the flower a lovely doctrine flows, 
 And now, — a Tempest from His frown recoils ; 
 Hung on the cross, a malefactor's doom 
 He suffer'd, — yet a paradise was there, 
 By Him according to the felon's soul ! 
 While bleeding clay, — incarnate God confess'd, 
 Whose pangs the aching Universe partook, 
 And from those agonies which man beheld 
 And mock'd, the terror-blighted Sun withdrew ! 
 
 Man never spake, in words divinely toned 
 With tenderness beyond a tear to move, 
 Like Him, to whom unutter'd feelings lay 
 Free as the clouds before a sun, exposed ; 
 The heart, — He knew it best, and proved it most, 
 And touch'd the master-chord of human mind. 
 And oh ! what exquisite discernment mark'd 
 
 * Vide Josephus' description of the shore of Tiberias. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 103 
 
 Each high discourse, for creed or sect attuned ; 
 
 Some happy image, to the hour applied, 
 
 Or palpably by outward sense perceived 
 
 From mead and plough, the summer task or toil, 
 
 From storm and season, fruit and flower, — enlived 
 
 The sacred lesson which the soul perused : 
 
 And when hath poet from his any world 
 
 To shape or action, summon'd more express 
 
 And touching images of graceful power, 
 
 Than parables, — where Nature's self is judge, 
 
 And to the mind her silent cause commends ? 
 
 Pathetic loveliness in all abounds ; 
 
 And as the eloquent Creation oft 
 
 By moonlight more than storm the soul subdues, 
 
 When language with severest truth adorn'd 
 
 No passion quell'd, — a parable prevailed ; 
 
 Whose soft dominion, like an angel smile, 
 
 Moved o'er the heart, and shone reflected there. 
 
 Cfmgt in <&ttii$tmmt. 
 
 But veil thyself, Imagination ! veil 
 
 And worship ; put thy shoes from off thy feet 
 
 Thou mortal gazer ! for on hallowed ground 
 
 More consecrate than he of Horeb saw 
 
 When the bush burn'd with unconsuming fire, 
 
 Thou tread' st, — the garden of Gethsemane ! 
 
 The moon, pale hermitress of heaven, hath found, 
 
 With no bright fellowship of starry orb, 
 
 Her midway sphere ; and now, with conscious dread, 
 
 Shrined in a cloudy haze, she disappears, 
 
 While motionless yon patriarchal trees 
 
 Of tow'ring olive lift their spectral gloom. 
 
104 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 But listen ! groan on groan, with awful swell, 
 
 Heaves on the air, as though a God bewail' d 
 
 His creatures ; Christ is bow'd in agony, 
 
 And prostrate ; while a bloody sweat dissolves 
 
 From every pore : insufferably sad, 
 
 The human with the God contends, and cries, 
 
 " My Father ! if it can be, let this cup 
 
 Be taken from Me, from this hour removed, — 
 
 And yet not Mine, but let Thy Will be done !" 
 
 Dark agonies, unutterably deep, 
 That Moment knew, whose merit countervailed 
 All that eternity's remorse could pay, 
 Wrung from the spirit of a ruin'd world ! 
 
 As once on Tabor, His transfigured form 
 A shadow of his future glory taught, 
 Gethsemane's most awful gloom declares 
 The dread, intolerable Curse of sin ! 
 Which then, through pardon from the earth recall'd, 
 By imputation on the spotless soul 
 Of Jesus, frown' d itself from God — and pass'd 
 For ever ! — In that soul-appalling scene, 
 His Manhood suffer'd all that flesh endures : 
 God unappeased, and Satan unsubdued, 
 The death and darkness of accursed sin 
 Still brooding o'er the world, and He foredoom'd 
 Upon the cross of agony to die, 
 That Heaven might open on forgiven man, — 
 All this oppress'd Him with the pangs of Hell ! 
 Exceeding sorrowful his soul became, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 105 
 
 E'en unto death ; till from the Throne, His cry 
 Of anguish brought a soothing angel down. — 
 But in the passion of this dreadful hour, 
 Oh ! where are they, whose eyes so oft beheld 
 His wonders, in whose hearts His voice had pour'd 
 The balm and blessing of immortal truth ? 
 Alas ! one hour they could not watch, nor pray ; 
 And they were sleeping, when the Saviour thrice 
 From prayer arose, and thrice their sleep forgave. 
 
 Cnrigt on tht Cross. 
 
 But come, thou Spirit of creative might, 
 Whom nothing boundeth, and a scene behold 
 More awful than eternity contains, — 
 A crucified Redeemer ! With his cross, 
 To Calvary the lacerated Christ 
 Is now ascending ; famish'd, faint, and pale, 
 Beneath the burden of a tree accursed 
 He falters ; yet the goading throng 
 His limbs profane, and trample when he falls, 
 Their silent Martyr ! Lest at once He die, 
 And cheat the tortures of intended doom, 
 To bear it, from Cyrene is compell'd 
 A pilgrim ; and again, with murd'rous glee, 
 The rabble round about Him dance and hoot ; 
 Yes, all are merciless, while Mercy bleeds, 
 Save thou, fond woman ! — in thy faithful eyes 
 Are tears ; and from thine unforsaking love 
 The language of sublimest pity flows. 
 Yet not for Him, but for yourselves, lament ; 
 Ye daughters of Jerusalem ! who wail ; 
 The days are coming, when the soul will cry 
 
106 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 " The wombs how blessed which have never borne !" 
 But lo ! the hill of Golgotha appears, 
 His cross is planted, with convulsive shake 
 Each limb unloosen'd, and the starting blood 
 In liquid torment from the flesh distilTd ; 
 In vain, a potion to benumb his pangs 
 Is proffer'd ; like a God He suffers all — 
 " Forgive them ! for they know not what they do !" 
 
 And thus they crucify the Son of Man ! 
 Those Hands are bleeding, which have bless'd a world ; 
 Those Feet are tortured, which have never moved 
 Except on errands of celestial love ; 
 Those Brows are throbbing, and those Eyes bedimm'd, 
 Where light and immortality were throned ! — 
 And oh ! that chaste, unspotted, perfect soul. 
 Divine as purity on earth could be, 
 Doth agonize beneath th' imputed curse, 
 Whereby a ransom for the world is paid, — 
 Yet, silently He all endures ! Around the Cross 
 The soldiers wrangle for his parted vest ; 
 And when His eye in lifted torment gazed 
 O'er Calvary, by crowding myriads trod, 
 How few the faces where compassion dwelt, 
 Or tears were trickling, did that look behold 1 
 The scowl of pharisees, the hate of scribes, 
 And the fierce glance of hypocrites rebuked, 
 Were turn'd upon Him to translate His pangs, 
 And watch the glory of a deep revenge ! 
 While others underneath the cross advanced 
 To read His title with reviling scorn, — 
 " King of the Jews ; thou son of God ! descend, 
 Thyself redeem !" — Two thieves beside Him hung 
 In kindred torture, that a shame might rise 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION* 107 
 
 Beyond the brightness of a God to bear. 
 
 The one did rail, the other's meeken'd heart 
 
 Repented, — sudden faith His soul illumed, 
 
 And, " Lord ! when in Thy kingdom Thou art throned 
 
 Remember me I" — the dying creature said ; 
 
 And lo ! a paradise was his reward. 
 
 Then look'd Messiah where His mother stood, 
 The Virgin Mary, with His own beloved 
 Disciple ; agony could not subdue 
 His tenderness ; compassion fill'd His gaze 
 With heavenly lustre, while in filial love 
 He bent on Mary the divinest look 
 That ever child on weeping parent cast, 
 And murmur'd, — " Woman ! there a Son behold ; 
 Disciple ! there a future Mother see I 
 O Maiden ! purest of all pure, who felt 
 A love maternal, when thy bosom throbb'd 
 Beneath the pangs of thine Almighty Son, 
 The sword of anguish, — then thy soul it pierced. 
 As hoary Simeon in the temple sang. 
 
 Thus in the light, 'tween heaven and earth upraised, 
 Upon the malefactor's cross was nail'd, 
 Was crucified, — the Lord of living worlds : 
 Till came the sixth hour, when the noontide Sun 
 Waned from his throne, and sudden darkness fell 
 O'er all Judea, till creation seem'd 
 By God forsaken ! — whose averted face 
 Bade more than emblematic darkness tell 
 How dreadfully a gloom of death and sin 
 Lay on the Spirit of the Son Divine. 
 Jerusalem, her temples, domes, and towers, 
 Were darken'd ; Lebanon and Tabor shrunk, 
 
108 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And wither'd ; Carmel, Gilead, and the rocks 
 
 By ocean towering, — shadow cover' d all 
 
 With night's terrific semblance ; in the gloom 
 
 The mutter of a multitude uprose 
 
 Like sounds infernal, while their features wore 
 
 A fell expression of unhearthly hue ! — 
 
 Each fearing what his impious tongue denied. 
 
 As ever and anon some coward took 
 
 A shudd'ring glance, where Man's Redeemer hung, 
 
 How the blood quiver'd in his guilty veins, 
 
 Till blasphemy in hollow murmur died ! 
 
 Heart cannot dream, imagination dare 
 By words to picture th' almighty pangs 
 That in His darkness, and distress of soul, 
 Th' Ineffable upon the cross endured ! 
 Who held His spirit as the Prince of Life, 
 To torment subject, till the Curse was paid. 
 The ninth hour came, and then, with loud appeal, 
 In the full wrath of this avenging hour 
 He utter'd— " Why hast Thou forsaken Me ! 
 My God ! My God !" — then came an awful hush, 
 In which they deem'd Elias would descend 
 To save Him ! — but, a second time, a voice 
 More audible, the soul of myriads shook ! 
 "Tis finish'd ! Father ! to Thy hands divine 
 My Spirit I commend,' ' the Saviour cried, 
 And bow'd His head, — and breathed* His soul away ! 
 
 * k%S7rvev<JEv, Luke xxiii, 46. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 109 
 
 But forth of Zion, on a mountain-slope, 
 The garden where the tomb of Jesus lies 
 Behold ; how solemnly, beneath a haze 
 Of moonlight, the sepulchral rock appears ! 
 Before it, with a frequent play, the flash 
 Of steely armour, as the Roman watch 
 Doth move and change in circular array, 
 Is seen ; yet, save the night's uncertain sound, 
 The wizard motion of a rambling breeze 
 That stirs the olive, or the tow'ring palm, 
 And timid murmur of a garden-brook, — 
 The scene is voiceless ; while on high enthroned, 
 Yon firmamental Orbs are fixed and bright, 
 As though in wonder, that their glory falls 
 Upon the grave where buried Godhead lies ! 
 
 Still Calv'ry sleeps ; and nothing dread or wild 
 The holy slumber of the night arrests : 
 The sentries in their panoply are ranged ; 
 Some on the gleaming worlds of air a glance 
 Upturn, and with inaudible delight 
 Adore their beauty ; some, on fairy wings 
 Of fondness, to the haunt of childhood flee, 
 Among the hills of unforgotten Rome ; 
 Or vaguely round yon high-wall'd city view 
 The shadowy watch-towers, on the vineyards raised, 
 Or mountain dim, or Maccabean pile ; 
 While others, haply, to the tomb devote 
 A gaze of sorrow, for the righteous Form 
 They help'd to rivet on the cursed tree ! 
 
110 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 But in that syncope, that solemn trance, 
 When darkness, like a fading thought, decays 
 Amid the glimmer of increasing dawn, 
 Like God in thunder, lo ! an Earthquake came, 
 Till the rock quiver'd as a shaken reed : 
 In rushing glory down the sky advanced 
 A giant Angel ; from the tomb he roll'd 
 The barrier-stone, and on it sat, and blazed. 
 His face was lightning ! and as dazzling snow 
 His vestment glitter' d : — with a clang of arms 
 Prone on the earth the frighted soldiers fell ; 
 And as Eliphaz, when the vision spake, 
 Upon the Formless turn'd a fearful gaze, 
 They look'd — were blasted — like the dead they lay ! 
 And then Emanuel from the grave arose 
 Invisible ; all paramount and pure, 
 The Resurrection and The Life, He stood, 
 Lord of the tomb, victoriously sublime ! 
 Oh, then Captivity was captive led, 
 Satan unthroned, his domination spoil'd, 
 Hell-gates were sunder'd, and from earthy sleep 
 The dead awaking, as they lived and moved, 
 Felt on their brows a beam immortal play ! 
 
 Giirtgt'ff asfmtgtom 
 
 And lo ! upon Mount Olivet appears, 
 
 With hands uplifted in their last farewell, 
 
 The parting Saviour ; on His God-like brow 
 
 A light of immortality begins ; 
 
 Disciples kneeling for His blessing ask, 
 
 And, hark ! 'tis given ; — on their souls He breathes 
 
 The breath of sanctity, of love sublime 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. Ill 
 
 And endless : — then His mighty hand is lift ; 
 But while it blesseth the beloved of earth, 
 The air is waiting to upwaft the God : 
 And see, He riseth ! solemnly and slow, 
 Array'd in brightness, dazzlingly divine : 
 Less'ning and less'ning from the blinded gaze 
 Of His adorers, through the pathless air, 
 In the full lustre of unclouded day, 
 He riseth ! — leaving, like th' Atlantic sun 
 On ocean when he dies, a gorgeous death, 
 A beaming track, magnificently bright, 
 Behind Him ; till a radiant star He seems, 
 And then, is trackless, — in empyrean depth 
 Evanish'd, mix'd with far immensity ! 
 
 But, oh ! if angels at His birth did sing, 
 What paeans now through heaven's wide concave roll, 
 To welcome back the sempiternal Prince, 
 The Son almighty, into glory come, 
 O'er Sin and Death victorious, with a world 
 Recover'd, ransom'd, and for ever saved, 
 To speak his triumph in the state of man. 
 The skies are kindled ! — from the opal walls 
 And battlements of uncreated Light, 
 Lo ! seraphim and cherubim appear, 
 With angel and archangel, — rank on rank, 
 In wing'd array of infinite extent 
 And brightness, — to conduct the Lord of Heaven. — 
 Now lift your heads, ye Everlasting Doors, 
 Receive the King of Glory ! — Hark ! the choir, 
 With jubilant Hosannas shout and sing, 
 " For ever and for ever is thy throne, 
 Thou Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord of Hosts ! 
 By thee of old the Heaven and Earth were framed, 
 
112 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Were founded : but they all shall fade and die, 
 And as a vesture shalt Thou fold them up, 
 And they shall perish ! — still art Thou the same 
 Unchanging, Holy, Holy, Lord of Hosts ! 
 Thy Throne Eternal in the heavens resume, 
 Majestic Saviour, and immortal King." 
 
 A churchyard ! 'tis a homely word, yet full 
 Of feeling : and a sound that o'er the heart 
 Might shed religion. In the gloom of graves 
 I read the curse primeval, and the Voice 
 That wreak' d it seems to whisper by these tombs 
 Of village quiet, that around me lie 
 In green humility : — can Life, the dead 
 Among be musing, nor to me advance 
 The spirit of her thought ? True, Nature wears 
 No rustic mourning here : in golden play 
 Her sprightly grass-flowers wave ; the random breeze 
 Hums in the noon, or with yon froward boughs 
 A murmuring quarrel wakes : and yet, how oft 
 In such a haunt, the insuppressive sigh 
 Is heard, while feelings that may pilot years 
 To glory, spring from out a minute's gloom ! 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 113 
 
 Creation* 
 
 When God to Matter, gave the fiat, — be ! 
 E'en like an echo, Heaven and Earth arose 
 The instant product of creative Will, 
 And Will alone. 
 
 The Earth unshrouded all her beauty now ; 
 The kingly mountain bared his awful brow, 
 Flowers, fruits, and trees felt instantaneous life ; 
 But, hark ! Creation trembles with the strife 
 Of roaring waves in wild commotion hurl'd, — 
 'Tis ocean winding round the rocking world ! 
 
 And next, triumphant o'er the green-clad earth, 
 The universal Sun burst into birth, 
 And dash'd from off his altitude sublime 
 The first dread ray that mark'd commencing time ! 
 Last came the Moon upon the wings of light, 
 And sat in glory on the throne of night, 
 While, young and fresh, a radiant host of Stars 
 Wheel' d round the heavens upon their burning cars ! 
 
 But all was dismal as a world of dead, 
 Till the great Deep her living swarms outspread : 
 Forth from her teeming bosom, sudden came 
 Uncounted monsters, — mighty, without name ; 
 Then, thick as dews upon a twilight green, 
 Earth's living creatures rose upon the scene ! 
 
 Creation's master-piece ! a breath of God, 
 Ray of His glory, quicken'd at His nod, 
 Immortal man came next, divinely grand, 
 
114 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 Glorious and perfect from his Maker's hand ; 
 While softly beautiful as music's close, 
 Angelic woman into being rose ! 
 
 And now, the gorgeous universe was rife, 
 Full, fair, and glowing with created life ; 
 And when Th' Eternal, from his starry height, 
 Beheld the young world basking in His light, 
 And breathing incense of deep gratitude, 
 He bless'd it, — for his mercy made it good ! 
 
 Creation Mtomplttt. 
 
 A melody from leaf and flower, 
 Responding to the breeze's power, 
 That warbled with exulting tone ; 
 A blooming light on all things thrown, 
 On fruit and foliage, grass and lake ; 
 The song that in sweet gushes brake 
 From birds that flew on fearless wing, 
 And taught the very Air to sing ! — 
 The mute delight, majestic trance, 
 Of things that shunn'd no mortal glance, 
 But gazed on man with love or glee, 
 And felt that life was amity ; 
 While, stainless as a pall of light, 
 The cope of heaven hung crystal-bright, 
 And pour'd upon each perfect limb 
 A lustre that apparell'd him ; 
 While ever, as he rais'd his eye, 
 A Seraph, floating through the sky, 
 With gleams of glory track' d his way, 
 Or arch'd his wings in beaming play, — 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 115 
 
 Though all like this composed a scene, 
 
 To testify where God had been, 
 
 A soft disease of soul began 
 
 To pray upon the bliss of man : 
 
 A yearning which no language spoke, 
 
 Within his clouded bosom woke ; 
 
 A loneliness with awful weight 
 
 Lay brooding o'er his desert fate, 
 
 And darken'd with ideal shade 
 
 The countenance that heaven display'd ; 
 
 Till sadly was each primal word 
 
 Upon the placid breezes heard ? — 
 
 " Some other Form, oh ! let there be, 
 
 To live, and love, and roam with me 
 
 This lone but gorgeous wilderness 
 
 Of sights that woo, and sounds that bless ! 
 
 Some Spirit whom my own can meet ; 
 
 Some hand to hold, some eye to meet ; 
 
 Creator ! if thy wisdom can, 
 
 Oh, let there be a mate for man !" 
 
 Creation of SK&omatu 
 
 More lovely than a vision brought 
 From out the fairy realms of Thought ; 
 Serene and silent, with a grace 
 Divinely breath'd o'er form and face, 
 In full array of love and light, 
 That dazzled his adoring sight, 
 By soul and sense to be revered, — 
 The Angel of the world appear'd. 
 Then, what a starry welcome rang ! 
 Each orb an hymeneal sang, 
 
 i 2 
 
1 16 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 While shapes unutterably bright 
 
 From heaven gazed down with new delight, 
 
 When first the ground a woman trod, 
 
 Just moulded by the hand of God ] — 
 
 Around her breast, in wreathy play, 
 
 Her locks like braided sunbeams lay ; 
 
 And limbs unveil' d a radiance cast 
 
 Of purity, as on she pass'd 
 
 Amid the bloom and balm of flowers, 
 
 That clustered round elysian bowers ; 
 
 The bird and breeze together blent 
 
 Their notes of mildest languishment ; 
 
 The sun grew brighter as he shed 
 
 His glory round her living head, — 
 
 As if no orb of space were free 
 
 From one fine spell of sympathy, 
 
 When Woman rose upon the scene, 
 
 Creation's fair and faultless Queen ! 
 
 Bnta in Creation atrarttr* 
 
 God in creation is a glorious thought, 
 Making the Matter that we touch, or see, 
 Like mute religion on our senses act ; 
 And to all forms and faculties of Things 
 A power imparting, more than mere delight. 
 'Tis thus in nature God alone we hail 
 The ground of Being, and the grace of all 
 That in this Temple of creation stands. 
 No dead Abstraction, no almighty Law 
 To faith suffices ; — Life itself is God 
 In Will and Wisdom actively employed : 
 It spurns the idol, Second Cause, and springs 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 1 17 
 
 On to the Infinite and only First ! 
 Creation a Theocracy becomes 
 When thus perceived, intelligibly ruled 
 By The Great King, — whose sceptre sways 
 From the brief dew-drop, to the blazing world. 
 And, blest is he, who thus through nature walks 
 Companioned by its Author ! — Scenes and sounds 
 Are unto him as tokens of His power, 
 Perpetual Teachers of His present love. — 
 Feeling the Work, but Faith the Worker, loves 
 Devoutly : and the pomp of heaven's display, 
 The floor of ocean, the green face of earth, 
 And each variety that objects wear, — 
 With more than language to his mind appeals, 
 Proclaiming Him, — whose Power no sabbath keeps, 
 But quickens nature with incessant Laws. 
 And how this acts where'er we walk, or muse ! 
 Freshens the grass, and beautifies the flower, 
 Gives to the canopy of heaven a grace 
 Beyond the symmetry of clouds to hang ; 
 And, so with reverence the Soul attunes,— 
 The very air-song seems to warble truths 
 Celestial ; syllables by angels toned, 
 Haunt the pure breathings of the balmy wind 
 Around us heard : and, when along the shore 
 Haply we roam in some reflective dream, 
 When life hangs heavy on the grief -worn heart, 
 The billows make a litany of sound, 
 Which half interpret what sad thought suggests. 
 
 God in creation ! — 'tis a creed sublime 
 Which makes all nature solemn, and the mind 
 With such desire for veneration fills, 
 The universe one vast Shechinah grows 
 
118 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 Whence Piety, creation's priestess, draws 
 Prophetic glimpses, as the tribes of old 
 Drew from the breast-plate where the Urim shined, 
 Responsive guidance and unerring law. 
 
 Hgnttt of ^novation at the IStrtfi of 
 €hvi$U 
 
 " Thou Lord of Lords, and Light of Light ! 
 Who, with empyreal glory bright, 
 Art seated on th' Eternal Throne 
 Invisibly, the vast Alone ; 
 Ten thousand worlds around Thee blaze, 
 Ten thousand harps repeat Thy praise, 
 Yet hymn, nor harp, nor song divine, 
 Nor myriad orbs created Thine, 
 This measureless display of love 
 To earth below, and heaven above, 
 By their commingled power could tell, — 
 That ends the Curse, and conquers Hell ! 
 For lo ! the manger where He lies, 
 A world-redeeming Sacrifice : 
 Peace on earth ! to Man good will ! 
 Let the skies our anthem fill. 
 
 " Hail, Virgin-born ! transcendant Child 
 Of mortal semblance, undefiled, 
 By ages vision'd, doom'd to be 
 The Star of Immortality ; 
 Hail ! Prince of Peace, and Lord of Light ! 
 Around thy path the world is bright ; 
 Where'er Thou tread'st an Eden blooms, 
 And Earth forgets her myriad tombs. 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 119 
 
 Thy voice is heard — and anguish dies, 
 The dead awake and greet the skies ; 
 Lo ! blindness melts in healing rays, 
 And mute lips ope in hymns of praise ; 
 The famish'd on Thy bounty feed, 
 While myriads at Thy summons speed, 
 To live upon Salvation's strain, 
 And see the lost restored again. — 
 Peace on earth ! to Man good will ! 
 Let the skies our anthem fill. 
 
 " Awake, awake, thou ransomed Earth ! 
 And, smiling with a second birth, 
 In loveliness awake and shine, 
 Thy King is come, Salvation thine. — 
 The winds are rock'd in holy rest, 
 The waves asleep on ocean's breast, 
 And beautiful the boundless calm 
 O'er nature spread, like midnight balm, — 
 For lo ! the manger where He lies, 
 A world-redeeming Sacrifice ; 
 The Promised, since the world began, 
 To live and die for guilty man. 
 
 " Again, again, the anthem swell, 
 For Heaven shall burst the gates of Hell ! 
 A vision of uncounted Years, 
 That travel on through toil and tears, 
 Is all unroll'd in wild extent, 
 Like ocean's heaving element : — 
 But soon the demon shade hath pass'd, 
 Messiah rules in light at last. 
 The sunbeams of a sabbath-day 
 Around adoring myriads play ; 
 
120 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 Prom north to south, from east to west, 
 All pangs are hush'd, all hearts at rest ! 
 Pacific homes, Atlantic isles, 
 "Where earth extends, or ocean smiles ; 
 The rudest spot which man can own, 
 Shall hail Messiah on His throne ; 
 And human Life, by land and sea, 
 One altar build, God ! to Thee ; 
 While men and angels round it throng 
 To chant the sempiternal song, — 
 Peace on earth ! to Man good will ! 
 Let the skies our anthem fill." 
 
 TEiit Ureal of €hvi$t fcegontr the Actual 
 of ®vu 
 
 But, though we image on our mental glass, 
 How beautiful the young Emanuel's form 
 And features, must in stainless truth have been, — 
 Yet is there myst'ry, palled with awe profound, 
 In the felt knowledge, that no eye hath looked 
 On that, which outwardly with answ'ring truth 
 The perfect Jesus of the mind portrays. 
 Though miracles conceptive Art achieves ; 
 And grace and loveliness the witching hand 
 Of Genius out of senseless marble cites, 
 Till sculptured beauty, to our wonder seems 
 Like inspiration into stone transfused, — 
 Yet, never Art, though raised and all-refined, 
 Can shadow forth, what yet the Soul perceives, — 
 A Saviour's beauty, in our flesh enshrined ! 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 121 
 
 And why ? — because the Virgin-born revealed 
 Finite with Infinite, in one conjoined, 
 TV Impersonation of both God and Man ! — 
 That miracle, where all the Attributes were crowned, 
 And the vast Trinity their secret grace 
 At once concentered. Therefore, mortal eyes 
 Can ne'er with such a saintly lustre shine, 
 As did the eyes of Jesus ; nor can cheek 
 Of manhood, such celestial meaning wear 
 As on the visage of th' Incarnate sat, 
 When for our sin this fallen world He trod 
 In wo, and weakness. Thus, no type we have, 
 No model out of mind or mem'ry drawn, 
 Wherewith to fashion into form, or fact, 
 That awful Beauty which devotion grants 
 To Christ imagined. And, how wise, the Great 
 Director of our spirit's creed hath shown 
 Himself, in leaving thus a want sublime ! 
 For could we, in the sculptor's breathing stone, 
 Or, in the painter's miracle of hues, 
 Or, in some poet's paradise of men, — 
 The very features of imagin'd Christ, 
 Faithful and fair, as once on earth they shone, 
 Indeed have witnessed, — Reverence, Awe, and Fear, 
 And solemn Faith, by radiant hope illumed, 
 Perchance had been enfeebled ; Sense alone 
 A false religion would have mainly felt ; 
 And Sentiment, in colour, shape, or stone, 
 In form adored, but yet in spirit spurned 
 The Crucified, whose meritorious cross 
 Our trembling conscience can alone attract. 
 
122 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 Zht Sabtottr tutfrro in an hour of 
 
 He stood before her, but she could not see 
 That Holy One : and oh, how often thus, 
 The sad experience of our stricken mind, 
 Like Mary, cannot view the Lord it loves, 
 Though in the mercy of our ev'ry breath, 
 And in the promise of His perfect Word, 
 In prayer, and praise, and sacramental life, — 
 Together with that unbreathed thought which tells 
 Home to the heart acceptance in the skies, 
 When the free spirit of assuring grace 
 Glows in our bosom, — though in each and all 
 Christ to the conscience doth Himself present, 
 Yet, Mary-like, the soul mistakes Him still ! 
 Some carnal shade, or clouding sin prevents, 
 And the high faculty of seeing Faith 
 Grows undiscerning ; or, in Nature's eye 
 The tear of sorrow doth so thickly stand 
 That through it, God himself grows unbeheld 
 A moment ; — nothing but dark wo is seen ! 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 123 
 
 That primal state ! — evil not prevail'd, 
 A heaven in miniature this world had been. 
 Her paradise ! — I see it as it rose : 
 A starry jubilee still rang ; the wings 
 Angelical of many a hovering shape 
 Still hung, and glitter'd in the virgin air, 
 That seem'd one atmosphere of melody. 
 As yet, no cloud was born ; the sunshine fed 
 The flowers with beauty, till the twilight dew ; 
 Birds exquisite, with dazzling plumage clad, 
 And butterflies, bright creatures, rich as they, 
 Like showers of blossoms from a tree upwhirl'd. 
 On starry wing hung trembling in the air. — 
 More glorious yet, — from Eden's mount I gazed, 
 The em'rald bloom of whose untrodden hills 
 Lay jewelTd o'er with everlasting flowers, 
 And saw two creatures of celestial mould. 
 Till these were made, companionless the World 
 Appear 'd, and as a heart suspended lay, 
 All throbbing for the vision that should dawn. 
 And they were fashion'd, — breathing shapes of life, 
 With radiant limbs, whose robes were innocence, 
 And eyes that spoke the birth-place of the soul. 
 Again the star-chimed hallelujahs rang 
 With wonder, while a gush of rapture thrill' d 
 Creation to her centre, till each breeze 
 Was gladness murmur'd out of Nature's heart ! 
 
 And thus they rose, — the new-created pair ; 
 In loveliness complete, with forms of light, 
 Reflecting glory wheresoe'er they moved. 
 
124 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 The one did mark the blue Immensity 
 
 Above with a majestic gaze, and eyed 
 
 The Sun, as though he felt himself akin 
 
 To his pre-eminence and kingly state : 
 
 The other in her fair perfection seemed 
 
 A shape apparelled by her own pure smiles^ 
 
 Surpassing beauty, and subduing love ; 
 
 While ever as she moved, the blush of flowers 
 
 O'erveiled her, and a breezy host of sounds, 
 
 Like magic birds embosomed in the air, 
 
 In sweet attendance carolled round her path ; 
 
 Never hath young romance, or shaping dream. 
 
 Divined the vision which in Eden lay 
 
 Each sound was music, and each sight a Heaven ! 
 
 JFall of Mm, 
 
 When Man, as monarch of the globe, was placed 
 Where lavish Eden waved and smiled, sublime 
 He stood, but to his Maker homage due 
 By test of one supreme command was tried: — 
 " Of every tree which in the garden grows 
 All freely eat, save that, wherein of Good 
 And Evil the forbidden knowledge lies ; 
 Whereof the day thou eatest, — thou shalt die !" 
 A Tempter came, the interdicted fruit 
 Man dared to eat, and from his high estate 
 Of glory, into disobedience fell. 
 
 . . . . When the earth-born sank 
 From Heaven's embrace into the arms of Hell 
 Henceforward to enclasp a world of souls, 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 125 
 
 Then, what a withering the elements 
 Of life and heing felt ! — corruption pass'd 
 Through human into nat'ral things ; the earth 
 Was barren-struck ; the soft enchanting Sun 
 A thund'ry visor wore ; the rivers howl'd ; 
 And deep the blast of desolation blew : 
 A curse came down, and Eden was no more ! 
 
 Creation shuddered ! for mankind were lost, 
 Till God the seal of mystery should break 
 In him foredoom'd to bruise the Serpent's head, 
 And re-awake the hymns of Paradise. 
 Meanwhile, the Evil triumph'd o'er the Good ; 
 And, exiled from their Eden home, begirt 
 And guarded with an ever-living flame, 
 Two fallen creatures on the race of life 
 In sorrowing loneliness appear'd. — Time lash'd 
 His years along ; but evil with them roll'd, 
 Till death in fratricidal fury came ! — 
 How life hung shudd'ring o'er his glazing eye 
 When pale, and dash'd with many a bloody hue, 
 The prostrate Abel in the gasp of death 
 Lay stretch'd ; while Cain, a maniac child of hell, 
 With hues of anguish working on his face, 
 Stood by, and knew himself th' embodied curse ! 
 
126 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 Jmmortalttg of tfie &ottl* 
 
 In the wild mystery of earth and air, 
 Sun, moon, and star, and the unslumb'ring sea, 
 There is a meaning and a power commixt 
 For thought, and for undying fancy blent ; 
 And by thy panting for the unattain'd 
 On earth ; by longings which no language speak ; 
 By the dread torture of o'ermastering doubt ; 
 By thirst for beauty, such as eye ne'er saw, 
 And yet is ever mirror'd on the mind ; 
 By Love, in her rich heavenliness array'd ; 
 By Guilt and Conscience, — that terrific pair 
 Who make the dead to mutter from their tombs, 
 Or colour nature with the hues of hell ; 
 By all the fire and frenzy of the soul, 
 And Revelation's everlasting voice, — Oh, Man! 
 Thou art immortal as thy Maker is. 
 
 And shall the Soul, the fount of reason, die, 
 When dust and darkness round its temple lie ? 
 Did God breathe in it no ethereal fire, 
 Burning and quenchless, though the breath expire ? 
 Then why were god-like aspirations given, 
 That, scorning earth, so often frame a heaven ? 
 Why does the ever-craving wish arise 
 For better, nobler, than the world supplies ? 
 Ah, no ! it cannot be that men were sent 
 To moulder in ethereal discontent, — • 
 That Soul was fashion'd for betrayful trust, 
 To think like God, and perish like the dust ! 
 
 If death for ever doom us to the clod, 
 And earth-born pleasure be our only god, 
 
RELIGION AND POETRY. 127 
 
 Remorseless time shall bury all we love, 
 Nor leave one hope to re -unite above ; 
 No more the voice of Friendship shall beguile, 
 No more the mother on her infant smile ; 
 But vanishing, like rain upon the deep, 
 Nature shall perish in eternal sleep ! 
 
 Then, melt, ye horrors ! which the grave begets, 
 And turn to glory, by the spell of faith 
 Transformed, for Christ hath overcome the tomb. — 
 What though 'tis awful, when the pulse of life 
 Is bounding, and the blood seems liquid joy, 
 To look corruption in its ghastly face, — 
 The mind is man ! no sepulchre for souls 
 Can dust and darkness frame ; like God, apart, 
 In calm eternity they act and think : 
 The shroud, the hearse, the life-alarming knell, 
 The grave's cold silence, and the imagin'd friends 
 Whose dreams will hover round our chill dec — 
 Do haunt our living dust, and give to Death 
 A sting that dwells not in his own dark power. 
 We die in body, but we live in soul, 
 When flesh and spirit sunder ; — then our chains 
 Are riven, and celestial freedom dawns ! 
 The fetter' d eagle whom a narrow cage 
 Imprison'd, where so oft his haughty wings 
 In wild unrest have beat its hated walls 
 With blood-stain'd plumage, while his eye-balls glared 
 Proudly along the blue and boundless sky 
 Above him, — free and fetterless at last, 
 On plumes of ecstasy can soar away, 
 And mount, and mingle with the heaven he loves I 
 
128 RELIGION AND POETRY. 
 
 What a theme ! 
 God in Flesh, to save that Flesh, array'd, 
 The Infinite within the finite lodged, 
 The Form Almighty in the frame all weak, 
 The dread Creator on the Cross unveiTd 
 In bleeding glory ! 
 
 For Christ was God in personating flesh 
 Arrayed, an Infinite in Finite robed. 
 
 Lo I Christ hath God with perfect man conjoin'd 
 By union, so unutterably close, 
 Divine, unfathom'd, and for ever firm, 
 That Sun shall wither, all the Stars wax pale, 
 Mountains depart, the Heavens to air dissolve, 
 And the dread Universe itself shall die, 
 But this Conjunction shall unweaken'd stand, 
 When Time is dead, and Nature drops extinct 
 Into her grave eternal. 
 
 $ntoer of JFattiu 
 
 For what is Faith, but God by man applied 
 Above all Reason, Sense, and Earth, and Sin, 
 In things heroic, heavenly, or sublime ? 
 From Abel's worship, e'en to Samuel's word 
 Faith was the Magic that all wonders did ; 
 Whether the pausing Sun its cry obey'd, 
 Or, the Moon hearken' d to its holy spell, 
 Or, Red Sea parted, by its kingly voice 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 129 
 
 Cloven, and balanced like a billowy wall 
 On either side, for Heaven's anointed Host ; 
 Scatheless the Fire, or mute the Lion's mouth 
 Became, — whatever in the kingdoms three, 
 Of Nature, Providence, or Grace, was done, — 
 Faith was the Doer, at whose potent cry 
 Empires and Thrones, and alien Armies fell, 
 Weakness grew strength, the mortal, half divine ! 
 
 And what, without it, were this fallen world 
 But Pandemonium with a purer name ? 
 Clothed in hell-fire, come any Shape of sin, 
 Take any form, Satanic guile ! but this, 
 The Infidel ! — the fellest blight that falls. 
 No foul elixir of a fiendish Lie 
 So baneful as the Cup, which Unbelief 
 Drains to the bottom with delirious joy ! 
 Oh ! 'tis a wasteful, with'ring, black disease 
 That to the vitals of all virtuous thought, 
 And wisdom, sends a paralyzing shock : 
 The very life-blood of all Goodness dies 
 Before it ; like a heart-fiend, lo ! it rules ; 
 All Forms of excellence and feeling die, 
 The Beautiful departs, the Brave expires ; 
 Hope hath no heaven, and Fear no hell to face ; 
 All high Relations are at once relax'd 
 With God and duty ; Self and Passion rage 
 In the hot furnace of a seething heart 
 Resistless ; Men are now but Fiends, with flesh 
 Apparell'd ; Lust becomes a brutal flame, 
 And all those moral Harmonies, which make 
 Nature a noble, Man a godlike thing, — 
 Have perish'd ! Life is then a form of death ; 
 The Heart's insolvent ; Mind a bankrupt too ; 
 
130 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Jehovah in eclipse Himself retires ; 
 Till thus, all ghastliness the Earth appears, 
 Orphan'd of God, — a suicidal World ! 
 
 And whatsoe'er our rank, degree, or clime, 
 Giant or dwarf in Morals, or in Mind, — 
 ? Tis Faith alone true character can build. 
 Not as we learn, but as we live, we are ; 
 And as we live, with things divinely pure, 
 These in their depths, we rightly understand. 
 For faith is rooted in Eternal Life ; 
 And all fair promise in the Tree of man 
 Blossoms from thence, or dies a mocking show 
 Fruitless, and fragile. Give us Faith, God ! 
 Faith in Thyself, and that will Thee impart ; 
 Chaste will life be, and calm its closing hours, 
 To them who have Thee, all their hearts and souls 
 Possessing ever, and by them possess'd. 
 In Thee and hy Thee, — thus they live and love, 
 They think, they suffer, what they act, achieve ; 
 Till, io ! in all things are Thy Charms adored ; 
 Minutest objects Thine Hand-writing prove, 
 And life becomes one grateful Hymn to Thee ! 
 So, when That trump, whose archangelic peal 
 Shall sound the tocsin of Creation's doom, 
 Thunders its challenge, — Faith shall then arise, 
 And, firm as Jesus on His Judgment throne, 
 Look on thy face, Eternity, and smile ! 
 
 Knowledge brings power, but Faith beyond it works, 
 Forming our Manhood to its finest mould 
 And stature ; fetches out of heaven a means 
 Of mercy, where alone true wisdom grows ; 
 Till, through the heart's regenerated depths 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 131 
 
 The mind it reach, and make it holy too. — 
 
 To catalogue creation ; or the tides 
 
 To balance ; all the stars to read ; or scan 
 
 The secrecies unveiling Science loves ; 
 
 This may enlarge, but not ennoble Man, 
 
 If man be measured by his noblest scale, — 
 
 By will, by conscience, and by perfect love ; 
 
 Love that is heavenly, and by God begun ; 
 
 For thus, philosophy divine asserts, 
 
 We find the lovely, and that thing we love ; 
 
 But what God loves, He thereby lovely makes. 
 
 Christian tymtt. 
 
 Yet happy, far beyond heroic state, 
 Or kingly triumph, is a Christian life 
 Securely founded on the rock of faith ! 
 All the wide glories which the eye commands, 
 Or air and ocean, earth and heaven supply, 
 Of Him report, whose potency begat 
 Them all ! — the ground is hallow'd, for 'twas trod 
 By Christ ; all earth is radiant with a sense 
 Ethereal, born of His remember' d sway : 
 Nor pang, nor trial, torture, grief, nor care, 
 Communion high and mystic interchange 
 With Him destroys ; in solitude alike, 
 As in the roaring capital, the Mind 
 Can picture into holy form again 
 That living Saviour whom the Past perceived, 
 In light and shade of everlasting truth, 
 Without an atom of defiling self 
 To mar perfection with a stain of man ! 
 
 k 2 
 
132 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Bid colour to enchant the blind ; or sounds 
 Of melody through deafen'd ears to glide ; 
 Or dream of sensibility in stones ; 
 But think not, World-slaves ! to imagine all 
 That boundless longing for immortal life, 
 That more than rapture of a heart redeem'd, 
 A Christian nurseth ; 'tis the heaven-wove charm 
 Which Devils hate, but cannot yet destroy ; 
 Divinity is there ! Two thousand years 
 In glorious witness gather round mankind, 
 Attesting it divine ; to wisdom, wealth ; 
 To ignorance, beyond what sages teach ; 
 And giving poverty that wealth of heaven, — 
 The inward quiet of a grateful mind. 
 
 On him, whom Hope and Faith exalt, what dreams, 
 What joys, and what diviner moods attend ; — 
 He walks the world, as Jesus walk'd the waves, 
 Triumphant and secure ! In ev'ry scene 
 A love for Thee prevails ; Creation breathes 
 Of heaven. The vaulted sky bedropt with stars ; 
 The Ocean roll'd to rest, or sending up 
 Tremendous paeans to her mighty Lord ; 
 The field and flower, whate'er in noontide walk 
 Is sweet, — allure his wondering heart to Him, 
 The source and spirit of the moving Whole ; 
 All order, beauty, and perfection here, 
 Form but the shadows of more perfect Bliss 
 Cast from a purer world ; he dwells in Thee, 
 And Thou in him ; Heaven seems his native home, 
 And Immortality shall crown him there. 
 
 The holy yet another triumph crow T ns. 
 In woes, that blacken o'er the brightest lot, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 133 
 
 How loftily above the bad they tower ! 
 
 While those whom faith, nor resignation calms 
 
 Become a ruin, haunted by despair ; 
 
 Save, when gay thoughts from gloomy moments spring, 
 
 As bright-leaved flowers, that in the sunshine bloom, 
 
 Have out of damp and earthly darkness sprung. — 
 
 And such the life that Virtue seems to boast ; 
 With gladness lighted, or by sorrow dimm'd, 
 Still wearing a contented smile, to meet 
 The great Approver : like a placid stream 
 That in its meadowy pilgrimage can wear 
 The aspect of a pure and gentle thing, 
 Alike where sun-beams laugh, or shadows frown. 
 And when the summons to a future state 
 Is heard, those hell-black shapings of despair, 
 Those clouds of horror which the wicked dread, 
 Melt in the brightness of a better world : 
 Thus, arm'd with faith in Him who vanquish'd death, 
 A wafting to the home, a union there 
 With angels bright, and beatific souls 
 Who erst have battled in the war of life, — 
 Death comes, a Herald from the waiting skies. 
 
