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PALESTINE, 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 RIGHT REV. REGINALD HEBER, D. D. 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF CALCUTTA. 
 
 NOW FIRST COLLECTED. 
 
 WITH A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 CAREY, LEA AND CAREY— CHESNUT STREET, 
 
 . SOLD IN NEW YORK BY G. & C. CARVILL BOSTON BY 
 
 MUNROE & FRANCIS. 
 
 1828. 
 
xf 
 
 
 
 Eastern District of Pennsylvania, to uit : 
 
 Be it Remembered, that on the nineteenth day of 
 May, in the fifty-second year of the Independence of the 
 United States of America, A. D. 1828, Carey, Lea, and 
 Carey, of the said District, have deposited in this office 
 the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as pro- 
 prietors, in the words following, to wit : 
 
 Palestine, and other Poems. By the late Right Rev. 
 Reginald Heber, D. D. Lord Bishop of Calcutta. Now 
 first collected. With a Memoir of his Life. 
 
 In conformity to the Act of Congress of the United 
 States, entitled " An Act for the encouragement of learn- 
 ing, by- securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, 
 to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
 times therein mentioned" — and also to the Act, entitled 
 " An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled ' An act for 
 the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of 
 maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors 
 of such copies during the times therein mentioned,' and 
 extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, 
 engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 
 
 D. CALDWELL, 
 Clerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Adam Waldic & Co. Printers. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following Memoir of Bishop Heder has 
 been ca^fully collected from the numerous notices 
 of himself and his works in the various English 
 periodicals; and from an attentive perusal of his 
 Indian journals. It has no pretensions to origin- 
 ality. It might easily have been extended to a 
 much greater length, but the writer has thought it 
 best to confine himself to a mere narrative of the 
 Bishop's life and labours, and such incidental re- 
 marks upon his character and principles, as seemed 
 to be required by the great estimation in which he 
 was held wherever his name was known. 
 Philadelphia, May 1, 1828. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 Page. 
 
 Advertisement - - . 
 
 iii 
 
 Memoir of Bishop Heber 
 
 V 
 
 Tributes to his Memory, by Mrs. Hemans 
 
 Ixiv 
 
 Mrs. Opie 
 
 Ixv 
 
 Anonymous 
 
 Ixxi 
 
 Palestine _ . . . 
 
 1 
 
 Europe .... 
 
 23 
 
 Passage of the Red Sea 
 
 45 
 
 Lines on Lord Grenville's Installation 
 
 53 
 
 Epitaph on a young naval officer 
 
 56 
 
 An Evening Walk in Bengal - 
 
 58 
 
 Lines vsrritten to his v(7ife 
 
 62 
 
 Happiness - . - - 
 
 64 
 
 The Moonlight March 
 
 67 
 
 Lines , - - . 
 
 68 
 
 Farewell . - . _ 
 
 69 
 
 Vespers . . . _ 
 
 70 
 
 To General Hill 
 
 71 
 
 Imitation of an Ode, by Koodrut 
 
 72 
 
 Hymns for Advent Sunday 
 
 74 
 
 Second Sunday in Advent 
 
 79 
 
 For the same 
 
 81 
 
 Third Sunday in Advent - 
 
 82 
 
 Fourth Sunday in Advent 
 
 84 
 
 Christmas day 
 
 86 
 
ii CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 Page, 
 
 Hymns for St. Stephen's day - 
 
 88 
 
 St. John the Evangelisfs day 
 
 90 
 
 Innocents' day 
 
 91 
 
 Sunday after Christmas, or Circumcision 92 
 
 Epiphany - - 
 
 94 
 
 First Sunday after Epiphany 
 
 98 
 
 Second Sunday after Epiphany 
 
 100 
 
 For the same - - . 
 
 101 
 
 For the same _ . . 
 