134 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Duty, — dread and awful Thing ! 
 That upward, 'mong the Attributes eterne 
 Reaches afar, responsibly august, 
 And downward to the Spirit's wailing hell 
 Extendeth : — that which holds our being fast ; 
 And binds together with uniting band 
 All facts and feelings, faculties, desires, 
 All that we suffer, fancy, dream or do, 
 From Life's first pulse of reason, to the last : 
 For judgment Duty all in one contracts ; 
 To finite deed gives infinite result, 
 Calls the dead Past to resurrection-life, 
 Harangues the guilty, — and that hour predicts 
 When Mem'ry into one concenter'd Whole 
 Gone life shall grasp, and startled Conscience hear 
 How the Last Trumpet can our thoughts restore. 
 
 fttillnttttal ©lorg* 
 
 Then shall indeed Redemption's work respond, 
 
 And reach to all that revelation sings 
 
 In forms of matter, or in facts of mind 
 
 Yet to evolve. Creation's groan shall cease, 
 
 And life, and sense, and earth, and air, and sky 
 
 A coronation of The Christ reflect, 
 
 By the felt magic of His reign inspired 
 
 And hallow'd. Glory in the sun will beam 
 
 With seven-fold brilliance ; and the placid moon 
 
 Glide through the mazes of the moving stars 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 135 
 
 With lustre deeper than rapt David saw, 
 
 By midnight harping ; not a fruit, or flower 
 
 That bares its beauty to the prying breeze, 
 
 That will not, in th' o'erflowing love and light 
 
 Of earth's millennial consummation share. 
 
 For dust itself with Deity combined 
 
 In Christ's own Person, doth Redemption prove ; 
 
 And when He reigns, shall more than Adam saw 
 
 Of brightness, bloom, and blessedness reveal, 
 
 But, oh ! if Matter thus resplendent be, 
 
 Who can pourtray inaugurated Mind 
 
 By Christ install'd, beneath His sceptre rank'd 
 
 Vicegerent, — under Him perchance to rule. 
 
 Face to face will Finite meet 
 The Infinite ; nor means nor modes be used, 
 Nor Sacraments, nor teaching Symbols cast 
 'Tween God and Soul their intervening shade. 
 Jehovah's Self will man's religion be, 
 His Attributes our only Temple prove : 
 For, deep within their unimagined blaze 
 Enshrined, for ever will our Spirit dwell ; 
 And All in All direct Jehovah reign 
 Soul of our Souls, ineffably intense ; 
 Till God in mind the mind of God begets, 
 And life Eternal be, — Himself enjoy'd. 
 
136 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 ©lorng jrf Ittfaelatum* 
 
 Thus who can laurel with befitting wreath 
 That Volume wondrous, whose unerring page 
 To sinful nature an instruction yields 
 Which meets all want, all weakness, and all wo, 
 However varied, and however vast ? — 
 Ye Oracles ! your praises who can sing ? 
 Your glories, who save God can understand, 
 Who is at once their origin and end ? 
 Nothing that Minds, Imaginations, Hearts, 
 Conscience, or Creed, or Character require, — 
 But ye supply them, with exhaustless store : 
 Time and eternity your teachings move, 
 Sinner and saint your living voice instructs, 
 While Nature, Providence, and Grace derive 
 Their true significance from you alone, — 
 Instinct with poetry Creation grows 
 To song and sentiment, we oft perceive ; 
 And, strains of intellectual music seem 
 Heard by the mind, intelligibly deep, 
 From order, beauty, and arrangement born : 
 But, in The Bible, reason's self is taught 
 How all Creation was a forfeit once, 
 And on the road to everlasting gloom ; 
 When He, the Second Head of our soiled race, 
 By purchase grasped it, took the bond away, 
 And kept it standing, like a mute Discourse, 
 Or mystic Parable, Himself to preach. 
 Typing the truths His written word reveals. — 
 Such is our earth : by Scripture's key unlocked, 
 Creation then a mighty sermon proves ; 
 And all its beauties, into Christ baptized, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 137 
 
 Symbols of more than Science dreams, or dares, 
 
 Become ; and back upon His Throne reflect 
 
 The lustre His presiding grace supplies. — 
 
 But higher still, by Scripture led, we mount 
 
 And learn, how Matter prophesies, through all its forms, 
 
 Of scenes beyond our poetry to praise 
 
 Or utter, — when the clock of Time shall strike 
 
 The hour predestined, for the King to reign. 
 
 Thus may we feel, amid all scenes and sounds, 
 
 Our spared creation, though in sin, retains 
 
 Nature as one presentiment of Powers 
 
 Yet to evolve, in that millennial day 
 
 When Earth, as perfect as her Lord is pure, 
 
 Shall bloom, and brighten in her Maker's smile. 
 
 But, far beyond this inorganic world 
 Of matter, doth the light of Scripture throw 
 Its guiding beam : there, Providence becomes 
 From fate and blind confusion, chance and wo, 
 Nobly discharged ; and on our falling tears 
 The iris of The Covenant reflects 
 Its beauty ; Hope beyond the present soars, 
 The cross of nature, with the crown of grace 
 Connects ; and into fellowship with Christ 
 As suffring, Faith her own affliction brings. . 
 
133 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Prayer from Eternity true riches gains 
 To make the poverty of Time, less poor ; 
 Heaven down to earth, and earth to heav'n it brings, 
 While dust with Deity by faith confers : 
 And, mark, through nature, providence, and grace, 
 What miracles hath mighty prayer achieved ! 
 The kingly Elements their thrones have left 
 To bow before it, and obey (though vast) 
 Its high dominion : Flood, and Sea, and Fire, 
 Have soften'd their severity of force, 
 Suspended by it ; Sun and Moon have paused 
 In wonder, on their cars of wheeling flame, — 
 As if arrested by the Almighty's touch ; 
 And the wild brute, which not a world could tame, 
 Meek as a lamb, before a saint has crouch'd 
 Harmless and mute, when it beheld him pray ! 
 Heroes in heart, in principle, or power, 
 Hath prayer alone with high perfection crown' d : 
 While saints and martyrs, and the men of old, 
 Giants in grace, who grappled with the Fiend 
 Or, threw him bravely in the spirit's fight, 
 By valiant prayer their elevation reach'd. 
 And earth's Emmanuel, in His day of flesh 
 Outwatch'd the midnight with His mountain-prayer ; 
 And, from the Infinite of Godhead drew 
 His faith intense, his fortitude divine : 
 And all, who love the cause eternal, have 
 Like their pure Master, fought the world with prayer, 
 And strike for God, by God himself inspired ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 139 
 
 ®mtum, a l&wt of the Uttottmtv'ft 
 
 When this fair World to conscious being rose 
 With beauty eloquently garb'd, and bright, 
 Why were her forms, her symmetries, and scenes, 
 Touch'd by a spell that can evisage Mind, 
 And, like a- glassing metaphor, — reflect 
 An image dim, but exquisitely deep, 
 Of much our mental universe combines ? 
 The forms of nature with the facts of grace, 
 Why do they so responsively apply, 
 That each with each, in harmony coheres ? 
 Or, in that region where the feelings dwell, 
 Why does our spirit from the sounds and scenes 
 Of Nature, catch a mute intelligence, 
 As if with consciousness of Man and Mind 
 The speaking magic of her aspect smil'd ? 
 The festive jubilee of summer winds, 
 The soothing descant of a far-off sea, 
 The Storm's loud wail, the Ocean's sullen roar, 
 Noon with its sun and midnight with the stars, 
 The Spring, with her sweet family of flowers, 
 Or widow'd Autumn, with consumptive leaves, 
 And pale-faced Winter with a frozen vest, — 
 Why do they all, intelligibly bring 
 Hints to the heart, and harmonies for mind ? 
 Is this reply, which all creation gives 
 To mortal feeling, but the fancy's mock ? 
 Or, is not earth a Parable Divine ? 
 And poets, when their witching eyes discern 
 Meanings that flow from matter into mind, 
 
140 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Priests of The Spirit, in creation are ; 
 For Thou, O Christ ! art universal King : 
 By Thee, and for Thee, were not all things made ? 
 So, when the Spirit on the mass new-born 
 Of nature brooded, then, with mystic Seal, 
 All matter, for Thy Glory, was impress'd 
 With types peculiar, with expressive laws ; 
 Thy church to show, Thy symbols to expound, 
 And thus preach gospel to our very sense ; 
 Till Nature acts the orator for Grace, 
 And all creation's one gigantic type 
 For Christ, and Christianity arranged. 
 
 Gomttpftm fcetfo^tt tilt iWtnlr an& 
 Mature* 
 
 And, what an income to poetic mind 
 The daedal earth by sight and sound affords ! 
 Oh, wise beyond the learning of all books, 
 And learn'd beyond the learning of the Schools, 
 And rich beyond creation's gold to give, — 
 The man, who thus by deep communion binds 
 His heart with Nature's, in maternal bonds : 
 A great proprietor of glories he ! 
 Monarch of each mild happiness at home, 
 And with the universe a sharer deep 
 In all the march and movements of a life 
 Without embodied, or within inspired. 
 
 And what, though Age, with shaded brow and cheek, 
 And eye made solemn by a sense of death, 
 No longer in the wild and wild' ring glow 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 141 
 
 Of new-born passion, looks on nature's scene, 
 
 As once impassioned Boyhood loved to do ; 
 
 Gay as the sunbeam gambling at his side, 
 
 And headlong as the breeze that round him play'd ; 
 
 Still, not the less, may life's autumnal dreams 
 
 Be fed with beauty ; and, not seldom find 
 
 Meanings that melt, and mysteries that thrill 
 
 Those lesson'd hearts which nature's lovers keep. — 
 
 By earth and ocean, sky and breathing air, 
 
 The ever ancient and the ever young 
 
 Creation, with expansive charms appeals 
 
 To youth and age, intelligibly loud ; 
 
 And, by unceasing laws a symbol gives 
 
 To fleeting life, of permanence and power ; 
 
 Till haply, in the hush of higher moods, 
 
 We mount aloft on meditation's wing 
 
 To Him, The Changeless ! — in whose eye alone 
 
 Both past and present make perpetual now, 
 
 And all the ages of unreckon'd time 
 
 Are but the pulses of Eternity. 
 
 Where rise the Hills, and rolls the chanting Deep 
 Her minstrelsy of many-voiced waves, 
 There is the poet's haunt, and home of song, 
 If true to nature, his responsive heart 
 Replies in music to those myriad calls 
 Which still accost him from her shrines august, 
 Or lone, or lovely ; then the lyre of thought 
 Is thrilled with magic, and each pensive chord 
 Vibrates at once in poetry and praise. — 
 For aye between the mountains and the mind, 
 Infinite Soul and God's unfathomed Sea 
 A poetry of pure attraction dwells. 
 
142 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And ye have felt it, who the wizard lyre 
 
 Have struck, by intellectual beauty charmed, 
 
 In answer to a living harp of song 
 
 Within you, — Poets ! that our mystic world 
 
 Alone interpret, and to thought create 
 
 A richer Paradise than Adam saw, 
 
 Ere ruin fell on Eden's forfeit bowers. — 
 
 Is it that mountains are our kindred types, 
 
 And, in their soaring majesty of shape 
 
 Between two worlds thus gloriously uplift, 
 
 Do teach us heavenward how the heart ascends 
 
 When man with his high Maker most communes ? 
 
 Does Ocean, in her measureless profound, 
 
 Deep within deep interminably sunk, 
 
 E'en like an echo of the soul's abyss 
 
 With dread Eternity appear instinct ? — 
 
 We cannot tell, enough for truth to feel 
 
 That Man and nature are responsive works 
 
 Shaped into concord by a hand Divine. 
 
 Wxt Sbgmjiatiifi of Saturn 
 
 Thy beauty, Nature, hath a chorded spell 
 Responsively for tones of feeling tuned, 
 In moments deep of myst'ry, and of mind. 
 How often, when the human World looks harsh 
 And loveless ; when no eye reflects the ray 
 Of sorrow, beaming mildly from our own ; 
 When, darkly girdled by a zone of thought, 
 Apart, and voiceless in our souls we move ; — 
 Thy scenes of calm, thy solitudes profound, 
 Like mute Interpretations, seem to wear 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 143 
 
 An outward mirror of the mood we feel ! 
 
 Thy very silence to the soul appeals 
 
 With more than language ; thy maternal hush 
 
 Upon the heart's strange fever falls, like dew. 
 
 Sublime in thy sublimities we grow, 
 
 And lose the littleness of earthly thoughts 
 
 Amid the vastness of thy speaking Forms 
 
 Of grace, and Grandeurs which Thy throne surround. 
 
 Soon may the mind, by such entrancement, soar ; 
 
 From the rank vileness of this vexing world 
 
 Awhile set free, it shares a nobler life, — 
 
 Holding dim converse with all Shapes and Hues 
 
 Which body forth the Beautiful and Bright 
 
 Within ; or personate the Charms we feel. — 
 
 How eloquent the everlasting Hills 
 
 Do then appear ! proclaiming with their peaks 
 
 Majestic, Him whose fiat bade them stand 
 
 Like monuments to Ages long no more : 
 
 Or haply, in the Heart's deep-thoughted hours 
 
 Musing beside the immemorial Sea 
 
 On some poetic shore, (while wave on wave 
 
 In hollow thunder lisps th* Almighty's name,) 
 
 How strangely does electric Nature thrill 
 
 Through forms of matter, on the feeling mind ! 
 
 As though the Elements, by love inspired, 
 
 Would image what our mental dream enjoys. 
 
144 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Wxt MspivzUtm of Saturn 
 
 Thrice happy they, who thus by heav'n empower'd, 
 Can find a scripture in the flowers, and leaves ! 
 Creation's book then Fancy's bible forms ; 
 And faith poetic, by the Spirit led, 
 All nature calls a comment on the Cross. 
 In this let holy Love our teacher be : 
 A love perpetual, — for in that supreme, 
 The sabbath's God Himself no sabbath keeps. 
 And then, what great proprietors we are ! 
 E'en on His throne the Uncreate is ours, 
 By covenant, from everlasting made ; 
 And under it, entire Creation works 
 For good and glory, to the church redeem'd. 
 
 Many have much, but all desire a more ; 
 But less than Infinite, to man is nought : 
 The more must be almighty, — or 'tis none ! 
 But who hath Christ, has God by God bestow'd, 
 And dread Eternity becomes his friend. 
 Then still, thou sud ! Emmanuel's image be, 
 And like a shadow of His glory burn ; 
 Thou moon ! his mystic Bride on earth, reflect ; 
 Planets ! that with prophetic radiance gleam ; 
 Thou paragon of elemental powers, 
 Myst'ry of waters, — never-slumb'ring Sea ! 
 Impassioned Orator ! with lip sublime, 
 Whose waves are arguments, which prove a God ; 
 Ye Woods ! that with tempestuous anthems ring ; 
 Ye Winds ! whose hallelujahs tongue the storm 
 With music's deep magnificence of tone ; 
 Ye Mountain-altars ! which from earth to heaven 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 145 
 
 Serenely lift your consecrated brows, 
 While the soft grandeur of the silent hills 
 Sinks on the heart, like music low and sad ; — 
 Long in your magic each and all abide, 
 Some teaching mystery of Christ to show : 
 That so, in all things, with an eye of praise 
 And heart of prayer, true Faith may ever find 
 In nature, as in grace, — her God expressed ; 
 And, in the temple of creation greet 
 Those solemn glories which His Name enshrine, 
 
 &fw Christian, tfu oulg tvut 
 Mttvpvtttv of nature 
 
 There is a Presence spiritually vast 
 Around Thy church, arisen Saviour ! cast ; 
 A holy efiluence, an unspoken awe, 
 A sanctity which carnal eye ne'er saw, — 
 A pure, impalpable, almighty sense 
 Of peace, by reconciled Omnipotence, — 
 That hallows, haunts, and makes a Christian mind 
 Rich in all grace, celestially refined. 
 Mere Nature's worshippers can never feel 
 The fulness of that high seraphic Zeal 
 Which veileth all things with religious light, 
 And works unwearied in Jehovah's sight ; 
 Thought, dream, and action, — ev'ry pulse of soul 
 The awe of Christ will solemnly control ; 
 Girt by His Spirit, wheresoe'er we rove, 
 True Faith is feeding on His word of love. 
 Nature is now a more than nature far ; 
 Each miracle of sun, or moon, or star, 
 
 L 
 
146 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Each sight, and sense, and sound of outward things 
 
 Seems haunted by august imaginings ; 
 
 A dream of Calvary around her floats, 
 
 And oft the dew of those delicious notes 
 
 By angels once in Bethlehem's valley pour'd 
 
 Descends, with all their melody restored, 
 
 Till — peace on earth ! to pardon'd man — good will ! 
 
 With tones of heaven the ear of Fancy fill. 
 
 Oh ! tell me not poetic harps can sing, 
 That science loves or sentiment perceives, 
 And calm philosophy with musing eye 
 Beneath the stars magnetic , all which heaven 
 And earth of God and goodness testify ; 
 'Tis only, when by David's key unlocked, 
 The secrets and the splendours of the world 
 Act their full charm, and by electric touch 
 Wake their deep springs of answering love within. 
 The merest elegance of pagan mind 
 Can dimly upward to Creative Power 
 And goodness, haply grope its errant way : 
 But when the Christian can his Christ discern, 
 As Head and Heart of all creation shows, — 
 Religion and his life make parallels ; 
 For faith and feeling in communion move 
 Divorceless ever ! Then at once, all laws 
 And movements, like cathedral rites appear, 
 By nature's liturgy of Love perform'd 
 In the vast temple of the universe, — 
 Shrining Emmanuel : then, the whole applies 
 To Him, — the watching, weeping, dying Lord, 
 The source of nature and salvation too. 
 Then, oh, thou Earth ! what oracles there roll 
 With pure expression from thy myriad shrines, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 147 
 
 With more than music, to our spirit's ear ! 
 
 And ye, calm Heavens ! with liquid moonlight bathed, 
 
 With what a rhetoric your silence pleads 
 
 For Him who soared beyond ye ! and His seat 
 
 Almighty, far above your veiling pomps, 
 
 Thron'd in high glory ! Then alone ye form 
 
 Creation's Bible ; where the blessed stars 
 
 Beam their bright gospel on devotion's gaze, 
 
 By faith illumined, in their light to read 
 
 The priceless merit of the Blood that keep 
 
 The Heavens in motion, and our Earth alive. 
 
 Jttan a JFallen Creature* 
 
 Prostration vile, an alienate from God, 
 Man is ; — and shall his fallen Nature rise, 
 Her height regain, and fill ethereal thrones ? 
 Many a cloud of evil shall be burst 
 Ere that day come ; severe and dread the strife 
 Of sullied nature with the soul of man ! 
 Whatever his climate, character, or creed, 
 temptation, like a spirit, tracks his path. 
 
 l 2 
 
148 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Redemption was no after-Thought, by Sin 
 Awakened from thy depths, celestial Love ! 
 When first Humanity the Fiend obeyed : 
 For in the councils of Almighty Grace 
 Thy Priesthood, oh, Incarnate ! was designed 
 Before Creation out of nothing sprang. 
 But, when at length the hour predestined came, 
 Eternity a form of Time assum'd ; 
 Then from His throne of perfect glory stoop'd 
 The Second in the Godhead, and Himself 
 In mortal limbs and lineaments array' d ; 
 Then did Emmanuel on this blighted earth 
 Of sin and suif ring, body forth such grace 
 As made our orb a miracle of worlds, 
 By there achieving what the God Triune 
 Determined, when their master-work was plann'd,- 
 The vast Atonement blood divine unveils ! 
 
 SmSttflKttmcfi of natural SUltgton 
 
 There is a haunt whose quietude of scene, 
 Accordeth well with hours of solemn hue, — 
 A church-yard, buried in a beauteous vale, 
 Besprinkled o'er with green and countless graves 
 And mossy tombs of unambitious pomp 
 Decaying into dust again. No step 
 Of mirth, no laughter of unfeeling life 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION, 149 
 
 Amid the calm of death that spot profanes ; 
 
 The skies o'er-arch it with serenest love ; 
 
 The winds, when visiting the dark-bough'd elms, 
 
 An airy anthem sing ; and birds and bees, 
 
 That in their innocence of summer joy 
 
 Exult, and carol with commingling glee, 
 
 But add to Solitude the lull of sound : 
 
 There is an ocean, — but his unheard waves, 
 
 By noon entranced, in dreaming slumber lie ; 
 
 Or when the passion of a loud-wing'd gale 
 
 Hath kindled them with sound, the stormy tone 
 
 Of waters, mellow'd into music, dies, 
 
 Like that which echoes from the world afar, 
 
 Or lingers round the path of perish' d years ! 
 
 And here, companion'd by his soul alone, 
 A being, whose unfathom'd spirit fought 
 With loneliness, did wander oft and muse 
 His hours away ; while dream-wove spells entwined 
 Their myst'ry round him : — if the tomb its dead 
 Surrender'd, well might he arise and speak, 
 How frail the creed which erring nature moulds 
 When darkness rushes on the doom of Man ! 
 
 In vain the witchery of words would tell 
 How deeply with the universe he shar'd, 
 To all of which he seem'd enlink'd by love. 
 The hues and harmonies of blended things 
 Were beauty to the magic of his mind ; 
 And all the thousand wheels of moving life 
 Made intellectual melodies, that roll'd 
 For ever to the charming of his soul ! 
 Such warm imaginings, where'er he came, 
 A glittering falseness on the true and stern 
 
150 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Suffused ; and through the light of feeling shone 
 The scene of Earth, and countenance of Heaven. 
 The young enchantment of angelic spring 
 Flow'd in his veins, voluptuously deep. 
 The gentle being of a flower was dear 
 To him, nor would he tread its life away ; 
 Nor wander in the soundless gloom of dell 
 Or grove, without a sympathetic hush. 
 And oh ! to view him when the balmy night 
 Breathed o'er the quiet world, and from her throne, 
 The lustrous moon on tree and temple pour'd 
 The pallid radiance of her peaceful smile, — 
 In the full worship of his soul he seem'd 
 Dissolving in the loveliness around ! 
 
 So lived, so felt he ; making all without 
 Enchantment, for electric thought within ; 
 But that eternity which girdles time, 
 Majestic Faith, and everlasting Hope, 
 Commoved not him ; — hereafter drown'd his soul 
 In seas of darkness, billowing with doubt 
 And fear ! — That this divine, all-beauteous Orb, 
 Whose faintest impulse, sent from breeze or star, 
 So thrillingly his heart confess'd, was framed, 
 Upheld, and circled through the void profound 
 By Power apart, invisibly enthroned, — 
 An innate majesty of mind declared. 
 But such a God, of dreams and shadows born, 
 No bended knee, no voice or vow adored ; 
 He was — a Spirit, or pervading Sense, 
 A viewless Nature, an Almighty Self, 
 Articulated by the tones of Earth, 
 And gloriously by Nature's pomp reveal'd, — 
 So Fancy mused, and Feeling taught no more. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 151 
 
 And hence did Pride and Passion, which imbue 
 
 Mortality with taints of sin, or wo, 
 
 And colour all the atmosphere of life 
 
 With clouds of awful gloom, — work unrestrain'd, 
 
 And rule or sanction the decrees of thought : 
 
 Yet, many a sad and silent prayer of love 
 
 To him unknown, — for intellectual light, 
 
 At midnight rose, and pleaded in the skies. 
 
 At length, Affliction, — that behind our joys 
 A grinning spectre mask'd in savage gloom 
 Is seated, — frown'd upon his haughty way ; 
 And one, the beatings of whose heart were his 
 Re-echo' d ! — she who walked with angel step, 
 Her looks the living sunshine of his soul, 
 Her tones the music of his memory, 
 Whose printless foot made consecrated ground, 
 The hope and heaven of all, — lay still in death ! 
 Then came that worldless, dread, eclipse of mind, 
 The agony that curdles soul and sense, 
 As though annihilation had begun, 
 And man were moul'dring into dust again. — 
 One beam of Heaven had brought salvation now ; 
 But Darkness girt him with her deepest shroud, 
 Wherein he stood, nor wept, nor spoke, nor sigh'd, 
 But, mute and stone-like, turn'd to cold despair ! 
 
 With tender rudeness to his couch they bore 
 The widow' d martyr ; day by day, and hour 
 By hour, Affection with her heavenly eye 
 Attended, faintly smoothed his pallid brow, 
 Then touch'd his hand, and with a yearning gaze, 
 Did woo his spirit into speaking life, 
 
152 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Which came at last ; and then, alone he nursed 
 
 His sorrow ; — in the breathless noon of night 
 
 All unperceived, the lovely dead he found ; 
 
 There stood, and gazed, enamour'd of the grief 
 
 That, now unfrozen, from his spirit pour'd 
 
 Tears fast and free, in all the storm of wo ! 
 
 Upon that form, so exquisitely pale, 
 
 Where the lone night-watch flung a spectral gleam, 
 
 He look'd, — as though a life were in that look 
 
 AbsorVd, and felt, that never more would flash 
 
 From that still clay, revealings of the soul ; 
 
 The mystery of being was fulfill'd, 
 
 The seal of Nature set, — the vision gone, 
 
 Or vanish'd in a universe of gloom ! 
 
 And yet, from dreams a light immortal soothed 
 
 The mourner, when from out the grave he saw 
 
 An Apparition, bright as golden air, 
 
 Ascend, assume her own appealing smile, 
 
 And point with waving hand to better worlds ! 
 
 But life no longer seem'd the living sense 
 Of mortal nature, but a ghastly dream 
 Wherein he moved, by Destiny compell'd. 
 A dismal trance of dull satiety 
 This lone world grew ; a dampness of despair, 
 The sullen winter of a broken heart 
 Was all he felt, — was all he wish'd to feel ! 
 A demon-shadow, by his anguish bred, 
 O'er all things brooded : in the light, no light 
 Appear'd, e'en melody no music brought, 
 And Earth emaciate as an orb of death 
 To him became ; his thoughts alone did live ; 
 And these, like pulses in a tortured brain, 
 Throbb'd in the spirit with eternal pang ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 153 
 
 And now the poison of dejection work'd ; 
 His cheeks were blighted ; o'er his thin-worn hands 
 The veins meander'd with a dying hue ; 
 The mournful hair that arch'd his manly brow 
 Droop'd like the locks of eld ; his bright eye lost 
 The boldness of expressive thought, and grew 
 Unearthly, from its depth of lifeless gaze : 
 And oft did mothers heave maternal sighs, 
 And children cease their revel, when he pass'd 
 Unheedful by them, like a Shape from tombs ! 
 
 At length, the unbeliever task'd the Night 
 To tell him secrets of eternity. 
 And then, how terrible th' immortal throes 
 And agonies of doubting nature ruled ! 
 Above him, — the majestic sea of heaven, 
 Where island-orbs of beauty saiTd and shone ; 
 Around him, — dimness, and the calm of death 
 By nothing marr'd, but when a moving branch 
 Of cypress, like a dying billow, shed 
 A faint sound on the feeble wind. How long 
 And deep, how passionate the gaze he sent 
 Far in the blue infinity of night I 
 Oh, let some spirit on the wings of love 
 Be wafted, and the burning doubt that preys 
 On nature, with permitted voice subdue : — * 
 He listen'd ! — on the air a faded leaf 
 Fell slowly, with a sad and ling'ring sound, 
 That did not seem of earth ; but soon it still' d ; 
 And then the blackness of diseaseful thought 
 Commenced ; eternity became a tomb ! 
 
 An hour there came from Heaven at last, when Faith 
 Look'd up, and view'd her God ! — As evening smiled 
 
154 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Upon the ocean brim, where molten waves 
 
 A restless glory of rich waters made, 
 
 A pensive wanderer, on the circling beach 
 
 He stood, communing with the glorious scene. 
 
 Where'er his glance of worship fell, there beam'd 
 
 A charm, that told Almightiness had touch'd 
 
 The world ; and when the folding clouds embraced 
 
 The shining Monarch of the heavens, and cool 
 
 And calm the unimpassioned Twilight rose, 
 
 A purity of second childhood came, 
 
 Whose tenderness is truth. — In that soft hour 
 
 When darkness from the soul dissolves away, 
 
 With gentle step, and gentler mien, approach'd 
 
 A hoary sage, by hallow'd wisdom blest. 
 
 The balmy light, the beauty and romance 
 
 Of scene, well harmonized with heavenly thought. 
 
 And hence, the solemn teacher on his soul 
 
 The dews of immortality distill'd : — 
 
 Not hiding mercy in dogmatic gloom, 
 
 Or, led by light presumingly inspired, 
 
 Outvent'ring on the mystic waves that roll 
 
 Between us, and the shore of worlds unseen ; 
 
 But, meekly firm, of everlasting Love, 
 
 Creative Power, and providential Truth. 
 
 The Christian spake ; and, leaf by leaf, the book 
 
 Of Man's redemption from primeval wo 
 
 Unroll'd, and challenged wide creation's law 
 
 To prove, how Nature visioneth the plan 
 
 That God himself descended to reveal. — 
 
 With soften'd eye, and brow intently sad, 
 
 This theme of glory did the Sceptic hear, 
 
 Yet answer'd not ; but look'd to Heaven, and sigh'd. 
 
 Now, twilight into solemn gloom retired ; 
 
 The pomp of clouds was o'er, and ocean lay 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 155 
 
 In floating darkness round the rock-hewn beach ; 
 But here and there, prevailing starlight gleaned 
 On some excited billow ; deep the hour, 
 And holier the scene, as each, immersed 
 In contemplation, track'd his homeward way, 
 Unvoiced their feelings, and their thoughts unknown. 
 But Heaven had watch'd them, and ere midnight's veil 
 Had shrouded earth, — the unbeliever pray'd! 
 
 When years had vanisb/d, and all-glorious truth 
 Lived in the light of Deity, and knew 
 The depths of her Redeemer's love, — how look'd 
 The infidel on what his heart had been ? 
 Go ! ask the martyr of a dungeon gloom, 
 How fresh the light, how beautiful the airs 
 Of Heaven, that visit his reviving frame, 
 And he shall tell thee, how the mourner felt 
 When broke the clouds from his benighted soul, 
 And Morn, eternal Morn, began to smile ! 
 
 So weak is all unaided Nature lends 
 To educate the restless soul of man, 
 Or solace wo, or subjugate the sense 
 To ruling powers of majesty within. 
 
 i 3 
 
156 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 So long our early feelings last, 
 Affection owns no faded past ! 
 For aye the glow of what was dear 
 Surrounds it like an atmosphere ; 
 Eternal is the youth of Thought, 
 Whatever outward change hath wrought, 
 And distance, though like death it seems,- 
 Is conquer' d by creative dreams. 
 
 9it0ttficattotu 
 
 Sat, how can Man be justified by God ? 
 Thy vaults, eternity, would echo, — How ? 
 But, from The Cross, responding grace replies 
 To this high question. Faith in Christ is Life 
 And Love, and Righteousness, completely fit 
 To each vast claim of violated Law. 
 There, Conscience finds no compromise involved ; 
 Nor Mercy from the hand of Justice plucks 
 The sceptre, and her awful head uncrowns ; 
 But there, all Attributes divinely blend 
 In one rich centre of consummate Light, 
 And God with most benignant glory smiles 
 His goodness forth, o'er ransom'd minds, and worlds ! 
 From righteous Acts no righteous Nature flows ; 
 First from the Nature, then the Acts arise 
 Spontaneous, free, by fertile love produced, — 
 Not pleading merit, but proclaiming Christ 
 Within, by transcript of His life without. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 157 
 
 For how in Self can man salvation find, 
 When Self is sin, connat'ral and corrupt ? 
 
 One Truth divine, from deeps of scripture drawn, 
 And by one Heart with burning zeal espoused, 
 Then, bodied forth in full heroic life, — 
 What miracles that single Truth achieves, 
 Which rock an empire, or a world restore ! 
 And hence, when pale in his monastic gloom 
 Alone and pensive, groping after God 
 Through clouds of error, black with Romish guile, 
 At length the tortured Monk, with tears of praise 
 Consummate pardon by the Cross procured 
 Discover'd, — then a peerless Truth was found, 
 From whence instructed Empires learn to live. 
 And in that Hall, where stood the fearless man 
 Bulwark' d with Principle, beyond all powers 
 By Earth created, or by Hell contrived, 
 He grasp'd a Truth, which Heaven's eternal creed 
 Hath canonized, and by the Cross explained, — 
 That Grace is God, by God alone applied ; 
 On This, Religion all her fabric rears, 
 That else is baseless as the yielding air. 
 
158 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Witt <Blutibt &ofemtgttta> of (Bolr. 
 
 Goodness to all may infinitely come, 
 But grace to sinners only can extend ; 
 And thus, o'er evil triumphs endless good 
 Beyond all words (save what in Heaven they speak) 
 Rightly to equal with o'ertaking praise, 
 Or rapture. Yet, in this a Will Supreme 
 Itself must glorify, by calling whom 
 The counsel of the Holy One decreed 
 To make a monument of grace divine, — 
 Ere Time began to count his awful hours. 
 Yes ! though in Justice no election acts, 
 But each award to character applies 
 With truth unerring ; yet, when Mercy smiles, 
 Prerogative alone the Godhead shows 
 Unquestioned, such as men, nor angels, scan, 
 Nor measure. — Motive God hath none ; 
 For that, from his completeness plucks a ray, 
 And on the orb of His perfection casts 
 A veiling shadow : Motive, End, and Aim, 
 All in Himself eternally abide. — 
 His reasons are his attributes alone ; 
 And each vast grace The Trinity unfolds 
 In«merey's fulness, acts divinely free. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 159 
 
 Wxt &po$tQlic Cfuttxh of ©nglantr* 
 
 Founded in Christ, and by apostles formed, 
 Glory of England ! — oh, my Mother Church, 
 Hoary with time, but all untouched in creed, 
 Firm to thy Master, with as fond a grasp 
 Of faith as Luther, with his free-born mind 
 Clung to Emmanuel, — doth thy soul remain. 
 But yet, around thee scowls a fierce array 
 Of Foes, and Falsehoods ; must'ring each their powers, 
 And all prepared, their hallelujahs base 
 Or bloody, o'er thy fallen towers to lift 
 Triumphantly. And well may thoughtful hearts 
 Heave with foreboding swell, and heavy fears, 
 To mark, how mad Opinion doth infect 
 Thy children ; how thine apostolic claims 
 And love maternal, are regarded now 
 By creedless vanity, or careless vice. 
 For time there was, when peerless Hooker wrote 
 And deep-soul'd Bacon taught the world to think ; 
 When thou wert paramount, — thy cause sublime ! 
 And in thy life, all polity and powers 
 The Throne securing, or in law enshrined, 
 With all estates our balanced Realm contains, — 
 In thee supreme, a master-virtue own'd 
 And honour' d. Church and State could then co-work 
 Like soul and body in one breathing form 
 Distinct, but undivided ; each with rule 
 Essential to the kingdom's healthful frame, 
 Yet both, in unity august and good 
 Together, under Christ their living Head 
 A hallowed Commonwealth of powers achieved, 
 
1^0 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 But now, in evil times, sectarian Will 
 Would split the Body, and to Sects reduce 
 Our sainted Mother of th' imperial isles, 
 That have for ages from her hosom drank 
 Those truths immortal, Life and Conscience need. 
 But never may th' indignities of hearts 
 Self-blinded ; or the autocratic pride 
 Of Reason, by no hallowing faith subdued, 
 One lock of glory from her rev'rend head 
 Succeed in plucking : Love and Awe and Truth 
 Her doctrines preach, with apostolic force ; 
 Her creed is Unity, her Head is Christ, 
 Her Forms primeval, and her creed divine, 
 And Catholic, that crowning name She wears, — 
 In heaven revered, though unadmired below ; 
 For God is catholic in love and law, 
 While man in both would mere sectarian prove, 
 And down the deeps of individual Self 
 Would Christ, and Creed, and Calvarv absorb ! 
 
 In this dread climax, when his pangs had reached 
 That summit, where despair alone is seen, 
 Did Mercy to remembrance softly bring 
 Pictures of home, and portraits of the past ; 
 Scenes of the heart, and those associate charms 
 By Fancy cherished. But, above whate'er 
 The melting pathos of remembered life 
 Affected, — was a visioned Form of love, 
 That reverend, hoary, broken-hearted sire, 
 Upon whose fondness his rebellious pride 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 161 
 
 Rudely had dashed, as doth the headlong wave 
 On the high bank that bounds it ; — that he saw ! 
 And, so intently seemed the old man's eye 
 To glisten on him with affecting ray 
 Of unreproaching love, and with such power 
 The silver tones of his forgiving lip 
 Trembled within Imagination's ear, — 
 That, lo ! at length, his indurated breast 
 Sank into woman's softness ; and his eye 
 Was moistened with such tears as Angels love ! 
 
 And now, behold him, withered, tattered, bowed ; 
 Pale with long famine, wearily he drags 
 His homeward track ; but, so by suff'ring worn, 
 That through the village, where his Boyhood dwelt, 
 Unknown he steals, disguised in haggard wo. 
 Oh, what a tide of memory there rolls, 
 And what a gush of agony and grief 
 Runs through his being, when that hill he gains, 
 Climbed in calm hours of vanished innocence, 
 And, underneath him, in the sunset pale 
 Looks on the landmarks of his father's home ! — 
 Mute with remorse, amid the tranquil scene 
 Awhile he ponders ; till the silent forms 
 Of Things grow eloquent with meek reproach : 
 Meadow, and tree, and each familiar nook 
 Instinct with meaning, to his mind appeals 
 With more than language from Rebuke's harsh lip. 
 For Nature yet her old expressions wore, 
 And each loved haunt remained familiar still ; 
 There, was the olive he had loved to watch, 
 There, was the vine his infant hand had plucked, 
 And there, the field-path, where he often paced 
 As bright in spirit as the joyous beam 
 
162 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Beside him, and with step as gaily swift 
 As the wild breeze that hurried o'er his head : 
 Nothing looked altered : — for the fig-tree stood, 
 And caught the day-gleam in its dying glow 
 As oft the boy had watched it, when he sat 
 Under the twilight of its laden boughs 
 And fondly wove his fancies ; and, how sweet 
 The lulling cadence of that well-loved stream ! 
 E'en as of old, so wound its waters still 
 In stainless beauty down their pebbled way : 
 - Nothing has changed, but, oh, how changed is He ! 
 
 Wxt MttontiUXf (Bolr* 
 
 But yet, — that Prodigal was still his child/ 
 And in the depths of this relation, all 
 The shrouded Past was silently entombed 
 At once ; when Pardon and Compassion threw 
 Oblivion's pall o'er every thing, but love. 
 
 And, reader ! art thou by such tale commoved ? 
 Or, do these annals through thy spirit melt, 
 Like balmy dews on summer's heated soil 
 At twilight ? — Then, a teaching shadow view 
 In the pure image of yon greeting sire 
 Whose mercy hailed the home-returning boy, — 
 Of love Almighty, by redemption preached ; 
 Where God in Christ our blotted past forgives, 
 And on the bosom of Paternal grace 
 Welcomes to Heaven this Prodigal of worlds ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 163 
 
 Angel of darkness ! out of hell evoked, 
 With dread the bosom of Creation thrill'd 
 When fell thy shadow over Eden's bower, 
 Whose beauty withered like the spirit's bloom, 
 When the rich breath of young affection dies. 
 Look back ! appall' d Imagination ! gaze 
 Thine eye to dimness, o'er the track of time, 
 Scathed by his fury ; mark the demon-wing'd, — 
 'Tis Death ! the uncontrollable ! his flight 
 Begins, whose path wears desolation's smile ; 
 And how eternity its gates unbars 
 To let them in, the fleet and countless dead, 
 Where myriads melt and vanish, like the gleams 
 That flash from fever's eye ! 
 
 Thy spell hath work'd, 
 Thou king of woes ! thy wand hath been obey'd ; 
 Destruction saw it, — and her deeds reply. 
 The Sea hath buried in her floating tomb, 
 The fire devour' d, the blighting pest consumed, 
 The rocking earthquake into atoms crush'd, 
 And conflagration, havoc, siege, and war, 
 And malady, which like a fiend-breath acts, — 
 Have martyr'd, — what an unimagined host 
 Since the first grave for Adam's corpse unclosed ! 
 And, oh, let mother, maid, and orphan tell, 
 Let parent, friend, whate'er affection clasps, 
 Or sweet relationship of soul implies, — 
 How tears have rain'd from lids that watch'd and wept, 
 As each beloved one, like a featured shade 
 Melted in mute eternity ! — For Death 
 
 M 2 
 
164 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Hath cull'd his victims from the choicest bowers 
 And gardens of existence : fair as bright, 
 And pure as paradise before the Fall, 
 Have babes departed, ere one smiling look 
 Hath traversed earth, or seen the life of Things : 
 And, voiceless as the uncomplaining dews 
 That wither on the dusky cheek of night, 
 The silent victims of the heart's decay 
 Have perish' d ! while within the dart was fix'd 
 And rankling ; not a sigh their secret told : 
 For pure and proud, and delicate as light, 
 Their being faded : 'twas the damp of soul, 
 The mildew of the mind, that check'd and chill' d 
 Their health of spirit : friend and parent yearn'd 
 Around them, wond'ring where the venom lurk'd, 
 And thus, with cruel stealth defaced and marr'd 
 That earth-born seraph, Beauty, robed for heaven ; 
 But still they faded, with a calm decline, 
 Serene as twilight, leaving early death 
 A lovely secret by th' Almighty known — 
 
 To die, is nature's universal doom ; 
 The Past hath braved it, and the Future shall ; 
 Though little deem we, as we laugh the hours 
 Along, like echoes dandled by the wind, 
 How swift our path is verging to the grave. 
 Terrific Power ! how often in the hush 
 Of midnight, when the thoughtless learn to think, 
 The gay grow solemn, and the foolish wise, 
 Visions of thee come floating o'er the mind, 
 Like exhalations from a grave ! — How oft 
 We feel an awfulness the soul o'ershade, 
 As if 'twere soaring to the throne of God, 
 Till, in one thought of heaven we bury all 
 The breathing universe of life and man. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 165 
 
 A death-cloud rises with the star of Life ; 
 And ere upon the world our hearts expand 
 Like flower-buds opening to the kiss of morn, 
 With gay and guiltless love, — the voice of doom 
 Awakes, a sermon from the grave is preach'd ; 
 We live to die, and die again to live 
 A spirit's life in unimagined worlds. 
 First, Infancy, whose days are prattling dreams ; 
 Next, Childhood, crown'd with beauty, health, and joy, 
 (Those wizard three, that make the mind like spring, 
 The breath, the bloom and sunshine of the soul) ; 
 Then, Manhood, most majestic ; through the heavens 
 Piercing with haughty eye, and printing earth 
 With kingly steps ; ambition, love, and care, 
 And energy, in wild and restless play, 
 For ever heaving like a wave of fire ; 
 And then comes passionless and feeble Age 
 That droops, and drops into the silent grave : 
 Here ends the scene of life,— one moment wept, 
 The next forgotten ; let the curtain fall, 
 Oblivion has our tale,— we lived, and died ! 
 