 102 
 
 Third Sunday after Epiphany 
 
 104 
 
 Fourth Sunday after Epiphany 
 
 105 
 
 Septuagesima Sunday 
 
 106 
 
 Sexagesima 
 
 108 
 
 Quinquagesima 
 
 109 
 
 Third Sunday in Lent 
 
 111 
 
 Fourth Sunday in Lent 
 
 112 
 
 Fifth Sunday in Lent 
 
 114 
 
 Sixth Sunday in Lent 
 
 115 
 
 Good Friday 
 
 117 
 
 Easter day 
 
 118 
 
 Fifth Sunday after Easter 
 
 119 
 
 Ascension day and Sunday after - 
 
 120 
 
 Whitsunday ... 
 
 121 
 
 Trinity Sunday 
 
 123 
 
 First Sunday after Trinity 
 
 126 
 
 For the same 
 
 127 
 
 Second Sunday after Trinitv 
 
 129 
 
 Third Sunday after Trinity 
 
 130 
 
 Fourth Sunday after Trinity 
 
 132 
 
 Fifth Sunday after Trinity 
 
 133 
 
 Seventh Sunday after Trinity 
 
 134 
 
 Tenth Sundav after Trinitv 
 
 136 
 
CONTEiNTS. 111. 
 
 Page. 
 Hymns for Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity - 138 
 Fifteenth Sunday after Trinity - 140 
 Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity - 142 
 Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity - 144 
 Twenty-first Sunday after Trinity 146 
 Twenty-second Sunday after Trinity 148 
 Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity 150 
 Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity 151 
 For St. James' day - - 152 
 Michaehnas day - - - 154 
 \xv Times of Distress and Danger - 156 
 Intended to be sung on oceasion of his 
 preaching a sermon for the Church 
 Missionary Society - - 157 
 An Introit, to be sung between the Li- 
 tany and Communion Service - 159 
 Before the Sacrament - - 160 
 At a funeral - - - 161 
 Stanzas on the death of a friend 163 
 On recovery from sickness 166 
 Translations of Pindar 171 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF THE 
 
 RIGHT REV. REGINALD HEBER, D. D. 
 
 SECOND BISHOP OF CALCUTTA. 
 
 Among the distinguished men of the present 
 age, the late Bishop Hebee, of Calcutta, deserves a 
 high rank, as a most accomplished poet, as an 
 acute, discriminating, pious, and learned divine; 
 as a traveller possessing the talent of accurate ob- 
 servation and perseverance in a very high degree; 
 but, especially, as a most disinterested and devoted 
 Christian bishop and missionary, he has left behind 
 him an imperishable memory. 
 
 Reginald Heber was the second son of the 
 Rev. Reginald Heber, and was born on the 2 1st 
 of April, 1783, at Malpas, in Cheshire, England, 
 where his father then held a pastoral charge. His 
 mother was Mary Allanson, daughter of the Rev. 
 Dr. Allanson, of the same county. So that he 
 a2 ' ^ 
 
vi MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 may be said to have been of Levitical descent: a 
 circumstance which, probably, was not without 
 influence upon his mind from a very early period. 
 The earliest dawnings of his mind are said to have 
 given promise of those christian graces, with which 
 he was, through all the stages of his illustrious hfe, 
 so richly endowed; and of those talents, which 
 eventually gave him an eminent rank among the 
 literary characters of the age. In his childhood, 
 the eagerness with which he read the Bible, and 
 the accuracy with which he treasured up large 
 portions of it in his memory, were such as to ex- 
 cite observation; and this first application of his 
 powers undoubtedly laid the foundation of that 
 masterly knowledge of the Scriptures, which he 
 subsequently attained; and to the perfecting of 
 which, almost all his reading was made, directly or 
 indirectly, to contribute. His literary education 
 was commenced at the grammar school of Whit- 
 church, pursued under Dr. Bristowe, a teacher 
 near London, and was completed at Brazen-nose 
 college, Oxford, where he was entered in 1800. 
 '' At the university," said his early friend, Sir 
 Charles Grey, at the time of his decease Chief- 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. vii 
 
 justice of Calcutta, " he was, beyond all question 
 or comparison, the most distinguished student of 
 his time. The name of Reginald Heber was in 
 every mouth; his society was courted by young and 
 old; he lived in an atmosphere of favour, admira- 
 tion, and regard, from which I have never known 
 any one but himself, who would not have derived, 
 and for Hfe, an unsalutary influence." 
 