 Thousands of years beneath thy sway have groan'd, 
 Unwearied Death ! how many more shall bear 
 The burden of the curse, no human tongue 
 Can tell, for they are chronicled above ; 
 Though ofttimes number' d by a guilty mind, 
 When Thunders, like dread oracles, awake 
 The world. Yet, come it will, however late, 
 That day foretold when Death himself shall die ! 
 And generations, now but dust and worms, 
 Rise into being with an angel shout, 
 And on the winds of glory soar to heaven. 
 
166 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Thus day by day and hour on hour went by, 
 And still, like colour from a sunset-cloud 
 Faded their brother from their grieving eyes ; 
 Oh, how the rebel heart of reason throbbed 
 With doubts unsaid ; or sickened into gloom 
 Pining and prayerless ; still no Saviour comes ! 
 For Lazarus the gate of death must pass. 
 And well may Fancy see that brother die 
 Watched by the hearts of those two sisters dear : 
 But in that moment, in that breathless pause 
 Half life, half death, when soul and sense divide 
 Their empire, mark ! the sign religion loves. 
 A pallid gleam of his departing soul 
 Kindles a moment on the sunken cheek, 
 As if from God's own countenance there came 
 A token smile mysteriously illumed 
 And sent athwart the universe to man. 
 
 How blest the chamber where a saint expires, 
 And on the bosom of Almighty love 
 Pillows his head, in everlasting peace ! 
 From time's bleak darkness, from disturbing shades 
 Of sin and sorrow, into perfect light 
 At once escaping, — what a thrill intense 
 Through each fine nerve his new-awakened soul 
 Must feel, when first the Everlasting beams, 
 Flash on his eye from crowned Emmanuel's form ! 
 But when around him rolls the mingled swell 
 Of raptures high from loud Salvation's harps, 
 Never can Angel like a saint redeemed 
 Sing to the Lord, whose wounds in Heaven abide, 
 " Worthy the Lamb ! for He was slain for me !" 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 167 
 
 ©loqttencc of Vomto, 
 
 Who hath not pondered, with an awe profound 
 As wordless, when beside a grave he stood ? 
 And, while his soul dim speculation held 
 With Truths that touch on Deity, and dust, 
 In cause, or consequence — himself allied 
 With dread Eternity, and Doom to come ? 
 Oh ! solemn are thy shrines, thou sov'reign Death ! 
 However humble, and wherever raised : 
 For tombs are Preachers, and with tongueless power 
 Harangue the Conscience, that, like Felix, shakes 
 Before the Throne by apprehension reared 
 Of future Judgment ! But, this stern appeal 
 Not from the fanes where mausoleums hold 
 The wreck of heroes, and time-laurelTd kings, 
 Alone comes forth ; but oft is truly felt 
 E'en by the brightest slave of earth-born glee, 
 When some green churchyard, with its rustic mounds 
 And grassy hillocks on his eye intrudes 
 A sad memento ; — as when mournful Thought 
 Wanders adown the dim cathedral aisle 
 Piled with pale cenotaphs, or sculptured tombs, 
 Where Silence hath an intellectual tongue 
 Whose accent by the mind is heard alone.— 
 
 Comfort for tht Christian* 
 
 The Christian never dies ; in coffin'd dust 
 What though he slumber, and the speechless grave 
 With cold embrace his pallid form receives, — 
 
168 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Religion, like the shade of Christ, appears 
 To heaven-eyed Faith beside the tomb to smile, 
 And from her lips, seraphically fired, 
 Rolls the rich strain, " Death ! where now thy sting ? 
 O Grave ! thy vict'ry, where ?"«— extinguish' d both 
 And baffl'd ; stingless death, and strengthless law, 
 Together round the cross like trophies hang 
 Self-vanquish'd ; — Death himself in Jesus died ! 
 
 The Christian never dies ; his very death 
 To him a birth-day into glory proves : 
 For then, emerging fetterless and free 
 From this dark prison-house of earth and sin, 
 (All sensual dimness, like a veil withdrawn,) 
 In mystic radiance soars the seraph Mind 
 To regions high and holy, where the Truth 
 Essential, Beauty's uncreated form, 
 And Wisdom pure, in archetypal state 
 To souls unearth' d their trinal blaze reveal. 
 Unchain the eagle, break his iron bars, 
 And when aloft, on wings exultant pois'd, 
 Sun-ward he sweeps through clouds of rolling sheen 
 And makes the blue immensity his home — 
 Go mark him, while the flash of freedom breaks 
 Forth from each eye-ball, in its burning glee, 
 And there, the imaged rapture of a mounting soul 
 When prisonless, from out the body pure, 
 May Fancy witness ! — far away it flies 
 And where the Sun of Righteousness enthroned, 
 Eternal noon-tide round His ransom'd pours, 
 Dwells in the smile of glory and of God. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 169 
 
 l&eagjm, H$m$t 9 antr dFattfu 
 
 By unbelief our primal Nature fell 
 From light to darkness ; and by faith it mounts 
 Back to the glory whence its pureness sank : 
 But still, that fatal tyranny of sense 
 Which Adam first around the virgin-soul 
 Allowed to cast its paralyzing chain, 
 Abides ; and needs a disenchanting spell 
 Beyond our reason, in its brightest noon, 
 To shame, or silence. — Yes, the felt, the seen, 
 And tangible, alone appears the true ! 
 The touch must regulate the law of truth, 
 And to the body must our high-born soul 
 Stoop like a slave, before the mind admits 
 Motives divine, and miracles of grace, 
 And myst'ries where the Infinite Unknown 
 Inshrines His nature, and His love reveals. 
 Yet, 'tis the madness of outrageous pride, 
 The dismal lunacy of self-esteem ; 
 And reason here a suicide becomes, 
 When god o'er God it thus presumes to be, 
 And dwarfs The Everlasting down to man ! 
 
 Why wonder then, that as from God we fell 
 By sense indulged, e'en so by sense denied 
 Our ransomed Nature up to Him returns, 
 Chastened, and humbled at each rising step : 
 That thus, when Self, absorbed and crucified, 
 Yields to the law of holiness and heaven, 
 Our Being may at length, in loving awe, 
 Look to its Centre, and celestial Source 
 And draw from Deity the bliss it wants. 
 
170 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Strangely severe our doom to haughty minds 
 May seem ; and myriads, like to Thomas, crave 
 A Verity which sense alone can grasp, 
 And endless miracle to man supply, — 
 Christ in the Fleshy to be by hand and eye perused ! 
 But yet, whate'er the comment reason make, 
 Between the past and present, life is placed 
 For test and trial ; and, as Wisdom meek 
 This high probation for Hereafter bears, — 
 So is the character Experience builds, 
 And creed that Conscience for its own adopts. — - 
 Faith eyes the past, and hope the future seeks, 
 Yet either must with sacrificing zeal 
 Something deny, which vulgar Sense enjoys. 
 For do we not, as from th' Almighty, take 
 The Gospel in its glory ? — Then, must Mind 
 Learn on the altar of unreas'ning faith 
 Itself to lay with immolating zeal : 
 System, and science, and our self-esteem, 
 And each atonement which our tears would pay, 
 Must vanish ; while adown the haunted gloom 
 Of twice nine hundred years we walk, 
 To learn the Creed which Calvary inspires. 
 Denial thus must be our Spirit's law, 
 If with pure angels we aspire to dwell ; 
 And, far above what bribing Sense can bring 
 Through tact or taste, or eye, or ear, to man, — 
 Faith on her wings must lift our Being up. 
 
 Yet, faith is reason in its noblest form; 
 And boasts an evidence most heavenly-bright, 
 Sublimely equal to our spirit's need, 
 In whatsoe'er submissive Love believes 
 As sent from Deity, our world to save. — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 171 
 
 For breathe we not the Church's sainted air, 
 
 Where all is fragrant of the truths of old ? 
 
 And ritual Forms, and ceremonial Types, 
 
 With all high records of auxiliar sway, 
 
 Historic Truths, traditionary Lore, 
 
 And Monuments of sacramental grace, — 
 
 These have we not ? And though rejecting pride 
 
 Back on the blaze of this commingled orb 
 
 Of evidence, a sneer presume to cast, 
 
 Yet, have the wise and wondrous to such light 
 
 Their hearts submitted, and repose enjoyed. 
 
 And, more than this, a clear-eyed wisdom finds : 
 
 For, if unrisen were our spirit's King, 
 
 Then, long ere this the Galilean Lie 
 
 Had vanished !— for the creed its claim enacts, 
 
 Binds on the world offensive purity 
 
 That flesh endures not : and if Christ were dead, 
 
 Tombed in the darkness of sepulchral clay, 
 
 How could His promise, with our souls to be 
 
 Present for ever, — still on earth be proved 
 
 Infallible, through faith's unbounded world ? 
 
 A living Christian proves a living Christ 
 
 As firmly to the soul, as if the Heavens 
 
 Where now uncurtained, and our eyes entranced 
 
 Looked through The Veil, and saw Him shining there 
 
 In glory, bright as what the martyr viewed,— 
 
 When Stephen mounted from his mangled clay 
 
 In bleeding triumph, to his Master's breast ! 
 
 Deistic Thomas, with his doubting mind, 
 I envy not that most exacting man, 
 Though eye to eye, and face to face he stood 
 Before Messiah ; and, with hand outstretched 
 And daring finger to his wounds applied, — 
 
172 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Answered his doubt, and silenced unbelief 
 
 By evidence, that drew his adoration forth 
 
 With over-awed amazement. — He to sight 
 
 And sense appealed ; and well were both assured, 
 
 When the mild Saviour to his eye appeared, 
 
 Thrilling that doubter with resistless proof, 
 
 E'en by the print, and pressure of those wounds 
 
 Whence gushed salvation o'er a guilty world ! — 
 
 But, rather let me, with a glance of faith 
 
 Pierce the past ages, to my Lord behold ; 
 
 And in the glass of his describing Word 
 
 His life and lineaments of beauty trace. 
 
 Child of the Church, and by Her creed sustained, 
 
 By prayer, and praise, and Her memorial rites 
 
 Doctrines and duties, and the hallowed round 
 
 Of fasts and festivals, — oh ! let me learn 
 
 The Sense to crucify ; and walk by faith 
 
 As prophets, patriarchs, and priests have done ; 
 
 By grace empowered beyond mere sight to live, 
 
 And earth-born feelings, in their finest mood. — 
 
 For not to Thomas did that blessing come, 
 
 Which round the weakest who can now adore 
 
 And clasp Emmanuel with the mind's embrace, 
 
 Hovers like music, — from the lenient mouth 
 
 Of Christ descending on the souls of all 
 
 Who though they see not, yet the Lord believe 
 
 In risen glory. Thus doth Faith exalt 
 
 Man out of Self, and unto God reduce 
 
 His errant nature, as its proper Home. 
 
 Sense but the shadow, Faith the substance holds ; 
 And, while the pageantries of Earth and Time 
 Like golden clouds which line the gleaming west 
 In airy nothingness have died away, — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 173 
 
 That glorious Infinite of truth will beam 
 Brighter and brighter, which pure faith pursues : 
 Till, what in weakness now we dimly scan, 
 By open vision future Heaven shall prove, 
 And God unveiled our spirit's glory be. 
 
 Jbatatttc Ibtflutntt. 
 
 Perpetual motion of the moral vile 
 He was, and is, and shall for ever be, 
 The Prince of darkness — from his throne of death 
 Dispensing ruin. Who his sway can meet, 
 Or stretch the word, to where his sceptre waves 
 O'er time, and scene, and universal man ! 
 For every wheat he sows a rival tare 
 In the vast field, where faith and virtue thrive. 
 Each ward of intricated self he knows ; 
 And so for each some fitting key he finds 
 Wherewith to enter, and the heart possess. 
 And, let the mockers of the World unseen, 
 The solemn findings of th' experienced heart 
 In this believe — that, like the Saxon Monk's, 
 The life of Faith is one long battle now, 
 Beyond the passion of exceeding words 
 To syllable, with him who haunts the soul. 
 As conscience preaches, so temptation tries 
 By him directed ; hence, no mood is safe, 
 No scenes are shelter'd, and no hours secure 
 From art Infernal. — Ask the thoughtful Mind 
 How often, when th' inflated world hath shrunk 
 With all its forms, its follies and its fears 
 Down to a shade, before the solid truths 
 And substance of eternity believed ; 
 
174 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 How often then, when Resolution winds 
 Our being up by tension most sublime, 
 To heaven's pursuit, and its majestic toils, — 
 Back to the low and little we are lured ! 
 Fever'd as ever, and with fretting pangs 
 And noisome cares inextricably close, 
 Again involved : as if this Earth were home, 
 And immortality below the skies ! 
 
 Nor height in God, nor depth in man, forbids 
 Our dread assaulter. Attributes divine 
 How oft he covers with deforming shade, 
 Darkens for dread, or deepens for despair, 
 Or softens down to sin's presuming dream, — 
 Till God a Sentiment almighty seems, 
 And nothing stronger ! — Or, the Law he wields, 
 Fangs its dread curse with everlasting fire, 
 And, on the gibbet of tormenting doubt 
 Hangs the pale Conscience, in perpetual gloom. 
 For though in health, when light the blood appears, 
 And all looks bland that in Jehovah dwells, — 
 Then, sin a trifle of the past becomes, 
 A vacant nothing, with a sounding name ! 
 But, when the dampness of the tomb bechills 
 Our nature ; when some retribution frowns 
 Black on the spirit, from the bar of God ; 
 Then sin, which once a moral pigmy seem'd 
 But scarce apparent, — like a giant swells 
 Upward to heaven, and with some horrid shade 
 Beclouds the Infinite on Whom it falls ! 
 
 And more than this, the arch deceiver dares ; 
 For he eternity to time contracts, 
 And time to false eternity dilates, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 175 
 
 When cheated fancy to his wand replies 
 
 And, not one grace The Spirit's hand bestows, 
 
 For which no counterpart in passion finds 
 
 This dreadful Parodist of God, to man. 
 
 But chief that Book, where inspirations breathe, 
 
 How would he poison like a Pope of Hell ! 
 
 Fain would he hurl it from the bounds of thought, 
 
 Or, make it echo all his heart conceives. 
 
 A spectacle to Angels and to God 
 Is man, while acting on the stage of time, — 
 Such truth the soul of inspiration breathed : 
 And what a meaning centred in the thought ! 
 Around, above,, beneath, where'er man lives 
 And moves, unvision'd natures overhang 
 His path, and chronicle his history. 
 But o'er this pomp external, and the life 
 Of sense, such beautifying veils are thrown, 
 That men become idolaters to sight, 
 Naming all else the nothingness of dreams :— - 
 A wisdom worthy an infernal crown ! 
 Why, if a bead of water in its round 
 Of compass hath contained a countless host 
 Of beings, limb'd, and full of perfect life ; 
 If not a leaf that flutters on the tree, 
 But is empeopled with an insect swarm ; 
 If not a flower by fairy sunrise charm'd, 
 But in the palace of its dew-drop dwell 
 Unnumbered beings, that in gladness live ; 
 Then why not, O ye self-adoring wise, 
 A world of spirit-natures, though unseen, 
 In number rivalling that creation yields ? 
 And vacancy, that hueless void of air 
 
176 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Which men unanimated space define, 
 Be pregnant with aerial shapes of life ? 
 
 Jlnfoer of the Spirit* 
 
 Eternal Former of the holy mind 
 Vicar of Christ ! who art, to men redeem'd, 
 Soul of their souls, and light of light within, 
 Vast in thy sway, and viewless in thy strength,— 
 How full, how free, unfathom'd, undefined 
 Yet felt, art Thou, in purity, and power ! 
 Thou o'er the chaos of the earth new horn 
 Didst move, and print it with Thy plastic seal, 
 And inspiration. Beauty hence began, 
 Order, and Shape and Symmetries arose ; 
 For Thou of all the Consummator art, 
 In the green earth or garnish'd heaven display'd ; 
 And Nature still is hut Thine organ, — moved 
 Responsive to the impulse of Thy sway terrene, 
 Her laws, her lineaments, and loveliness 
 Are hut expressions of Thy shaping will, 
 The outward index to Thine inward hand 
 Creative : beauty is Thy vital power ; 
 Grandeur and grace thine intimations are, 
 And second Causes, form but stepping-stones 
 O'er which Thou marchest to Thy works, and ways. 
 And o'er the waters of our human world, 
 The ruder chaos of revolted hearts, 
 Still art Thou brooding, with thy halcyon calm. 
 For never, since Pollution's blight commenced, 
 From man (the savage of the senses made) 
 One sigh or tear, or tone of sacredness 
 To heaven had risen, or God's welcome sought, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 177 
 
 But for thy grace, Spirit !— pledged and priced, 
 And by the blood of earth's Great Martyr bought, 
 E'en the pure Man-God, as to breath and blood 
 By Thee was fashioned, in the Virgin's womb ; 
 From whom His finite all its unction drew 
 With Hell to combat, or for Earth to bleed. 
 
 Oh ! for a language out of sunbeams made, 
 In syllables of light Thy power to praise 
 Helper and Healer of the heart, alone, 
 Sustainer truly of the sinking mind, 
 Sole Paraclete of all, for sin who weep ! 
 Descend, and with the dewfall of Thy grace 
 The world refresh, the wither'd Church revive, 
 And the hot fever of our thirsting hearts 
 With healing balm of blessedness, allay ! 
 For thee without, our God denuded seems, 
 The Christ is charmless, and the Bible mute 
 To conscience, though to mental power it speak ; 
 While all in morals, or in motive, — forms 
 But heathen polish, with a purer name. 
 
 And where the shrine, the palace, or the throne 
 From whence Thy secrets, and Thy splendours flow ? 
 Where shall our hearts those inspirations seek 
 Which make all Christians, echoes of their Christ, 
 Down from the full-toned holiness of heaven 
 To feeblest notes, that yet from earth arise ? — 
 Wherever man and mind, and scene and space 
 Can meet or mingle, there, O Spirit ! Thou 
 To Solemn fellowship the soul mayst charm. — 
 What, though the herald stars no longer glide 
 To light the Magi : though no mystic Bush 
 Burn with divinity, in speaking fire ; 
 
1^8 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And, by no miracle made bare or bright, 
 
 The Arm Eternal out of Heaven is waved ; 
 
 Though shut the Vision, and the Witness seal'd, 
 
 Nor Voice, nor Thunder out of glory rolls 
 
 This earth to waken,-^still Thy love abides ; 
 
 For the hush'd presence of the Holy One 
 
 No bounds can limit, and no laws can bind 
 
 From hearts that seek Him, in the tempted hour. 
 
 In cities loud, amid the hum of men 
 
 He walketh -, or, in loved and lonely haunts 
 
 Shaded and secret, where Reflection hies ; 
 
 On mountain heights, by musing poets traced, 
 
 In vales withdrawn, by melancholy shores 
 
 Lashed by the billow in eternal beat, — 
 
 In each and all God's whisper may be heard, 
 
 And still small Voice through listening conscience steal. 
 
 Yea, heaven with all its sacredness of stars, 
 
 Earth with all its majesties of scene, or might, 
 
 Home with its magic, infant's guileless laugh, 
 
 And mother's glowing smile, — a path may prove, 
 
 Or channel, where His secrets may descend 
 
 In solemn gushes through the spirit's depth. 
 
 Descend pure Spirit ! light and life and love 
 Without Thee, are not : poetry is Thine, 
 Reason, and science, and majestic arts, 
 The heaven-born virtues, intellectual powers, 
 With all pre-eminence of grace or gifts, — 
 Are but as glances from Thy glory cast, 
 And caught by Mind. But who Thy sway can tell ? 
 For at the first, the heavens and all their host, 
 Moon, star and planets,- — from Thy hand derived 
 Their radiance, from Thy wisdom learn'd then paths. 
 And Earth is thine : Her elemental laws, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 179 
 
 Her motions, harmonies and living hues 
 And beauty, are but emanated powers 
 From Thee, great Beauty's archetypal Seal ! 
 While Man himself, (that miracle of forms) 
 Into his mould was copied from Thy cast 
 Ethereal ; and the whole of truths inspired, 
 Prophetic utt'rance, or mirac'lous deed, 
 Which was, or is, or shall be, — are but rays 
 Sent from Thine essence to created mind. 
 
 Without Thee, more than night Egyptian reigns I 
 Duty sublime would stern distraction be, 
 Commanding what our impotence alarms, — 
 To love that Holy which our hearts abhor 
 By nature ! But, Thy promised aid attends, 
 Arches our being like the roof of heaven 
 Where'er we wander ; and to will perverse 
 Such power imparteth, that the precept takes 
 Thy presence with it in each task assign' d. 
 
 Thou teachest God ; and Man himself abides 
 In fact unfathom'd, till Thy light reveal 
 The two eternities of coming truth 
 Within Him folded, — like a double germ 
 Soon to expand in heaven, or hell, complete ! 
 And hence our Nature grows an awful thing ; 
 We thrill eternity in touching Man ! 
 For, from the eyeballs of his living head 
 Outlooks the Everlasting ! — though eclipsed ; 
 While every heart-pulse in the life of faith 
 Throbs with Thy Spirit, Inspiration's Lord. 
 
 n 2 
 
180 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Eiit Spirit nertrtfj to inttvpvH &tviptuvt. 
 
 But all is fruitless, save The Spirit teach, 
 Console, attract, illumine, and adorn 
 The penitential mind. Can deaf men feel 
 How Music wakens her enchanted might ; 
 Or blind ones, when the lids of Morning ope, 
 Greet the proud radiance of commencing day ? — 
 So dull and eyeless to the words and beams 
 Of truth heaven-sanction'd, is the rocky heart, 
 Before an unction of converting grace 
 Descend, and bid the glorious change begin. 
 Or, mark the body, when the soul is fled ; 
 How pale and powerless, how corrupt and cold 
 It lies, and withers like a dream of clay ! — 
 So dead to things, transcendently divine, 
 In carnal trance the soul itself abides, 
 Till comes Thy Spirit with celestial breath, 
 The faded lineaments of God revives, 
 And quickens nature with transforming power : 
 Then, Thou art all, and all in Thee resides. 
 Eternity upon the Book of Life 
 Reflected, — how sublime the means of grace ! 
 In Christ, what love immeasurably deep 
 Embodied ! what a glory robes the Cross ! 
 Each word, each promise, each divine appeal 
 By Thee brought home, — how vast redemption grows ! 
 Vile passions sink ; and, low affections rais'd, 
 No longer worm-like creep in dust and gloom 
 But, wing'd by faith, beyond the world ascend, 
 Exulting round the Throne, and hearing oft 
 Faint echoes of some archangelic hymn 
 To Jesus chanted ; — Who, as lord of deed 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 181 
 
 And life of thought, o'er all our heing reigns ; 
 And oft hy sacred fascination led, 
 To Calvary our yearning Hearts retire, 
 Kneel at the Cross, and see the Saviour die ! 
 
 UttLtctiom on btstttng a ccltfbtatrtr 
 Cataract* 
 
 In slumber, when some Dream of daring power 
 Transcends creation, or out-dazzles earth, 
 Man's wither'd paradise may seem revived ; 
 And oft when Poesy and young Romance 
 Together mount Imagination's throne, — 
 What landscapes, fit for seraphim to walk, 
 In the green loveliness of Nature's youth 
 Have bloom'd beneath their fascinating smile ! 
 And yet, no dreaming pomp, nor bardic spell, 
 Can rival thee, by God himself arrayed 
 With glory terrible and beauty wild, 
 Thou earth-adorning Cataract ! — once seen, 
 And seen for ever ; — heard in truth for once, 
 And by the spirit heard for evermore ! 
 
 When, like some vision of a ruin'd world 
 In foaming majesty I saw thee fall 
 From crag to crag, terrifically swift, 
 My soul was hush'd, in trance of wonder bound ; 
 A word was outrage ! mute as thought, I gazed 
 Upon thee, vanquished by the dread sublime ; 
 As in the presence of Almighty Power 
 My being trembled — language was extinct ! 
 
182 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Aloft, aloft, precipitate and loud, 
 The plunging Torrent like a war-horse leaps 
 Adown the black ravine ! — and white with rage, 
 And thunderingly hoarse, the headlong Wave 
 From rock to rock in froth and foam careers, 
 In tameless, terrible, unwearied ire 
 For ever raving ! — Hark, the mountain thrills 
 And throbs, the leaflets palpitate with awe, 
 The branches quiver, like the limbs of Fear, 
 On each grey elm, while, floating like the breath 
 Of conscious being, lo ! the Mist ascends 
 In tremor from the panting surge below, 
 Lingers awhile, in airy balance hung, 
 Then trembles downward with a quav'ring fall, 
 In rain-drops delicate as unshed tears. 
 
 King of stern waterfalls ! thine awe pervades, 
 And like the genius of romance creates 
 A spirit of enchantment round thy home : 
 The valley, hush'd as desolation, loves ; 
 The gloom chaotic of thine ancient hills, 
 Torn by the tempest's savage wing, and deck'd 
 With foliage, touch'd by autumn's pale decay; 
 And drip of water, from the rocks dissolved 
 In feeble music, faint as dream-heard sighs, — 
 All these in one vast sentiment unite 
 Around thee, making sight and sound appeal 
 Like poetry, from Nature's heart evoked. 
 
 And while with contemplation's spell-bound eyes, 
 Amid the spray, the thunder, and the din, 
 Monarch of waters ! upon thee I gazed, 
 The witchery of deep association rose.— 
 On myriads, now in earth and darkness mute, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 183 
 
 I ponder'd, who, like me, had feasted soul 
 
 And sense, and drank emotions rich as mine 
 
 From thine enchantment. Here, the worldling came, 
 
 And left, perchance, his worldliness behind ; 
 
 Here, Pride, Ambition, Avarice, and Hate, 
 
 Those demons of the mind their sceptres broke, 
 
 And shrunk, like Satan from the Saviour's word, 
 
 By thee o'erawed ! — and here the Poet dreamt, 
 
 While sentiment and thought his heart o'erwhelm'd 
 
 With magic potency, till he became 
 
 Sublime in thy sublimity of scene ; 
 
 And from the centre of his spirit felt 
 
 Warm inspiration, like a sunrise, break, 
 
 And meanings, full of wordless beauty, flow. 
 
 Farewell ! thou roaring Flood of Scynfa* born, 
 In loud monotony of foaming ire 
 Rage on for ever ! rule all hearts and eyes 
 That bow before thee : — Teacher of the wild 
 And wondrous, may thy voice eternal be, 
 And speak of HIM whose shadow is the sun, 
 Whom torrent, sea, and tempest loudly praise, 
 Whose love is syllabled by every breeze, 
 While, seated on eternity's vast throne, 
 He wields His sceptre o'er ten thousand worlds ! 
 
 Farewell ! thou glory of a glorious clime, 
 Farewell ! the sight, but not farewell the sense 
 Of thee : for in the core of Mem'ry's heart 
 The grand dominion of thy scene will dwell ; 
 And oft amid the dust of daily life, 
 The prose of dry existence, will beget 
 Sensations high, and feelings nobly pure : 
 Or, wafted back on fancy's sun-bright wing, 
 
 * The name of the mountain whence the Rhaiadr rises. 
 
184 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 My soul will visit thee, and hear again 
 The thund'ring harmonies of thy dread stream, 
 (Like a huge wave in endless plunge and roar,) 
 And view the Almighty by His work revealed. 
 
 And now came on temptation's demon hour 
 To crush the Saviour ! — By the Holy Ghost 
 Constrained, within a desert's trackless wild 
 Alone He wander'd, unperceived by eyes 
 Of mortal ; there to fathom time and truth, 
 Redemption, and the vast design of Love. 
 A noontide o'er his contemplation sped 
 Away, and still the awful Thinker roved 
 With foot unwearied : sunset, fierce and red, 
 Succeeded : never hung a savage glare 
 Upon the wilderness, like that which tinged 
 This fated hour ; — the trees and herbless rock 
 Wore angry lustre, and the dying Sun 
 Sank downward like a deity of wrath, 
 Behind him leaving clouds of burning wreck. 
 And then, rose twilight ; not with tender hues, 
 Or choral breezes, but with shade as dim 
 And cold, as Death on youthful spirit throws : 
 Sad grew the air, and soon th'afFrighted leaves 
 And branches from the crouching Forest sent 
 A wizard moaning, till the wild-bird shriek'd, 
 Or flutter' d, and in dens of deepest gloom 
 The lion shook, and dreadful monsters glared. 
 
 Tremendous are ye, ever-potent Storms 
 In wild magnificence of sound, and scene ! 
 Watch'd on the mountains, in convulsive play, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 185 
 
 Or from the ocean-margin, when the Sea 
 With her Creator wrestles ! — and we hear 
 The fancied winds of everlasting Power 
 In wrath and gloom fly sweeping o'er the world ! 
 But when hath Tempest, since a deluge roar'd, 
 The pale earth shaken, like that stormy rage 
 That tore the desert, while Messiah mused ? 
 Then God to hands infernal seem'd to trust 
 The helm of Nature, while a Chaos drove 
 The elements to combat ! — night and storm, 
 And rain, and whirlwind, in their frenzied wrath 
 Triumphant, while aloft unnat'ral clouds 
 Hung o'er the sky the imag'ry of Hell ! — 
 Not hence alone tempestuous horror sprung : 
 To aid the Tempter, shapes of ghastly light, 
 With phantoms, grim beyond a maniac's dream, 
 To thunder, darkness, and dread midnight gave 
 A power unearthly : round thy sleepless head, 
 Adored Redeemer ! did the Voices chant, 
 Or wildly mutter their unhallow'd spell ; 
 Yet, all serene Thy godlike virtue stood, — 
 Unshaken, though the universe might fall. 
 
 Thus forty days of dire temptation leagued 
 Their might hell-born, with hunger, thirst, and pain. 
 Meanwhile, in thankless calm the world reposed. 
 Life went her rounds, and busy hearts maintained 
 Their wonted purpose : still uprose the parent orb, 
 And all the dewy ravishment of flowers 
 Enkindled ; Day and Ocean mingled smiles ; 
 And then, meek Night with starr'd enchantment rose, 
 While moonlight wander'd o'er the palmy hills 
 Of green-hair'd Palestine : and thus unmark'd 
 By aught portentous, save demonian wiles, 
 His fasting period in the desert gloom 
 
186 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Messiah braved. At length, by hunger rack'd, 
 
 And drooping, deaden'd by the scorching thirst 
 
 Of deep exhaustion, — round him nothing stood 
 
 But rocky bleakness, mountains dusk and huge, 
 
 Or riven crags, that seem'd the wreck of Worlds. 
 
 And there, amid a vale's profoundest calm 
 
 Where hung no leaf, nor lived one cheering tone 
 
 Of waters, with an unappalled soul 
 
 The Saviour paused, while arid stillness reign'd, 
 
 And the dead air, — how dismally intense 
 
 It hung, and thicken'd o'er the lifeless dale ! 
 
 When lo ! from out the earth's unfathom'd deep 
 
 The semblance of a mighty cloud arose ; 
 
 From whence a Shape of awful stature moved, — 
 
 A A r ast, a dim, a melancholy Form ; 
 
 Upon his brow the gloom of thunder sat, 
 
 And in the darkness of his dreadful eye 
 
 Lay the sheath'd lightnings of immortal ire ! — 
 
 As King of damn'd eternity, he faced 
 
 The Godhead ; cent 'ring in that one still glance 
 
 The hate of Heaven, the agony of Hell, 
 
 Defiance, and despair ! — and then, with voice 
 
 Sepulchral, deep as when a Tempest dies, 
 
 Him thus address'd : " If Son of God Thou be, 
 
 These stones, — command them into living bread !" 
 
 " 'Tis written," answer'd The undaunted Christ, 
 
 " Not bread alone, but every word of God, 
 
 Is life !" — Scarce utter'd that sublime reply, 
 
 When each ascended, and on noiseless wings 
 
 Invisibly both God and Demon soar'd 
 
 Together, rapid as th' almighty glance 
 
 Which roams infinity. On Herod's towers, 
 
 From whose dread altitude the very sky 
 
 Seems nearer, while below a hush'd abyss 
 
 Extendeth, dark with supernat'ral depth, — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 187 
 
 They soon alighted ; where with impious wile 
 
 Again the Tempter thus the Godhead tried : 
 
 " If Son of God Thou be, Thyself cast down ! 
 
 'Tis written, ' Thee protecting angels watch 
 
 For ever, lest a stone thy feet may dash.' " 
 
 " The Lord thy God thou shalt not tempt !" — replied 
 
 The Saviour : awed by such divine repulse, 
 
 The baffled Demon for his last design 
 
 Prepared ; and swiftly by an airy flight, 
 
 To Quarantania's unascended top 
 
 That crowns the wilderness with savage pomp, 
 
 Messiah next he bore ; from thence, a World 
 
 In visionary light lay all reveal'd 
 
 With luring splendour ! — regions, thrones, and climes 
 
 Of bloom and fragrance ; meadows, lakes, and groves ; 
 
 And there lay cities, capp'd with haughty towers, 
 
 With piles, and palaces of marble sheen, 
 
 And domes colossal, with exulting flags 
 
 Of royal conquest on their gilded spires : 
 
 And there were armies, thick as trooping clouds, 
 
 On plains assembled, — chariot, smoke, and steed, 
 
 The pomp of death, and thunder-gloom of war : 
 
 Nor absent, fleets within the silver bay 
 
 Reposed, or riding o'er a gallant sea : 
 
 All this, the world's Inspirer thus evoked, — 
 
 One vast enchantment, one enormous scene 
 
 Of splendour, deluging the dazzled eye 
 
 With mingled radiance, till the fancy reel'd ! 
 
 And then, outstretching with imperial sway 
 
 A shadowy hand, Hell's crafty monarch spake, 
 
 " This pomp and glory, this surpassing World 
 
 Is Thine ! — if Thou wilt kneel and worship me I" 
 
 Then bright as Deity, with truth erect, 
 
 Victoriously Messiah thus rebuked 
 
 The Prince of Hell : " Behind me, Satan, get ! 
 
188 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 'Tis written, thou shalt worship God alone ;" 
 And thus responding, rays of awful truth 
 His eye emitted, from whose dreaded glance 
 The Devil shrunk, and wither'd into air ! — 
 When, light as breezes, lovely as the Morn 
 Descended, blooming with celestial grace, 
 Angelic creatures, in whose hands upborne, 
 By man unseen, the wafted Jesus sank 
 To earth again ; and there, a squadron bright 
 Of minist'ring Spirits round Him knelt, and sang. 
 
 infant^ 
 
 Something divine about an Infant seems 
 To them, who watch it in that holy light 
 Of meaning, caught from those celestial words 
 Of Christ, — " Forbid them not, but let them come /" 
 Fresh buds of Being ! beautiful as frail, 
 Types of that Kingdom which our Souls profess 
 To enter ! Symbols of that docile love 
 And meek compliancy of creed and mind 
 Which Heaven hath canonized, and for its own 
 Acknowledged, — well may thoughtful Hearts perceive 
 A mystery, beyond mere nature's law, 
 Around them girdled like a moral zone. 
 
 And who can wonder (if we love to trace 
 The faint beginning of whatever lives) 
 That o'er an infant, innocently decked 
 With charms more delicate than dewy gleams 
 Dropt on pale flowers, — the serious Mind of man 
 Can ponder ? Or, with presage mildly sad, 
 The colour of its coming years predict, 
 When o'er that brow, with sunny whiteness clothed, 
 Smooth as the cheek of Morning, —Time will stamp 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 189 
 
 His wrinkling traces ; and the purple bloom 
 Of youth's gay spirit, like stern winter's blight 
 On the bowed head of hoary Age becomes ! 
 
 Yes ! eloquent, and touching more than tears, 
 These incarnations of maternal dreams, — 
 (Infants, by Beauty's plastic finger shaped) 
 Have ever been : in all their ways and moods 
 A winning power of unaffected grace 
 Poetic faith, or pioas fancy, views. 
 Wild as the chartered waves which leap and laugh, 
 By sun and breeze rejoicingly inspired, 
 Till the air gladdens with the glowing life 
 They shed around them,— who their happy frame 
 Can mark, or listen to their laughing tones, 
 Behold their gambols, and the shooting gleams 
 Of mirth, which sparkle from their restless eyes, 
 Nor feel his fondness to the centre moved, 
 Beyond a mere emotion ? But, to watch 
 The tendrils of the mind come forth, 
 The buds and petals of the soul expand 
 Day after day, beneath a fostering care 
 And love devoted, — this Religion deeply loves ! 
 How the Great Parent of the Universe 
 The outward to the inner world hath framed 
 With finest harmony ; and for each sense 
 An object apt by corresponding law arranged, — - 
 Philosophy may there, with reverence, learn, 
 As grows the virgin intellect of youth 
 Familiar with all Forms, Effects, and moods 
 Of nature's might, or Majesty, of scenes. 
 And, what a text on Providence we read 
 In the safe life of shielded infancy ! 
 For who can count the multitude of babes, 
 
190 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 That look more fragile than the silken clouds 
 "Which bask upon the bosom of the air 
 They brighten,— God's o'ershading Hand secures ! 
 And number, if Arithmetic can reach 
 The total, what a host of tiny feet 
 Totter in safety o'er this troubled world ! 
 Though all around them throng and rage 
 Destructive Elements, whose faintest shock 
 Would strike an infant into pulseless clay. 
 And, oh ! fond mothers ! whose mysterious hearts 
 Are finely strung with such electric chords 
 Of feeling, that a single touch, a tone 
 From those ye fondle, some responsive thrill 
 Awakens, — when at night, a last long look 
 That almost clings around the Form it eyes, 
 Ye take of slumbering Infancy, whose cheeks 
 Lie softly pillowed on the rounded arm, 
 Rosy, and radiant with their dimpling sleep, — 
 Well may ye waft upon some winged prayer 
 A grateful anthem to your Lord enthroned, 
 Who, once an Infant on his mother's knee, 
 Not in His glory childhood's life forgets : 
 For He, while systems, suns, and worlds 
 Hang on His will, and by His arm perform 
 Their functions, in all matter, space, and time, — 
 Can hear the patter of an infant's foot, 
 List to the beating of a mother's heart, 
 Or, seal the eyelid of a babe at rest. 
 
 But, like the lustre of a broken dream, 
 How soon the fairy grace of morning life 
 Melts from the growing child ! Corruptive airs 
 Breathed from an atmosphere where sin is bred, 
 Around them their contaminating spell 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 191 
 
 Exhale ; and Custom with its hateful load 
 Of mean observances, and petty rites, 
 Bend into dust these Instincts of the skies 
 In the pure heart of genuine childhood seen, 
 And, so enchanting ! — Then comes artful Trick, 
 With forced Appearance, and a feeling veiled, 
 When Fashion's creed, or folly's plea forbids 
 A free expression. These with blending force 
 The sweet integrities of youth assail 
 For ever ; mar the delicacy of mind, 
 And from the power intact of Conscience take 
 Its holy edge, and soon the child impress 
 With the coarse features of corrupted man. 
 And, add to this, how omnipresent sin, 
 That from the womb of being, to our grave 
 Infects our nature with a fiendish blight, — 
 Will act on passion earthly, and desires 
 Malignant, base or mutinously warp'd 
 From virtue, — and, alas ! how quick we find 
 The vestal bloom of Innocence depart ! 
 Then, what remains of all that blessed prime, 
 That blooming promise, which the fair-brow' d child 
 Of beauty gave in home's domestic bowers, — 
 Lisping God's love beside parental knees, 
 And seeming oft, as if the Saviour's arms 
 Had compassed them, and left a circling spell 
 Round his soft being ! — Where, ah ! where is gone 
 The unworn freshness of that fairy child ? 
 
 But, yet on earth from genial heaven there come 
 Children, who, e'en though infancy enwrap 
 Its weakness round them, — thoughts beyond their years, 
 And feelings that in depth surpass the soul 
 Of elder Age to fathom, — oft possess : 
 
192 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Mournful they are, and soft in shape and mien ; 
 Reserved, and shy, as those retreating brooks 
 Which love to vanish from th' observer's gaze, 
 And find green shelter in the shading grass 
 Or waving sedges. — Such, who has not seen, 
 And round them felt a fascination float, 
 A nameless spell, subduingly empowered 
 To make stern Manhood be a child again ? 
 A beaming mildness like the vesper star 
 Their glance reveals : or, in some pensive gaze 
 Soft as blue skies, but far more exquisite, 
 A depth of sanctity there seems to dwell 
 Beyond corruption. Strangers lightly pass ; 
 And, by the semblance of a tiny form 
 Misguided, — rarely on the Mind immense 
 Within it tabernacled, can pause to think. 
 Yet, underneath yon little frame of flesh, 
 Something that shall outsoar the Seraphim 
 Hereafter, as the price of Blood Divine, — 
 May be enshrined ! And o'er that placid brow 
 Shades of high meaning, from the spirit sent, 
 E'en as they rise, may well from Age mature 
 Challenge respect, and bid us wisely know, 
 Childhood has depth of inner-life unseen, 
 Feelings profound, of purest birth unknown, 
 And sympathies of most unfathomed sway, 
 Though stern Philosophy, or Reason's pride 
 Can mock, or misbelieve them. — Souls they have 
 So visited with visionary gleams 
 Of God, and Truth ; and by such love sublime, 
 Sent from the glory of a purer world, 
 Are oft illumined, — Fancy might suspect 
 Such children were the Exiles of the skies 
 Prisoned in breathing flesh, awhile ordained 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 193 
 
 This earth to hallow ; but at times, the sense 
 Of Home Immortal on their being rose, 
 And bade them with divine emotion thrill, 
 Though faltering tongue and feeble accent failed 
 What passed within, to body forth, or tell : 
 Then, Nature only, with a shaded brow 
 And eye that glowed with melancholy gleams, 
 Betokened, — what a heaven-born Spirit bears 
 When half remembering its ethereal birth ! 
 
 Then, look not lightly on a pensive child, 
 Lest God be in it, gloriously at work ! 
 And our Irreverence touch on truths, and powers 
 And principles, which round the Throne are dear 
 As holy. — Never may our hearts forget 
 That Heaven with infancy redeemed is full, 
 Crowded with babes, beyond the sunbeams bright 
 And countless ! Forms of life that scarcely breathed 
 Earth's blighting air, and things of lovely mould 
 Which, ere they prattled, or with flowers could play, 
 Or to the lullaby of watching Love 
 Could hearken — back to God's own world were called ; 
 And myriads, too, who learnt to lisp a prayer, 
 Bend the soft knee, and heave devotion's sigh, 
 Or carolled with a bird-like chant the psalms 
 Of David,~with the Church in Heaven are found : 
 For He who loved them, and on earth enwreathed 
 His arms around them, now in Glory wills 
 To hear their voices, and their souls array 
 With beauty, bright as elder Spirits wear. 
 