 The next year he gained the chancellor's prize 
 at the university, by his Latin verse, " Carmen 
 Seculare." In 1803, when but httle more than 
 nineteen years of age, occurred one of those happy 
 coincidences which occasionally make the paths 
 of duty and of pleasure the way to enduring fame; 
 a prize subject, for English verse, w^as that year 
 assigned, which awaked " all that was within him," 
 — Palestine. Upon this theme he wrote, and with 
 signal success. It was recited, as usual, in the 
 theatre, with much diffidence- on the part of the 
 author, to a greatly admiring audience, among 
 whom was his aged father, whose feelings were so 
 overcome by the applause bestowed upon his son, 
 that, immediately after the recitation, he mounted 
 his horse, and returned to his home. The poem 
 
viii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER, 
 
 produced a great sensation. It procured the prize, 
 was set to music, and brought to its autlior pubhc 
 and universal praise. The knowledge it displays 
 of Scripture and of the Holy Land, its copious and 
 flowing language, its beautifully diversified figures, 
 and the exact discrimination, accurate conception, 
 and pure taste which it displays throughout, have 
 given it a deservedly high rank among the literature 
 of the age. It has been said by an English critic, 
 that this is almost the only university poem that 
 has maintained its honours unimpaired, and enti- 
 tled itself, after the lapse of years, to be considered 
 the property of the nation. In 1805, Mr. Heber 
 obtained a third prize for an English essay, On the 
 Sense of Honour. 
 
 Shortly after this, he left England in company 
 with Mr. John Thornton, to make the tour of 
 the eastern parts of Europe. The war, at that 
 time prevailing between England and France, ex- 
 cluded English travellers from a large portion of 
 the continent. Mr. Heber and his friend were, 
 therefore, only able to visit some parts of Ger- 
 many, Russia, and the Crimea. He made a co- 
 pious journal of his travels; but as he did not tlnnk 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. ix 
 
 proper to present his observations to the public in 
 his own name, when Dr. E. D. Clarke sent his vo- 
 lume of travels through Russia, Tartary, and Tur- 
 key, to the press, he allowed him the free use of 
 his journal, of which Dr. Clarke availed himself to 
 a considerable extent in the form of notes to his 
 work, by v/hich its value was certainly largely in- 
 creased. Dr. Clarke, in his preface, and in various 
 parts of his volume, pays a well merited tribute to 
 " the zealous attention to accuracy which appears 
 in every statement" of Mr. Heber. Of the close- 
 ness and discrimination of his observations, the 
 vivid recollection of Russian buildings, language, 
 and incidents, which appear in his Indian journals, 
 written nearly twenty years later, afford very strik- 
 ing proofs. What he saw in Hindoostan is repeat- 
 edly compared with what he recollected to have 
 seen in Russia. He seems, at times, almost con- 
 vinced that several Indian practices must have had 
 a Russian origin, and he frequently detected him- 
 self in mingling Russian words with Hindoostanee 
 when addressing the natives of India.* It was 
 
 * We may introduce here Mr. Heber's account of a 
 
X MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 during this journey, and while in the city of Dres- 
 den, that he began a poem on Europe^ which, 
 
 visit which Mr. Thornton and himself paid to the cele- 
 brated Plato, archbishop of Moscow, taken from Dr. 
 Clarke's travels, to which it is annexed as a note. 
 
 " There is a passage in Mr. Heber's journal very cha- 
 racteristic of this extraordinary man. Mr. Heber, with 
 his friend Mr. Thornton, paid him a visit in the convent 
 of Befania ; and, in his description of the monastery, I 
 find the following accomit of the archbishop. ' The 
 space beneath the rocks is occupied by a small chapel, 
 furnished with a stove, for winter devotion ; and on the 
 right hand is a little, narrow cell, containing two coffins, 
 one of which is empty, and destined for the present arch- 
 bishop ; the other contains the bones of the founder of 
 the monastery, who is regarded as a saint. The oak 
 coffin was almost bit to pieces by different persons afflict- 
 ed with the tooth-ach, for which a rub on this board is a 
 specific. Plato laughed as ho told us this; but said, ' As 
 they do it de bon ccEur^ I would not undeceive them.' 
 This prelate has been long very famous in Russia, as a 
 man of ability. His piety has been questioned ; but from 
 his conversation we drew a very favourable idea of him. 
 Some of his expressions would rather have singed the 
 whiskers of a very orthodox man; but the frankness and 
 openness of his manners, and the liberality of his scnti- 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xi 
 