194 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Eft* ftolitavg jfttcmft* 
 
 And oh, what marvels did that Mind achieve, 
 Which in itself a Reformation form'd ! 
 For cent'ries, deep the night of falsehood reign'd, 
 Mildew'd the Soul, and manacled her powers 
 With fett'ring darkness ; cloistered Learning pined 
 In cell monastic ; Science grew extinct ; 
 The Bible moulder' d in scholastic rust ; 
 That fountain, in the Saviour's wounded side 
 For sin once oped, by sealing lies was shut ; 
 And 'stead of that bright Garb which Mercy wove 
 Of perfect Righteousness, By Jesus wrought, 
 Spangled with graces, rich as God's own smiles — 
 The filthy rags of ineffectual works 
 Clad the cold skeleton of naked souls : 
 While on his throne of sacerdotal lies, 
 The arch imposter, Satan's rival, sat 
 Self-deified, and ripen'd earth for hell. — 
 Then, Luther rose ; and Liberty and Light 
 Unbarr'd the soul, and let salvation in. 
 Hark ! the dead Scriptures, into life recall'd, 
 Harangue the conscience ; lo ! the Gospel lives ; 
 Swift from the Cross a Roman darkness flies ; 
 Martyrs and Saints, like bafiTd mock'ries sink 
 To nothing, by victorious truth dispersed ; 
 O'er fancied merit free redemption reigns ; 
 And in the temple of the soul illum'd, 
 No mortal Priesthood, with its pomp of lies, 
 And Sacraments of sin, can enter now ; 
 There Christ himself in triple Office rules, 
 King, Priest, and Prophet, on the Spirit's throne. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 195 
 
 Hutting Heatfw 
 
 And if the chamber where the humblest yield 
 The burden of their being up to God, 
 Down to the roots of tenderness awakes 
 Affection's nature ; if the feeblest mind 
 That hovers on the precipice of time, — > 
 When beetling o'er Infinity below 
 Takes to itself some attributes, which speak 
 Of awe and grandeur ; can we gather round 
 That bed of glory where a Luther dies, 
 Nor feel an aspiration ? Can we mark 
 That eagle spirit, from its chain unbound, 
 In light and liberty from this dim world 
 Escaping, — nor, a solemn thrill partake 
 Speechless, but how expressive ! There he lies, 
 Pale in the swoon of swift-approaching death : 
 But Mind is yet majestic ; and his brilliant eyes 
 From the black lustre of their mental fire 
 Alive with feeling, — look forth prayer, and shine 
 Conscious and clear as ever ! while the lips 
 Move with the verse, that on Messiah's once 
 Quiver 'd in peace, when David's words of faith 
 Wing'd his worn spirit to the breast of God. 
 
 Deeper and deeper do the shades of death 
 Around him close, while drop the fainting lids 
 O'er his sunk eyeballs ; thickly heave and fall 
 Those panting breath-gasps ; while the ear of Love 
 Drinks with delight some shatter'd tones, or sighs 
 Of Bible promise, or some falter'd notes 
 Of faith, which tell the spirit's life within. 
 The strife is mortal, but the strength divine 
 
 o 2 
 
1% POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 That meets it ! Death, all stingless, and the law, 
 
 All dreadless, — neither can from Luther's heart 
 
 Hurl the high confidence, a Christian seats 
 
 There on the throne of evangelic truth. 
 
 Around him friends and mourners, each with sobs 
 
 Half stifled, and with tears that hang unshed 
 
 On the still'd eyelid of revering love, 
 
 Are group' d ; while bands of waiting Angels watch 
 
 The mighty spirit into glory pass ! 
 
 Cold is the damp that dews his whit'ning brow, 
 
 And pains convulse him with continuous rack ; 
 
 But underneath that palpitating flesh 
 
 Calm lies the Soul ! — in peace celestial bathed, 
 
 Though clay and spirit sunder. Hark, again 
 
 The last weak cry of ling'ring nature lifts 
 
 A dying homage to the truth divine ; 
 
 And then, on yonder kneeling forms and friends 
 
 Before him, falls one faint and farewell gaze, 
 
 And, — all is over ! while his features fix 
 
 Their pale expression into placid trance. 
 
 No sigh is heard, no groan, nor shudder comes ; 
 
 But speechless, and with hands devoutly lock'd, 
 
 And mute as monumental prayer, he lies 
 
 A dead Immortal, deep in glory now ! 
 
 And here the dead Elijah of the Gospel lies ! 
 And rarely to the spirit's home hath fled 
 From this low earth, a loftier Soul than he, 
 The lion-hearted Luther ! Never more 
 That princely mind with gen'rous pang shall bleed ; 
 He sleeps in Jesus, but he wakes to God, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 197 
 
 Chanting in heaven the song on earth he sung, 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb ! for He was slain for me !" 
 
 The race is o'er, the goal immortal reach'd ; 
 
 Servant of Light, and vassal of his Lord, 
 
 Him hath the Master with the host above 
 
 United, call'd, rewarded, — and resumed 
 
 Back to the Bosom whence his graces flow'd, 
 
 And let the pope and priest their victor scorn, 
 
 Each fault reveal, each imperfection scan, 
 
 And by their fell anatomy of hate 
 
 His life dissect, with satire's keenest edge, — 
 
 And yet may Luther with his mighty heart 
 
 Defy their malice, though it breathe of hell ! 
 
 If soul majestic, and a dauntless mien ; 
 
 If faith colossal, o'er all fiends and frowns 
 
 Erect ; if energy that never slack'd, 
 
 With all that galaxy of graces bright 
 
 Which stud the firmament of christian mind ; 
 
 If these be noble, — with a zeal conjoin'd 
 
 That made his life one liturgy of love, 
 
 Then may the Saxon, from his death-couch send 
 
 A dreadless answer, that refutes all foes, 
 
 Who dwarf his merit, or his creed revile 
 
 With falsehood. Far beyond them soars the Soul 
 
 They slander ; from his tomb there still comes forth 
 
 A Magic, that appals them by its power ; 
 
 And the brave monk who made the Popedom rock, 
 
 Champions a world to show his equal yet ! 
 
193 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Breams 
 
 No incantation which the outward sense 
 In the full glow of waking life perceives, 
 Rivals the magic by mysterious Night 
 Evoked, — when Dreams, like Messengers from heaven, 
 Rise from eternity, and round the soul 
 Hover and hang, ineffably sublime ; 
 But mocking language, when it tries to catch 
 Their fine ethereality of truth, and power. — 
 Yet, all are dreamers, in the heart or head 
 Pursuing ever some phantasmal good, 
 Some fairy Eden, where the flowerets bloom 
 Beyond the winter's blight, or serpent's trail 
 To waste or wither ; — Life itself a dream, 
 An unreality of wondrous things, 
 Of change abrupt, of crisis unforecast, 
 Often in hours of high-raised fancy grows. 
 
 And how religious is the sway of Dreams, 
 Which are the movers of that secret world 
 Where most we live, and learn, and love, — 
 Building our being up to moral heights, 
 Stone after stone, by rising truths advanced 
 To full experience, and to noble aims ! 
 The tombs of time they open, till the forms, 
 The faces, and the features of our dead 
 Lighten with life, and speech, and wonted smiles ! 
 While memory beautifies the Thing it mourns, 
 And to the dead a deeper charm imparts 
 Than their gone life in fullest glory had. — 
 And thus, in visions of the voiceless night. 
 (Apparelled with that beauty which the mind 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 199 
 
 Gives to the loved and lovely when no more,) 
 
 Rise from their tombs the forms of fleeted days, 
 
 Friends of bright youth, — the fascinating dear ! 
 
 Till back returns life's unpolluted dawn, 
 
 And down the garden walk, or cowslipp'd field, 
 
 (Where once he prattled, full of game and glee,) 
 
 The man, transfigured back to childhood, — roves 
 
 Tender as tears ! So, on the wind-bowed mast 
 
 The sailor-boy in dreams a mother hails, 
 
 And hears her blessing o'er his pathway breathed ; 
 
 Or, pale and gasping, ere his life-drops ebb 
 
 For ever, how the soldier thus depicts 
 
 In the soft dream of some remembered day, 
 
 The hands that reared him, or the hearts that heaved 
 
 With omens, when the charm of tented fields 
 
 Seduced him from the sweets of sainted home 
 
 And virtue :— Dreams are thus half-miracles ; 
 
 All time they master, and all truths embrace, 
 
 Which melt the hardest, and our minds affect 
 
 With things profounder than our creed asserts. 
 
 But when creation with its primal bloom 
 Was haunted, and the spirit-world appeared 
 With thrilling nearness on this world of sense 
 Splendours, and secrets, and mute signs to bring, 
 Beyond what modern Grossness can receive 
 Or sanction, — then to patriarchal Mind 
 In that young period did Jehovah come, 
 And unto conscience syllable His Name, 
 By voices deep, in visions most divine : 
 Or, Apparitions oft at noon of night 
 Dimly the future to a seer unveiled, — 
 Woeful, or wondrous, or with mercy charged. 
 Such dreams the mystery of slumber made 
 Heralds of grace, and harbingers of Heaven, 
 
200 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And prophets of the Infinite-To-Come, 
 They were, and ministered high truth to man. 
 Sleep was religion, for it glowed with God ; 
 And that which Daylight could not, dared not see,- 
 Oft in some trance when Mind o'er matter ruled, 
 The night uncurtained, and to soul revealed 
 Grandeurs and glooms, and glories without name. 
 
 Above, beneath, around, — where'er we move 
 Or live, an atmosphere of myst'ry floats ; 
 For ever baffling, with its gloom unpierced, 
 The pride of Reason's analytic gaze. 
 E'en like that Pillar which, of cloud and fire 
 Contemper'd, to the pilgrim Church bestowed 
 A guidance solemn, through untrodden wilds ; 
 So, human knowledge, in this world forlorn, 
 In shade and light alternately prevails, 
 Too dark for pride, too shining for despair. 
 And thus, accordant with our state corrupt, 
 From truth to truth, the educated Mind 
 Through shades of awe is humblingly advanced ; 
 While noble Ignorance, that knows itself, 
 Kneels in the shadow of the Mercy-seat 
 And prays the heart to piety, and love. 
 
 Htfiftt. 
 
 The Day is earth, but holy Night is heav'n ! 
 To her a solitude of soul is given, 
 Within whose depth, how beautiful to dream, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 201 
 
 And fondly be, what others vainly seem ! 
 
 Oh, 'tis an hour of consecrated might, 
 
 For Earth's Immortals have adored the Night ; 
 
 In song or vision yielding up the soul 
 
 To the deep magic of Her still control. 
 
 My own loved hour ! there comes no hour like thee, 
 
 No world so glorious as thou form'st for me ; 
 
 The fretful ocean of eventful day,— 
 
 To waveless nothing how it ehbs away, 
 
 As oft the chamber, where some haunted page 
 
 Renews a poet, or revives a sage 
 
 In pensive Athens, or sublimer Rome, 
 
 To mental quiet woos the Spirit home. 
 
 There stillness reigns, how eloquently deep ! 
 
 And soundless air, more beautiful than sleep. 
 
 Let Winter sway, — her dream-like sounds inspire : 
 
 The social murmur of a blazing fire ; 
 
 The hail-drop, hissing as it melts away 
 
 In twinkling gleams of momentary play ; 
 
 Or wave-like swell of some retreated Wind, 
 
 In dying sadness echo'd o'er the mind, — 
 
 But gently ruffle into varied thought 
 
 The calm of feeling blissful Night has brought. 
 
 How eyes the spirit, with contented gaze, 
 
 The chamber mellow' d into social haze, 
 
 And smiling walls, where, rank'd in solemn rows, 
 
 The wizard volumes of the mind repose ! 
 
 Thus, well may hours like fairy waters glide, 
 
 Till morning glimmers o'er their reckless tide ; 
 
 While dreams, beyond the realm of day to view, 
 
 Around us hover in seraphic hue ; 
 
 Till Nature pines for intellectual rest, — 
 
 When, home awakens, and the heart is blest ; 
 
 Or, from the window reads our wand'ring eye 
 
202 
 
 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 The starry language of Chaldean sky ; 
 And gathers in that one vast gaze above, 
 A bright eternity of awe and love ! 
 
 ©Ottttmjrtatumis gttsststotr fcg 'Sight* 
 
 But the midnight hour is come ; 
 The moon, with her pale hierarchy girt 
 Of stars, is gliding to the ocean's brim : 
 And, listen 1 — for the chime of far-off bells 
 O'er a dead Sabbath tolls their dying tone. 
 And now, the Day is buried ; to thy tomb 
 Eternity, with all its hopes and fears 
 Gather'd, and gone. But oh, how thrill'd 
 The chords mysterious of our secret frame ! 
 As if the stirrings of a life unborn, 
 Latent but lovely, — this rapt hour inspired. 
 The Dead seem gazing on our hearts again ! 
 Illapses deep, irradiations pure 
 Glide through our spirit, from a source unknown ; 
 Until, by awful loveliness subdued, 
 Heavenward the pilgrim lifts his eye of prayer 
 Expressive : youth, and home, and long-fled days 
 With soft revival, touch him into tears 
 Unshed ; and while the arch of night yet rings 
 With the soft echoes of the sunken chimes 
 Around him, many a thoughtful sigh is heaved 
 O'er visions gone ; while things that once becharm'd 
 The dazzled fancy, pale and cold appear, — 
 Weeds of the past on mem'ry's lonely shore ! 
 
 Deep trance of Night ! a mystic power is thine, 
 That sanctifies creation with a charm 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 203 
 
 Beyond what day-beams, in their brightest glow, 
 
 Can emanate, whate'er the scene they gild. 
 
 But, oh ! if ever into heart of man 
 
 The Midnight, like a mute religion sent 
 
 Her spirit, — surely when the captur'd monk 
 
 Down the dim chambers of the Wartburg paced, 
 
 Thy genius, then, in solemn glory reign'd ! 
 
 There, by his window' d turret, lofty, bleak, 
 
 And lone, unharm'd in holy peace he mused, 
 
 The past revolved, and o'er the future pray'd. 
 
 But there be moments, in this life of ours, 
 
 Beyond the weak apocalypse of words 
 
 E'er to unveil ; so charged with secret might, 
 
 They master with perplexity immense, 
 
 Or into voiceless sentiment transform 
 
 Our spirit : like a cloud, we seem to float 
 
 In formless vacancy, with fruitless gloom 
 
 Begirt and blinded ; — till forced nature feels 
 
 By truth replenish' d, and distinctive thoughts 
 
 Rise from the heart, pathetic, soft, profound, 
 
 Like tears of pity in a good man's eye. — 
 
 Then, all we have been, are, or hope to be, 
 
 Blends in strange climax ; and the soul's o'ersway'd 
 
 With big emotion, or with breathless prayer. 
 
 All that we Have been, yes, the night restores : 
 Form after Form we loved, or knew, or fear'd, 
 Moves o'er the platform of the summon'd past ; 
 While dead eyes open, and familiar smiles 
 Fall on our hearts ; or, household voices ring, 
 Till the soul echoes with remember'd tones 
 Sweeter than music in its tranced excess ! 
 And all we are, — oh ! Night can this expound ; 
 And self to self, beyond all preachers show, 
 
204 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 In truthful plainness ;— making conscience start 
 
 As sin on sin, which cov'ring daylight hides, 
 
 From the dim back-ground of our being comes, 
 
 To awe Conception. Then, the future's doom ! — - 
 
 Oh, how the spirit of the midnight hush 
 
 To That, significance and shape imparts, 
 
 As depths of possibility untold 
 
 Open beneath Imagination's eye, — 
 
 Fearful, and fathomless, and full of God ! 
 
 But, then we rise ourselves beyond ; and reach 
 
 The skirts and shadows of a higher State, 
 
 Yet to be master' d. Or, may Thought presume 
 
 Thus to imagine, — that as embryo Life 
 
 Hath latent inlets ere the breath begins, 
 
 And dormant Senses undeveloped powers, — 
 
 So, may our Spirit in the flesh perceive 
 
 Faintly and feebly, some prelusive State, 
 
 And preconceptions of Hereafter feel 
 
 Which antedate a nobler Life, to come ? 
 
 Here is the moment when our conscience 
 If racked, or guilty ; when religion wakes 
 From depths unopened in the fev'rish day, 
 While awed Imagination lives, and feels 
 Th' unborn poetry of speechless mind 
 Within her quickened : loud the heart-throbs beat ; 
 But, in this syncope of nature's voice, 
 What mute theology a moment wields 
 O'er the strained fancy ! — now indeed we prove 
 That worded speech to manhood appertains, 
 But Silence the Almighty's language is ; 
 And Faith can hear it, — thrillingly intoned 
 With inspirations from eternity ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 205 
 
 Ittfttttcttbe Irrcatr of ©tatfu 
 
 Philosophy in vain her charm applies ; 
 Reason may laugh, and science coldly sneer, 
 And all the hravery of words may try 
 Off from the soul this incubus of dread 
 To shake : but still, the clay cold touch of Death 
 Thrills through our bones like supernatural ice ; 
 And in the chamber where his power we find, 
 How the foot presses on the very floor 
 As if with rev'rence ! and our breath is held 
 In awed suspension ; scarcely can our 
 Words venture abroad ; and as we sadly bend 
 Our speculation o'er the marble face, 
 In the stern paleness of its dread repose 
 Beneath us lying, something not of earth 
 Comes strangely creeping o'er the harrowed mind !- 
 A hushed sensation, an unspoken chill, 
 A choking weight that on our bosom sinks, 
 Dismal as if the horrid grave immured 
 Our being, while 'tis yet with life inspired. 
 Eternity doth time and scene and soul 
 Into itself absorb ; and what was once 
 A fact believed, grows awful feeling now. 
 
 TEo St> — tefiai ig it ? 
 
 To die, — what is it ? but with swift embrace 
 To clasp eternity, and cling to God 
 With powers renewed, and faculties refined, 
 And with the Essences of Truths and Things 
 
206 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 To hold acquaintance infinite, and full ? 
 
 To die, — what is it ? but from Time and Flesh 
 
 Escaping, with our manumitted soul, 
 
 On Shadows, Secrets, and Sublimities 
 
 Behind the palpable of Sense retired, — 
 
 At length to gaze ; and, where no clouding sin 
 
 Perplexes reason, find all mysteries dark 
 
 Which sadden earth with their o'ershading gloom, — 
 
 In the vast light of vindicated Heaven 
 
 Resolved for ever ? — Yes, the body's death 
 
 Is but the breaking down of prison-walls, 
 
 To let the Spirit into boundless life ! 
 
 Say, who has felt this fevered anxious life, 
 Its fretting heart-aches, falsehood, sin, and tears, 
 Ambition's waste of unrewarded toils, 
 Reluctant kindness, changing friends, and foes, 
 Together with the chill that added tombs 
 Cast o'er declining years ; and then are taught, 
 By truths from Heaven, a brighter world to seek, — 
 And have not, when like Hagar, reft and drear, 
 Felt death a freedom, and a grave their home ? 
 For, oh ! how many does the Clime of Souls 
 Hold of the dearest, whom our hearts embraced, 
 Esteem hath loved, or admiration known ! 
 Eternity is richer far than time; 
 Thus Faith and Feeling can alike perceive, 
 Meetings how warm, and welcomings how bright, 
 From each high Master-piece of human worth, 
 Genius, or grace, or glory's finest Heirs, — 
 Await us, in the spirit-peopled Land ! 
 There, be the Patriarchs, Prophets, Priests, and Kings 
 Of olden time ; and Saints august, who lived 
 Like Angels, in their purity unstained ; 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 207 
 
 Apostles, Martyrs, and th' anointed Host 
 Of Heaven-beloved, but unremembered Minds, 
 Whose paths were lowly, but not less sublime,— 
 There are they gathered to that sainted rest 
 Where Christ, as Centre, over all presides 
 In crowned perfection ; and to each imparts 
 Himself for ever, with augmenting bliss. 
 
 What then is death, but nobler Life begun, 
 Release from bondage, — an Existence raised 
 High o'er this Being, which we darkly bear 
 Clogged with base fetters, by our fallen clay 
 Fastened around the Spirit they enthral ? 
 But, oh ! forget not, that a light hath flashed 
 Forth from the tomb where buried Jesus lay, 
 Immortal, — and o'er all the graves of earth 
 Poured the clear lustre of a Life to come 
 Celestial, and unchanged ! For when the pulse 
 Of life returning, in His breast began 
 To quicken, and His awful Form arose, 
 Oh, then it was, as though creation's tombs 
 Flew open, and the vast unreckoned dead 
 Who were, or shall be, — in Himself arose : 
 For in His Person, human Nature stands ; 
 His life, salvation, and His death, the same ; — 
 So, from the grave to God reducing back 
 That Nature ransomed, and by merit raised. 
 
208 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Sfatrug' ©attsfitcr* 
 
 On Jairus Heaven an only child bestow'd ; 
 A lovely scion, round whose being twined 
 The clinging fondness of parental fear : 
 For, beautiful as Syria's lonely flowers 
 That wave and murmur on the shady top 
 Of wooded Lebanon, — her form had grown 
 From infancy, till now, revealing Time 
 Had written woman on her virgin cheek. 
 
 Born in that land where Summer's pregnant beam 
 Was brightest, where the fruits of Eden hung, 
 And the rich mulberry spread a snowy bloom, 
 While grapes empurpled ev'ry terraced hill, — 
 Her shape and spirit magic influence caught 
 From Syria's clime of glory ; — nature's grace 
 By power of exquisite attraction seem'd 
 Reflected from it : light and beauty fill'd 
 Her soul, and flash'd from those irradiate eyes ; 
 And walk'd she not, as Israel's daughter would, 
 The mighty scenes where patriarchal feet 
 Had trodden, where the God of Zion spake ! — 
 Lake, fount, and river, and the mountains three 
 Which camp'd her warriors, and that still o'erlook 
 Esdraelon's plain, where tented Arabs dwell, 
 Around whose home, when dewy nightfall comes, 
 The gambling flocks to reedy murmurs play, — * 
 From each and all pure inspiration sprung, 
 And told how beautiful religion look'd 
 By youth entempled in a spotless heart ! 
 
 * See Malte Brim on Palestine. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 209 
 
 And yet on her, so delicately young, 
 Infection breathed, and poison'd blood and brain, 
 Till all the bloom of animation died ! 
 Her form was blighted, and her faded cheek 
 The pallid certainty of coming doom 
 Betray'd. — Oh, hear it, Heaven ! — a father's prayer 
 Ascends the sky, to claim a brighter hope : 
 Away ! with agonizing speed he flies, 
 Nor treads the ground, nor hears the city-roar, 
 Nor feels the motion of his moving limbs ; 
 Condensed, and darken' d into wild despair 
 His soul became, till Nature's functions fail'd, 
 And earth was reeling from his dazzled gaze : 
 When full amid the pharisaic throng 
 He rush'd, and prostrate with a burst of wo, 
 Thus broke the spirit from its horrid trance ! — 
 " My daughter, Lord ! her dying pangs approach, 
 But hasten ! touch her with Thy healing hand, 
 And yet my child shall live !" — -Ere Jesus came, 
 Her spirit vanish'd, like a lovely sound ! 
 
 The house of mourning : hark ! the fun'ral dirge, 
 The doleful flutes, and dying melodies 
 Of instrumental tone, or wailing yells 
 Of frantic grief and mercenary wo.* 
 But, enter ! — there in yon sepulchral room 
 Alone a childless mother comes to seal 
 The lids of death, and on the marble lip 
 Imprint a long and last — the parting kiss. 
 And shall the worm of putrefaction feed 
 On that young form, of Beauty's finest mould ? 
 The light and life of twelve enchanted years, 
 All sunk and shaded in remorseless dust ! — 
 * Abbe* Fleury's Account of Jewish Ceremonies, &c. &c. 
 
 P 
 
210 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Oh agony ! could thawing tears the soul 
 Dissolve, let sufFring Nature shed them now. 
 While o'er thy cheek, so eloquently pale, 
 Once full of rosy life, her bending eye 
 With dreadful speculation broods, — beloved, 
 And blessed ! all thy winning ways and smiles, 
 Thy look and laugh, in one sweet throng, return 
 Upon her, till thy warm and living breath 
 Again is playing round Affection's heart. 
 But ah ! her martyr'd frame's convulsive heave, 
 As if in that chaotic gloom of mind, 
 When feeling is our only faith, the soul 
 Would rive the body, and at once be free, — 
 Betokens thou art death, and she despair ! 
 
 Believe, and fear not ; in the blackest cloud 
 A sunbeam hides ; and from the deepest pang 
 Some hidden mercy may a God declare. 
 There as she stood, delirious, rack'd, and wild, 
 The Saviour enter'd, and his soothing glance 
 Fell on the mother's torn and troubled heart, 
 As moonlight on the ocean's haggard scene. 
 The wailing minstrel, and the dirge of death, 
 He bade them cease ; — " The maiden is not dead, 
 But sleepeth !" Then around her vestal couch 
 The mourning parents with His chosen Three 
 Advanced, and in the midst, divinely calm, 
 The Son of Man. — In lifeless beauty laid, 
 A loveliness, and not the gloom of death 
 The virgin wore ; and on her placid cheek 
 The light of dreams reposed : oh, ne'er could dust 
 A purer sacrifice from death receive ! 
 But when He stoop'd, and held her icy hand, 
 And utter'd, " Maid, arise !" the beating heart 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 211 
 
 Of wonder, doubt, delight, and awful fear, 
 
 Was hush'd ; for, swift as echo to the voice 
 
 Replies, the spirit of the dead awoke 
 
 At His high summons ! whether from the arms 
 
 Of angels, lock'd in some oblivious trance ; 
 
 Or from the bloom and breath of Paradise 
 
 Amid beatitude,— to earth recalled, 
 
 To us unknown ; enough for man to know, 
 
 That when the Lord of resurrection spake, 
 
 The Soul return'd ! — and mark its coining glow ; 
 
 Soft o'er each deaden' d cheek the rosy light 
 
 Of cherub slumber steals ; the eyes unfold, 
 
 And lift their veiny lids, as matin flowers 
 
 When dew and sunshine fascinate their gaze ; 
 
 In red and smiling play the lips relax, 
 
 And, delicate as music's dying fall, 
 
 The throb of life begins ; — she moves ! she breathes ! 
 
 The dead hath risen, and a living child 
 
 Sinks on the bosom of maternal love. 
 
 Ethereal essence, interfused through space 
 Is love. In orbs of glory spirits live 
 By such perfection : and on earth it feeds 
 And quickens all things with a soul-like ray, — 
 The beautiful in its most beauteous sense ; 
 And symbolized by Nature, in her play 
 Of harmonies, her forms, her hues, and sounds : 
 In each, connexion, aptitude, and grace 
 Reside. Thus, flow'rs in their infantile bloom 
 Of sympathy, the bend of trees and boughs, 
 The chime of waters, and caress of winds, — 
 
 p 2 
 
212 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Betoken that they all partake a sense 
 Of that sweet principle that charms the world. 
 And yet, though Love a human seraph be, 
 When pure and blest, — by circumstance deform' d 
 It turns a demon, in the heart enthron'd, 
 Draining the life-blood out of Virtue's breast ! 
 For many, gentle as their wishes once, 
 "When love smil'd round them with prophetic ray, 
 With hearts by disappointment torn and rent, 
 And spirits blasted with the blight of wrong, — 
 Are driven onward through a wild'ring course, 
 Untemper'd and untam'd. 
 
 Pftunan Hobr, 
 
 Emotion that is most sublime 
 Of all that hallows earth and time ; 
 That principle from whence we draw 
 The light of each celestial law ; 
 Pervading sense, preserving power, 
 Whom death nor darkness can devour ; 
 An omnipresent might and spell 
 Wherein all mind and matter dwell, — 
 Is Love ! — By that bright word alone 
 We vision forth The Vast Unknown ; 
 The Ruler of the seraphim, 
 Whose glory makes the glorious dim ! 
 And not an element that grows 
 But breathes the life which love bestows.- 
 So magical its wide command, — 
 The sternest rock, the blackest stand, 
 Around an exiled wretch hath thrown 
 A charm that Paradise might own. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 213 
 
 And who, when form and face depart 
 
 That seldom touch'd his deeper heart, 
 
 Or, e'en in hours of marring strife 
 
 Disturbed the pure serene of life, — 
 
 That feels not, while he says, " Farewell I" 
 
 A love-born sense within him dwell ? — 
 
 A touch of heart, whose tenderness 
 
 Provokes him with a thrilling stress ? 
 
 And hence the captive, when the light 
 
 Of freedom daunts his reeling sight, 
 
 With something of a mute regret, 
 
 His gaze on dungeon-walls hath set, 
 
 Though Misery's hand had graven there 
 
 The words and weakness of despair ! — 
 
 There is but one who cannot love, 
 
 The Anarch of the thrones above ; 
 
 Apostate, in whose sleepless eyes 
 
 A hell of burning hatred lies ; 
 
 Whose torture is th' undying sense 
 
 Of unadored omnipotence ; 
 
 A wither'd, dark, defeated Mind, 
 
 That curses Heaven, and scorns mankind ! — 
 
 And will the loveless, stern, or grave, 
 Think human fancies wildly rave, 
 When young affection's meteors play 
 In dazzling falsehood round their way ? 
 Oh ! take him to some towering mind, 
 Whose Orphic words entrance mankind, 
 And when the mask is laid aside, 
 And backward rolls the blood-warm tide 
 Of feelings, rich with early truth, 
 And vital with the flush of youth, — 
 How wither'd, wan, and leafless, grows 
 The laurel that Renown bestows, 
 
214 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 To that bright wreath affection wove 
 
 Round the fair brow of youthful Love ! — 
 
 That love, whose faintest impulse wrings 
 
 The bosom's agonized strings, 
 
 And even in its mildest reign 
 
 Overpowers him with a yearning pain, — • 
 
 A feeling that is unforgot, 
 
 That seems the core of life to rot, 
 
 And deaden it with slow decay, 
 
 As water frets the rock away ! 
 
 Thus passion forms the bane of bliss 
 
 Of being, in a world like this ; 
 
 The day or night of inward joy, 
 
 Which years may dim, but not destroy ; 
 
 Love reigns but once, — yet that will be 
 
 Affection's true eternity ! 
 
 All future love mere echo seems 
 
 Of vanish' d hope's melodious dreams ; 
 
 A dying tone of lost delight, 
 
 A fragment of those feelings bright 
 
 That once, when youth and heart were whole, 
 
 Excited, charm'd — and crush'd the soul I 
 
 Pofocr of the &fftttiow. 
 
 That power without whose added spell, 
 So vast, yet so invisible, 
 The lustre of our spirit wanes, 
 And pleasures are but smiling pains, 
 Is holy love, by hearts enjoy'd, 
 Unchill'd, unchang'd, and unalloy'd. — 
 And will the Stoic deem me wrong, 
 A martyr of mistaken song ? 
 Without it, what are crowns and kings, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 215 
 
 But barren toys, and blighted things ? 
 Art, Wit, and Genius, all we glow 
 To think cold earth contains below, 
 By woman's voice, or woman's name, 
 Have gather'd fortune, might, and fame. — 
 And ask him whom the world hath worn, 
 Whose brain is rack'd, whose bosom torn 
 Amid the dust, the heat, and strife, 
 
 Around the day concenter'd, 
 How exquisite that purer life, 
 
 At eve, when he hath enter'd 
 The garden path where Peace can wind, 
 And cast the demon Care behind ! — 
 The tottering pace of infant feet, 
 That haste a homeward sire to greet ; 
 Each budding thought, and broken word, 
 So faintly seen, and softly heard 5 
 The tones of air, the tender hues 
 Affection pours on all it views ; 
 And, sweeter far, those eyes that live 
 Upon the rays his own can give, 
 Now kindled into fond excess 
 Of light that speaks, and looks that bless ! — 
 To him who feels such blended power 
 To hallow Eve's domestic hour, 
 The star of life, where'er he roam, 
 Is she whose ray attracts him home. 
 
 ^Roman's; Hofat* 
 
 But might those Spirits who have been 
 Still watchers of our troubled scene, 
 Beholding with dejected eye 
 
216 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 The throes of human agony, 
 
 To Earth repeat the tale of life, 
 
 Since first convulsed with gloom and strife,- 
 
 How much, methinks, would Virtue prize 
 
 That never dazzled mortal eyes, 
 
 As Angels read the awful story 
 
 Of empires dim, and ages hoary, 
 
 And, while they scored a hero's crown, 
 
 To woman give the heart's renown ! 
 
 For pangs that tore with secret sway, 
 
 For tears by night, and toils by day ; 
 
 For tortures by the world untraced 
 
 When love was wreck' d, and truth defaced : 
 
 For fondness in the fiercest hour 
 
 Of tyrant wrath, or ruin's power, — 
 
 For every sad and silent wrong 
 
 That Weakness suffer' d from the strong, — 
 
 For these, and all young feeling bore, 
 
 When mis'ry made it love the more ! 
 
 A chaplet of celestial light 
 
 Would angels weave for woman's right. 
 
 Oh, she is all that soul can be, 
 
 One deep, undying sympathy ! — 
 
 When Life is scarce a moving dream, 
 
 'Tis like her spirit's native beam, 
 
 That never from its fountain strays, 
 
 But lives alone within her rays : 
 
 And, round an infant, how divine 
 
 The wreath a mother's arms can twine ! 
 
 And when dark years of manhood bring 
 
 Their load of fated suffering, 
 
 As true as echo to the sound, 
 
 Her blessings to his wants abound. — 
 
 In sickness, ah ! how smooth the bed 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 217 
 
 Her duteous hand alone can spread ; 
 And, when the shades of death advance, 
 What paradise within her glance, 
 While all her yearning soul appears 
 Dissolved in love, and hathed with tears ! 
 
 And say, can aught but Death unbind 
 Affections round her soul entwined ? 
 Though distance may bereave the eye, 
 And o'er him hang a stranger sky, 
 The sun that brings her spirit's day 
 Is born of his illuming sway ! 
 The ground he trod a glory wears ; 
 The twilight walk his step declares ; 
 No melody so sweetly heard 
 As Fancy's love-repeated word ! 
 His picture on her heart portray'd, 
 (Soft mem'ry asks no other aid) — 
 Bright o'er her face she oft can feel 
 His visioned gaze of fondness steal ! 
 The breathings of his soul begin 
 To thrill her echoing soul within ; 
 And then, ere truth is half aware, 
 Her lips address the tongueless air 
 In words of unregarded tone, — 
 As sunlight on a rock is thrown 
 Where flower nor herbage, fruit nor stream, 
 Exult to drink the offer'd beam ! 
 Against him raise a sland'rous breath, — 
 And blooming looks the cheek of death, 
 Compared with that appall'd distress 
 That blights her features' loveliness ! 
 Applaud him, — and the heart will rise, 
 Irradiant in her dewy eyes ! 
 
218 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Lustrous, and fill'd with tearful light, 
 
 Like rain-beads when the moon is bright. 
 
 Voiceless her tongue, — but what a glow 
 
 Of spirit's grateful overflow, 
 
 In eloquent excess appears 
 
 To ghtter through those dawning tears ! 
 
 And, ah ! forgive, — if fondly weak, 
 
 Too soft of one her soul will speak ; 
 
 And faintly interweave his name 
 
 With hours when Love should hide its claim : 
 
 For thus chance words will oft betray 
 
 How secret thoughts roam far away ; 
 
 And hence, by soft and sudden tone, 
 
 The dreamings of the mind are shewn, — 
 
 Like rays of beauty, when they dart 
 
 From out a cloud's divided heart, 
 
 And dazzle into gay surprise 
 
 The lids of unexpecting eyes. 
 
 iCUttecttfat Stanzas* 
 
 i. 
 
 The pining leaf, the perish' d flower, 
 The tints of Autumn thrown 
 
 In pensive ruin o'er some bower, 
 Where gay spring-buds had grown. 
 
 The falt'ring wave, the feeble cloud 
 That faints like thought away, — 
 
 With nature's warning, unallow'd, 
 Predict our own decay ! 
 
Poetry and religion. 219 
 
 And who can look down Life's dim vale, 
 
 Where buried hours repose, 
 Or listen to the rueful tale 
 
 Of man's recurring woes,— 
 
 Nor feel within the spirit's core 
 
 A pang of mute regret, 
 For feelings that exist no more, 
 
 For joys whose sun is set. 
 
 Yes, Lady ! in this life of dreams 
 
 My heart has had its share, 
 And still around my fancy beams 
 
 The wreck of visions fair ; 
 
 But hollow laugh, and heartless smile, 
 
 And tones of mirth untrue, 
 Can barely mock the soul awhile, 
 
 And veil it from thy view. 
 
 Another to the countless mass 
 
 Of spirits who have fled, — 
 I add my sigh as on I pass 
 
 To regions of the dead ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The sunbeams in their brightest mirth 
 
 Are dancing o'er the sea, 
 And hues and harmonies of Earth 
 
 Betoken summer's glee. 
 
220 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 I watch the clouds with fairy glide 
 Athwart the blue air gleam, 
 
 And view them mirror' d on the tide 
 Like features in a dream. 
 
 The very leaves are ton'd with joy, 
 
 And carol to the wind, 
 Gaily as when, a pangless boy, 
 
 They echoed back my mind. 
 
 Gladness and glory blend their sway 
 Around this ocean scene, — 
 
 And yet, to me the brightest day 
 Is dark to what hath been. 
 
 The flowers of hope, the young and fair, 
 Are dewless, cold, or dead ; 
 
 The lip may laugh — but where, oh, where 
 The spirit's sunshine fled ! 
 
 I hear the voice of vanish' d Hours, 
 And mourn the faded past ; 
 
 Oh, why should feeling e'er be ours, 
 And nought but mem'ry last ! 
 
 Giivfettim Home* 
 
 Home of the Christian ! when Messiah comes 
 A scene of Heaven in miniature art thou, 
 Where all is redolent of charms divine, 
 Temper renewed, and souls by grace becalmed. 
 Thy quiet precincts of a purer world 
 Breathe to the heart of faith ; and, when compared 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 221 
 
 With what the worldling in his home enjoys, — 
 
 E'en like the vexing hum of some large street 
 
 Where all is haste and hurry, tramp and strife, 
 
 In contrast with the unpolluted calm 
 
 Of some cathedral, where a Spirit's hush 
 
 Hath brooded — seems that worldling's noisy home. 
 
 *Pi* €fiarms of Home* 
 
 Yet, must Experience, bitter, bleak and long, 
 Teach the wild spirit of ungrateful youth, 
 How early Home, the seat of childhood's joy, 
 Beneath whose shade th' Affections dwell embowered 
 In maiden freshness, and in morning bloom, 
 Mid kind restraints of reason, order, law, — 
 A blessing hath, beyond that wider sphere 
 Where the loud world, with all its painted scenes, 
 Enacts the drama keen Excitement loves. 
 But Time must teach, and Sorrow darkly learn 
 This lesson of the soul ; and not till years 
 Perchance, their course have channelled on the brow, 
 Of Pleasure's cheat, Ambition's empty dreams, 
 Or Passion's fell satiety hath taught, 
 Each, in sad turn, the prodigal a truth, — 
 Can early happiness be duly prized. 
 Oh ! then, how often does that inward eye 
 Eetentive, (in whose gaze the Past exists 
 Immortally, the mind's perpetual Now), 
 The sunshine of a quiet home revive, 
 Till yearns the bosom for a scene no more ! — 
 Then, will our conscience, by instinctive love . 
 Pay the dear Past a debt of gratitude 
 Mournful, as mighty. Then in truth we learn 
 
222 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 That never music like a mother's voice, 
 
 And never sweetness like a father's smile, 
 
 And never pleasure like that home-horn throng 
 
 Circling calm hoyhood, — has the World supplied ; 
 
 Though much it promised, when our fev'rish mind 
 
 Lured hy its syren tones, a rover turned, 
 
 And, grasping shadows, — lost substantial bliss ! 
 
 Our simpler tastes, our tones of purer thought, 
 
 Our love for that which healthful Life demands 
 
 In rounds of daily care, and duteous forms 
 
 Of self-denial, — these exist no more. 
 
 But foul desires, the satans of the soul, 
 
 And morbid want, and mutinous unrest, 
 
 In place have come ; and haply too, remorse, 
 
 And jaded passion, jealousy, and scorn, 
 
 With a fierce sense of wrong that rots the soul 
 
 In secret, — in our cankered being dwell. 
 
 And then, like paradise to exiled Eve, 
 
 The Home deserted through our mem'ry smiles ! 
 
 Murmur the brooks, and wave the garden-boughs, 
 
 And greenly shines the meadow where we played 
 
 In sporting boyhood, — till a tearful dew 
 
 Melts from the heart, and in the eye dissolves ; 
 
 And, like the spendthrift, soon the Soul decides 
 
 Back to lost purity and peace to wend. 
 
 Each step, repentance, and each sigh, a prayer. 
 
 $nfttmtce of ©arlg ImfvttttHawt. 
 
 But character is combination, drawn 
 From Time and Scene, from Circumstance and Spot. 
 The brooks which prattled in our Boyhood's ears, 
 Or, on whose wavelets sail'd our tiny boat ; 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 223 
 
 The tree we climb'd, the path we loved to trace, 
 The cowslipp'd valley, or the hawthorn bloom ; 
 The widow's cottage, or some thatch' d abode 
 Where dwelt the vet'ran of our native vale, 
 Who smoothed our head, or press'd our rosy cheeks 
 With ancient humour, — all, with shaping charm 
 Secret but sure, that Being help to build 
 Which manhood in its moral structure shows. 
 For there is nothing which we feel, or see, 
 Admire, or welcome, but a forming power 
 From them doth flow, and reach the vestal mind. 
 Sunrise and Sea, and solemn-vested Night 
 When mute creation God's cathedral turns 
 For Nature's worship, with all social things ;— 
 The Hand you grasp, the Hearts your own selects, 
 The sigh you echo, or the tear you shed 
 Responsive, — none wield unavailing sway ; 
 But leave impression, tinge, or secret tone, 
 Hereafter in your complex manhood felt, 
 Or found. And, like as our sepulchral dust 
 Howe'er transmuted by organic change, 
 Under the blast of Death's awaking trump 
 Back to the Person, by attractive law 
 Shall rally, and a perfect body form ; 
 So, may the structure of our moral frame 
 Completely from such causes manifold 
 The after-finish of its form educe. 
 
 Jerusalem, forlorn Judaean Queen ! 
 Girt with the grandeur of eternal hills 
 How art thou fallen from thy sacred height 
 
224 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of splendour and renown ! Unhallowed now, 
 Save by the tombs and memory of the past ; 
 Hush'd are thy trumpets, that enrapt the air 
 With Jubilee, — when freedom burst the chain 
 Of captives, heart with heart embraced, and eye 
 To eye beamed fellowship ; while not an ear 
 But feasted on that soul-awakening sound ! 
 Thy Temple vast — whose architect was God 
 Himself, when first the giant fabric grew, 
 That matchless pile on which Religion gazed 
 With haughty glance, where Glory dwelt enshrined,- 
 Where is it now ? Dead as the Roman dust 
 That erst, with living valour fired, uncrown'd 
 Thy queenly pride, and palsied thy vast walls, 
 Strewing the plains with atoms of thy strength ! 
 And yet, where yonder marbled courts, and mosques 
 With sun-gilt minarets, like glitt'ring peaks 
 Of mountain tops, are seen, a prophet stood, 
 And in stern vision saw predestin'd Time 
 Advancing, with dark ruin on his wings, 
 To shatter thee, and sprinkle the wide earth 
 With orphans of thy race. How scornful rang 
 Thy laughter, when such vision was unrolFd ! — ■ 
 But when thy hills were sadden'd with the cry 
 Of Desolation, moaning her despair, 
 Many a Demon on the viewless winds 
 Exulted, shouting, with revengeful joy, 
 " Thus sink the glories of great Palestine !" 
 