 however, he did not complete till after his return , 
 and which he published in 1809. In the same 
 year he published his poem of Palestine, to which 
 
 ments, pleased us highly. His frankness on subjects of 
 politics pleased us highly. The clergy throughout Rus- 
 sia are, I believe, inimical to their government ; they are 
 more connected •with the peasants than most other classes 
 of men, and are strongly interested in their sufferings 
 and oppressions ; to many of which they themselves are 
 likewise exposed. They marry very much among the 
 daughters and sisters of their own order, and form almost 
 a caste. I think Buonaparte rather popular among them. 
 Plato seemed to contemplate his success as an inevitable 
 and not very alarming prospect. He refused to draw up 
 a form of prayer for the success of the Russian arms. ' If,' 
 said he, ' they are really penitent and contrite, let them 
 shut up their places of public amusement for a month, 
 and I will then celebrate public prayers.' His expres- 
 sions of dislike to the nobles and wealthy classes were 
 strong and singular ; as also the manner in which he de- 
 scribed the power of an emperor of Russia, the dangers 
 which surround him, and the improbability of any rapid 
 improvement. ' It would be much better,' said he, ' had we 
 a constitution like that of England.' Yet I suspect he 
 does not wish particularly well to us in our war with 
 France.' ^'—Hehers MS. Journal 
 
xii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 he added another poem of a few lines, on tlie pass- 
 age of the Israelites through the Red Sea. 
 
 He returned from the continent in 1807, and 
 soon afterwards was admitted to holy orders, and 
 inducted into his patrimonial preferment of Hod- 
 net in Shropshire, estimated at j^SOOO per annum, 
 comprising the estate of his ancestors, which had 
 been held by his father during the last years of his 
 life. The patronage of this living had become vested 
 in his family by a marriage with an heiress of the 
 Vernon family. He now married Amelia, the daugh- 
 ter of Dr. Shipley, Dean of St. Asaph, and thence- 
 forward willingly devoted himself to the enjoyment 
 of the domestic charities, and to the discharge of 
 those unobtrusive duties which fill up the life of a 
 country clergyman. He was here surrounded by his 
 relatives, and an intelhgent and agreeable society. 
 He possessed as many of the ingredients which 
 make up the sum of human happiness as he could 
 desire. The love of fame, however valuable in 
 the eyes of most men, appears never to have had 
 any strong hold upon his feelings, and, at this pe- 
 riod, probably had none whatever. His society 
 was indeed courted by the world which he was so 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xiii 
 
 well qualified to attract and gratify; but he had 
 set before himself, in the spirit of the truest and 
 noblest ambition, a course of secret virtue and 
 self-denying diligence, in pursuing which, he right- 
 ly estimated, that it was the way to the purest 
 earthly happiness, and that its brilliant termination 
 would be richly worth every sacrifice, should he 
 be called to any, which he could make for it. De- 
 voted to his profession, he considered it his most 
 honourable distinction to become the friend, the 
 pastor, the spiritual guide of those whose spiritual 
 interests had been committed to his charge. " He 
 laboured to accommodate his instructions," says 
 one of his friends, " to the comprehension of all; 
 a labour by no means easy to a mind stored with 
 classic elegance, and an imagination glowing with 
 a thousand images of sublimity and beauty. He 
 rejoiced to form his manners, his habits, and his 
 conversation, to those who were entrusted to his 
 care, that he might gain the confidence and aflfec- 
 tion of even the poorest among his flock; so that 
 he might more surely win their souls to God, and 
 finally, in the day of the last account, present every 
 man faultless before his presence with exceeding 
 
xiv MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 joy. He was, above all, singularly happy in his 
 visitation of the sick, and in administering conso- 
 lation to those that mourned; and his name will 
 long be dear, and his memory most precious, in 
 the cottages of the poor, by whose sick beds he 
 has often stood as a ministering angel." " His 
 sermons," says another of his friends, '' were very 
 original — sometimes expanding into general views 
 of the scheme and doctrines of revelation, collect- 
 ed from an intimate acquaintance, not with* com- 
 mentators, but with the details of holy writ itself, 
 frequently drawing ingenious lessons for christian 
 conduct, from the subordinate parts of a parable, 
 a miracle, or a history, which a less imaginative 
 mind would have overlooked — often enlivened by 
 moral stories, with which his multifarious reading 
 supplied him; and occasionally by facts which had 
 come, perhaps, under his own observation, and 
 which he thought calculated to give spirit or per- 
 spicuity to the truths he was imparting: a practice 
 which, when judiciously restrained, is well adapt- 
 ed to secure the rustic hearer from the fate of 
 Eutychus, without giving offence even to nicer 
 brethren: of whicli the powerful efTect is discover- 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xv 
 
 able (though the figures may be grosser than the 
 times woul(tnow admit) in the sermons of Latimer 
 and the Reformers; subsequently, in those of Taylor 
 and South; and still more recently in the popular 
 harangues of Whitfield and Wesley; and a prac- 
 tice, we will add, which derives countenance and 
 authority from the use of parables in the preach- 
 ing of our Lord." Both in the pulpit and in his 
 ordinary conversation, his language was pohshed, 
 yet seldom above the reach of a country congre- 
 gation; and when occasion required, was dealt out 
 to them in a way it was impossible to misunder- 
 stand. Frequently he indulged in bold and strik- 
 ing metaphors, and he was always attractive in 
 the happy adoption of expressions from the pure 
 and undefiled English of the Bible, with which his 
 mind was thoroughly imbued, and which he could 
 call up at will. 
 
 It was while engaged in this way, that he found 
 time for the occasional composition of some hymns, 
 of which he originally intended to prepare a series, 
 adapted to the English Church service throughout 
 the year, for the use of his own parish. A few 
 of them were first published in the Christian 
 
xvi MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 Observer for 1811 and 1812, introduced by a brief 
 statement of the motives which led to their com- 
 position, which were, correct in themselves, and 
 highly creditable to the author.* From some 
 cause he never completed the task which he had 
 set for himself; but among those which he did pre- 
 pare, there are some very beautiful specimens of 
 devotional poetry, which would alone be sufficient 
 to preserve his memory from decay. Some of 
 them, as his missionary hymn, have obtained a very 
 just celebrity; and there are few readers of poetry 
 who are not familiar with that beautiful piece, begin- 
 ning Brightest and best of the sons of the morning. \ 
 In 1812 he pubUshed a small volume of poems, 
 including, beside those we have already alluded 
 
 * This statement may be found among the notes at 
 the end of this volume. 
 
 t While on his primary visitation, at Meerut, in the 
 heart of India, he was delightfully surprised at hearing 
 some of these hymns sung in the church where he was 
 preaching. "I had the gratification," he says in his 
 journal, " of hearing my own hymns, * Brightest and best 
 of the sons of the morning,' and that for St. Stephen's 
 day, sung better than I ever heard them in church before. 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xvii 
 
 to, with the exception of the hymns, some transla- 
 tions of Pindar, and one or two smaller pieces. 
 