 In moods of high romance, and holy thought, 
 'Tis pleasant down the depth of ages past 
 To venture, re-erect huge Capitals, 
 And hear the noise of cities now no more ! 
 But Egypt, with her pyramids august, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 225 
 
 Titanian Thebes, or Athens, temple-famed, 
 
 Or Rome, that miracle of mighty arms, 
 
 And whatsoe'er gigantic Fancy builds 
 
 In visions of the vast and gone, — dissolve 
 
 To shadows, when Remembrance pictures thee, 
 
 Jerusalem ! Alas ! the wailing harp 
 
 All truly mourn'd, a throneless Captive thou, 
 
 In dust thy robes of beautiful array 
 
 Have wither'd ; tears are on thy faded cheek, 
 
 And nothing, save a glorious past, is thine ! — 
 
 Those mountains, branded by th' almighty Curse, 
 
 Ascend, and look down yon sepulchral vales, 
 
 "Where silence by the tramp of desert steeds 
 
 Alone is echo'd : paths of lifeless length, 
 
 Dim walls, and dusky fanes, barbaric homes, 
 
 And Arab huts, — how eloquently sad 
 
 The ruin, how sublime the tale it tells ! 
 
 Jerusalem ! the clank of heathen chains 
 
 In iron wrath hath sounded o'er thy doom 
 
 For ages : sword and savage on thy blood 
 
 Have feasted ; fatal martyrdom was thine 
 
 From Roman, Frank, and fiery Mameluke : 
 
 E'en now, thy wreck is made Pollution's prey; 
 
 And minarets their flashing spires uplift, 
 
 Where once the palace of Jehovah blazed ! 
 
 But round thy desolation lives a dream 
 Of what Thou wert, when Heaven o'ershadow'd thee. 
 Religion, fame, and glory — all endow'd 
 With mingled light thy once celestial home. 
 There 'tween thy Cherubim, th' Eternal dwelt ! 
 From out the Cloud His utter'd meaning came ; 
 The hymn of David, and the voice of seers 
 By vision raptured, through thy streets have roll'd ; 
 
226 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And He who spake as never mortal did, 
 In temple vast, and synagogue proclaim'd 
 His awful mission : — well might warriors pause, 
 The poet chant, and pure apostles bend 
 Before thee, casting down their sacred wreaths, 
 Queen of the desert ! once by angels walk'd, 
 And still where murmurs of Jehovah's lip 
 In dreams of melody, thy vales entrance ! 
 
 %ift in ttsf tvut &tgttiftrattotu 
 
 He lives the longest who has thought the most ; 
 And by sublime anticipation felt 
 That what's immortal must progressive prove, 
 Or, retrograde in everlasting night ! 
 
 What is action, but the Spirit's garb, 
 Then form and pressure of a life unseen ? 
 And that more awful than the outer Sense 
 Can shape, or recognize by teaching words. 
 Within is life ! — the Trinity come there 
 To bless or blast, as we their own become 
 By likeness, or satanical by sin ; 
 But Life exterior, with its painted shows, 
 And all its multiplex array of scenes 
 By conduct acted, or experience tried, — 
 Is like the ripple seen on Ocean's face ; 
 Hiding the unregarded deeps below, 
 And tempting gazers to discern no more. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 227 
 
 Wto Sacramental Uocit* 
 
 But can we, in this miracle of might 
 And mercy, nought beyond some parched lips 
 Fired with the fury of a scalding thirst, 
 But in a moment by the summoned wave 
 Subdued and softened, — can we nought but this 
 Behold, and welcome ? No ! that Rock was Christ, 
 A Mystery of stone, aloft it towered, 
 Typing the properties of Him to come, 
 The Rock of Ages ! Christ our Rest is made 
 And Refuge, in whose riven side is hid 
 The Church, blood-ransomed : And the ancient Type 
 With eloquent exactness fits the truth 
 Of Him, in whom all ritual shadows find, 
 Their answ'ring substance, — Christ the perfect Lord ! 
 
 For, e'en as rising to the vaulted sky 
 The rocky form of Meribah appeared 
 Both sky and earth conjoining, — so doth Christ 
 In Godhead, reach the Infinite Supreme, 
 In Manhood, touch the finite of Mankind, 
 And both together with almighty bond 
 Ineffably in one True Person join, 
 For ever thus. But, when amid the heights 
 Serene of some calm mountain you ascend, 
 Casting your eye-glance with delighted gleam 
 O'er the wide prospect, that around you spreads 
 Magnificent and mighty, — know thou, well, 
 Believer ! even thus, with eye unfilmed, 
 Placed on the summits of redeeming Love, 
 May Faith a landscape of divinest sweep, 
 A moral prospect of amazing power 
 
 u 2 
 
228 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And sacred grandeur, thrillingly survey, 
 
 And glory as she gazes ! — Yes, the Rock is Christ, 
 
 From whence Religion up to God may look 
 
 To read His statutes, in full-orbed blaze 
 
 Together magnified. And Truths which bind 
 
 Eternity by their relations, rise 
 
 Before thy sainted vision : — Heaven with all 
 
 Its splendours ; Hell with all its hoarded pangs 
 
 And penalties, upon this Rock the Soul 
 
 May shadow forth : while Earth, and Man, and Time, 
 
 In the clear light of this commanding view 
 
 Resolve their paradox, and half unveil 
 
 Secrets beyond the philosophic Mind 
 
 To read, or master. — Providence and Life, 
 
 And Death, with That which dwells beyond the tomb, 
 
 And Judgment, at whose bar our Thoughts will stand 
 
 As well as actions, — these upon this Rock 
 
 Of mercy, on the eye of conscience pour 
 
 Meanings that strike the Memory with awe, 
 
 Yea, sometimes make Imagination pale 
 
 As terror's hue. — But, when the destined wand, 
 
 Waved by the Leader in this ruffled hour 
 
 Of ire and anguish, smote the craggy pile, 
 
 Behold ! an image of that Legal blow 
 
 Hereafter on the perfect Flesh to fall 
 
 Of Earth's dread Victim, whose vicarious blood 
 
 The wounding stroke of Heaven's avenging Law 
 
 Should, from his heart's unutterably deep 
 
 Of mercy, summon. But the Stream that rushed 
 
 From the rent side of that symbolic Rock, — 
 
 What was it, but a liquid sacrament 
 
 Of grace and gospel, of the Spirit's gift 
 
 Purchased by pangs, and the all-priceless death 
 
 Of God's own Martyr, for mankind secured ? 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 229 
 
 And, oh ! methinks, when Israel's fevered mouth 
 Black with the burnings of their horrid thirst, 
 Touched the cool water, — their delighted sense 
 In the keen rapture of its first relief, 
 Was to the lip, what pardon is to souls 
 When Conscience, in the blood of Christ baptized, — 
 At once is softened by that healing balm. 
 And, e'en as that mysterious Water proved 
 Exhaustless, o'er the arid wilds of Zin 
 To thousands, in its pilgrimage of life 
 Freshness and health with ever-flowing tide 
 Imparting, — hath The Spirit's ceaseless love 
 Through the vast wilderness of this vain world 
 The Church companioned, giving endless grace 
 To all Her family of faithful souls. 
 
 Then gaze we with no unaffected glance 
 On Meribah ; but mark with musing eye 
 The mighty gushings of that God-sent stream, 
 By Moses summoned from the smitten mount. 
 For in that Rock a figured Rest we find ; 
 And from those Waters, our refreshment flows 
 By imaged virtue. Come then, Grace Divine ! 
 And on the fever of this fretted Life 
 Soul-wasting, all Thy holy dews respire ; 
 Or, through the channel of our arid minds 
 And hearts sin-withered, send Thy freshening power 
 To cool them : Life without thee is a thirst 
 That the parched soul with slakeless fury burns, 
 Till Thou allay it, with that mystic stream 
 Which Mercy from the Rock of Ages wrung. 
 Then, all is vigour, peace, and purest joy ! 
 Th' infernal Bloodhound who pursues the soul, 
 Satan himself — the frailest in the flock 
 
230 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of Christ can baffle : and, by faith transformed, 
 Afflictions into future glory change, 
 And weave their iris out of mortal tears. 
 
 Site Shimi of tfit (Bonscitttct. 
 
 But, there be moments of mysterious gloom, 
 When frowns Almighty round the heart of guilt, 
 Darker than death-shades, dismally profound, 
 Hover and hang ; then, all the Past revives, 
 Till the dead Hours quicken in their graves, 
 The Infinite a fear becomes ! 
 And all of God to all in man appeals 
 For vengeance ; Horeb is on fire again, 
 In thunder preaching its horrific curse. 
 Then is there Sinai in the soul of man 
 Erected there by that instinctive Law 
 Which Nature's creed must canonize, and own : 
 And oft, beneath its altitudes of gloom 
 Pale Terrors, and alarm'd Compunctions fall 
 By strong enforcement, at its awful base ; 
 And the bow'd Spirit trembles into tears, 
 While thunder-peals of God-proclaiming Truth 
 Preach to our guilt tb/ uncompromising Law 
 Which Conscience echoes, with responsive groan. 
 Then, doubts, that make a Golgotha of mind, 
 Madden the sinner with a fes'tring sway : 
 The wind was sown, the whirlwind now is reap'd ; 
 The seed was darkness— and the fruit is death ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 231 
 
 " Careful and cumbered about many things!" 
 
 Alas ! poor Martha, and, alas, poor World 
 With thy worn victims, — what description here ! 
 For in those syllables our souls appear 
 Imaged precisely ; there, we seem to live, 
 Drawn to the life by Inspiration's pen ! 
 Around, within, and often over man 
 This fretting World a vile distraction brings 
 With such a conquest, that the Soul becomes 
 A wingless Nature, which can never soar 
 Out of base earth, and unto God return, 
 Its native centre. — Fortune, Fame, or Gold 
 (That great Diana of the world's desire !) 
 Or friends to gain, or foes to overmatch, 
 These, with sad appliances, which come 
 From envy's blight, or disappointment's frost, — 
 How do they canker to its healthful core 
 The heart within ! And hence, uneasy, sad, 
 Or much perplexed, with all the vernal light 
 Of hope departed, — myriads plod their way 
 To sorrow, death, or disappointment's tomb, 
 Because, too careful of to-morrow's cost ! 
 This vexing dream, this unsubstantial life, 
 This heartless pageant of a hollow world 
 With gnawing earnestness they keenly prize, 
 Pursue, and flatter ; — but the end is foiled. 
 
 Oh ! that, like Mary, we did often bend 
 Low at the feet of that unerring Lord 
 Who loves us ; and the burdened Future leave 
 Calmly to Him, who counts and knows our wants, 
 
232 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Who feeds the ravens, and the fowls of air, 
 And clothes the lilies which nor toil, nor spin, 
 With peerless beauty. Let us not to man, 
 But to Jehovah, our to-morrows trust, 
 For His they are ; and, what for them He wills 
 Apportions, — wrangle howsoe'er we may ; 
 Mistrusting Him, whom seraphim adore, 
 And in the hollow of whose Hand revolves 
 The living Universe, with all its worlds I 
 
 But, how Anxiety the heart corrodes, 
 Wasting the moral health of man away, — 
 We seldom ponder, till too late perceived ! 
 When, under burdens which ourselves inflict, 
 The Intellect of half its glorious life 
 Is sapped, while conscience turns a crippled thing; 
 The heart gets aged ere the head grows old, 
 And those bright virtues, which might nobly shine 
 In that clear firmament of thought and power, 
 W T here lofty Manhood would exult to act, 
 Rarely, if ever, into influence dawn. — 
 For else, the grandeurs, graces, charms, and scenes, 
 The smiles of matin, and the shades of night, 
 Sun, moon, and star, wild mountains and glad seas, 
 Meadows and woods, and winds, and lulling streams, 
 With fruits, and flowers like hues of paradise 
 Amid us scattered, — would so well impress 
 The moral being, that responsive Mind 
 Upon the Beautiful would back reflect 
 An answer, most intelligibly pure, 
 To each appeal of beauty. But the world 
 Can so infect the myriads of mankind, — 
 That all those latent harmonies, that link 
 Nature to man by loveliness and might, 
 Lie undiscern'd : and, though a Spirit deep, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION, 233 
 
 A Sentiment of fine significance and truth 
 
 In all Creation, cultured souls may find, 
 
 How few perceive it ! but, on objects gaze 
 
 "With eye unmoved ; — as if by God unmade 
 
 Their beauties, and by Him unformed their powers. 
 
 Nature to them in all her shrines is mute ; 
 
 Nor to her mystic oracles, that yield 
 
 Such music to Imagination's ear, — 
 
 Can the cold worldling condescend to list. 
 
 Reader ! be thine, at least, the better Part, 
 "Whate'er thy walk, thy weakness, or thy woes. 
 That good, eternity will not destroy ; 
 But rather, through all ages will expand 
 By new accessions of ennobling power. — 
 Yet, while the turmoil of this troubled world 
 Tries the worn heart, or tempts the wearied mind 
 To false dependence on the things of sight, 
 Though perishing, — to Providence alone 
 Thyself and thine, learn more and more to trust ; 
 For He will keep thee, as His Own beloved, 
 In perfect shelter, and in blessed peace, 
 Now, and for ever ! And, when thus becalmed, 
 Feelings of far diviner growth than Earth 
 Can nourish, from thy spirit soon will rise, 
 And hopes exalt the bosom they inspire : 
 Till, like the prophets, patriarchs, saints, 
 And all the Chivalry for Christ, who fought 
 Faith's battle unto blood ! — above this world 
 With all its pleasures, principles, and powers, 
 Raised by The Spirit, thou wilt learn to live ; 
 And call, whate'er opposing Flesh may dream, 
 A God thy portion, and a heaven thy home. 
 
234 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Wxt jffavQibm Most, Hob* fflasu 
 
 If Heaven be gratitude forever felt 
 By Souls forgiven, who the most have sinned, 
 Then, will the Marys, more than seraphs love 
 The Master, at whose feet on earth they sat ; 
 For, how can Angels, like the pardoned, know 
 How much it cost to buy a sinner's crown 
 Of glory ! — e'en Thy pangs and bloody sweat, 
 And that last Sigh, which shook the universe 
 With dread emotion, as it died away, 
 Thou Shield of Earth, and Sun of all our souls ! 
 
 Uofo is tilt ztttpttXs Vtmt* 
 
 Whoe'er thou art, this truth take home, — and think ! 
 Two Spirits only for thy soul contend, 
 The Good and Bad, but now alone is Grace 
 Imparted ; soon thy final sands will fall, 
 And thou, in moral nakedness shalt be 
 To Devil, or to Deity assign'd 
 Through endless ages ! — Oh, that truth immense, 
 This mortal immortality shall wear ! 
 The pulse of Mind can never cease to play ; 
 By God awaken'd, it for ever throbs, 
 Eternal as His own eternity ! 
 Above the Angels, or below the Fiends, 
 To mount in glory, or in shame descend, — 
 Mankind are destioed by resistless doom. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 235 
 
 Wht Sisters. 
 
 Martha was like the bright and breezy morn, 
 Elastic motion, and exulting stir, — 
 Hither and thither with unresting foot 
 Gliding about, to show a duteous zeal 
 And urgency, by prompt affection moved, 
 As hostess to the Lord of Life and worlds. 
 But Mary, in her vestal bloom, appeared 
 Placid as twilight, on the dewy flowers 
 Serenely radiant. Mild and thoughtful maid ! — 
 She loved the hush of meditative hours, 
 The shaded walks, the lapse of willow' d streams, 
 The meek-voiced Evening, or the moonlight trance ; 
 While the soft grandeur of the silent hills 
 Sank on her heart like music, sad and low, 
 As oft she wandered, 'mid the rocky glens 
 Round Zion gathered. At the feet of Christ, 
 While restless Martha at the household plied, 
 She sat, and listened ; and, with eye upraised 
 Beaming with prayer, and breath almost absorbed 
 By power of reverence, to His words she clung, 
 And in the manna of immortal Truth 
 Found the rich banquet hunger'd Souls require. 
 
 But thou, oh Virgin ! pensively inspired 
 With calm and incommunicable dreams 
 Thou art : and while the World's unresting tongue 
 Rings with rapt wonder at Messiah's speech, 
 
236 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Thou in the depths of motherhood dost hide 
 His words of glory, e'en like gems of truth 
 Locked in the cabinet of silence there. 
 
 But, not unheard that cry ! 
 Though nothing human to its sad appeal 
 Responded, Nature all around gave signs 
 And tokens, that the tender God was moved 
 By prayer and pity : for some desert-boughs 
 With tremulous emotion seemed to thrill, 
 And vibrate ; while the tranced leaves awoke, 
 As stir the eyelids when a Vision starts 
 An awe-struck sleeper ; while the torrid air, 
 Under the coolness of a coming breeze 
 Freshens, as if angelic wings began 
 To wanton round it. — Hagar ! thou art heard, 
 And answered ; o'er the harps of Heaven, 
 And through hosannas of seraphic throngs 
 In glory shining, — thine ascending voice 
 Hath reached the mercy of the Holy One ! 
 The orphan's Father, and the widow's Friend, 
 Hath harkened to thee ; and thy pleading looks 
 Have darted through immensity to God, 
 And His compassion ! — Lo, a golden Pomp, 
 (Cloud upon cloud, magnificently piled,) 
 Floats down the sky, — as if on cars of light 
 Angels were coming, for some message winged 
 From courts ethereal ; and from out that Sheen 
 Mysterious, hark ! a Voice, like thunder, deep, 
 But, mild as music when it wakens tears, 
 Is rolling ; and to Hagar thus it cries, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 237 
 
 " Tremble thou not ! — behold, thy prayer is heard ; 
 Lift thy pale boy ; his sinking frame uphold, 
 For out of him a Nation shall arise 
 Whose doom is glorious !" 
 
 Back the Pomp retired, 
 And with that equipage of soaring Light 
 The speaking Angel into Heaven withdrew, — 
 Tinging the air like sunset, with a track 
 Of splendours brilliant ; while on earth there seemed 
 A dewy balm insensibly to fall ; 
 As if ambrosia from the skies exhaled 
 Ethereal fragrance. — But thine eyes are oped, 
 Pale, outcast Mother ! and a gushing fount 
 Glitt'ringly fresh, as if from God just sprung, 
 Springs from the desert with a sudden rise 
 Before her ! — streaming with melodious play, 
 Crystal, and cooling. Now, that water drink ! 
 Slake thy hot thirst, the swooning boy revive ; 
 But while the magic of this great relief 
 Gladdens thy soul ; while earth and air grow fresh, 
 As if by sympathy for thee inspired, 
 Wake the young winds, and choral leaves rejoice, 
 And wild birds into warbling anthems break 
 Among the trees embosomed, — let our thoughts 
 In this thy tragedy of trial, view 
 Outlines of much that to ourselves extends 
 A meaning : — in thy grief, as in a glass 
 Heaven has reflected much for man to see ; 
 And so by wisdom to himself apply 
 Lessons of lore profound, which help to make 
 The heart become a preacher to the head. 
 
238 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 JFvimXf&iiip. 
 
 True love our moral gravitation makes ; 
 At once the motion, and the rest, of man : 
 But when, and where, and how, th' electric chain 
 Is closely fasten'd into Friendship's heart, 
 Should make us ponder. For 'tis bane, or bliss, 
 And over character will cast a hue 
 Thy tinge, Eternity ! will not o'erlay ; 
 Since love is plastic ; and by secret charm 
 Shapes to resemblance with its moral Self 
 Our yielded bosom ; and the yearning Heart 
 Thus takes the likeness of the thing it loves, — 
 E'en as the insect, from the herb derives 
 A hue responsive to the food it eats. 
 Hence, Virtue only forms the solid base, 
 Rooted and grounded in the heart of Truth, 
 Where friendship's high and holy structure stands 
 Bedeck'd, and order'd, by approving Heaven. 
 Two Finites can no lasting friendship make ; 
 Between them both an Infinite must stand, 
 And He is, God ! Without Him, all is mock ; 
 The paint and pageant of the heart's outside 
 By fancy colour'd, or by feeling tinged ; 
 But, wanting holiness, — that All it needs 
 That crowns a friendship with undying charm. 
 
 Ho Conttngettxg in tilt Sot of Mm. 
 
 Bound in the links of that ethereal Chain 
 Which upward, from the insect's tiny pulse 
 On earth that throbs, to yonder wheeling orbs 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 239 
 
 Enormous, its unbroken coil extends, 
 
 Are all things by the hand Almighty held. 
 
 And thus, what chance to vulgar Sense appears, 
 
 Is veil'd causation, and confirm'd decree. 
 
 Nature herself, through each organic change 
 
 And form or function, is but Will supreme, 
 
 In might or beauty, marching to result 
 
 Predestined ; not an atom is consumed, 
 
 No leaf can vibrate, not a billow laugh, 
 
 Nor wild breeze flutter on its fairy wing, 
 
 But God o'errules it, with control as nice 
 
 As that which belts the planets with a zone 
 
 Of harmony, and binds the stars with law. 
 
 And though mere chaos, to an eye unpurged 
 
 By rays extracted from Essential Light, 
 
 (E'en by the Spirit's,) life's convulsive scene 
 
 Too often looks,— -not thus to them who read 
 
 The World's great volume, by explaining beams 
 
 From scripture darted, does the map of time 
 
 Appear. For then, disorder is but plan 
 
 Divinely working by arranged degrees ; 
 
 Upward and onward, into Truth evolved 
 
 Through the long maze of labyrinthine wills 
 
 And human actions. Kings, and slaves, and priests ; 
 
 Erected monarchies, and crumbled thrones ; 
 
 The shout of warriors, or an infant's wail ; 
 
 In life, in faith, in conduct, or in creed 
 
 Whate'er be witnessed,— God behind the Scene, 
 
 From the high watch-tower of incessant sway 
 
 Governs, and guides the blended Whole, unseen. 
 
 Never the Eye omniscient drops its lid, 
 
 Or slumbers ; whether Virtue's godlike brow 
 
 Be greeted, and the Church's heart exult ; 
 
240 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Or, dark Temptation, like a demon come, 
 
 Harness the soul, and lash Desire along 
 
 To ruin, — in that change, no change exists. 
 
 For, in the freedom of the foulest will 
 
 Venting itself in vanity or vice ; 
 
 Or, in the soarings of a strong-wing' d faith, 
 
 That heavenward mounts, and leaves low earth behind,- 
 
 Around them moves one all-inclusive Will 
 
 Which, (leaving man responsible and free) 
 
 For God retains supremacy, and law. 
 
 TEiit dFrtrntrslup of Utttficr anlr 
 MtlKttttixon, 
 
 Fair Amity ! when thus indeed the fruit 
 Of sacred principle, by love inspired, 
 Thy bloom is fragrant of yon World of bliss 
 Ethereal, and with fadeless beauty rife. 
 And such when Luther and Melancthon's heart 
 In oneness holy, blended their deep powers, 
 Wert thou ; a friendship from the Cross that sprang 
 In the green fulness of their common faith. 
 And, in the annals of the Soul, how few 
 The feelings, that more lovingly have twined 
 A wreath of Nature round the brow of Grace, 
 Than those which from the young and verdant breast 
 Of their twin manhood, did together rise ! 
 
 Distinct in tone, yet undivided, both 
 Their hearts in melody combined, and met. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 241 
 
 But if in nature, Poesy would find 
 
 Their fancied echo— hark, the torrent's fall 
 
 In liquid thunder foaming loud and fierce, 
 
 From crag to crag precipitously bold, 
 
 And there, is Luther ! — while along the banks 
 
 Tree-shaded, list, the low and quiet stream, 
 
 And there, is mild Melancthon ! Each to each 
 
 The grace of contrast, and the charm that glows 
 
 Round minds that vary, while the hearts embrace, 
 
 Imparted, both in one vast work converged. 
 
 And, ah ! what hours of evangelic peace, 
 
 What hymns of soul, what praises blent with prayers, 
 
 What feelings high, amid the ancient woods 
 
 Of Wittemberg, were oft by both enjoy'd ! 
 
 And, in the lassitude of lofty cares, 
 
 When, crush'd beneath his adamantine wrongs 
 
 The soul of Luther lay in bleeding gloom, 
 
 How the calm sunshine of Melancthon' s face 
 
 Around him shed the heart-restoring smile ! 
 
 But o'er Thy page, unerring Author ! most 
 
 Did their high Friendship in communion blend ; 
 
 As truth on truth, from out the classic grave 
 
 Of Language, where dead meanings darkly slept, 
 
 Started to life, in Luther's noble tongue : 
 
 Till Fatherland its own free Bible hail'd, 
 
 And God in German to his country spake. 
 
 Thus, day by day, the Book of Heaven became 
 
 A sabbath port from Earth's tempestuous cares, 
 
 That raged, and roll'd around them : Scene and Time 
 
 And Circumstance, (those mast'ring Three 
 
 That make, or mar the All that worldings dream,) 
 
 To them were shadows, — which the radiant Word 
 
 Dazzled to nought, as clouds in sunbeams die : 
 
 The monarch's palace, or the monk's low cell, 
 
 R 
 
242 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Or chamber dim, from out whose frescoed walls 
 In massy framework look'd the pictured Dead 
 That live in hues immortal, — 'twas alike 
 To them, who on this world, were in the next, 
 By Faith, or Feeling, ever wafted there. 
 
 Then, what be those alliances elect, 
 Those bonds and ligaments, by men baptized 
 In friendship's name, save mean and modish Forms, 
 Or Satires on the sacredness, and sense 
 Of this high Virtue ? — mere enamell'd Lies ! 
 Too often are they but the painted show 
 Of perfumed amity ; whose silken ties 
 Are light as gossamer, before the storm 
 Severe Affliction round our lot may bring. — 
 Convenience, lucre, folly, pride, or lust ; 
 A ride, a dinner, or a small request ; 
 Or, base communion in some pleasing sin 
 By passion haunted — there, mock Friendships reach 
 Their zenith, and their noblest zeal expires. 
 But when, alas ! unbodied, and unveiTd 
 Of earth's false trappings, in the World of souls 
 The gay companions of the Feast and Song 
 Meet in stern truth, unmantled to the core, 
 Hideously naked, to the very heart 
 Discover'd, — how the mask of Self will drop I 
 And many a cheek, by radiant kindness clothed, 
 Blacken with hate, with horror, and revenge 
 Infernal : friendship now is ruin found ; 
 And soft-mouth'd men, that seem'd in time so dear, 
 Will each to each satanically yell 
 Their horrible disgust, with loud dismay, 
 And loathe, like Fiends, their lost eternity I 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 243 
 
 Congenial Eaisteis cannot alone 
 constitute dFn>ntr«sfit|K 
 
 But, cast your friendship into chaster mould ; 
 Let genius, learning, or congenial taste, 
 Or, fellowship like that the Muses love, 
 Refined as Laelius felt, or Scipio found : 
 Or, let Parnassus sing how poets lived, 
 Whose lives and verses did together run 
 And softly blend, like interwoven streams, — 
 E'en at the best, such earth-born magic dies, 
 Soon as the shadows of the grave begin 
 To pall the Present with its passing joys ; 
 Then, all their sweetness and their strength depart : 
 Bred from the world — they with the world recede ; 
 Friendship and flesh, together in one tomb 
 They perish ! for they lack'd that saving life, 
 That truth ethereal out of Godhead drawn, 
 Which makes immortal what we cherish here. 
 
 But, there is friendship, pure as Angels love 
 Which Trust, and Truth, and Tenderness create, 
 When two fond Hearts, with sacred force embrace 
 By union deep, unworldly, and divine. 
 Then, Friendship like a school for mind becomes, 
 Where act to habit may itself mature ; 
 And, Self-denied in little things, advance 
 To show denial which a World may bless, 
 And all The Churches with their plaudits hail. — 
 Here, Faith with Friendship can indeed concur, 
 Beyond mere tastes, and tempers, and according tones ; 
 Since here be elements, whose charm outwears 
 Sickness and sorrow, death and harsh surprise, 
 
 R 2 
 
244 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 With all the jarring dissonance that tries 
 
 The truth of feeling, in its wisest hour. 
 
 But, whence are these, but from th' Almighty drawn, 
 
 And, like Himself, unchangeably sublime ! 
 
 Here is a friendship, perfect, calm, sincere, 
 
 Above mutation, and beyond decay ; 
 
 A friendship, Lord ! whose archetype is Thine ; 
 
 For, when on earth, Thy mortal Life assumed 
 
 Manhood, with each consummate trait adorned ; 
 
 And human Feeling, — how it thrills to view 
 
 Laid on thy breast, the much-beloved St. John ! 
 
 Oh, for a Friendship that outlives the sun, 
 To last when Time hath faded, and when Flesh 
 With all its burden, is a buried dream ! 
 It drops a balsam in the wounded breast, 
 Soothes a torn mind, the soul's dejection heals, 
 'Tis heart to sympathy, and hand to love, 
 The look of feeling, and the lip of faith ; 
 It charms the wisest, can the feeblest worth 
 Uphold, and makes the poorest rich indeed. 
 
 ©air tfie &utfuitr nf p^olg dFtfnttNGfttp* 
 
 Man forms the foe, but God alone the friend, — 
 If friend he be, with truthful love endow'd, 
 And graced with those accoutrements of mind 
 Religion sanctions. Then, that kindred bliss, 
 What sweet affinities of thought, or taste ! 
 The Janus temple of a jealous heart 
 That shuts, or opens as the hour demands, 
 Is here unwitnessed ; all is frank display, 
 That scorns pretence, and scatters each disguise 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 245 
 
 A sun-clear verity, whose shining force 
 
 Copes with all clouds of accident, or change 
 
 Beams on the forehead of a cordial friend, 
 
 How brightly glad, how greeting, and how bold ! 
 
 Here is an amity our noblest wants 
 
 Delight to welcome, as their true supply : 
 
 It feeds the intellect with active life, 
 
 The heart enlarges into loftier swell, 
 
 And, in the counterplay it gives, and asks, 
 
 Finds equal pleasure, when the echo sounds 
 
 Sincere, and manly. But, affliction most 
 
 The high-born amity of holy minds 
 
 Illustrates : then, the sacrifice of self, 
 
 Devoted, prompt, and passionately dear, — 
 
 Whether by Griefs long watch through lonely hours, 
 
 In tears, or substance, or by costly life 
 
 The sacrificing Heart itself unfold, — 
 
 How godlike is it ! how resembling Him, 
 
 The soul's Philanthropist, creation's Friend, 
 
 The world enriching — by Himself made poor ! 
 
 Friendship like this, the seal of God confirms, 
 
 Who cast our Nature into social mould, 
 
 And bade it seek for brotherly response, 
 
 Or bosom-counterparts, in bliss or wo. 
 
 And thus, whate'er his rank, or high renown, 
 Man needs an Echo, whose responsive charm 
 Doubles himself, — by feeling's prompt reply ; 
 To rich enjoyment adds a height'ning zest 
 Untold ; and, when misfortune's east-wind blows, 
 Or, cutting blasts of cold ingratitude 
 Sweep the lorn bosom, by the world betray'd, — 
 Softer than dews from Hermon's sainted height 
 The tones of Friendship drop in Feeling's ear, 
 For comfort ! — Mine be thus some Heaven-made friend, 
 
246 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And I 'will clasp him with the heart's embrace 
 
 For ever. — Morning with its radiant blush, 
 
 Noon with its glory, Twilight with its trance, 
 
 Or balmy Night, with all the stars awake 
 
 In beauty walking o'er their midnight round, 
 
 How are they each, when friendship's echoing heart 
 
 Throbs near our own, — with added charm endow'd ! 
 
 Yea, all those homilies of Love and Might, 
 
 Appealing Nature to the pensive reads 
 
 Down winding lanes, or paths of vernal bloom, 
 
 Or rustic haunt where rambling Boyhood loves 
 
 To stray and linger, — how the tasteful friend 
 
 Can with ourselves, interpret all their tones, 
 
 In some pure strains of poetry and peace, 
 
 When hearts are mingled ! and mild Nature wears 
 
 A face of welcome, answerably sweet 
 
 To all who woo her. — Nor does Faith deny 
 
 That e'en in Heaven etherial friendships bring 
 
 Their calm addition to celestial joy : 
 
 For Truth is social, in the highest orb 
 
 Of her dominion ; God himself is not alone, 
 
 But, in deep light Tripersonally throned, 
 
 In plural Godhead His perfection holds. 
 
 Hontrotn 
 
 But hail thou giant City of the world, 
 Thou that dost scorn a canopy of clouds, 
 And in the dimness of eternal smoke, 
 For ever rising like an ocean-stream, 
 Dost mantle thine immensity, — how vast 
 And wide thy wonderful array of domes, 
 In dusky masses staring at the skies ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 247 
 
 Time was, and dreary solitude was here ; 
 
 When night-black woods, unvisited by man, 
 
 In howling conflict wrestled with the winds : 
 
 But now, the tempest of perpetual life 
 
 Is heard, and, like a roaring furnace, fills 
 
 With living sound the airy reach of miles. 
 
 Thou more than Rome ! for never from her heart 
 
 Of empire such disturbing passion roll'd, 
 
 As emanates from thine. The mighty globe 
 
 Is fever'd by thy name ; a thousand years 
 
 And Silence hath not known thee ! What a weight 
 
 Of awfulness will doomsday from thy scene 
 
 Derive ; and when the blasting trumpet smites 
 
 All cities to destruction, who will sink 
 
 Sublime, with such a thunder-crash, as thou ? 
 
 Myriads of domes, and temples huge, or high, 
 And thickly wedded, like the ancient trees 
 That in unviolated forests frown ; 
 Myriads of streets, whose windings ever flow 
 With viewless billows of chaotic sound ; 
 Myriads of hearts in full commotion mix'd, 
 From morn to noon, from noon to night again, 
 Through the wide realm of whirling passion borne, — 
 And there is London ! — England's heart and soul : 
 By the proud flowing of her famous Thames 
 She circulates through countless lands and isles 
 Her queenly greatness : gloriously she rules, 
 At once the awe and sceptre of the world ! 
 
 Angels and demons ! to your watching eyes 
 The rounded earth nought so tremendous shews 
 As this vast city, in whose roar I stand, 
 Unseen, yet seeing all. The lifeless gloom 
 Of everlasting hills ; the solitudes 
 
248 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Untrod, the deep gaze of thy dazzling orbs 
 That decorate the purple noon of night, 
 Oh, Nature ! no such majesty supply : 
 Creation's queen, by God Himself endowed, 
 Upon the throne of elements thou sitt'st ; 
 But, in the beating of one single heart 
 There is that more than rivals thee ! and here 
 The swellings of innum'rous hearts abound ; 
 And not a Day but, ere it die, contains 
 A hist'ry, that unroll'd, will awe the Heavens 
 To wonder, and the listening Earth with fear ! 
 
 ^factions on Honlrott 6g sRtttnttgbt* 
 
 The fret and fever of the day are o'er, 
 And London slumbers, but with murmurs faint, 
 Like Ocean, when she folds her waves to sleep : 
 'Tis the pure hour for poetry and thought ; 
 When passions sink, and man surveys the heavens, 
 And feels himself immortal. 
 
 O'er all a sad sublimity is spread, — 
 The garniture of night ; amid the air, 
 Darkly and drear yon airy steeples rise, 
 Like shadows of the past ; the houses lie 
 In dismal clusters, moveless as in sleep ; 
 And, towering far above the rest, yon dome* 
 Appears, as if self-balanced in the gloom, — 
 A spectre cowering o'er the dusky piles. 
 
 But see ! I stand on ground whose glorious name 
 Might turn a coward brave ; on thy huge bridge, 
 
 * St. Paul's. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 249 
 
 Triumphant Waterloo ! Above, — how calm ! 
 There moon and star commingling radiance shed, 
 And bathe the skies in beauty. Smooth and pale 
 The pearly-bosom'd Clouds recline, enlink'd 
 Like wave-festoons upon the glossy deep. 
 Below, the Thames outspread, serene and dim ; 
 And, as I gaze, a cooling breath ascends 
 And melts upon my brow ; like the worn heart 
 When stormy cares have slept, the river seems 
 Peaceful and still, save when the wind-sigh stir 
 The waveless slumbers of its breast ; like dreams 
 That quiver on the marble face of sleep. 
 
 Along each side the darkling mansions frown 
 Funereal in their gloom. Afar, and faint, 
 The bridge-lamps glimmer o'er the tranquil stream, 
 As if enchain'd upon the air ; beneath 
 Are thrown out quiv'ring columns of red light ; 
 And, here and there, a tower and shadowy spire 
 Are imaged on the water ; sad and shrunk, 
 Like flower-leaves withered by the summer blaze. 
 
 Yonder, in dim magnificence, behold 
 The many-window'd pile ;* apart and stern, 
 In low'ring grandeur, like a lofty mind, 
 Unmingling with the baser crowd. One half 
 Is clothed with moonlight's pallid veil ; 
 Beneath, a darkness dwells, whence portals yawn 
 In cavern-gloom upon the drowsy tide, 
 Like tombs unbarr'd. 
 
 But, hark, from yonder dome 
 The Day is toll'd into Eternity ! 
 
 * Somerset House. 
 
250 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 How hollow, dread, and dismal is the peal, 
 Now rolling up its vast account to heaven ! 
 Awhile it undulates, then dies away 
 In mutter'd echoes, like the ehbing groans 
 Of drowning men ; and see, the toiling moon 
 Is in a fane of clouds, and I am lone, 
 Unseen, but by the sleepless One : God ! 
 I feel thine eye upon me, I shrink 
 Awe-smote beneath its gaze, like melting snow 
 Beneath thy sun ! 
 
 And shall this City-queen — this peerless mass 
 Of pillar'd homes, and grey-worn towers sublime, 
 Be blotted from the world, and forests wave 
 Where once the second Rome was seen ? Oh ! say, 
 Will rank grass grow on England's royal streets, 
 And wild beasts howl, where Commerce stalk' d supreme ? 
 Alas, let Mem'ry dart her wizard glance 
 Down vanish' d Time, till summon'd Ages rise 
 With ruin'd empires on their wings ! Thought weeps 
 With patriot truth to own a funeral day, 
 Heart of the universe ! shall visit thee, 
 When round thy wreck some lonely man shall roam, 
 And, sighing, say, — " 'Twas here vast London stood V 
 
 But hark ! again the heavy bell has peal'd 
 Its doleful thunder ; on their watch the Stars 
 Grow pale, the Moon seems wearied of her course, 
 And morn begins to blossom in the East ; 
 Then, let me home ! and Heaven protect my thoughts. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 251 
 
 TEht Wotott of $rag*r* 
 
 True Adoration, what a voice is thine ! 
 From earth it wanders through the Heaven of Heavens, 
 There from the Mercy-seat itself evokes 
 An answer, thrilling the seraphic host 
 With added glory of celestial song. — 
 For Prayer is man's omnipotence helow, 
 A soul's companionship with Christ and God, 
 Communion with Eternity hegun ! 
 
 Wxt Infant in Prager* 
 
 "The smile of childhood, on the cheek of age.'* 
 
 A child beside a mother kneels 
 
 "With lips of holy love, 
 And fain would lisp the vow it feels, 
 
 To Him enthron'd above. 
 
 That cherub gaze, that stainless brow, 
 
 So exquisitely fair ! — 
 Who would not be an infant now, 
 
 To breathe an infant's prayer ? 
 
 No crime hath shaded its young heart 
 The eye scarce knows a tear ; 
 
 'Tis bright enough from earth to part 
 And grace another sphere ! 
 
 And I was once a happy Thing, 
 Like that which now I see, 
 
 No May-bird on ecstatic wing, 
 More beautifully free : 
 
252 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 The cloud that bask'd in noontide glow 
 The flower that danced and shone, 
 
 All hues and sounds, above, below, 
 Were joys to feast upon ! 
 
 Let wisdom smile — I oft forget 
 The colder haunts of men, 
 
 To hie where infant hearts are met, 
 And be a child again ; 
 
 To look into the laughing eyes 
 And see the wild thoughts play, 
 
 While o'er each cheek a thousand dyes 
 Of mirth and meaning stray. 
 
 Manhood ! could thy spirit kneel 
 Beside that sunny child, 
 
 As fondly pray, and purely feel 
 With soul as undefiTd, 
 
 That moment would encircle thee, 
 With light and love divine ; 
 
 Thy gaze might dwell on Deity, 
 And Heaven itself be thine ! 
 
 And as the City, so the Creed endures 
 Deathless in might, immortally depraved ! 
 Her aspect alters — when her power is weak ; 
 Her plans are soften'd — when her foes are strong ; 
 Her practise gentle — when the Age requires ; 
 But Rome, in principle, is Roman still, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 253 
 
 The changeless ever ! for her creed is one ; 
 And that is, — to absorb the world in power, 
 And on herself a faith almighty found 
 Resistless, dread, infallibly divine ! 
 
 tyopns springs from corrupt Hatttrr. 
 
 Thy fountains, Nature, are the fatal spring 
 Whence Pop'ry all her canker'd life-blood drains, 
 And drains for ever — for they ever flow ! 
 A moral cast from our corrupted soul 
 Designing Rome hath taken ; and contrived 
 A feign'd Religion, that, with fitting art 
 Infernally for each expression finds 
 Some flatt'ring counterpart, or creed, or charm. 
 'Tis man's religion, from the root of sin, 
 By passion foster'd and by pride increased, 
 Deep-grounded in the under-soil intense, 
 Where guilty nature feels the goading pang, 
 As conscience prompts, or keen compunction wakes. 
 Hence creeds are moulded ; hence all gods are made ; 
 While reason, bribed to superstition, bows, 
 As sin and penance take relieving turns ; 
 Till man himself his own atonement dreams, 
 And draws salvation out of sighs, and tears. 
 
 Wxt preadung of tilt WtovXt. 
 
 Oh, Thou ! whose office 'tis the word to bless 
 And quicken, till it breathes a living grace, 
 Thee may we ever prove in presence nigh, 
 
254 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 As Great Inspirer ; whose anointing power 
 Alone can tune the sounding Brass to Heaven's 
 True note, and bid our tinkling Cymbals do 
 In mortal accent, an Immortal work ! 
 Whether, beneath some bow'd cathedral's roof 
 Of vastness, while the organ's billowy peals 
 Roll like a sea of melody and might 
 Down the dim nave, and long-retreating aisles, — 
 Thy word is preach'd ; or, in some Saxon fane, 
 Where rude simplicities, of ancient mould 
 Linger in stone's most exquisite decay ; 
 Wherever on the tide of human breath, 
 Floats the rich argosy of gospel truth, 
 As Christ appointed, — may dependance be 
 The preacher's motto, and the preacher's mode ; 
 Dependance meek on that concurring Grace 
 Of Him, the Bible's Author, by whose light 
 Alone, our Sermons live, and Souls are saved. 
 
 ffiovnitiQ. 
 