 In 1815, he was chosen, though still young, and 
 only in the first eligible degree, to deliver the 
 Bampton Lectures before the university of Oxford. 
 The lectures, conformably to the directions of the 
 founder, were published the ensuing year, under 
 the title of " The Personality and Office of the 
 Christian Comforter asserted and explained in a 
 course of Sermons on John xvi. 7." Of these 
 lectures it has been said by a judicious and able 
 critic, that the author '' has displayed much depth 
 and accuracy of investigation; an extensive ac- 
 quaintance with the hidden stores of learning, 
 whether laid up in the writings of the ancient phi- 
 losophers and poets, the Christian fathers of the 
 Greek and Latin churches, or the still more re- 
 condite Rabbinical compilers; and a richness and 
 grandiloquism of expression, which, to say the 
 least of it, is fully as appropriate to*the poet of 
 Palestine as to the Bampton lecturer. The im- 
 mense mass of learning introduced into this vo- 
 lume is doubtless very creditable to the powers 
 and industry of Mr. Heber.'' 
 b2 
 
xviii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 A few critical essays, both theological and lite- 
 rary, which appeared in the periodical publications 
 of the day, without his name, and an ordination 
 sermon, printed at the request of the Bishop of 
 Chester, before whom it was delivered, comprise 
 all his literary labours from the date last named, 
 till 1822, when he again appeared before the pub- 
 lic, as the editor of an edition of the works of Je- 
 remy Taylor, to which he annexed an account of 
 the life of Bishop Taylor,* and a review of his 
 writings from his own eloquent pen. While this 
 work exhibits advancement to a more ripened 
 knowledge, and improvement in taste and style, 
 it derives a great interest, from the evident sym- 
 pathy with which Mr. Heber regards the life and 
 writings of that heavenly-minded man. Taylor 
 and Heber have, indeed, been thought to possess 
 much in common, a poetical habit of mind, disgust 
 at intolerance, great simpHcity of character and 
 feehng, a hatred of every thing sordid and con- 
 tracted, a love for practical rather than specula- 
 tive religion, and a degree of faith, not the less 
 bright and towering, because connected with a 
 lofty imagination. 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xix 
 
 It was about the same time, that he vvas elected 
 preacher at Lincoln's Inn, which, requiring his 
 residence for a short period of each year in Lon- 
 don, brought him occasionally into more conspicu- 
 ous society, and withdrew him, in a measure, from 
 that retirement, and even obscurity, which he had 
 appeared to court, and brought out his many vir- 
 tues in a light more fitted to show forth their value, 
 and to give them the influence they might reason- 
 ably challenge. The greater part of the year was, 
 however, still spent by him at Hodnet, where he had 
 now erected a dwelling for his permanent residence. 
 
 In this manner upwards of fifteen years had 
 passed away since he had settled at Hodnet, during 
 which he was in the enjoyment of all the benefits 
 of refined society, and all the blessings of domes- 
 tic life, which no one could more highly appre- 
 ciate. His income was much more than compe- 
 tent to all his wants, and his pure and well balanced 
 mind was satisfied with his enjoyments. He sought 
 not distinction, but gifi;ed as he was with the means 
 of being useful to mankind, it was beyond his power 
 to avoid it. If he had desired eminence, the way 
 was plainly open before him, and he had only to 
 
XX MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 put forth those powers with which he was so libe- 
 rally endowed, to reach it. If ambition had been 
 his object, he would have been fully justified in 
 indulging sanguine hopes of advancement in Eng- 
 land. Among the whole bench of English pre- 
 lates, if talents and virtues constitute a claim, there 
 was none better entitled to his seat, or more capa- 
 ble of adorning it, than Reginald Heber would 
 have been. 
 
 On the death of Dr. Middleton, the first Eng- 
 lish Bishop of Calcutta, the diocesan charge of 
 the English Churches in India was offered to him. 
 Reluctance to leave his aged mother, and his coun- 
 try, made him at once decline the offer. But 
 its acceptance was pressed upon him by friends, 
 whose opinions he highly estimated; and after the 
 lapse of a week, spent in devout meditation and 
 prayer to Him who holds the destinies of man, he 
 desired that this station, of which the honour most 
 certainly, to use the language of Jeremy Taylor, 
 would not pay the burthen, if not already disposed 
 of, might be entrusted to him. He bent himself 
 holily to that overruling Providence, which, in all 
 the incidents of his life, he never ceased to regard 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxi 
 
 as working all things for good. And when tlie 
 appointment was, at length, given him, a distrust- 
 ful and uneasy sensation, which had distressed his 
 mind at the apprehension that he might have 
 shrunk, in too cowardly a spirit, from the obvious 
 dictates of duty, passed away, and he acquired new' 
 confidence in himself, from the conviction that he 
 had acted rightly. " I can say with confidence," 
 he wrote to a friend at this time, '' that I have act- 
 ed for the best; and even now, that the die is cast, 
 I feel no regret at the resolution I have taken, nor 
 any distrust of the mercies and goodness of Provi- 
 dence, who may protect both me and mine, and, 
 if he sees best for us, bring us back again, and 
 preserve our excellent friends to welcome us."* 
 