 And lo ! array'd in clouds of crimson pomp, 
 The gradual Morn comes gliding o'er the waves 
 That freshen under her reflected smiles, 
 And veils the world with glory. Rocks and hills 
 Are radiantly bedeck' d ; the glimm'ring woods 
 And plains are mantled with their greenest robe, 
 And night-tears glisten in her rosy beam. 
 But in yon valleys, where from ivied cots 
 Like matin incense, wreathing smoke ascends, 
 How beautiful the flush of life ! The birds 
 Are wing'd for heaven, and charm the air with song ; 
 While, in the gladness of the new-born breeze 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 255 
 
 The young leaves flutter, and the flow'rets sigh 
 
 Their blending odours out. And ye, bright streams ! 
 
 Like happy pilgrims, how ye rove along 
 
 By mead and bank, where violets love to dwell 
 
 In solitude and stillness : all is fresh, 
 
 And gaysome. Now the peasant, with an eye 
 
 Glad as the noon-ray sparkling through a shower, 
 
 Comes forth, and carols in thy waking beam, 
 
 Thou sky-god ! reigning on thy throne of light. 
 
 Sure airy painters have enrich'd thy sphere 
 
 With regal pageantry ; such cloudy pomps 
 
 Adorn the heavens, a poet's eye would dream 
 
 His ancient Gods had all returned again, 
 
 And hung their palaces around the sun ! 
 
 Now melt the heavens, magnificently soft, 
 Through the deep eye that loves to drink their hues 
 Like draughts of lustre ; till the flooded gaze 
 Oer'flows with splendour, and grows dim with light ; 
 The larks renew their matins ; while the humbler birds 
 Send hallelujahs to the King of morn 
 Tiny and broken, but replete with praise ; 
 Who, now uprising from his throne of clouds, 
 Bares his red forehead to the greeting world ! 
 The viewless finger of the fairy Wind 
 Wanders about, and with a dimpling touch 
 Ripples a stream ; or tunes the air to song, 
 Till like an anthem by the breezes sung 
 Fancy admires it ; but for this, — all earth 
 Is cover'd o'er with meditation's calm, 
 Solemn as in some hoary minster dwells ; 
 And if no waving elegance of trees 
 With falt'ring motion ; nor, the lisping talk 
 Of flowers wind-ruffled ; nor the mellow tones 
 
256 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of gliding waters, in their graceful flow 
 
 Broke the hlest calm, — 'twere all a perfect trance 
 
 In sweetest emblem of this haUow'd morn. 
 
 But if from rustic solitude we turn 
 
 To where, through parted hills old Ocean bares 
 
 His breast of waters to the mantling sun, — 
 
 Thou hast no sabbath, ever-rolling Sea ! 
 
 At once 'tis witness'd ; but methinks thy waves 
 
 Pant like the heavings of a heart, that swell 
 
 And pulses heavenward with unspoken prayer. 
 
 But now a sunset, with impassioned hues 
 Of splendour, deepens round yon curving bay : 
 'Tis Inspiration's hour, when heaven descends 
 In dream-like radiance on the earth becalm'd. — 
 Hither ! thou victim of luxurious halls, 
 The glory of yon west'ring clouds behold 
 That, rich as eastern fancies, float the skies 
 Along : and hark ! — the revelry of waves ; 
 Now, like the whirling of unnumber'd wheels 
 In faint approach, then wild as battle-roar 
 In shatter' d echoes voyaging the wind ; 
 And now, in white disorder they advance, 
 Dissolve, and freshen all the beach with foam. 
 
 Brief as a fancy, and as brightly vain, 
 The sky-pomp fades ; and in his sumptuous robe 
 Of cloudy sheen, the great high-Priest of earth 
 Hath sunk to sleep beyond the ocean bound. 
 Like weary eyelids, flowers are closing up 
 Their beauty ; faint as rain-falls sound the leaves, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 257 
 
 When ruffled by the dying breath of Day ; 
 And twilight, that true hour for placid dreams 
 Or tender thoughts, now dimly o'er the wave 
 Its halcyon wing unfolds ; in spectral gloom 
 The cloud-peak' d hills depart, and all the shore 
 Lies calm, where nothing mars its pebbly sleep, 
 Save when the step of yon lone wand'rer moves, 
 Watching the boats in sailless pomp reposed ; 
 Or, mournful listening to the curfew sound 
 Of eve-bells, hymning from their distant spires. 
 
 But now the gloriousness of light dissolves, 
 And, like the radiance of some lovely dream 
 Poetic slumber fashions, — softly melts 
 And sweetly mellows into parting hues 
 The hour of sunset. From the gleaming west 
 A pallid lustre o'er the firmament 
 Weakens and wanes ; and over earth reflects 
 Beauty, that touches flower, and field, and fruit 
 And yellow corn-fields sloping o'er the vale, 
 With charms more exquisite than garish Noon 
 Inspires. But, if on yonder height you stand, 
 Beneath you, — what a British Arcady 
 * In lustre qualified with coming shade, 
 Is then unveil'd by sunny calm serened ! 
 There as you gaze, around your temples throng 
 The fresh-wing'd airs, from waving branches sent ; 
 The breeze makes music ; while the cadence low 
 Of distant sheep-bell dyingly comes on, 
 Or, melts delightfully on Feeling's ear. 
 Here Nature thrones enchantment ; far-off hills 
 Crown'd with a coronet of glitt'ring trees ; 
 Paler and paler to the west retire ; 
 And woods, and coppice, lanes, and hedges green, 
 
 s 
 
258 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 With sun-bright cots, and farms of mossy roof; 
 While here and there, some rustic temple lifts 
 That gothic beauty, (whose mysterious power 
 Acts on the eye, like poetry in stone 
 Embodied,) — these in blent expression woo 
 The gazer ; mix'd with many a fairy gleam 
 From rivers flashing, as the sun-ray tips 
 The current, cheering it with gay surprise. 
 But now, a mellow shade of mantling hue 
 Advances ; villages and towns retire 
 Like pictured visions, — save where yonder tower 
 In its tall symmetry, with golden tinge 
 Retains the sunbeam ; and as home you wend, 
 Hark ! on the ear of balmy evening comes 
 The faint far chime of some cathedral-bell, 
 With pensive summons ; which to Fancy, sounds 
 A curfew for creation's sabbath-rest. 
 
 And now, that rest is deep'ning; daylight ebbs ; 
 But yet, or ever sinks yon priest of light, 
 Around him like a burning shrine the heavens 
 Gather, and glow, and with enfolding splendour wrap 
 His decadence ; while colours richly deep 
 And dazzling, woven from th' Almighty's loom 
 Of nature, all the Occident inlay. — 
 
 Lo ! one by one, with timid gleam, and slow, 
 Star after star comes trembling into life 
 And lustre ; radiant, mild, and mournful oft, 
 Like the half tears in childhood's pensive eye, 
 Do some appear ; while others, rich and round 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 259 
 
 Like burning jewels, dug from mines of light, 
 Flash on the forehead of the mellowed sky 
 Most brilliantly ; or, clustered into groups, 
 The rest commingle their associate beams 
 Dazzling the concave. Still, the earth obscured 
 Lies dimly veil'd, with umbrage unrelieved, 
 Waiting the lamp that lights her beauties up. 
 And, yonder comes it ! — lo, her placid brow 
 O'er the dusk air the queenly moon uplifts ; 
 And, e'en as music, solemn, deep and slow, 
 Through the dark chambers of dejected mind 
 Where all is shapeless, oft to order cites 
 Thought after thought, successive and serene, — 
 So her wan lustre, as it mildly steals 
 O'er the mute landscape, tree and bough and bank 
 Each out of dimness and disorder draws 
 To shape and aspect ; till the dew-drops gleam 
 Like Nature's diamonds on her night-garb thrown, 
 In countless sparkles : but the stars grow pale, 
 Like mortal graces near th' excessive blaze 
 Of Thine, Emmanuel ! save th' undazzled brows 
 Of those large planets, eloquently bright 
 With sheen unconquer'd. What a change at once 
 The moon o'er all things by her beam hath cast ! 
 Like faith, arising in some nighted heart, 
 And touching nature with redemption's light 
 Victorious. Wheresoe'er his roving eye 
 Darts a pleased glance, hill, and brook and hedge, 
 Rivers and streams, and meadowy range far off, 
 Cities and towers, and tall cathedral spires 
 And village churchyards, with their grassy tombs 
 Attract the gazer ; till his glance is fed 
 With loveliness, beyond the moving lip 
 To mention. But above, — how beautiful ! 
 
 s 2 
 
260 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 There, solemnly the climbing Moon ascends ; 
 
 And each thin clond within her silver reach 
 
 She clothes with splendour ; like a mortal pang 
 
 By Hope celestial into radiant peace 
 
 Transmuted. But in this access divine 
 
 Of nature's sabbath, solitude, and night, 
 
 How like the fortunes of the Saviour's Bride 
 
 The moon's high progress through the heaven appears ! 
 
 Varied and full, now crescent and complete, 
 
 Shaded, or dim, and then with radiance clad : 
 
 So hath the Church along time's clouded scene 
 
 Flourished or faded, shined, or suffered gloom ; 
 
 But yet doth travel through her fated round 
 
 Upward to glory ! — may deeper eyes discern 
 
 In yon pale symbol of orac'lar sky, 
 
 The moon-like radiance of imperfect man 
 
 By grace made holy, but how changeful too ! 
 
 E'en to the last, by shades of sin o'erhung 
 
 Or hidden : while the imperial Lord of day, 
 
 By his prerogative of light, portrays 
 
 That sun-clear righteousness of state complete, 
 
 Which all the justified of God arrays 
 
 With faultless glory, fair as Jesus wore. 
 
 $1 MtmttnU 
 
 Oh ! fearful Time, the fathomless of thought, 
 With what a myst'ry is thy meaning fraught ! 
 Thy wings are noiseless in their rush sublime 
 O'er scenes of glory, as o'er years of crime ; 
 Yet comes a moment when thy speed is felt, 
 Till past and future through our being melt, 
 And a faint awfulness from worlds unknown, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 261 
 
 In shadowy darkness gathers round our own ! 
 A moment ! — well may that a moral be, 
 Whoe'er thou art, 'tis memory to thee : 
 A tomb it piled, a mother bore to heaven, 
 Or, like a whirlwind o'er the ocean driven, 
 Rush'd on thy fate with desolating sway, 
 And flung a desert o'er thy darken'd way ! 
 
 Utfttctiom on ttit 29£jm*ttfy ®t*v 
 
 Another Year, methought a Spirit cried, 
 Another Year is dead ! — Still rolls the world 
 Magnificent as ever ; bright the Sun, 
 And beautiful his native heaven ; the Earth 
 Around, looks fresh as on her birth-day morn ; 
 And Man, as gay as if no knell had rung, 
 No heart been broken, and no tears been shed ! 
 Where, then, the hist'ry of the buried Year, 
 Of weal or woe, of glory and of shame ? 
 Eternal ! not a minute fleets away 
 That doth not waft a record to Thy throne ; 
 Time cannot die ; the dim departed Years 
 Again will rise, and cited ages come 
 Like thoughts, — creations of the mind. 
 
 A Year hath vanish'd and another Year 
 Is born ; what awful changes will arise, 
 What dark events lie hidden in the womb 
 Of Time, imagination cannot dream ; — 
 Ye Heavens ! upon whose brow a stillness lies, 
 Deep as the silence of a thinking heart 
 In its most holy hour, the world hath changed, 
 But ye are changeless ; and your midnight race 
 
262 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of starry watchers, view our glorious isle 
 Undimmed, as when amidst her forest depths 
 The savage roam'd, and chanted to the moon. — 
 
 Spoiler of hearts and empires, vanish' d Year ! 
 Ere for eternity thy wings were spread, 
 Alone I listen'd to thy dark farewell. — 
 The moon was center'd in the cloudless heaven, 
 All pale as beauty on the brow of death ; 
 And round about her, with attractive beam, 
 Group'd the mild stars ; the anarchy of day 
 Was husb/d, the turbulence of life becalm'd. 
 From where I stood, a vast and voiceless plain, — 
 A city, garmented with mellow light, 
 Lay visible ; and, like romance in stone, 
 Shone gloriously serene ! All sounds were dead ; 
 The dew-drop, stirless as a frozen tear, 
 Gleam'd on the verdure ; not an air-tone rang ; 
 The leaves hung tranced as the lids of sleep ; 
 Around me Nature in devotion seem'd, 
 The Elements in adoration knelt, 
 Till all grew worship — from the heart of things 
 Material to the conscious soul of man ! 
 ? Twas then sepulchral, hollow, deep, and loud 
 The bell of midnight on the stillness burst, 
 And made the air one atmosphere of awe. 
 
 No more of sorrow for the fleeted year ! 
 No tears can cancel, or recall it now : 
 Hereafter, when before the throne of God 
 Dead Ages shall revive, all its Crimes 
 And Virtues will be summon'd to their doom :— 
 Hark ! from a host of dimly-vision'd spires 
 The midnight hour is rolling to the skies, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 263 
 
 "While doubtful echoes undulate the air, 
 Then glide away, like shadows, into gloom. 
 A solemn peal, — a farewell voice of Time, 
 It leaves a ling'ring tone in many a heart, 
 Where merriment has made a home ; the young 
 Who hear it in the festive chamber, sigh, 
 And send their thoughts, sad pilgrims, to a tomb ; 
 The aged hear it, — and the world forget ! 
 
 Jttcommutucafcle dFeeltttgg* 
 
 Oh ! there are feelings rich but faint, 
 The hues of language cannot paint ; 
 And pleasures, delicately deep, 
 Which, like the palaces of sleep, 
 Melt into dimness, when the light 
 Would look upon their fairy sight ; 
 And there are chords of happiness 
 Whose spirit-tones our fancy bless, 
 And make the music of our joy 
 Complete, without one harsh alloy, — 
 Yet, vain would words one note reveal 
 Of melody which mind can feel ! 
 
 There be some heart-entwining hours in life, 
 With uncontrollable sensation rife ; 
 When mellow'd thoughts, like music on the ear, 
 Melt through the soul, and revel in a tear ! 
 And, such are they, when, tranquil and alone, 
 We sit and ponder on long periods flown ; 
 
264 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And, charm'd by Fancy's retrospective gaze, 
 Live in an atmosphere of other days ; 
 Till friends and faces, flashing on the mind, 
 Conceal the havoc Time has left behind ! 
 
 Thou rolling mystery of might and power ! 
 Rocking the tempest on thy breast of waves, 
 Or, spread in breezy rapture to the sun, 
 Thou daring Ocean ! that couldst deluge worlds 
 And yet rush on, — I hear thy deep-toned wrath 
 In ceaseless thunder challenging the winds 
 Resoundingly, and from afar behold 
 Thine armied billows, heaving as they roar, 
 And the wild sea-foam shiver on the gales ! 
 
 And thou, weird Ocean ! on whose awful face 
 Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace, 
 By breezes lull'd, or by the storm-blasts driven, 
 Thy tow'ring waves uplift the mind to heaven. 
 
 Tremendous art thou ! in thy tempest-ire, 
 When the mad surges to the clouds respire, 
 And like new Appennines from out the sea 
 Thy waves march on in mountain majesty. — 
 Oh ! never can the dark-souled Atheist stand, 
 And watch the breakers boiling on the strand, 
 Nor feel Religion from the sea arise, 
 And preach to conscience what his will denies 
 His heart is wiser than his head would be, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 265 
 
 And awe instinctive tells, O God, of Thee ! 
 
 He hears Him in the wind-heav'd ocean's roar, 
 
 Hurling her billowy crags upon the shore ; 
 
 He hears Him in the horror of the blast, 
 
 And shakes while rush the raving whirlwinds past ! 
 
 Muse, thou 
 Art the Angel of the soul, whose voice 
 The primal loveliness of vanish'd things 
 Renews ; or haply, Thou, in pure perfection, art 
 A Priestess, who behind the veil of sense 
 Conducts the spirit to the holy shrine 
 Where Beauty, Love, and Everlasting Light 
 Are shrouded ; — then, a Prophetess, whose lip 
 Their power interprets with a vocal spell. 
 
 Thou beautiful Magician ! be thy name 
 Whate'er thou wilt : creatress of delight 
 Expression paints not ! though the world affright 
 Thy radiant visit, still art thou revered ; 
 And the soft wave of thy descending wings 
 Is token'd by the pulse's quivering joy : 
 Beneath the play of thy melodious smiles 
 The spirit quickens into thrills of heaven, 
 And Feeling worships at thy faintest sound ! 
 All hours are thine ; all climes and seasons drink 
 Thine effluence bright, and immaterial power : 
 Thou with the universe twin-born didst rise ; 
 And thou alone, when tempted Nature fell, 
 Unfallen wert : and thus thy glorious aim, 
 Like true Religion's, is to lead us back 
 From recreant darkness to primeval bliss ! 
 
266 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 All moods are thine ; all maladies of thought 
 By thee are visited with healing sway : — 
 For there be moments, when a hideous veil 
 Of dimness, woven by some demon hand, 
 Lies on the world ; when love itself is cold 
 And earthy, and the tone affection breathes 
 Falls fruitless on the mind, as ocean spray 
 That dies unheeded on the savage rock ; 
 When Nature is untuned, and all things wear 
 The coarse reality derision loves. 
 And then, how often thine assuasive balm, 
 Spirit of beauty ! intellectual queen ! 
 Is welcomed, — melting over heart and brain, 
 Like dew upou the desert, till the soul 
 Reviveth, and the world is exorcised ! — 
 And thou canst hallow with ennobling power 
 Deep impulses, of undiscover'd source, 
 That comes like shades of pre-existent Life 
 Athwart the mind, when superstition reigns.* 
 For is not man mysteriously begirt 
 By something dread, imagination feels, 
 Yet fathoms not ? Dare human creed deny 
 That mortal feeling, in its finest mood, 
 May be some thrill of sympathetic chords 
 That link our nature to a world unknown ? 
 
 And since the spirit with the flesh doth war, 
 And life is oft an agonizing thirst 
 Which nothing visible can tame, or cool, 
 That beauty, which the hues of thought create, 
 By thee enchanted, — slakes the mental fire 
 
 * Man can never altogether turn aside his thoughts from infinity ; 
 and some obscure recollections will always remind him of his original 
 home. — M. Schlegel. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 267 
 
 That parches us within : and yearning dreams, 
 And hopes that breathe of immortality, 
 Thy power sublimeth with mysterious aid. 
 Then, long as earth is round us, and the wings 
 Of fancy by the light of faith ascend, 
 May Poetry her sibyl language weave, 
 Enlighten, charm, and elevate the world. 
 
 The dewy spirit of a summer rain 
 Falls not with fresher magic on the flower, 
 Than flows sweet music through the soul of man.— 
 The heavens were hung in melody ; the sea 
 Weaves music when she rolls her full-voiced wave : 
 The cloud-born thunders sound an organ-peal ; 
 And every breeze hath music in its breath 
 That throbs its way along the lyric air. 
 What wonder, then, while nature hymns around, 
 That music is a sympathy to souls, 
 The power of exquisite delight ? From lips 
 Of beauty, like aroma from the mind 
 Exhaling forth ; or in the hoary aisle 
 Of dim cathedral dying slow away ; 
 Or, in some dream-built palace of the night, 
 Where angel-whispers make the spirit glow, 
 How sweet is music ! — with the light twin-born. 
 
 And thy sad voice, poor minstrel of the street ! 
 Hath sweetness in its sorrow ; wild thine air, 
 And dim the meaning of that mournful eye ; 
 Oh, yes ! cold poverty hath made thee droop, 
 And worn the health-bloom of thy once fair cheek : 
 Pale-lipp'd thou art, and charity may read 
 
268 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Upon thy face the story of thy life ;— 
 
 The damp night-gush, the stony bed, the gripe 
 
 Of famine, and that fever of a soul 
 
 That not a smile hath visited through years 
 
 Of deep despair, — hast thou not felt them, maid 
 
 Of many sorrows ? yet so sweetly flows 
 
 The tide of music in thy homely song 
 
 Of tenderness, that when 1 hear thee sing, 
 
 As in a vision, thou art beautified above 
 
 Thy lot ; and, tripping o'er the dewy hills 
 
 When young birds pipe their anthem to the morn, 
 
 Like some bright creature whom the wood-gods love, 
 
 I see thee in thy youth's elysian prime ! 
 
 That voice — oh ! was it born of misery, 
 Or, breathed by Happiness into thy soul, 
 When, hand in hand, o'er far remember'd fields 
 Down briery lanes, by margins of clear brooks 
 And chiming streams, she led thee in her love ? 
 Hast thou not hallowed oft with cottage hymn ; 
 Some happy evening hour, and called the smile 
 Of holiness upon thy father's cheek, 
 As flowed his kindled feelings in thy song 
 Of adoration ? — Minstrel of the street ! 
 Whate'er has been thy lot, thy ballads breathe 
 Of summer days to me ; and from each strain 
 My heart can gather echoes, which have wings 
 To bear it downward into years, where lie 
 The buried joys that will not bloom again ! 
 
 'Eht ffl&sic Woton of JWelofcg; 
 
 Who hath not felt the spirit of a voice, — 
 Its echo haunt him in romantic hours ? 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 269 
 
 Who hath not heard from Melody's own Up 
 
 Sounds that become a music to his mind ? 
 
 Music is heavenlike ! in the festive home, 
 
 "When throbs the lyre, as if instinct with life, 
 
 And some sweet mouth is full of song, how soon 
 
 A rapture flows from eye to eye, from heart 
 
 To heart ! — while floating from the past, the forms 
 
 We love are re-created, and the smile 
 
 That lights the cheek is mirror'd on the heart. 
 
 So beautiful the potency of sound, 
 
 There is a sweetness in the homely chime 
 
 Of village bells ; I love to hear them roll 
 
 Upon the breeze ; like voices from the dead, 
 
 They seem to hail us from a viewless world ! 
 
 The heaven of music ! — how it wafts and waves 
 Itself in all the poetry of sound, 
 Amid an atmosphere of human heart 
 Suffused, — so full the homage here outbreath'd : 
 Now, throbbing like a happy thing of air, 
 Then, dying a voluptuous death, as lost 
 In its own lux'ry ; now alive again 
 In sweetness, wafted like a vocal cloud 
 Mellifluously breaking — seems the strain ! 
 And what a play of magic on each face 
 Of feeling ! Dread and thund'ry when it rolls, 
 The eyes glance inward with a dream profound : 
 When festive, such as storms a hero's mind, 
 A spirit revels in the raptur'd face ! 
 But when, from faint and feeble ecstasy 
 Of tune, into a melancholy tone 
 That pierces, ray-like, through the gloom of years, 
 The music dies, — then, icy thrills the blood 
 And glitt'ring sadness on each eye-ball spreads 
 Like dewy rapture from the soul distill'd. 
 
270 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 All music is the Mystery of sound, 
 "Whose soul lies sleeping in the air, till rous'd,— - 
 And, lo ! it pulses into melody : 
 Deep, low, or wild, obedient to the throb 
 Of instrumental magic ; on its wings 
 Are visions too, of tenderness and love, 
 Beatitude and joy. Thus, over waves 
 Of beauty, landscapes in their loveliest glow, 
 And the warm languish of their summer streams, 
 A list'ning Soul is borne ; while home renews 
 Its paradise, beneath the moon-light veil 
 That mantles o'er the past, till unshed tears 
 Gleam in the eye of memory. But when 
 Some harmony of preternatural swell 
 Begins, then, wing'd by awe, the spirit soars 
 Away, and mingles with immensity ! 
 
 Stanjas on Atttrfc* 
 
 When the hush of twilight deepens, 
 
 Wake, music ! then ; 
 Or when the star of Hesper glows, 
 And flings a beam of pale repose, 
 Where yonder tide in beauty flows, 
 
 Wake, music ! then. 
 
 When the yearning heart is melted, 
 
 Wake, music ! then ; 
 As oft some dream of perish'd days 
 Comes floating o'er the spirit's gaze, 
 'Till ev'ry pulse of mem'ry plays, 
 
 Wake, music ! then. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 271 
 
 When the cloud of sorrow blackens, 
 
 Wake, music ! then ; 
 
 Or, like the hymn of moonlight bird, 
 
 Or rain-dew in the desert heard ; 
 
 Or leaflet by a night-breeze stirr'd, 
 
 Wake, music ! then. 
 
 When the storm of pain arises, 
 
 Wake, music ! then ; 
 
 Like glory from an angel eye, 
 
 Like pity in a parent sigh, 
 
 In feeling softness tenderly, 
 
 Wake, music ! then. 
 
 He hath a spirit bright in its content 
 And playful in its poverty ; the rain 
 Of English clouds and atmospheric gloom 
 Of this brave Island-clime, have not bedimmed 
 The merriness of his brown cheek, nor quenched 
 The lustre of his deeply-laughing eyes, 
 That sparkle forth the sunbeams of his soul. — 
 Then breathe no pity on the Organ-boy ; 
 From his gay Land a stock of sterling glee, 
 And proud young feelings, that can well outwear 
 Each frown of fate, the stripling wand'rer brought : 
 His mother's smile still brightens round his heart ; 
 His father's blessing, when he climbed his knee 
 At night, still sounds upon his inward ear ; 
 And when the streets grow cloudy, and the tones 
 His organ weaves fall fruitless on the air, 
 He dreams of home, deep-bosomed in bright vales 
 
272 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of beauty ; hill-spread vines, and fairy Streams 
 That trifled sweetly as a sister's voice 
 Who prattled in her slumber : — days will dawn 
 When he again shall thread those glowing vales, 
 And tell his travels with unwearied tongue 
 To fond ones, nestling round his own fireside. 
 
 Nor think his errant life too mean to sing, — 
 Albeit no music tuned to courtly ears, 
 That are too sickly for the native sounds 
 That raise sweet echoes in romantic souls, — 
 From him is heard ; there are, of meeker taste 
 And simpler mind, who bid the roving boy 
 A welcome, and enchanted hear the notes 
 His organ wakes, of tenderness and truth ; 
 As through the city's ever-busy streets, 
 And darkly-winding lanes, he roams and plays, 
 Many an ear drinks musical delight, 
 Many an eye with beams of vanished years 
 Is brightly charged ; and from her window-haunt, 
 Who makes the street to tingle with the sound 
 Of halfpence, thrown with no ungentle hand 
 By some fair listener ? Haply, he woke dreams 
 Of childhood, — thoughts that cannot breathe in words, 
 But live and fade in sighs of fond regret. 
 And round him what a throng of urchins group, 
 And dream his music sweet as Orpheus made ! 
 The laughter hushed, the noisy tongues asleep. 
 The hoop, as weary, on his shoulder hung, 
 A schoolboy stands to listen, and admire 
 The melodies that dance along his soul, 
 Like ripples fleeting o'er a ruffled stream. 
 
 Then let the streets still waken to the sound 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 273 
 
 Of such boy -minstrels ; when afar they roam 
 Through villages, where Music hath a touch 
 Of magic in her meanest tone, may smiles 
 Of welcome flash along the rough-worn face 
 Of Age, and ruddy offspring of the fields ; 
 May gentle skies and glowing days attend, 
 And feelings toned to every tuneful hour. 
 
 Zht ISallatr Sbtngersu 
 
 There are who deem the Ballad-singer breathes^ 
 No music that rewards harmonious ears ; — - 
 To whom an Organ-boy but grating notes 
 Of discord scatters on the homeless wind ; 
 Their sympathies are seasoned high, and scorn 
 The gentle : envy not their earthy souls ; 
 For, hallowed Nature ! thou art ever true ; 
 And he who wanders, with an eye of love 
 And feeling, wide among thy many haunts, 
 Through mountain-walks, or unambitious vales, 
 Where stream and meadow mingle their romance 
 Around, in storm and sunshine finds Thee still 
 The same, and magical ! — And so in Life ; 
 Her sweet humilities have grace and power 
 Beyond her loftiness and fame : the Muse 
 Can never play the courtier ; from the halls 
 And palaces of Kings, she flies to glades 
 Of lowliness, where Faculties are found, 
 And Will and Action can reveal their sway : — 
 Where beats a heart, there Poetry may breathe 
 Her spirit round it ; beautifying look 
 And word, extracting all the soul of things, 
 And veiling Nature with a hue divine. 
 
 T 
 
274 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 IPatttttng, 
 
 Painters are silent poets ; in their hues 
 A language glows, whose words are magic tints 
 Of meaning, which both eye and soul perceive. — 
 Thus deep the power of deathless Art ! for Time 
 Obeys her summons, and the Seasons wait 
 Her godlike call ; while glory, love, and grace, 
 And the deep harmonies of human thought, 
 Live at the waving of her mighty wand ! 
 
 Wxt Sbafcfcatin 
 
 Ethereal Day 
 Beyond the grossness of barbaric sense 
 Rightly to value ; what a blighted scene, 
 Yea, what a prison-vault of petty cares, 
 Polluted dreams, and unbaptized joys 
 Would earth, if Sabbathless, — at once become ! 
 For if throughout infinity we feel 
 And act, by conscious glory to our God 
 Conjoin'd ; or, of divinity amerced, 
 The gnawing worm of conscience must endure, - 
 Then priceless is the Sabbath ! and we hail 
 The soul of six days in the seventh divine. 
 
 To let th' eternal o'er the temp'ral cast 
 A shading awe, that bids this world away, 
 And Earth to Heaven by aspiration's wing 
 To lift ; by symbols and by signs to charm 
 Cold nature, and imagination feed 
 With rites that nourish for ennobling growth 
 Its being ; then, by combination due 
 Of epochs high, traditions pure, and faith 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 275 
 
 Unblemish'd from a gospel-fountain drawn, — 
 
 Here is the function which a sabbath fills : 
 
 Together with appliances devout 
 
 Of praise, confession, penitence, and prayer 
 
 That bathes the conscience in the crimson blood 
 
 Of Jesus, — who can such a Day blaspheme, 
 
 Thus propertied with those divinest powers 
 
 That, to the roots of all which makes 
 
 A people holy, or an empire wise, — 
 
 Sends a live influence from Religion's heart ? 
 
 And where yon palaces of commerce lift 
 Their dusky, dim, and many-window'd piles, 
 'Mid roar of capitals, or cities vast, 
 How does the day on which Messiah rose, 
 Check the loud wheels, and hush the grating jars 
 And vexing hum of avarice, and gain ; 
 That care-worn artizans, with pallid cheeks, 
 And all the wasted family of Toil, 
 Each with his little one, — awhile may feel 
 That men are more than rational machines 
 For shaping matter, or absorbing food ! 
 And on their foreheads see a title-page, 
 An imprimatur of immortal life. — 
 So on this day, (by Heaven's ordaining law 
 Rank'd in the rubric of perpetual grace,) 
 They all may learn their brotherhood, in God. 
 There, as they group beneath the Bible's wing, 
 And, through the centralizing love of Christ 
 The level glory of our nature reach 
 Together, — who can tell what sweet content, 
 What calm submission to their clouded lot, 
 With all the heart-burns which their toil-worn lives 
 Experience ever, — from that moment flows ! 
 
 t 2 
 
276 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Here all are equal ; in the bond of flesh, 
 
 The ties of nature, and in guilt with God : 
 
 Here, crowns and coronets, and truncheons drop 
 
 To nothing ; king and subject share alike ; 
 
 And in thy royalties, redeeming Love ! 
 
 A prince may falter where a peasant lifts 
 
 His plea ; while in the poor man's eye may shine 
 
 A tear of rapture, Kingdoms could not raise, 
 
 Nor, all that earth's diameter contains 
 
 Purchase the peace his hallow'd conscience hath ! 
 
 &fu &eariungjs of tfit Sabbath* 
 
 Glory ! to think that on this morn, mankind 
 Bow at the footstool of their Common Sire 
 In co-equality of dust, and sin, 
 To plead for mercy at Salvation's fount. — 
 Ye mighty Hunters in the fields of truth ! 
 Titans of thought ! ye Giants of renown ! 
 Colossal wonders in the world of mind, 
 Who, with the shadow of your souls immense 
 Cover creation ! though your genius charm 
 Th' eternal Public of posterity, 
 Your names are nothing in the balance now ! 
 Bend the stiff mind, and bow the stubborn heart 
 And in the pleadings of your helpless dust 
 Go, take your station with yon cottage-girl ; 
 Or chant a verse with yonder hymning child : 
 And, happy are ye ! if like them, ye feel 
 That wisdom is, our ignorance to know. 
 There, cast your anchors in the cloven rock 
 Of ages ; for behind the veil it towers 
 Deep as eternity, and high as God ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 277 
 
 Abhorr'd be therefore that most brutal aim, 
 That rank hyperbole of godless crime 
 Which massacres Religion at a blow, 
 That ere by riot, lust, or lawless gain, 
 Or by some logic, false as fiends inspire, — 
 Our Sabbaths from their sanctity should fail 
 Or falter. On two worlds at once they touch ; 
 The Lights of this, the Landmarks of the next ; 
 And, reft of these, all anarchies commence 
 To madden ; nor can praise itself overprize 
 The ordered notions of a day like this ; 
 When thou, maternal Church ! whose head is hoai d 
 With ages, but whose heart, like Jesu's, beats 
 With love for spirits, — art a blessing proved 
 By Forms, by Functions, and by ritual chants, 
 And Sacraments of soul-exalting grace. 
 Long may our Church, with her organic Powers 
 And rites ministrant, this pure day revere : 
 For Sabbaths make the Morals of our land ; 
 And by their litanies of sacred love, 
 By pulpit, priest, and all that past'ral sway 
 Which o'er the meanest village in our land 
 May cast a hue of elegance refined, — 
 They form thermometers, whereby to mete 
 (Rising or falling as their sanction acts) 
 Our true advancement, in the noblest weal : — 
 Since public virtue, monarchy, and law, 
 And Church with State together are espoused 
 By league of principle, and power of love ; — 
 So, if our sabbaths be from sway dethroned, 
 The music of the commonwealth is gone ! 
 Soon into atoms will dissolve and drop 
 That Fabric eloquent,— whose walls are mind, 
 And founded deep in immemorial laws 
 
278 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And liberties : the Constitution falls ! 
 
 Then guard them well, ye Senators and Priests, 
 
 For they are priceless ; and to us preserve 
 
 All that in heart and home, in temple or in state 
 
 Is pure of worship, or of lore profound. 
 
 And he who robs them of their rightful sway 
 
 By pen, or speech, example, creed or life, — 
 
 On heaven itself a sacrilege presumes, 
 
 Man's awful being to the centre shocks, 
 
 And plucks the apple from a Nation's eye ! 
 
 iPrtbflege <tf Cfmsttan &ttffertttff* 
 
 When Nature in her awful doubt creates 
 Myst'ry and madness for the heart and brain 
 In all that life endures, — let mortals feel 
 That man, the Infant of eternity, 
 By wo is nursed, and strengthen'd for the skies ; 
 And a brave soul, though Earth and Hell combine 
 To scatter tempest round its blighted way, 
 Beholds a God in all things, but despair ! — 
 In hours of sadness, when Oppression rules, 
 And each pale sunburst of unwonted joy 
 Breaks o'er the spirit, like derisive beams 
 Of summer playing round a wintry realm, 
 Let Grief remember how the patriarch cried 
 With voice that travell'd o'er the sea of time, — 
 " Oh ! that the graven rock my words imprest, 
 And iron stamp'd them with eternal truth ! 
 For though in dust my body be dissolved, 
 That my Redeemer liveth, and shall stand 
 When time is ended, on this mortal earth, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 279 
 
 I surely know ! — on Him mine eye shall gaze, 
 And in my flesh shall I a God behold 1" 
 
 But here we lisp the alphabet of Grace 
 Alone, and scarcely that can well pronounce. 
 Pupils of time, we yet have much to learn, 
 And more to suffer, ere we find resolv'd 
 The paradox of wrong our Church endures. — 
 If to our pang the purpose we could link, 
 Patience might sing, where now Vexation sighs, 
 And hail The Trinity behind our tears 
 In wisdom perfect ; — but the Vision tarries yet ! 
 Between God's purpose and our pang there lies 
 An Infinite, where baffled Reason, blind 
 With gazing, would in vain some landmark see. 
 But grief, when sanctified, is God to man 
 Himself imparting, for some end conceaFd 
 Deep in the core of His eternal Plans. 
 Here may we rest : beyond we cannot rise ; 
 Or, on the infinite Unknown we dash 
 The mind to madness, and our faith to fears I 
 Perchance our World to higher Being proves 
 A Platform, where the Truths of Heaven enact 
 Their natures, and to angels wisdom show ? — 
 Or, Hearts on earth are moral Schools to Heaven, 
 And Pangs below are Preachers to the skies, 
 While glory shines around each sainted tear 
 That faith or feeling, in our warfare sheds ? 
 
 ©ur Cro&s the iwlttto to our Crofotn 
 
 Perfect through suff ring ! — Such Emmanuel- was. 
 And, can the Members of that mystic Head 
 Refuse to echo what their Master felt ? 
 
280 POETRY AND RELIGION, 
 
 A suffering Image must the church become, 
 
 If with her archetypal Lord complete 
 
 Her oneness prove ; and what in pangs the Head 
 
 Endur'd, each Member must on earth repeat 
 
 By thrilling counterpart, in truth and tone, 
 
 To all He suffer'd. — Nor, in Heaven forgot, 
 
 Though there unfelt, Messiah's woes remain ; 
 
 Still through His splendour point the piercing Nails ; 
 
 There in His glory yet the Gash is seen ; 
 
 E'en on the Throne, the sacramental Lamb 
 
 Types, to eternity, the Manhood slain !— 
 
 And, like her Bridegroom, must the Bride elect 
 
 From suff ring deep to endless glory climb. 
 
 Wxt M&$ttt£ of penman Sufferings;* 
 
 We see in part, but suffer in the whole ; 
 There lies the myst'ry ! — there the Flesh complains, 
 Hurt feeling staggers, and the heart recoils. 
 Meanwhile, in vain would Souls their doom avoid, 
 Or mould, or master ; each in turn must weep, 
 Writhe on some rack, or drink his cup of wo 
 Down to the dregs — if such our God present. 
 All have their pangs, their penalties, and woes, 
 Some thorn to fester in their Spirit's frame, 
 Or fret the Mind to feebleness, or fear 
 Unholy. — But the Comforter abides ; 
 And while to Sense the Church an orphan seems, 
 The Father pities ; and his children find 
 A secret pasture in the promise left, 
 Though all look herbless, to the eye of men, 
 Carnal, or clouded. — Nor will more be felt 
 Than Wisdom, for some destin'd rank above, 
 Apportions ; cross and crown related are ; 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 281 
 
 The one is suffer'd, as the other shap'd 
 Responsively, And as the artist's hand 
 Plastic with genius, to the picture gives 
 Line after line, touch on touch repeats, 
 Till colours image what his mind contains 
 Of beauty ; — so in faith, Experience feels 
 Pang after pang, till God at length transcribes 
 That viewless copy of celestial life 
 His purpose imag'd, ere our souls were born. 
 Or even, as the skill' d refiner bends 
 O'er the fus'd metal, in the furnace laid, 
 And heaps new fire, till back its molten face 
 His own returneth, by reflection bright ; 
 So, in the flame of hot affliction, man 
 By Heaven in myst'ry is awhile retain'd ; 
 Till, purg'd of dross, and purified from sin, 
 At last the metal of the heart is clear, 
 And back on Deity, by love reflects 
 The radiant Image that His glory casts. 
 
 ftffltcttott out form of Commtmtou tottii 
 Cfcritt. 
 
 We learn by suff ring, while by faith we live, 
 And graces brighten as our griefs expand ; 
 But where, indeed, between the wo endur'd 
 And height of glory in a heaven to come 
 Of being, — is the true connection found, 
 Baffles our reason, in this cloud of flesh 
 Now to unfold. But, this at least we l$arn, 
 The Head of manhood was a suff'ring Head, 
 And all his members, by their mystic pangs 
 But echo back what thy pure bosom felt, 
 Eternal Archetype of life ! and faith, 
 
282 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Whom all things emblem. Here alone there dawn 
 Truths that illumine what might else appear 
 Darkness infernal, deep, and black, and dense 
 To suffocation. Here some aims profound 
 (Whose roots are in eternity's result) 
 Arrest the tear, and calm to chasten'd awe 
 The sigh'd rebellions of the soul within. — 
 The good shall suffer ; but if goodness be 
 To nature fallen, but the noble part 
 Of trial, when by sin-consuming grace 
 Season' d and hallow'd, — not for this repine 
 The brave adorers of The Crucified ! 
 They glory rather in the racking fires ; 
 The more of grief, the more of God they have, 
 And do (what Seraphim have never done) 
 Suffer for Christ ! — man's pure distinction this ! 
 His high prerogative, His peerless crown 
 Appointed. Devils for themselves endure, 
 And angels, quick as sunbeams, glide and go 
 At His command, and own Him Liege and Lord ; 
 But Virtue, by the Church's heart reveal'd, 
 Mounts to a range sublimer, and excels 
 Beyond the burning Watchers round His throne : 
 For, she can suffer ; and by suffring teach 
 Lesson of Godhead, such as angels prize. 
 
 Affliction ttvtofi to purify from Sbttu 
 
 And more than this th' afflicted Church evolves. 
 From Abel's cry to Luther's convent groan, 
 Self was our ruin ; into that, direct 
 From God, creation's first apostate fell ; 
 And out of that alone can Flesh arise, 
 By Will surrender'd, crucified, and slain, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 283 
 
 And by the sovereignties of Will Supreme 
 Mastered, and moulded. Thus, the saints are train'd 
 From strength to strength, by educating woes, 
 To loathe that vampire of creation — Sin ! 
 With hate celestial, and on God to live ; 
 While in that Book, whose promises like stars, 
 Rule in the night, a radiant charm they have 
 O'er all the dim perplexities of doom ; 
 Beaming mild comfort through the blackest wo 
 That palls a Christian, or the Church portends. 
 
 Glory to grief ! — when thus for God endur'd ; 
 'Tis but the pang a Saviour's bosom shar'd 
 Reduplicate, and by all faith prolong'd. 
 The Man of Sorrows forms no men of smiles ; 
 Our Hearts must bathe in His baptismal fire, 
 Or ne'er be whiten'd ; Cross and Crown were His : 
 We grant it, — but in order each He took ; 
 The first He suffer'd, ere the last He wore. 
 And as the Bridegroom, must the Bride be form'd, — 
 Repeat his Cross, and then reflect his Crown ; 
 That Like on earth, in heaven alike may prove 
 In grief below — in glory, — one above ! 
 And in eternal Consciousness to come, 
 Salvation will be sympathy entire 
 Between the Head and Members. Unity august ! 
 When Christ in each will Self from all absorb, 
 And His lov'd Church, like One Emmanuel shine ! 
 
 Sfeolttuto* 
 
 Sublime of privilege ! to be alone, 
 And hold communion with celestial Love 
 In the hush'd temple of the hallow'd mind, 
 Where thought is worship ; and religion wants 
 
284 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 No liturgy, save what the heart inspires. 
 
 In pensive solitude, our God unveils 
 
 Those charms almighty, which the vile scene 
 
 Of this vex'd world is all too vain to prize ; 
 
 Then Truth ascends our being's mental throne, 
 
 To rule and regulate the life, within ; 
 
 While round us shades of our hereafter steal, 
 
 Till awful Conscience, with prophetic eye, 
 
 Rehearses what the Judgment-day will act, 
 
 When Earth's biography shall be unroll'd 
 
 Under the gaze Eternal, — read aloud 
 
 To men, and angels ! Now, from sense withdrawn, 
 
 The pious Soul at length presumes to gaze 
 
 Down her own deep ; and there a grandeur finds 
 
 A depth in depth, unfathomably retired, 
 
 Of consciousness ; which makes her more sublime 
 
 Than all the gorgeousness of glitt'ring worlds ! — 
 
 A single Mind the universe outweighs ; 
 
 A thought than worlds is more stupendous far ; 
 
 And the proud stars, which populate the sky 
 
 In dazzling multitudes, are less divine 
 
 Than the pale forehead of some pensive Man 
 
 Beneath them watching, from whose lifted eye 
 
 Outshines divinity at ev'ry gaze ! 
 
 And this we learn, because in this we live ; 
 When, from the vulgar life of passion freed, 
 Within ourselves we dare at last descend : 
 There truths unsyllabled our hearts perceive, 
 And dread predictions, by no language shaped 
 Thrill through our conscience with majestic force, 
 And hint the being men are doom'd to know. 
 
 But, Solitude a softer mood enjoys ; 
 The past revives, the tombs of time unlocks, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 285 
 
 And in the heart's sad resurrection calls 
 
 The dead to life — the dear to love — again ! 
 
 For when this halcyon o'er the spirit hroods, 
 
 The chain of life, electrically touch'd, 
 
 Link after link unwinds, and leads us back 
 
 From manhood, with its false and fretting cares, 
 
 To childhood, basking in maternal smiles. 
 
 Soothed into softness, now the stern can weep^ 
 
 And sham'd ambition from itself recoils, 
 
 To think how basely, on the world's false shrine 
 
 The hopes and aims which Heaven alone can meet 
 
 Our life hath squander'd, with a fruitless zeal. 
 
 Ye Dreams of virtue ! oft in vice exhaled ; 
 
 Ye Hopes of greatness ! oft in ruin sunk ; 
 
 Ye full -win g'd Energies ! which cleaved your flight 
 
 High o'er the vault of young Ambition's heaven, — 
 
 Reality, the stern, the wintry, and the true, 
 
 To airy nought, hath frown'd ye all away ! 
 
 Yet, may we profitably mourn ; and muse 
 Ourselves to infancy, or faith, again, 
 When Memory, o'er tombs of buried time 
 Bends her pale brow, and placidly recalls 
 The green existence of exulting youth. 
 For what, though blasting disappointment sear'd 
 The buds of promise on the tree of Hope ; 
 Though few have actualized the heart's fond dreams, 
 By manhood reaching what their youth conceived, — 
 Yet, Contrast is our teacher ; and we know 
 The truth, by trial only as we live ; 
 And man who sins, by suffring must be saved ; 
 While God, by disappointment, makes him wise. 
 
286 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Solttttto not Morogt* 
 
 To cover earth with shades of hell, accuse 
 The sun of darkness, and the world blaspheme, 
 Deny all hope, disdain co-equal man, 
 And mar the heavenliness of human joy, — 
 Betrays a tempest of unholy thought, 
 Kais'd by the Demon of our darker hours ! 
 But, nobly true, inexplicably deep, 
 That mournfulness our better nature feels, 
 When solitude is silent poetry, 
 Head by the soul, interpreted within ! — 
 Like a mute pilgrim, on some distant shore 
 At twilight shaping in the skiey air 
 The towers and temples of his native Land, 
 While on his ear the sounds of home renew 
 The sweetness of their social melody,— 
 So, oft in solitude, existence feels 
 As though Mortality an exile were, 
 Saw visions of a former Heaven, and heard 
 Instinctive voices of the parent clime, 
 Like a faint language from departed Worlds ! 
 And oh ! how oft beneath the bluest sky 
 That summer arches over lake, or wood, 
 W T hen round and round, with antic motion, sport 
 The insect populace of beams and flowers ; 
 When herb is bright, and breeze is gay, the mind 
 A mystic shadow of dejection feels : 
 Sorrow and dimness, shade and mournful fear 
 Hang round about us, like a haunting spell : 
 For ever on the solemn verge we seem 
 Of gloom unknown, or glory unreveal'd ; 
 And who shall say, that life does not preserve 
 A faint reflection of some vanished state 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 287 
 
 By Earth forgot, — as oft the sea retains 
 A dim resemblance of departed storm ? 
 
 1&ht past, present, anl* JFttturt. 
 
 By law of mild Association led 
 From nature's step-stones, to ethereal heights 
 Of things that shall be,— thus the heart ascends. 
 A mute theology all nature makes ; 
 The very ground no vain religion breathes, 
 Where thorn and thistle, blent with fruit and flower, 
 Both Cross and Curse by intimation teach. 
 But when from feeling, unto faith we mount, 
 What fine accordance doth redemption show 
 Between the ruin and the rise of man ! 
 For, in thy Person and thy Spirit, Lord, 
 A re-production of those Trinal Powers 
 (That threefold state of majesty entire, 
 When priesthood, prophesy, and kingship crown'd 
 The Man consummate,) faith's adoring eye 
 In dim rehearsal, or in dawning grace 
 May witness. — Hence, our being, at the best, 
 Is but an embryo of the life to be. 
 Philosophy a mere precursor looks ; 
 All high attainments but its preludes are ; 
 And science but presentiment appears 
 Of all which Manhood, when redemption brings 
 The primal glories of our birthright back, 
 In full millennium shall at length enjoy. 
 
 Behold a centre ! where our yearnings meet ; 
 That oneness, where all aspirations blend 
 When o'er the ruins of ourselves we roam ; 
 And not from nature up to nature's God, 
 
288 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 But down from nature's God, — look nature through. 
 
 'Tis here, the meaning of their mystic strife 
 
 Passion and Principle alone explain. 
 
 The hell we merit, or the heaven we make, 
 
 The poet's Eden and the painter's dream, 
 
 With whatsoe'er magnetic Genius cites 
 
 By shaping vision from her scenic world ; 
 
 Together, with all temples and all shrines 
 
 The ritual heart instinctively erects, — 
 
 These, (in their secret unison of aim,) 
 
 In blind concurrence to one centre tend ; 
 
 E'en to regain what sin's vast forfeit took 
 
 From earth of beauty, or from man of bliss. 
 
 Wxt iWdattrfiolg of Mouthful <&tniu$. 
 
 Genius was thine, thou Heaven-commissioned boy ! 
 But surely, Sorrow was thy guerdon too. 
 For ne'er doth Greatness in a bosom lodge 
 But Sadness thither, like a shade, attends 
 Its true companion. In this faded world 
 Our graves and tears are almost equal now ; 
 And e'en at best, light-hearted Youth must bear 
 A burden voiceless, and the pang unbreathed 
 Of many a dark and undevelop'd mood. 
 The earth is exile, and for home we pine 
 How often ! — when high Visitations come 
 From whence we know not, and the Mind o'erwhelm. 
 As if some Angel in the flesh immured 
 Our Spirit were, across whose conscious powers 
 The sounds and splendours of ethereal Life, 
 In half remembrance,were at times renew'd. — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION, 289 
 
 Intellectual <&vt%tnt$8* 
 
 Prevailing glory of triumphant Mind ! 
 Around thee ring the praises of mankind ; » 
 For what though Empires spread their vast^control 
 Far as the winds exult, or waters roll ; 
 Though Tyrian merchandise their ports bedeck, 
 And navies thunder at their awful beck ! 
 The pride of commerce and the awe of power 
 Melt into dreams, at desolation's hour : 
 Then, what remains of kingdoms that have been ? 
 Lo ! deserts wave, where capitals were seen ! 
 The wild-grass quivers o'er each mangled pile, 
 And Winter moans along the archless aisle ; 
 Where once they flourish'd ruins grimly tell, 
 And shade the air with melancholy spell, 
 While from their wreck a tide of feeling rolls 
 In awful wisdom through reflective souls ! 
 
 What then alone omnipotently reign§, 
 When Empires grovel on deserted plains, 
 In morning lustre, to outdare the night 
 That time engenders o'er their vanish' d might ? 
 'Tis Mind ! — an immortality below, 
 That gilds the past, and bids the future glow ; 
 'Tis Mind ! — heroic, pure, devoted mind, 
 To God appealing for corrupt mankind, 
 Reflecting back the image that He gave 
 Ere Sin began, or earth became a slave ! 
 
290 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Intellectual %t$p(m8ibilit$. 
 
 So awful is the sway of human mind 
 For good or evil an enduring charm, 
 Inweaved with ages, silently it works, 
 Reaping uncounted spoils from deeds and words, 
 And thoughts, which spring like blossoms from a ray 
 Of influence, by a ruling Spirit cast. — 
 There is a stormy greatness, by the sense 
 Of vulgar apprehension hail'd, yet vain 
 When match'd against an all-prevailing Mind : 
 A warrior's glory in his banner waves ; 
 The ocean-hero, where the tempest howl'd, 
 Outdared the winds ; and echoes of renown 
 Roll mighty round the living head of each ; 
 Yet ebb away to indistinct applause, — 
 A dying sound, when death has calTd them home. 
 
 But he, who out of mind a fame erects, 
 In his eternity of thought will live 
 And flourish, till the Earth itself decays ! 
 And what a tale woidd Time have told, had none 
 Burst through the thraldom of degrading sense, 
 And bade the Spirit eloquently tell 
 Of Truth, and Beauty, and pervading Love ! 
 They scale the heavens, array the elements 
 With glory, give the herb a greener hue, 
 The flower a fresher magic, and the stream 
 A melody that Nature never sang ; 
 Thus, bright'ning all without, by rays within 
 From light's great Source proceeding, they can charm 
 Through God Himself, reflected round the soul ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 291 
 
 The dark enchantment of corrupted mind, 
 Not less prevailing in its secret course 
 Hath proved. For havoc may be heal'd ; and tears 
 And wrongs of desolated Kingdoms, change ; 
 But spirit can outweary vaunting time, 
 And taint a cent'ry with corrupting thought. 
 Ye prostituted souls ! when Mind is judged, 
 How ghastly from your slumber will ye wake ! 
 At that dread hour Perversion may not plead, 
 Nor Will deny, what understanding own'd. 
 The wretched martyrs ! — for a vain renown 
 From Unbelief and her heart-blasted crew 
 Derived, they rouse the idiot-laugh ; in clouds 
 Of falsehood clothe each attribute within, 
 Lend Infidelity a voice, delude 
 The vile with flatt'ries of an impious charm, 
 And fashion doubts to mystify the world : — 
 So be it ! — there is loud applause below ! 
 
 Jnteliectual MKVt$t8. 
 
 Heroes are martyrs, if their minds be pure 
 And highly-temper'd ; for The Truth is strange 
 To men who only by their bodies live, 
 And to the pageantries and powers of Sense 
 External, yield their sympathies alone ; 
 Or, never down themselves presume to plunge 
 A gaze reflective : — so, when Prophets rise, 
 And utter oracles from deeps of Life 
 Hidden and heavenly, from the flesh remote,— 
 To them they sound like necromantic tones ; 
 
 u 2 
 
292 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Eye, ear, and taste, to them make All in All ; 
 And though around, within, above them moves 
 And lives an energizing Power Supreme, 
 Whose Vesture is that visible they love, — 
 They give no credence save to flesh and forms. 
 Yet, what is Genius, but a mouth for God 
 To speak Himself to Nature, and to Man, 
 And from the visible and vain of Sense 
 To guide us to That spiritually vast, 
 Which underneath external Semblance lies ? 
 There, faith's reality alone is found ; 
 For all expression which the Outward bears 
 Is but a token of God's Inner truth 
 And purpose. Thus, beneath a typic veil 
 The Infinite His awful Presence hides, 
 His thought embodies, and reflects His power. 
 
 $ofoer of the Prcjsg* 
 
 Thou great Embalmer of departed mind ! 
 Thou dread Magician ! by whose mental charm 
 A mournful, pale, and solitary man 
 Who pines unheeded, or who thinks unknown, 
 Long after dust and darkness hide his grave, — 
 Himself can multiply with magic force 
 Beyond the reach of language to explore, 
 And the wide Commonwealth of minds may rule 
 With sway imperial ! Who can image Thee, 
 Whether to Heaven uplifting Mind and Man, 
 Or, Hell-ward both seducing, like a fiend ? 
 Boundless in each thine unremember'd sway ! 
 Thine was a voice, whose resurrection-blast 
 Peafd through the catacombs where buried Mind 
 For cent'ries lay ; and lo ! with living might 
 
POETRY ANO RELIGION. 293 
 
 The Fathers burst their cerements, and breath'd ; 
 
 Dead Intellect from classic tombs came forth 
 
 Quicken'd, and into active substance changed, 
 
 By thy vast potency : and then, was felt 
 
 The pith of thought, the marrow of the mind 
 
 Itself transfusing,— like a second life 
 
 The old absorbing, as with heat -divine. 
 
 And since that moment, have not Books become 
 
 Our silent Prophets, intellectual Kings, 
 
 And Hierarchs of human thought 
 
 To vice, or virtue ? Are they not like Shrines 
 
 For truth ? — Cathedrals, where the chasten' d Heart 
 
 Can worship, or in tranquil hours retreat 
 
 To meet the Spirit of the olden time ? 
 
 For there, the drama of the world abides 
 
 Yet in full play, immortally performed ! 
 
 Still ride the fleets o'er Actium's foughten waves 
 
 Before us ; patriots fight and tyrants fall ; 
 
 Sparta and Corinth, and the famous Isles 
 
 That fought for freedom, till their blood ran o'er 
 
 With brave contention, yet convene, and clash 
 
 Their forces ; still the Roman eagle flies 
 
 In full-wing'd triumph o'er the subject world ; 
 
 Caesar and Pompey yet the earth alarm, 
 
 Or, drag their chariot with the captive East ; 
 
 Battles are raging, Kingdoms lost or won, 
 
 Yea, all the Genius of gone time is there 
 
 In books articulate, — whose breath is mind. 
 
 Zixt &rit&fi tf WAS. 
 
 That mighty lever that has moved the world, 
 The press of England, — from its dreadless source 
 
294 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of living action, here begins to shake 
 
 The far-off isles, and awe the utmost globe ! — 
 
 The magic of its might no tongue can tell : — 
 
 Dark, deep, and silent oft, but ever felt ; 
 
 Mix'd with the mind, and feeding with a food 
 
 Of thought, the moral being of a soul. 
 
 A trackless agent, a terrific power ! 
 
 But why are Books such half almighty Things, 
 Making, or marring, whatsoe'er they touch 
 With force magnetic ? Whence their wond'rous spell ? 
 Bethink thee, reader ! and the answer comes. — 
 The Universe itself was once a Thought, 
 A thought divine, in depths Almighty hid ; 
 And so whate'er this mortal scene invests 
 Of human action, is but plastic thought 
 Itself revealing, in some Forms without 
 Apparent. What is half these eyes behold 
 Of wondrous, beautiful, sublime, or vast, 
 But Thought embodied into outer shape, 
 And answ'ring symbol ? — Arches, cities, domes 
 And temples, fleets and armies ; trades and towns, 
 Yea, all the Might and Moral of mankind 
 To this significance at length arrives, 
 And backward into Thought may be resolved 
 By fair reduction. Now, if books be Thought 
 By printing cloth'd, and palpably endowed 
 For its vocation, — whether Art or Lore, 
 Poetic vision, or prosaic truth, 
 Kingdoms immense, or individual Souls 
 The aim of its predestin'd mission be- 
 Forth to its work that printed Thought proceeds ; 
 
TOETRY AND RELIGION. 295 
 
 And who shall track it, as it rounds the world ? 
 Who can imagine, when 'tis once abroad, 
 (However humble was its natal home) 
 The Work it dares, the Wonder it achieves ? 
 Black as a Fiend, or like some Angel bright 
 That Thought in action may itself approve ; 
 For printing, like an omnipresence, gives 
 Its power expansion ; far and wide it moves, 
 Reaches all hearts, a host of mind affects, 
 And executes what none, save God, controls ! 
 Oh ! 'tis enough to harrow breath and blood 
 With chilling horror, thus to feel, and know 
 That when the Thinker, who debauch' d his mind 
 And put damnation into print for fame, 
 Is cited to the last and long accompt, 
 His thought is living I — like a Demon, still 
 Haunting the world of passion with its power 
 And poison ; breathing a perpetual curse, 
 And dropping hemlock into sensual hearts 
 That love the venom which a lie instils ; 
 And thus, for ever ! — not perchance to cease 
 Till Thought and Thinker shall together stand, 
 Curs'd by their victims, at the bar of God ! 
 
 €ftantt tjrtgtg not* 
 
 But chance exists not ; 'tis a libel dread 
 On Providence, which those unblest of mind, 
 Poets of hell and Laureates of despair, 
 Often pronounce, — who into merest fate 
 The motions of our moral world resolve. 
 For, God o'er all eternally presides ; 
 And, from the quiver of the bladed grass, 
 To wheeling Systems hung in starry space, 
 
296 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Enormous as unnumbered, — all occurs 
 
 How, when, and where, His guiding will decrees : 
 
 And we, who now with backward gaze revolve 
 
 The hoary annals of Mosaic time, 
 
 Behind the curtain of that outer scene 
 
 Where man was acting, new His Prompting Hand 
 
 At work for ever : Hist'ry's moving form 
 
 Points like an index to that secret God ; 
 
 E 'en as the timepiece which the hour reveals, 
 
 The hidden motion of a main-spring shows. 
 
 And who to Chance, that melancholy Power ! 
 Lawless and blind, unnatural as wild, 
 The scenic changes of eventful Life 
 Surrenders ? — to be shifted, stopped or moved 
 As Fate decides, Or Future may decree ? 
 No ! rather will the heaven-taught soul refer 
 Life, which to others looks entangled maze 
 Wove by mere accident, — to Him alone, 
 The First and Last, the great ordaining Mind, 
 Whose Providence alike o'er all presides, 
 And yet, in each with His elective love 
 Works what He wills. For as the speaking face 
 However shadowed by expression's tinge, 
 When thought's ethereal hues along it rise 
 And vanish, — doth from one inspiring heart 
 Borrow its meaning ; or, as beams of light 
 When o'er the chequered ground they fall, assume 
 A myriad tinges from the scene they touch, 
 Yet from one point, all colourless proceed ; — 
 So is experience to the trustful mind 
 
POETRY ANfl RELIGION. 297 
 
 By faith ennobled * God in purpose, one 
 Through all variety of weal, or wo, 
 It loves to recognize ; minute, or great, 
 Soft, or severe, whatever the event be found,— 
 Th' Almighty's in it ! and it owns Him there. 
 Else would a Manichean darkness shade 
 The brightest summer which our souls enjoy, 
 With boding gloom ; and Life itself become 
 A wave of feeling on a sea of Chance, 
 That billows ever, with emotion blind. 
 Thus, as the child, by graceful Instinct taught, 
 Flies to the parent, with unreasoning trust 
 In young simplicity, — and hides its heart 
 Under the shelter of o'ershadowing love 
 In pain, or peril ; so, the heaven-referring Mind 
 Back from Event to God Himself rebounds 
 At once, by faith and feeling. Though it comes 
 PalTd in dark mystery, stern as unexplained, — 
 'Tis peace to know a Father's hand o'erguides 
 The movement ; and His heart behind it smiles 
 "With love unbounded on our spirit's lot. 
 
 Wfxt 5n5t&03rualt>ttts utititmcg of Btttg* 
 
 Thus should we learn, by faith to concentrate 
 Full on our souls the Godhead we adore. 
 And not, — as pours the sun-bright day abroad 
 With floods of glory, flashing over all alike 
 Evil and good, — should we alone our God 
 Delight to revr'ence : but with love select 
 For ever acting His intended plan 
 Out on ourselves, as individual Souls, 
 May we revere Him. Then, with feeling grasp 
 This truth amazing, but divinely sweet 
 
298 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 We hold, — that as in Heaven above He dwells, 
 So on the earth, around us wind His arms 
 Eternal, though no shade or shadow marks 
 Their motion. Not when Sinai with Him shook, 
 By the deep thunder of His dread descent 
 Appalled, and reeling ; nor, when Glory filled 
 The Temple, bright with His indwelling blaze, 
 In fact was God more present, though to sense 
 The feeling of Th' Eternal One approached, — 
 Than now in all things ; from the Thrones which fall 
 With Empires for their mourners, to the tears 
 That tremble in a sainted infant's eye ! 
 
 And, there be moments, when mysterious Life 
 Is so attended with a train of Facts, 
 Sudden, and strange, through which a mercy glares 
 With such intensity of sacred light 
 Full on the conscience, — that Paternal care 
 To us revealing God's elective will, 
 Runs through the heart with overwhelming proof ! 
 And bids it, like ecstatic Hagar cry, 
 By Heaven when mercy-struck to more than prayer. — 
 And He, the Infinite, by form arrayed, 
 Who took our Nature in all sinless truth 
 Into His Own, — as Man embodied loved, 
 In modes and shapes of individual cast. 
 For, while in Providence th' unblemished Lord 
 Moved on the lines of Justice and of Truth, 
 Boundless beyond respect of single homes, 
 Or spirit ; He, in walks of social life 
 Loved like a Man, and chose the friend He liked. 
 And here the winning might Emmanuel wields, 
 By his example ! for, on Person, Place, 
 And Time, His pure affections deigned to shed 
 Concentred brightness. — He who wept a city's doom, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 299 
 
 As if the crashing of its crumbled walls 
 Rang in his ear, while Roman butchers bathed 
 Their swords in slaughter, — also, by a grave 
 Wept o'er the dead, as if a brother He ! 
 And to His bosom took the mild St. John. 
 
 Ctmstolaitonis of Jfatrtbtirttal probttenm 
 
 Praise to the Holy One ! for this display, 
 In the bright records of that Book Divine 
 Where, from the mercy-seat the veiling cloud 
 Is half withdrawn ; and through it flashing beams 
 Upon the paths of Providence descend, 
 To light the pilgrim of pure faith to Heaven. 
 There do we learn that none are overlooked ; 
 And not the least, who in the lowest range 
 Of our vex'd world his way of trial treads, — 
 Who may not, if on wings of faith he rise, 
 Behold a Father and a Friend, above ! 
 And what, though heedless of such holy thoughts 
 Our practised worldlings, or the Christless throng 
 Bound by the visible, and content to live, 
 Eat, drink, and die, beneath no higher sense 
 Of Deity, than what their daily good 
 Or evil will at times on feeling force ; 
 Pursuing bubbles, which the gay baptize 
 Pleasures ! though oft in pains, they burst, — 
 What, though to such, Sensation proves a God 
 In all but name, — yet, men of keener mind 
 Would sink to shadows, effortless and sad, 
 And loathe Existence as a breathing curse, 
 If nought they trusted but a Naked Law 
 Above them, for no special guidance placed, 
 But fixed as Fate, for ever and the same. 
 
300 POETRY AND R6UG10N. 
 
 lEfot ^tttwtettegjS of ilrobttrrnttal Caff, 
 
 Oh ! Providence, how gloriously profound 
 In this and all things, are thy works and ways ! 
 The Princess wandered, at the wonted hour, 
 Beside the river, in the Nile to bathe, 
 But, nothing more : yet, on her step there hinged 
 And hung, what destinies and deeds of time 
 Immortal ! Then a spring she touched, 
 And set in motion Principles, and Powers, 
 While Change, and Consequence, she then involved, 
 That round the Churches, at this living hour, 
 Act the full might of their commingled sway ! 
 But, doth not Life, in its perpetual round, 
 Often to some familiar scene, or spot, 
 Link the vast crisis of experience now ? 
 And, who that shuts his door, at primal morn, 
 The world to visit, — can presume to say, 
 On the first street he turns, or friend beholds, 
 How much of man's unutterable weal 
 Or wo dependeth ! Ever on the brink 
 Of consequence, our perilled nature hangs 
 And borders, well may thoughtful bosoms feel \ 
 Bnt if, like Enoch, with our God we walk, 
 Each step we take but unto glory moves \ 
 And all our changes, sudden, stern, or sad, 
 Not accidents of blank confusion born, 
 To us will come ; but rather Faith will find 
 That life's experience is the Form decreed 
 Before all ages, where our tested mind 
 Must mould itself for happiness, and heaven. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 301 
 
 Hotfung Jhtgtflmftcant in tilt Jttoral 
 
 There's nothing little in this world of ours, 
 Because, whatever mocking Sense may dream, 
 In nothing rarely can we act alone. 
 Built like that fabled roof, where finest stones 
 Each into each by interlacing art 
 So exquisitely blend, with poised effect, 
 That, touch but one, and, lo ! the fabric all 
 Shakes into movement with recoiling shock, — 
 So is our World, ineffably arranged. 
 Thus, the first glance which God's forbidden tree 
 Drew from the eye of earth's frail Mother, forms 
 With our last sin a fatal junction now ! 
 
 No Fact is isolate ; no Feeling lone ; 
 Entangled are we by perpetual lines 
 Of moral net-work, infinitely fine, 
 Like magic influence all around us drawn ; 
 That makes bur conduct endless, by the thrill 
 And tone of feeling, that it often strikes 
 On the deep chord of Ages yet to come. 
 
 Nothing is little where a moral lurks i 
 The last vibration of the Saviour's lip, 
 Expiring, more of Deity involved 
 Than all the gorgeous universe contains. 
 Though mean the wood which then Messiah bore 
 In bleeding glory, when the planted Cross 
 Lifted Him up a sacrifice for sin 
 Tremendous, — yet that wood a focus form'd, 
 
302 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Where the vast riches of eternal Love 
 Concenter' d all the Trinity at once 
 In action ! though a point in space, The Tree, 
 Around it charm'd Eternity revolved ; 
 And from it, as a salient centre, spring 
 The hopes immortal of our world redeem'd ! — 
 Not might of scene, not magnitude of space, 
 Nor aught of majesty, that Sense admires, 
 Or Time can value by his vulgar hours, 
 To Truth a character, or cieed a strength 
 Can give : for Principle a glory hath, 
 
 Beyond the limits of denning man ; 
 
 High-seated, throned in empyrean calm, 
 
 An emanation of eternal Mind, 
 
 E'en like the Absolute of God it reigns 
 
 And rules,~a changeless, uncondition'd Thing, 
 
 The Alpha and the Omega of all 
 
 In Love stupendous, or in Law severe. 
 
 3®tontrerg of floral Connection* 
 
 How wonderful is this electric world, 
 How sensitive to every move of Soul, 
 Public, or private, from the child, or man ! 
 While to mere Sense, the man a bubble seems, 
 The flashing gleam of whose tempestuous life 
 Shines like a speck of evanescent foam 
 Tossed on the billows of eternity, — 
 With God connected, how sublime he grows ! 
 And in a moment, what a source may be 
 Of influence, when the head that thought, is dust, 
 Or hand that laboured, in the tomb lies cold ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 303 
 
 Our moral centre is a point minute, 
 But our circumference, oh, who can grasp, 
 In action, suffering, or involved result ? 
 A smile, a glance, a single breath, a tone, 
 A look of meaning or a laugh of scorn, — 
 The mere expression of the hectic mind 
 Clothing our features, — each may haply thrill 
 Some chord that touches by effectual ties 
 Events unborn, and make th' eternity 
 We dread, to vibrate with the deed we do. 
 
 Oh ! for a sense of Duty more sublimed 
 In all our ways, our wishes, and our words ; 
 A sense that we are links in that vast chain 
 Of Consequence, which e'en from Adam's sin 
 To our last error, — its unbroken length 
 So reaches, that we cannot act alone ! 
 But rather, each to each is so enlinked 
 By past connection, or by future power, 
 That conduct grows immortal ; and the act 
 From soul to soul, with multiplying power, 
 Itself repeateth, when the Agent sleeps 
 In cold oblivion, by the world forgot. — 
 The blemished morals and the blotted mind 
 How often thus our Rev'rence would escape ! 
 And, 'stead of reckless pride, — religious care 
 The paths would purify where Virtue walks, 
 And solemnize existence. Action then, 
 Inward, or bodied forth in social form, — 
 Of sacredness in every sphere would breathe, 
 Till the whole Earth a mystic temple grew 
 Hallowed by God, by angels overwatched, 
 And by Humanity in all its moods 
 Devoutly trodden : — then, would Duty spread 
 
304 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Its canopy above our ways and walks, 
 E'en as the heaven o'ervaults the varied earth 
 For ever : faith would be our Law supreme, 
 And guarded Life one long religion prove. 
 
 Wxt Stfatnt WLiW tntivilttti tfit 
 
 But there is mercy in thy myst'ry lodged, 
 Eternal ! Out of darkness cometh light, 
 By Thee evoked ; and while the anarch Sin, 
 To mortal judgment, in its depthless gaze, 
 O'er time and circumstance sole Monarch looks 
 Ascendant, — all the waves of human Will, 
 In lawless riot though they toss and rage, 
 Within the circle of thy Will supreme 
 Alone are plunging ; if they rise or fall, 
 'Tis only as thy helming Word decrees ! 
 
 Boctnnt of tfit 5Xt&utvtttion+ 
 
 Not Life alone, but Resurrection too, 
 The God Incarnate did for man achieve ; 
 And thus poured light on that, — which, unexplained, 
 Convulsed Philosophy, the classic Mind 
 Perturbed, and all surmising Reason hoped 
 Disorganized, or made mere brilliant guess ; — 
 E'en on this mighty and momentous truth, 
 That soul and body, into living man 
 Recalled, replaced, and sensibly perceived, 
 On the dread platform of the Last Assize 
 Shall stand hereafter ! For, though Conscience told 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 305 
 
 To the deep soul of universal man, 
 
 That in him something of immortal growth 
 
 Was planted ; and, upon this genial stock 
 
 Those dreaming Rulers of the olden time, 
 
 The Poets, — grafted much of fancy vile ; 
 
 Yet did the grave between them and their creed 
 
 A gulf of darkness, not to be o'ercome, 
 
 Produce ; and on this barren instinct grew 
 
 Whatever Priest, or Poet in his dreams, 
 
 Chose to engraft from superstition's world ; — 
 
 For truths when halved, are worse than lies entire, 
 
 And may be wielded by a master- Soul 
 
 For priests or monarchs, magistrates or slaves, 
 
 As Time may need, or Tyranny demand. 
 
 And what, though Giants in the realm of thought 
 Rose o'er the dwarfs around them ; and approached 
 Truths, which project beyond the bounds of time, 
 Casting their shadows o'er the world to come ; 
 Though Sages spake, oracularly wise, 
 Tones of deep wisdom, which do yet entrance 
 Our wonder ; and, some mental heroes dared 
 Dive into darkness with a noble plunge, 
 And drew forth sparks of Immortality ! — 
 Unmaster'd lay the mysteries of the tomb 
 Before them, 0, 'twas here they stood amazed, 
 And, in the dream of their unbodied state, 
 Shudder'd, as on th' eternal brink they stood, 
 Casting afar their melancholy gaze 
 O'er the dread possible of doom to come ! 
 
 Reason was mighty, but was reason still, 
 Though raised, refined, and unto strength advanced : 
 It suffered darkness when the Will declined 
 
 x 
 
306 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 From God, and deified itself for Law. 
 Then, blind confusion o'er our being crept 
 In all beyond the palpable, and plain : 
 Nature's religion was to nature's state 
 By heaven adjusted, with harmonious skill, 
 And hopes and fears consistently could wield 
 Their blending forces : — but, when sin began, 
 Death was a gap in man's first glory made ; 
 And while in principle, firm conscience grasped 
 A Life immortal, Death caused blinding doubts 
 Which staggered argument, when called to prove 
 How Mind, denuded of its fleshly robe 
 In which it acted, could for judgment stand, 
 To hear the verdict of awarding Heaven. — 
 Here was a doubt beyond Cimmerian night, 
 In darkness ; not a ray the cloud dispersed ! 
 The taking down this Temple of the flesh, 
 (That fabric where each wall by God is built) 
 Confounded Reason with chaotic gloom. 
 
 Yet, 'twas a noble, but perturbing mood, 
 When haply, raised by some ethereal hope 
 Beyond the level of Life's vulgar joy, 
 Some Priest of mind, ere yet the Gospel woke, — 
 Wandered to muse beneath a midnight heaven. 
 There, as he pondered with perusing eye 
 On star, and planet, while his Being drank 
 The silence and the splendour of the scene 
 Like inspiration, to its inner depths, — 
 A dream prophetic oft his spirit warmed 
 Of high Existence, in some holier form 
 Than now appeared ; and winged thoughts began 
 To flutter in him, and with strange uprise 
 Out of the body bore his Heart away 
 To Homes elysian, Orbs of perfect bliss ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 307 
 
 He felt the Infinite he could not prove; 
 And when, perchance, with all his soul on fire, 
 And by the vastness of the Vision swelled, 
 Home he returned, and found the face of Death 
 In stern reality before him placed, — 
 How would the chill of this mysterious change 
 Come o'er his Spirit, like a cloud of awe 
 Terror and gloom, beyond all whisper'd truths 
 Within to scatter, or the speaking word 
 Without him, to command, or cheer away ! 
 
 But, immortality for Man is made 
 Certain, and clear as God's existence, now ; 
 Both for the Flesh, and for the Mind secured 
 By Him, who soul and body hath redeemed ; 
 And, to His own eternally enlinked 
 That same Humanity His grace assumed. — 
 He was the Resurrection which He preached ! 
 
 Stfie ©Btortlr of Spirit*. 
 
 How deep the thought, momentously sublime, 
 To think that, not one pulse of conscious mind 
 That Will Divine hath ever caused to play 
 In human being, — hath a single rest 
 Experienced, since the primal throb began 1 
 The spirit-people of the Land Unseen, 
 Millions on millions though the number be, 
 Are conscious, — more than when by flesh encased* 
 And clogg'd in action : not a Soul's extinct 1 
 Still Adam thinks ; still Alexander feels ; 
 Caesar hath being ; Cleopatra lives, 
 And those crown'd Butchers whom the world calls brave, 
 
 x 2 
 
308 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Are feeling more than when they battles fought : 
 Yes, all who have been, great, or good, or vile, 
 Patriarchs, prophets, and the lords of mind, 
 Heroes and warriors, and those laurell'd Priests 
 Of truth, the poets of eternity, — 
 All are a living, though a sightless, race ; 
 Each in himself & hell, or heaven, become ! — 
 Holy of Holies ! in thy shrine august 
 High o'er all heavens, ethereally removed 
 From man's conception, — dwell the dead redeem'd. 
 There, the saved myriads of the seal'd First-born 
 Present with Christ, from Him perchance acquire 
 (As to and fro the beatific host 
 He moves, and ministers the food of thought) 
 Truths which on earth Experience did not gain. 
 Patriarchs who dimly on the distant Christ 
 Gazed in a promise, now with clearness look 
 On Him they long'd to worship ; prophets too, 
 The meaning and the majesty of strains 
 Mysterious, — these by actual Christ expound ; 
 Types are resolved, and shadowy rites unveil 'd ; 
 The mystic Lamb on typing altars laid, 
 And gospel, by Aaronic priesthood taught,— 
 The great Original doth here unfold, 
 And proves Himself sole archetype of all. 
 While they who died in dimness, or dismay, 
 (Haunted by fears, and harrow'd to the last 
 By many a tremour,) in restoring beams 
 Of comfort, look upon their Lord, and live. 
 And there, is Concord ! — all those hostile notes 
 Of human dissonance, which now destroy 
 The solemn harmonies of sainted Minds, 
 These doth the Lord by melodizing grace 
 Attune to oneness, till all Souls agree. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 309 
 
 Thus may that World where parted spirits meet, 
 
 A School of saintship for the Church elect 
 
 Be found : there may Christ his priesthood act, 
 
 And God's magnificence of truth unveil \ 
 
 Or, more and more the merit of His blood 
 
 Teach to the Spirits, who around Him throng. 
 
 And, bound they not with throbs of burning joy, — 
 
 Their hearts within them, while th' Incarnate shows 
 
 His wounds, how deep ! His mercy, how divine ! 
 
 Till round that Saviour rapt hosannahs rise, 
 
 And in the minstrelsy of Heaven we hear, 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb for he was slain for us," 
 
 Down the deep ages of Eternity 
 
 Roll like a torrent of melodious praise! 
 
 Eft* Bartrg of @utth. 
 
 But ye ! the laurell'd Host who live 
 A life beyond mere earth to give ; 
 The Wizards of delighted Thought, 
 To whom her incense aye is brought ; 
 Ye Alexanders of the mind, 
 Who conquer but to charm mankind ! 
 Enchanters ! for the Spirit's eyes 
 Remoulding ruin'd Paradise ; 
 Interpreters ! whose tones declare 
 The dialogues of sea and air ; 
 The priests of Nature taught to praise 
 And worship her mysterious ways ; 
 Ye intellectual Kings of time ! 
 Triumphant, matchless, and sublime, — 
 How fervently your pages own, 
 In music of transcendent tone, 
 
310 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 That Woman, in her lovely might, 
 Drew homage, wonder, and delight, 
 From souls whose inward glance could see 
 Visions that crowd eternity ! 
 
 Impassioned Lords of deathless song ! — 
 To them the lips of Time belong, 
 As, fired with their majestic fame, 
 From age to age they sound their name, 
 And bid the World enshrine that scene 
 Where once a worshipp'd bard hath been, — 
 For hallow'd seems his natal spot 
 Where thrones are crushed, and kings forgot ! 
 
 Wxt trqpartetr Brttrn 
 
 And she is gone ! — the wedded maid, ] 
 Whose loveliness a home array' d 
 With lustre caught from every gaze ! 
 Her look, her laugh, her winning ways, 
 How are they felt as unforgot 
 In each young scene and household spot ! 
 Dismal the once glad room appears ; 
 And eyes are charged with coming tears, 
 When haply to their pensive sight 
 Some little gift is brought to light, 
 Some token of departed hours, 
 For mem'ry left, like waning flowers ! — 
 The fairy harp her fingers loved, 
 In tomb-like calm stands unremoved ; 
 And o'er her pictured face is sigh'd 
 A deeper thought than words supplied, 
 When silent, sad, unwatch'd, and lone, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 311 
 
 A mother lets her grief be shewn ! — 
 
 Yon garden, too, now reft and lorn, 
 
 Methinks its alter'd features mourn, 
 
 So droopingly the flow'rets bend, 
 
 So dyingly their leaves depend, — 
 
 To what they were, when dew-bright dawn 
 
 Beheld her on the breathing lawn, 
 
 The goddess of the matin hour ! 
 
 Arraying each expectant flower 
 
 With life and beauty ; while the bird 
 
 Sang in the laurel-boughs unstirr'd, 
 
 And each coy breeze that caught her hair 
 
 Enamour'd hung, and nestled there ! 
 
 Her sister, — she whose tiny feet 
 
 Were wing'd when one was there to meet ! — 
 
 Now prattles in her dream and walk, 
 
 As though the lisping mind could talk 
 
 Of nothing, save that dearest one 
 
 Her bosom yearns to rest upon ! 
 
 And many a home her hand relieved 
 
 For one so pure hath pined and grieved ; 
 
 Whose presence to the cottage grew 
 
 Like heaven before a martyr's view, 
 
 So bright the change her blessing made 
 
 When sorrow had the soul betray'd ! 
 
 ©thmaltgtttg potocr of ^attvg. 
 
 There are who call the Poet's bliss 
 Too airy for a world like this :— 
 Alas, for Wisdom ! if her voice 
 Can teach the Heart no glorious choice ; 
 If downward to the dust she try 
 
312 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 For aye to fix our slavish eye, 
 
 And seldom bid one glance be given 
 
 Aloft to Mind's unclouded heaven ! — 
 
 The freshness of poetic thought, 
 
 From out the groves of Fancy brought, 
 
 And wafted o'er the soul's domain, — 
 
 What is it, but a breezy strain 
 
 From winds of vanish'd Eden lent 
 
 To purify earth's element, 
 
 And summon forth those dream-born flowers 
 
 That grew in Milton's epic bowers ! — 
 
 'Mid all the waste of worldly arts, 
 
 Oh ! leave him yet some few fine hearts, 
 
 That still the Poet's wand may raise 
 
 A vision of unfallen days, 
 
 And rescue from the fangs of Time 
 
 Some feelings that are yet sublime ! 
 
 Efie PatttjS of <&tniu$. 
 
 Alas ! how little can the great 
 Feel the dread curse of blighted Fate ! 
 Or think that they, whose spirits throw 
 Around the world a heavenly glow, — 
 Whose bright imaginations seem 
 The fragments of a Seraph's dream, — 
 Whose words imparadise their hours, 
 And freshen earth with Eden-flowers, — 
 The Martyrs of the mind have been, 
 Or suffer'd more than eye hath seen ! 
 For, while the theme of Glory's tongue, 
 Their homes were wreck'd, their hearts were wrung ; 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 313 
 
 And songs that flow'd so gaily free 
 Gush'd from a fount of misery ! 
 
 A noble Mind in sad decay, 
 When baffled hope hath died away, 
 And Life becomes one long distress, 
 In bleak and barren loneliness, — 
 Methinks 'tis like a Ship on shore, 
 That once defied th' Atlantic roar, 
 And gallantly through gale and storm 
 Hath ventured her majestic form ; 
 But now, in stranded ruin laid, 
 By winds and dashing seas decay'd, — 
 Forgetful of her ocean-reign, 
 Must crumble into earth again ! — 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Another of the wondrous see ! 
 Whose spirit talk'd with Deity, 
 And, blind on earth, beheld in Heaven 
 The glory to archangels given, 
 When, robed in light, their garments blaze 
 And whiten in eternal rays ! 
 No cavern'd Prophet, while he felt 
 A trance almighty round him melt ; 
 Or, by some Babylonian stream 
 From darkness shaped his awful dream, 
 "Wherein, there glided, vast and dim, 
 The cloud-apparell'd Cherubim, — 
 Hath scarce outsoar'd his epic flight 
 Who sang of Chaos, Death, and Night ! — 
 Had none, methinks, but Milton's song 
 
314 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Pour'd its grand tide the world along, 
 
 Had never page but his reveal'd 
 
 The miracles in mind eonceal'd, — 
 
 The Hope immortal still would rest 
 
 Unblighted in the human breast ; 
 
 For, never could a narrow grave 
 
 Th' immeasurable Soul enslave, 
 
 That compass'd air, and heaven, and hell,- 
 
 The lord of his creative spell ! 
 
 With what a melody divine 
 The river of each noble line 
 Flows onward ! — faint, or loud, or deep, 
 Accordant to the numbers sweep. — 
 Go, enter some majestic Fane, 
 And listen to the organ-strain, 
 When melting clouds of music float 
 Down the dim aisles with blending note, 
 Now, with wild melodious thunder, 
 The vaulted pavement echoes under, 
 Then, aloft in flights of sound, 
 The winged harmonies abound, — 
 Evanishing like birds that stray 
 And skyward sing their boundless way ! — 
 For thus can Milton's numbers roll 
 Their cadence o'er the tranced soul. 
 
 Alas ! for every age Death finds a grave, 
 And youthful forms, as oft as hoary heads, 
 Are pillow'd there. — Thou loved and loving one ! 
 From the dark languish of thy liquid eye, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 315 
 
 So exquisitely rounded, darts a ray 
 Of truth, prophetic of thine early doom ; 
 And on thy placid cheek there is a flush 
 Of fate, — the beauty of Consumption there ! 
 
 Few note that fatal bloom ; for bless'd by all, 
 Thou movest through thy noiseless sphere, the life 
 Of one, — the darling of a thousand hearts. 
 Yet in thy chamber, o'er some graceful task 
 When delicately bending, oft unseen, 
 Thy mother looks with telescopic glance 
 Down the dim waste of time, and sees thee robed 
 A pallid martyr, shrouded for the tomb ! 
 
 A year hath travell'd to eternity ; 
 And now, the shadows of the grave grow dark 
 Upon the maiden ; yet, no fruitless wish, 
 Or word abrupt, betrays unlovely thoughts 
 Of gloom and discontent within ; she fades 
 As gently as the flower declines ; — not false 
 To present scenes, and yet prepared to die. 
 Beautiful resignation, and the hopes 
 From the rich fountain of her faith derived, 
 Have breathed around her a seraphic air 
 Of wither'd loveliness. The gloss of life 
 And worldly dreams are o'er ; but dewy Morn, 
 And dim-eyed Eve, and all the mental gleams 
 Of rapture, darted from regretted joys, 
 Delight her still : and oft when twilight comes, 
 She gazes on the damask glow of heaven 
 With all the truth of happier days, until 
 A sunny fancy wreathes her faded cheek ; — 
 'Tis but a pleasing echo of the past, 
 A music rolling from remember'd hours ! 
 
316 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 The day is come, by Death led gently oil ; 
 
 "With pillow' d head all gracefully reclined, 
 
 And glossy curls in languid clusters wreath'd, 
 
 Within a cottage room she sits to die, 
 
 Where from the window, in a western view, 
 
 Majestic ocean rolls.— A summer eve 
 
 Veils the calm earth, and all the glowing air 
 
 Stirs faintly, like a pulse ; against the shore 
 
 The waves unroll them with luxurious joy, 
 
 While o'er the midway deep her eye-glance roams 
 
 Where like a sea-god glares the traveled Sun 
 
 O'er troops of billows, marching in his beam. — 
 
 From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth, her eyes 
 
 Are lifted, bright with wonder and with awe, 
 
 Till through each vein reanimation rolls ! — 
 
 'Tis past ; and now her filmy glance is fix'd 
 
 On the rich Heavens, as though her Spirit gazed 
 
 On that immortal World, to which 'tis bound : 
 
 But sunset, like a burning palace, fades, 
 
 In hues of visionary pomp destroy'd ; 
 
 And Day and Beauty have together died : — 
 
 For there, like sculptured death, the maiden lies, 
 
 All exquisite as an embodied Dream ! 
 
 Yet not on earth exists a scene 
 Where shades of sorrow have not been i 
 The softest verdure mead can spread 
 Hath oft been paced by Mis'ry's tread ; 
 The magic of the clearest sky 
 Hath mock'd how many a clouded eye ! 
 And, link'd with all that local grace, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 31/ 
 
 The wizard Fancy loves to trace, 
 Wherever Nature weaves a spell 
 Round wood, or crag, or hoary dell, 
 Live recollections sad as deep, 
 To bid Imagination weep. 
 
 Yes ! there in yon huge city now, 
 O'er which young Morning bends her brow ? 
 On tower and temple smiling bright, 
 How Angels wept to watch the night ! 
 A captive tore his chain-worn limb, 
 And deem'd that God deserted him ; 
 A felon heard the life-blood stream, 
 And saw the gallows in his dream ; 
 The maniac's eye renew'd its glare, 
 While his lip writhed with mocking pray'r : 
 The miser mutter'd in his sleep, 
 And counted o'er and o'er his heap, 
 Then seem'd with restless hand to hold 
 And taste the touches of his gold ! 
 And while in rooms of revelry 
 On wings of light the hours did flee, 
 A pillow for some dying head 
 With aching hand and heart was spread ; 
 And who but sleepless Heaven can say 
 When Earth confronts the Judgment-Day, 
 The darkness of a thousand deeds 
 Which Midnight in her shadow breeds ! 
 For ever in the world there lies 
 What meets alone immortal eyes ; 
 While all man dreads that man should see, 
 
318 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 He dares unveil to Deity, 
 As though, where guilty feet have trod 
 No power should track them — but his God ! 
 And, pale Ambition ! where wert Thou ? 
 How wanly on thy wasted brow 
 The feeble watch-light flung its ray ! 
 While ebb'd thy pulse with dying play : — 
 But when thy filmy eyes uprose, 
 Their glance untomb'd thy buried woes, 
 And round the room a meaning cast, 
 That told of time and truth o'ercast, 
 While fever'd blood and martyr'd frame, 
 Aveng'd the toils that won a Name ! 
 
 A Steam of ©Jlotltris* 
 
 Those starry Wonders, everlasting worlds 
 Of life and loveliness, — I saw them all, 
 As on the magic wings of myst'ry borne, 
 Methought my un embodied Spirit swept 
 Immensity ! — Vast multitudes there shone 
 Of beauteous orbs, whose brightness was intense, 
 Beyond the noon in its most sunny reign. 
 Magnificent, along infinity 
 Of azure, moved those high immortal spheres, 
 Less terrible in beauty, but more shaped 
 To mortal vision ; — as they onward roll'd, 
 Each sounded like a world of melody ! 
 
 'Twas but an eye-glance that such pomp reveal'd ; 
 And yet, before it pass'd a heaven-like host 
 Of Forms and Phantoms that can never die 
 While mem'ry lives. — Who hath not charm'd the air 
 To rapturous delusion ? Who hath lived, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 319 
 
 And yet not loved ? — and lov'd, and hath not shap'd 
 His angel ? Who not dream'd a Paradise, 
 When from within a glorious longing woke 
 For that which earth and earthliness to none 
 Supply ? — Let Nature answer ; she will tell 
 What shapes of beauty throng'd a Dream of W T orlds, 
 
 The Midnight ! — how we gaze upon her pomp 
 Of orbs, and waft ourselves among their host, 
 As though they were bright Dwellings for the soul 
 When clay doth not corrupt it. Who shall prove 
 That such are not the Palaces of Light 
 Where myriads reap eternity ? On high 
 The Seer* of old undyingly was rapt 
 To blessedness ; aloft Elijah soar'd, 
 Whirling in thunder through the riven skies, 
 'Mid fiery chariots and emblazoned clouds ! 
 And He, the sanctifying Lord of Life, 
 Through air ascended to his throne eterne — 
 Ever hath awe and glory, love and hope 
 Divine, the gaze of rapture skyward turned. 
 And oh ! the cold may laugh, the worldly jeer, 
 Mocking whatever their miserable clay 
 Partakes not of the Mind's diviner hue, — 
 Yet there are dreams of beautifying power 
 And passion, which a stern Reality 
 Can never reach. Go, ask the widow'd Heart 
 Of young Affection, when she walks the night, 
 As in a vision of departed hours, — 
 If all that day-charms yield can turn her love 
 To such a blissful heaven of memory, 
 As that sweet lonely Star, whose angel-gaze 
 
 ♦ Enoch. 
 
320 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Like Mercy, looks upon her lifted eye ! 
 Or, ask the friend, in friendless sorrow left, 
 When oft the starry Wanderers roam the skies, 
 What radiant solace from their smile is caught, 
 While Fancy sighing thinks, — " My friend is there ! ,: 
 
 Ye holy Watchers, who this earth have view'd 
 In darkness rolling on to destiny 
 Through many an age, and yet are dimless still, 
 With no feign'd worship sing I your romance. 
 My boyhood was Chaldean ; and your beams 
 Like rays of feeling quiver'd round my heart ! 
 Yes, I remember me, when calm and still 
 My school-companions on their couches slept, 
 With moonlight on their beautiful young brows, 
 Like holiness, arraying them for heaven, — 
 Unhinder'd to my casement I would steal, 
 And muse, and gaze upon the midnight orbs, 
 Until my Spirit seem'd to float the skies ! 
 
 Such adoration hath not died away ; 
 For now, when weary of the heartless stir 
 Around me, and the nothings which o'erwhelm 
 The daylight, and disease our nobler mind : 
 When sadden'd by unkindness, or deceiv'd 
 By finding clouds where sunshine should prevail : 
 In such dark mood, upon those peaceful Worlds 
 That shame us with their bright sublimity, 
 I gaze, and woo unheavenly fancy off 
 By visions of eternity. — This Earth 
 Too great a burden on our spirit lays ; 
 We bow before our Idols, and adore 
 The glitt'ring falsehood of her fading scenes : 
 Forgetful of yon glorious Sky, where, day 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 321 
 
 And night, Divinity is marching forth, 
 In sun or darkness, thunder or in worlds ! 
 
 We know not what these heaven-illuming Orbs 
 May be ; to us, — but mysteries that roll 
 And shine. Yet, none upon them ever gaz'd, 
 Whose eye could gather beauty for the soul 
 To feed on, nor within him felt a flush 
 Of admiration, spreading o'er the mind 
 Till it became a mirror of delight, 
 Reflecting back the glory that it hail'd.— 
 And oft have I their heaven-born influence caught 
 When sick of some high festival, where smiles 
 Are tutor'd till the heart forget to play, 
 And eyes are beaming with hypocrisy, 
 While the soft tongue, whose angel accents fall 
 In honied sweetness on the flatter'd ear, 
 Can play the dagger when the moment comes ; — 
 How often, tired with such delightless pomp, 
 I've haiTd my homeward solitary way ! 
 Here, once again, — th' immeasurable sky 
 Around me, and a starry wilderness 
 Open and free for spirit to expand,—- 
 With what a worship hath my soul return' d 
 To night and nature, to itself and Heaven I 
 
 Who hath not felt the might of Genius rise, 
 And stir his spirit to a storm of thought ? 
 Oh ! I could kneel like Homage at his feet, 
 Whose overwhelming lines of mind have witch'd 
 My fancy, and unlock'd a thousand springs 
 
322 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Of feeling, that have never gush'd before ! 
 
 So haughty is my joy, that I have blush'd 
 
 For all dark thoughts, and all demeaning cares. 
 
 In such wrapt mood, our solitude is fill'd 
 
 With bright creations ; and Elysian scenes 
 
 Ope in a vision on the eye of Thought. 
 
 Thus warm'd by Genius, hie thee to the haunts 
 
 Where Nature shews her blooming face ! how bright 
 
 The sun, how beautiful the liquid air, 
 
 Like floating music ; — and the soft-toned wind, 
 
 Around thee humming like a breath of joy ! 
 
 A veil of beauty o'er the world is drawn, 
 
 And one heart seems to beat for all mankind ; 
 
 Till, full of glorious feeling, thou wouldst fain 
 
 Become an Angel to adore thy God, — 
 
 A more than mortal to complete His praise ! 
 
 ^poasttophe to a Jacpartrtr Mother* 
 
 And Thou, for ever fond, for ever true, 
 Beneath whose smile the boy to manhood grew, 
 To sorrow piteous, and to error mild, — 
 Has Death for ever torn thee from thy child ? 
 Thy voice that counsell'd, charm'd, consoled, and bless'd ; 
 Thy deep Solicitude that found no rest, 
 But in completion of some pure design, 
 To make my happiness the spring of thine ; 
 Thy boundless Love, whose providential gaze 
 Pour'd light and tenderness round all my ways ; 
 Those myriad fascinations felt and known 
 Of truth maternal to be born alone, 
 (Too coldly prized, while we can call them ours 
 And feel them gladden our unduteous hours, 
 
POETRY £ND RELIGION. 323 
 
 But, oh ! how worshipp'd, magically dear, 
 
 When woke to life by Mem'ry's votive tear !) 
 
 Though these have perish'd, Love in deathless bloom 
 
 Outlives the torpor of the wintry tomb. 
 
 There is a Clime where sorrow never came ; 
 
 There is a peace perennially the same ; 
 
 There rolls a World where sever'd hearts renew 
 
 Bright sympathies, the exquisite and true ! 
 
 But chasten'd, clear'd, exalted, and refined, 
 To each pure tone of beatific mind ; — 
 There may we meet, departed Spirit ! there, 
 The home of bliss, the paradise of prayer : 
 A few more pangs, a few more tears to shed, 
 And I shall mingle with the faded dead ; 
 A few fleet years, and this tried heart must brave 
 The damp oblivion of the dreamless grave ; 
 When, calm as thine, may Resignation close 
 These eyes for glory in their last repose. 
 
 And if the Dead on this dull world may gaze 
 To breathe a blessing round our troublBd ways ; 
 If by some ministry, to man unknown, 
 They still can make a human wish their own, 
 And wander round, ineffably serene, 
 That unforgotten home, where life has been, 
 Spirit maternal ! often gaze on me, 
 And soothe the pang that so remembers thee ! 
 Hover around me when I mourn, or pray, 
 And be the charm which consecrates each day : 
 When Temper kindles, or when Passion dares, 
 Renew thy warning, and recal thy cares, — 
 Bid thy past love like inspiration rise, 
 And plead for virtue with a Mother's sighs ! 
 
 y 2 
 
234 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Oh ! weep not that our beauty wears 
 
 Beneath the wings of time ; 
 That Age conceals the brow with cares 
 
 That once appear' d sublime. 
 
 Oh ! weep not that the clouded eye 
 No shining thought can speak ; 
 
 And fresh and fair no longer he 
 Joy-tints upon the cheek : 
 
 No ! weep not that the ruin-trace 
 
 Of wasting Time is seen, 
 Around the form and in the face 
 
 Where Beauty's lines have been : 
 
 But mourn the inward wreck we feel, 
 
 As blighted years depart, 
 And Time's benumbing fingers steal 
 
 Young feelings from the heart ! 
 
 Those joyous thoughts that rise and spring 
 
 From out the buoyant mind, 
 Like summer bees upon the wing, 
 
 Or echoes on the wind. 
 
 The hopes that sparkle every hour, 
 
 Like blossoms from a soul 
 Where Sorrow sheds no blighting power, 
 
 And Care has no control. — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 325 
 
 With all the rich enchantment thrown 
 
 On life's fair scene around,— - 
 As if the World within a zone 
 
 Of happiness were bound ! 
 
 Oh, these endure a mournful doom, 
 
 As day by day they die ; 
 Till age becomes a barren tomb, 
 
 Where perish' d feelings he ! 
 
 The Morn beheld 
 A beauteous City, with the floods of life 
 Billowing loudly through her million paths ! 
 Her Temples bathed their heads in azure sheen ; 
 Her Rivers spread themselves along in joy ; 
 The spirit of the world, within her walls, 
 Inspiring walk'd ; — noon the Sun grew red, 
 And glared his fierceness through the sky, till forth 
 From out the swarthy gloom of heaven, the Plague 
 Exhaled her breath, that with a viewless flow 
 Unroll'd itself through all the living Town, 
 Which, sudden as an ocean chained, — grew dumb ! 
 
 The old man faded like a blasted tree, 
 Then dropp'd into the dust ; and he whose cheeks 
 Were round and fair, with eyes of lustrous youth, 
 From beauty wither'd to a yellow wreck, 
 Distorted and decay'd, till Madness came, 
 And shrieking, shuddering, writhed herself to death ! 
 
326 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Along each river crept the Plague : then, hush'd 
 The grinding cables ! and the barges lay 
 Like dead sea-monsters on the ocean stretch'd ; 
 E'en on the mead with grassy fleece bedeck'd, 
 Where the gay urchin drove the whirling ball 
 Fleet as a bird along the sunny air, — 
 The Pestilence her burning vapour breathed ; 
 Each limb relaxed, upturn'd his darken'd lids, 
 And from his ghastly eyeballs glared the Pest ! 
 
 From house to house the hot infection stole ; 
 All gladness changed to gloom, and not a smile 
 In the whole city lived ! Within the fane, 
 Amid the pillar'd aisle, while lowly knelt 
 In all the holiness of virgin love 
 The fair-zoned bride of beauty, — came the Pest ! 
 She coil'd, and shiver'd like a wounded dove ; 
 Her- form grew wild, and as the bridegroom watch'd 
 The heaven reflected from her face depart, 
 Contagion clasp'd him in her fiery arms, 
 His spirit whirl'd within him, and he fell, 
 And o'er his loved one yell'd his life away ! 
 
 But in the tomb-fill'd churchyard, what a howl 
 From the parch'd throats of mourners came ! for there 
 The graves were brimm'd with corses, and around 
 Unburied dead lay blackening in the air, 
 While shades of Being stagger'd by the heaps 
 Of friends and relatives together piled ; — 
 Such was the revelry of horrid Death, 
 And when at last, by God himself recall'd, 
 The Sun of health arose, his eye beheld 
 A city hush'd as one enormous tomb ! 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 327 
 
 O, blest ! unutterably blest ! 
 The visions to their fancy prest, 
 When sire and mother blend a prayer 
 For thee, thou Spirit ! fond as fair. 
 Thy being sways their mortal breath, 
 And shouldst thou die, — 'twere more than death ; 
 For in thy tomb their Thoughts would dwell, 
 And darkness be their brightest spell ! — 
 To think on all thine artless ways 
 Since childhood reap'd its golden days ; 
 From year to year delighted trace 
 The magic dawn of mind and face ; 
 To watch thee in life's daily round 
 With every trait of heaven abound ; 
 And when some friend, whom time endears, 
 Hath warbled in their tranced ears 
 Of noble acts in secret done, 
 And wreaths by silent virtue won, — 
 Oh 1 then around their hearts to feel 
 A glow of admiration steal ! — 
 Or haply, with prophetic truth, 
 To picture for thy wedded youth 
 A soul that shall be worthy thine, 
 With feelings from as pure a mine : 
 And when the church-yard yews shall wave 
 And darken o'er their cherish'd grave, 
 To feel, whatever Time decree, 
 One Heaven their final home will be ! — 
 A bliss so pure no words unfold, 
 A joy so deep no eyes behold ; 
 That Language must be learnt above 
 Whose power reveals a parent's love I 
 
328 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Wixt iWafltral tfktt of Ziobt. 
 
 Has the world changed, more heavenly grown, 
 And every taint of darkness flown ? — 
 That brightness is the sudden birth 
 Of feelings which ennoble earth, 
 Of Passion in its stainless prime 
 Just risen on the brink of time ! 
 By these transformed, — creation glows 
 With each warm tint the mind bestows ; 
 A deeper verdure decks the grass, 
 The clouds with richer glory pass, 
 The winds a sweeter welcome chant, 
 And, wheresoe'er her foosteps plant 
 Their printless beauty, — smile and sound 
 Of new enchantment hover round ! 
 To her 'tis mystery ; — but the mind 
 Grown exquisite, and o'er-refined, 
 Can veil the universe with light, 
 Till all is heaven that meets the sight, 
 And outward nature wears the dress 
 Of mind's eternal loveliness. 
 
 A brother ! — oh, that thrilling name, 
 It vibrates through thy very frame, 
 Thou Queen of boyhood's cloudless day ! — 
 In studious bower though far away, 
 Thy heart is haunted with a sense 
 Of all a brother's charms dispense : 
 His picture on thy bedroom wall, — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 329 
 
 How frequently its lines recal 
 
 Th' imperial face, the manly brow, 
 
 The eyes that dared the soul avow, 
 
 The smile that knew no mean eclipse, 
 
 But ever round those graceful lips 
 
 In brightest welcome play'd for thee, 
 
 In moods of unaffected glee ! — 
 
 What tales of prowess, feats of mind, 
 
 Around thy mem'ry intertwined, 
 
 'Tis pure delight to oft unroll 
 
 In tones that touch a parent's soul ! 
 
 Beside thee, like a felt Unseen, 
 
 The shadow of his shape hath been, 
 
 Whene'er along some favoured walk 
 
 Thy Spirit dreams him smile and talk ; 
 
 His voice is woven in the breeze 
 
 That carols round the garden trees ; 
 
 And Fancy, when the moon gleams bright, 
 
 Can often on its mirror write 
 
 Emotion 'twas divine to share, 
 
 When both had fix'd their glances there ! — 
 
 Through weal and wo, through cloud and change, 
 
 Whatever clime or shore he range, 
 
 Till nature can itself deny, 
 
 Undimm'd will shine affection's eye, 
 
 And stainless those deep waters prove 
 
 That well from out a sister's love ! 
 
 There is a shadow round the holy Dead : 
 A mystery, wherein we seem to tread ; 
 As oft their lineaments of life awake, 
 
330 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And sorrowing thoughts their hallow'd semblance take, 
 
 What once they dreamt, when mortal nature threw 
 
 Phantasmal dimness round their soaring view, 
 
 Now, all unearth'd, beatified, and free 
 
 From toil and tears, — the unsealed Eye can see : 
 
 No more on them the fitful whirl of things, 
 
 From joy to gloom, eternal trial brings ; 
 
 Array' d in light, before the Throne they shine, 
 
 And fathom mysteries of Love Divine : 
 
 Why tears were shed, why pangs of wo prevail'd, 
 
 Why Goodness mourn'd, and Virtue often fail'd, 
 
 No longer now a with'ring shadow throws, 
 
 Like that which hovers round the World's repose. 
 
 Life still is young, but not the World, with me ; 
 For where the freshness I was wont to see ? 
 A bloom hath vanish'd from the face of things ; 
 Nor more the Syren of enchantment sings 
 In sunny mead, or shady walk, or bower, 
 Like that which warbled o'er my youthful hour. 
 Let Reason laugh, or elder Wisdom smile 
 On the warm phantasies which youth beguile ; 
 There is a pureness in that glorious prime 
 That mingles not with our maturer time. 
 All Earth is brightened from a sun within, 
 As yet unshaded by a world of sin, 
 While mind and nature blendingly array 
 In light and love, whate'er our dreams survey ; — 
 Though perils darken from the distant years, 
 They vanish, cloud-like, when a smile appears ! 
 And the light woes that flutter o'er the mind 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 331 
 
 Are laugh'd away, as foam upon the wind. 
 Thou witching Spirit of a younger hour ! 
 *Did I not feel thee in thy fullest pow'r ? 
 Attest, ye glories ! flash'd from clouds and skies 
 On the deep wonder of entranced eyes, 
 As oft, school-free, I watch'd, serene and still, 
 The rosy sunset from some haunted hill ; 
 Or oped my lattice, when the moonshine lay 
 In sleep-like beauty on the brow of day, 
 To watch the mystery of moving stars 
 Through ether gliding on melodious cars, 
 Or, musing wander'd, ere the hectic morn, 
 To see how beautiful the sun was born ! 
 
 A reign of glory from my soul hath past, 
 And each Elysium proved mere Earth at last ; 
 Yet mourn I not in mock or puling strain, 
 For joys are left which never beam in vain ! 
 The voice of friends, the changeless eye of love, 
 And, oh, that bliss all other bliss above, 
 To know, if shadow frown, or sunshine fall, 
 There is One Spirit who pervadeth all ! 
 
 Wxt Wotott of the &mj>tttt*3S* 
 
 Transcendent thought ! — when changing years have flown, 
 These Bibles speak to every clime and zone ! 
 The hut, the hovel, or the cottage wild, 
 
 * Rousseau, when dying, ordered his attendant to place him before 
 the window, that be might view the declining glow of day, and bid fare- 
 well to the beautiful countenance of Nature. 
 
332 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Where Sorrow shudders o'er her weeping child, 
 Their living voice of holiness and love, 
 Like angel tones, shall visit from above. 
 
 ®he Commit BltftS of ©nglattlr* 
 
 But where is woman most array'd 
 With all that Mind would see display' d ? — 
 England ! round thy chainless isle 
 How lavishly all blessings smile, 
 And crowd within thy little spot 
 A universe of glorious lot ! 
 But never till the wind-rock'd sea 
 Have borne us far from home and thee, 
 Thy purer charms we learn to prize, 
 And feel the patriot's glow arise. — 
 Though Nature, with sublimer stress, 
 Hath stamped her seal of loveliness 
 On climes of more colossal mould, 
 How much that travell'd eyes behold 
 Would sated Wonder throw away 
 To take one look where England lay ! — 
 To wander down some hawthorn lane, 
 And drink the lark's delightful strain ; 
 Or, floating from a pastured dell, 
 To hear the sheep's romantic bell, 
 While valeward as the hills retire 
 Peeps greyly forth the hamlet spire, 
 And all around it breathes a sense 
 Of weal, and worth, and competence. — 
 But, far beyond all other dowers, 
 Thy daughters seem Earth's human flowers ! — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 333 
 
 The charm of young Castilian eyes, 
 "When lovingly their lashes rise, 
 And, blended into one rich glance, 
 The lightnings of the soul advance !«— 
 "Wild hearts may into wonder melt, 
 And make Expression's magic felt ; 
 Or, girded by the dreams of old, 
 In Sappho's Lesbian isle, behold 
 A shadow of primeval grace 
 Yet floating o'er some classic face ; 
 But where, in what imperial land, 
 Hath Nature with more faultless hand 
 Embodied all that beauty shows 
 Than round us daily lives and glows ? 
 Here, mingled with the outward might 
 Of charms that coldest gaze invite, 
 Th* enamel of the mind appears 
 Undimm'd by wo, unsoil'd by years ! — 
 To wedded Hearts, devoid of strife, 
 Here Home becomes the heaven of life ; 
 And household virtues spring to birth 
 Beside the love-frequented hearth, 
 While feelings, soft as angels know, 
 Around them freshly twine and grow I 
 
 How false, and yet how fair, are scenes of man ! 
 Between what is, and that which seems to be, 
 How dark a gap of untold cliff rence frowns ! 
 There is a hollowness in human things 
 Of pride or pleasure born, which none confess, 
 
334 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Yet all must ever feel. The moments tuned 
 To highest happiness, have strings that jar 
 Upon some mward sense ; the sweetest cup 
 Enchanted Ecstasy can drink, will leave 
 A humbling dreg of bitterness behind. 
 But this sad vict'ry of unrestful thought, 
 This cloud-tint on the brightest firmament 
 Of joy, this deep abyss of discontent, 
 Beyond a universe to fill !— though felt, 
 Is rarely own'd ; for Pride steps in, and puts 
 A smile upon the cheek, and in the eye 
 Delusion ; making Love, or Wealth, or Fame, 
 The seeming aspect of perfection wear ; 
 And thus, deceiving each, and each deceived, 
 Men gild the hour, and call it happiness ! 
 
 ©to Stfetrrftg irf the flutttatt Jtttttft, 
 
 All are not framed alike : Love, Hope, and Truth, 
 That guard our age, and glorify our youth, 
 To various minds a varied tone impart ; 
 What this man freezes,-— fires another's heart ! 
 The words that waken melodies of soul, 
 In tuneless ears monotonously roll ; 
 The shapes and shadows which Creation forms, 
 And Fancy moulds from seasons and from storms 
 To living beauty, or to lovely hue, 
 And waves them phantom-like before our view, 
 Will rouse the life-blood into fresher play 
 Of him who visions what the words array : 
 Another, eyeless save to sterner things, 
 Will frown them back as false imaginings !— 
 And thus in nature, as her vales reply 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 335 
 
 To voices wafted where the echoes lie, 
 
 Our Spirits answer to appeals alone, 
 
 When tuned accordant with some inward tone.^ 
 
 I've stood entranc'd beneath as bright a sun, 
 
 As Poet's dream hath ever gazed upon, 
 
 In the warm stillness of that wooing hour 
 
 When skies are floating with seraphic power, 
 
 The gales expiring in melodious death, 
 
 The waters hushed, the woods without a breath,— 
 
 And ponder'd, till dissolving sense away 
 
 Seem'd gently dying, like the soul of day ! 
 
 But when I look'd where lay immingled forms 
 
 Of fairy mountains or refulgent storms, 
 
 And cloud-born Phantoms, delicately bright, 
 
 Laugh'd in the paleness of departing light, 
 
 Each fainting into each, a long array 
 
 Like lovely echoes when they glide away,— 
 
 Another babbled in that beauteous hour, 
 
 Light as the leaf, and mindless as the flower I 
 
 But lo ! again the calm-eyed Evening comes s 
 The heavens are flaming with a rosy sea 
 Of splendour, richly deep, and, floating on, 
 It reddens round the dying Sun, who glares 
 With fierce redundancy awhile, then sinks 
 
 * The action of mind on mind is an unfathomable mystery, yet as 
 beautiful as it is deep. It is recorded by Fontenelle, that when Male- 
 branche first read Descarte's " Treatise on Man," he was sometimes 
 compelled to lay aside the work " till the palpitation of his heart had 
 
336 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Away, like glory from Ambition's eye. 
 Behind him, many a Dream of old romance 
 Will cry,—" What rocks, and hills, and waves of light ! 
 Magnificent confusion ! such as beam'd 
 When the rash boy-God charioted the skies, 
 And made a burning chaos of the clouds !" 
 But this hath ended : and a soundless calm, 
 As though eternity were closing up 
 The world, to let it faint in light away, — 
 Creeps round the earth, like slumber shed on air. 
 
 And well, lone Pilgrim ! at the shaded hour 
 Of twilight, when a golden stillness reigns, 
 Like lustre from a far-off angel-Host 
 Reflected, and the unoffending breeze 
 Hath music that the day-wind seldom brings, 
 May sadness creep upon thee, and thy heart 
 Unspeakably with yearning fancies glow. — ; 
 Of life, a living vision; — and the hour 
 That ends it, like a cloudy dream of air 
 That vanisheth to some allotted world ; 
 Of faded Youth, and unforgotten friends, 
 Whose tombstones over life a shadow fling 
 No sunshine can efface ; of all that makes 
 The lone Heart wander to a dream-like Home 
 Of sadness, — Mortal ! thou didst ponder now. 
 
 ©nslatttr* 
 
 Fronting the wave-environ' d shore of France, 
 And bulwark' d with her everlasting Main, 
 O'er which the guardian Cliffs sublimely lower, 
 Like palaces of stern defence, — behold 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 337 
 
 The Isle-queen ! — every billow sounds her fame ! 
 The ocean is her proud triumphal car 
 Whereon she rideth, and the rolling waves 
 The vassals which secure her victory ; 
 Alone, and matchless in her sceptred might, 
 She dares the world. The spirit of the brave 
 Burns in her ; laws are liberty ; and kings 
 Wear crowns that glitter with a people's love, 
 And while undimm'd, their glory aye endures ; 
 But once dishonour^ — and the sceptre falls, 
 The throne is shaken, patriot voices rise, 
 And, prompt as billows by the tyrant gale 
 Awaken'd, loud and haughty is their roar ! 
 
 Heaven-favour 'd land ! of grandeur, and of gloom, 
 Of mountain-pomp, and majesty of hills, 
 Though other climates boast, in thee supreme 
 A beauty and a gentleness abound. 
 Here all that can soft worship claim, or please 
 The sweet sobriety of tender thought, 
 Is thine ; — the sky of blue intensity, 
 Or, charm'd by sunshine into picture-clouds, 
 That make bright landscapes when they blush abroad ; 
 The dingle grey, and wooded copse, with hut 
 And hamlet, nestling in the bosky vale, 
 And spires brown peeping o'er the ancient elms, 
 And steepled cities, faint and far away, 
 With all that bird and meadow, brook and gale 
 Impart, — are mingled for admiring eyes 
 That love to banquet on thy blissful scene. 
 
 But Ocean is thy glory ! and methinks 
 Some musing wand'rer by the shore I see, 
 Weaving his island-fancies. — Round him rock 
 
338 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 And cliff, whose grey trees mutter to the wind. 
 And streams down rushing with a torrent ire : 
 The sky seems craggy, with her cloud-piles hung, 
 Deep-mass'd, as though embodied thunder lay 
 And darken'd in a dream of havoc there. — 
 Before him, Ocean, yelling in the blast, 
 Wild as the death-wail of a drowning host : 
 The surges, — let them each a tempest roll, 
 Lashing their fury into living foam, 
 Yon war-ship shall outbrave them all ! — her sails 
 Resent the winds, and their remorseless howl ; 
 And when she ventures the abyss of waves, 
 Remounts, expands her wings, and then — away ! 
 Proud as an eagle dashing through the clouds. 
 
 W\t tvut &pfint of Sffltomaiu 
 
 Let man his intellectual sceptre wield ; 
 To him have Ages in their march appeal'd 
 To shape the elements of mind and power 
 Through the vast scene of Life's unrestful hour. 
 But thou, fond woman ! on Affection's throne, 
 Behold a kingdom of the heart thine own ; 
 There feelings form the subjects of thy sway, 
 And all is Eden where thy glances play ! 
 ? Tis thine to brighten far from public strife, 
 The daily windings of domestic life, 
 The thousand hues that sprinkle ev'ry scene, 
 Where Time betray eth that his touch hath been. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 339 
 
 & toattttfttl Stmstet, mis fitsht. 
 
 But lo ! the day declines, and to his couch 
 The sun is wheeling. What a world of pomp 
 The heavens put on in homage to his power ! 
 Romance hath never hung a richer sky, 
 Or sea of sunshine, o'er whose yellow deep 
 Triumphal barks of beauteous foam career, 
 As though the clouds held festival, to hail 
 Their god of glory to his western home. 
 And now, the earth is mirror'd on the skies ; 
 While lakes and valleys, drown'd in dewy light, 
 And rich delusions, dazzlingly array'd, 
 Form, float, and die, in all their phantom joy. 
 At length the Sun is throned ; but from his face 
 A flush of beauty o'er creation flows, 
 Then faints to paleness, for the day hath sunk 
 Beneath the waters, dash'd with ruby dyes, 
 And Twilight in her nun-like meekness comes ; 
 The air is fragrant with the soul of flowers, 
 The breeze comes panting like a child at play, 
 While birds, day- worn, are couch' d in leafy rest, 
 And, calm as clouds, the sunken billows sleep : 
 The dimness of a dream o'er nature steals, 
 Yet hallows it ; a hush'd enchantment reigns ; 
 The mountains to a mass of mellowing shade 
 Are turn'd, and stand like temples of the night i 
 While field and forest, fading into gloom, 
 Depart, and Rivers whisper sounds of fear ; 
 A dying pause, as if th' Almighty moved 
 In shadow o'er his works, hath solemnized 
 The world !— 
 
 z 2 
 
340 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 But that hath passed ; the herald stars 
 In timid lustre twinkling into life, 
 Advance ; and, faint as music's rising swell, 
 The moon is rounding as she dawns. Fair orb ! 
 (A sentimental child of earth will say,) 
 The sun glares like a warrior o'er his plain 
 Of morning sky ; but thou, so wan and meek, 
 Appear'st a maiden of romance, who walks 
 In placid sorrow, beautifully pale. — 
 Behold thy power ! on tree and meadow falls 
 The loveliness of thine arraying smile. 
 How silverly the sleeping air is robed 
 Around me ! Clouds above, like plats of snow 
 That linger on the hills, and laugh the sun 
 Away with their white beauty, yet remain ; 
 And now they vanish, and the soundless heaven 
 Forms one deep cope of azure, where the stars, 
 (Bright pilgrims voyaging an unwaved sea,) 
 Are strewn, and sparkle with incessant rays 
 Of mystery and meaning. Yet not heaven, 
 When islanded with all those lustrous worlds, 
 Nor cradled Ocean with her waves uproll'd, 
 Nor moonlight weaving forth its pallid shroud, — 
 Is so enchanting, as that stillness felt, 
 And living with luxurious spell, through all, — 
 Silent as though a sound had never been ; 
 Or, angels o'er her slumber spread their wings, 
 And breathed a sabbath into Nature's soul ! 
 
 Wxt Spartan iWotfiw, 
 
 Then said the mother to her son, 
 And pointed to his shield, 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 341 
 
 " Come with it when the battle's done, 
 
 Or on it — from the field !*' 
 Then mute she fix'd her dreadless eye, 
 That spoke of ages vanish' d by. 
 
 3Ltmtlint&$+ 
 
 " We are not happy, sweet \ our state 
 Is strange, and full of doubt and fear ; 
 * * * * 
 
 Hiding from many a careless eye 
 The scorned load of agony." 
 
 Alone amid the wide and desert world, 
 Without some heart to echo to our own, 
 How fev'rish all the pomp and play of life ! — 
 There is a solitude that lifts the mind 
 To lofty things, — seclusion from the rush 
 And stir of the unfeeling crowd, whose days 
 Reap scarce a thought to sanctify their flight. 
 Far from the city din, may Wisdom haunt 
 Her lone retreats, and yet not live alone ; 
 For is there not the fellowship of books 
 Divine, the company of kindling thoughts, 
 And all that Nature yields a grateful mind ? 
 This is not loneliness : — to look around 
 The peopled world, and 'mong its myriad hearts 
 To find no sympathies to nurse our own, 
 Oh, this is loneliness ! that solitude 
 Of soul, which makes the world a desert seem. 
 What is the guerdon of ambition worth, 
 The cold applause of common minds, the crown 
 Of genius, and the envied wreath of fame, 
 Without the smile of some partaking Soul ? 
 
342 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 For when the heart is full, the overflow 
 Of bliss, by being shared, is sweeter still : 
 The very flowers, that in the May-breeze shake, 
 Bloom out together ; and the blessed stars 
 Of night, walk not the pathless heavens alone, 
 But twinkle, though unseen, in blissful play 
 Of sympathetic light ; all beauteous things 
 Hold mystic fellowship, and fine-toned hearts 
 Without responding hearts, — how coldly doom'd ! 
 In sorrow curs'd, — in happiness the same. 
 
 I love the present ; but the past 
 Hath such a spell around it cast, 
 That oft from all I hear or see 
 I turn, dead Time ! to gaze on thee ; 
 And o'er the grave of buried hours 
 Bid Mem'ry strew her pallid flowers ! 
 
 And what art thou ? — The dark unknown, 
 Thy name to mortals bound and blind ; 
 
 Yet, like a faint-heard mystic tone, 
 Thy meaning hovers o'er my mind. 
 
 I see Thee in the vigil star, 
 I hear Thee in the tragic deep, 
 
 And, like a feeling from afar, 
 Thy shadow riseth o'er my sleep. 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 343 
 
 Thou comest where the witching power 
 
 Of festive hearts alone should be, 
 Till life itself appears an hour 
 
 That nutters o'er eternity I 
 
 ®he iUturtt Home* 
 
 Where is the Heart unmoved by more than glee, 
 Where is the Eye that kindles not to see 
 That spot, where first our beam of life began, 
 And youth put on the energies of man ? 
 When far remote from youth's regretted scene, 
 Imagination sped the way between, 
 And, hov'ring round each well-known spot, restored 
 All that the mem'ry loved, and heart adored ! — 
 A Sabbath bell recall'd the street we trod 
 Each holy morn, to hymn the name of God ; 
 A ballad-singer in his homely strain 
 Would thrill the bosom with delicious pain, 
 As oft, beneath the moon's romantic ray, 
 We mused on home and friendship far away : — 
 Return'd at length, — again we glow to greet 
 Each fav'rite spot and unforgotten street ; 
 Once more on haunted wood and stream to gaze, 
 And clasp the shadow of departed Days. 
 
 And lo I upon yon sailor's swarthy brow 
 What home-born feeling is enkindled now ! 
 What tear-drops gush from out his happy soul, 
 As up familiar lanes the coach-wheels roll, 
 Joy flies from lip to brow, through heart and limb, 
 The very houses seem to welcome him ! 
 Though doom'd awhile a foreign deep to roam, 
 
344 POETRY AND RELIGION. 
 
 Each breeze and blast had wing'd a blessing home ; 
 Where Hope and Mem'ry bade him oft retire, 
 And tell sea-tales around his winter fire. 
 
 And now, Spirit ! at the noon of night 
 Under the trance of this poetic sky, 
 While all around me breathes the hush of heaven,- 
 Thee I invoke, this erring strain to crown : 
 Without thee, 'tis but vanity and voice, 
 And mere vexation, into language thrown ; 
 But with Thee, Weakness is itself made strong, 
 While Nature's darkness turns to light divine. 
 And if with me one aspiration dwell 
 For truths, beyond Philosophy to preach 
 Or fathom ; if one thought this perill'd mind 
 Inspire, where Thou, O God of grace, art seen, — 
 Celestial Spirit ! 'tis from Thee derived. 
 And, Oh, if Life with all its loneliness, 
 The glow of youth hath still in heart retain'd ; 
 If all the waste, the fever, and the fret 
 Of buried pangs, (beyond the world to know,) 
 From Boyhood in its bleakness, e'en till now, — 
 Have not untuned me ; but a tone have left 
 In concord with the beautiful and bright ; 
 If Nature thrill me with as keen a joy 
 As in the poetry of pensive youth 
 She ever did ; if such for bliss remain, — 
 Blent with far deeper things, by suff'ring taught, 
 And faith transmuted, for the life within, 
 As onward through a bleak and heartless world 
 My pathway windeth to the waiting tomb, — 
 
POETRY AND RELIGION. 345 
 
 Spirit of Glory ! take my gratitude, 
 
 And sanctify the closing strain I sing : 
 
 Bear with my soul, Thy blessing o'er it breathe, 
 
 And all who love the Master whom I serve. 
 
 Divine Emmanuel ! peace may all Thy Church possess, 
 
 Till Faith shall in sublime fruition end, 
 
 All symbols cease ; all sacraments retire ; 
 
 While earthly sabbaths into heavenly melt 
 
 For men and angels, and the Host redeem' d 
 
 Shall, in the Temple of pure Godhead, keep 
 
 The sabbath endless of Almighty love. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed by Schulze and Co., 13. Poland Street. 
 
Lately Published in 1 vol. post 8vo. boards, price 5s. 
 
 KING CHARLES THE FIRST, 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM, 
 BY ARCHER GURNEY, 
 
 TRANSLATOR OF " FAUST," &C. 
 
 " All our principles as a Catholic Churchman, and all our sympathies 
 as a Christian Conservative, are entirely with the Author -, as his 
 glowing earnestness hurries us along from scene to scene, from crisis 
 to crisis, till the tragedy closes in the horrors of regicidal crime." — 
 Church of England Journal. 
 
 "It is eminently dramatic j it abounds in action, and the language is 
 nervous, decisive and characteristic." — 'Britannia. 
 
 " Artistic in its action, powerful in its language, and accurate in its 
 historical portraiture." — Morning Post 
 
 " We find here the kindliest intentions to the body politic, the purest 
 feelings of patriotism to the crown, and the most hallowed veneration 
 to the church. — Words of gentle beauty and soft tenderness. Powerful 
 soliloquies.— Stirring energy." — New Quarterly Review. 
 
 " The joint work of genius aud prejudice. Asa poem magnificent ° 3 
 as a political essay, a failure." — Labourer. Monthly Chartist Organ 
 for February 1847. 
 
 "Its dramatic merits are considerable; the characters are strongly 
 drawn— the language is nervous— the action neither deficient nor over 
 abundant— the interest well- sustained, and there are passages of much 
 pathos. — Oxford and Cambridge Review?* 
 
XI* 
 
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