 When Mr. Heber's acceptance of the bishopric 
 of Calcutta was announced to his friends, the in- 
 telligence was received with surprise by some, and 
 with deep regret by many, whose personal feehngs 
 were too powerful to be altogether excluded from 
 
 * In explanation of this expression, it is stated, that in 
 consequence of the peculiarity of the service in India, the 
 bishops and chaplains of the Anglo-Indian Church are al- 
 lowed to return to England after a certain term of service. 
 
xxii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 the question. Satisfied, as they were, that a bright 
 career was open for him at home, and not tak- 
 ing the enlarged view of human duty which was 
 famihar to him, they suffered their own selfish de- 
 light in his society and honours to interfere with 
 •his ardent desire to do good to all men. Bishop 
 Middleton, too, it was well known, had sunk under 
 the heavy duties of the station, joined to the debili- 
 tating effects of a tropical clime; and to many of 
 Mr. Heber's friends, it seemed that he was too 
 ready to go, crowned indeed with flowers, like a 
 victim to the sacrifice. It was, moreover, believed, 
 by some of those who would have dissuaded him 
 from the duty, that his character possessed some 
 points, which, however amiable in themselves, 
 were calculated to prevent that eminent degree of 
 success, which could atone for the sacrifice he was 
 to make, and the hazard he was certainly to en- 
 counter. It was thought, too, that the striking 
 simplicity of his taste and manners would be little 
 suited to a country where the object chiefly sought 
 was wealth, and where pomp and show were uni- 
 versal idols. There was, too, about him, not- 
 withstanding all he had seen and read of human 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxiii 
 
 life and human character, a prodigahty of kind- 
 ness and confidence in his nature, which would 
 render it very difficult for him, it was supposed, to 
 oppose himself with sufficient decision to the many 
 obstacles which he might meet with, in a course 
 of government, yet barely tried upon those who 
 were to be the subjects of it, and among whom 
 many conflicting interests were likely to appear. 
 No misgivings, however, of this kind, ever occurred 
 to his own mind. He knew, and had weighed 
 well the various difficulties with which Christianity 
 had to contend in India, and, modest and humble 
 as he was, he had anxiously studied the quahty 
 and bent of his own resources in regard to them. 
 The more he thought of the matter in this light, 
 the more strongly was he convinced that India 
 was the proper field for his Christian labours, and 
 having brought his mind to this result, he deter- 
 mined that no sense of personal gratification or 
 comfort, nor any hope of future dignity, should 
 interfere with a conviction, which he deliberately 
 regarded as a voice from heaven, speaking to his 
 conscience. 
 
 On Sunday, the twentieth of April, he took leave 
 
xxiv MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 of his congregation, in a discourse which has been 
 repeatedly pubhshed, in the close of which he bade 
 them farewell, in the following pious, beautiful, 
 and even eloquent expressions, the universal ad- 
 miration of which has been amply proved by the 
 frequency with which they have appeared in print: 
 " My ministerial labours among you must have 
 an end; I must give'over into other hands, the task 
 of watching over your spiritual welfare; and many, 
 very many, of those with whom I have grown up 
 from childhood, in whose society I have passed my 
 happiest days, and to whom it has been, during 
 more than fifteen years, my duty and my dehght 
 (with such ability as God has given me) to preach 
 the gospel of Christ, must, in all probability, see 
 my face in the flesh no more. Under such cir- 
 cumstances, and connected with many who now 
 hear me by the dearest ties of blood, of friendship, 
 and of gratitude, some mixture of regret is excus- 
 able, some degree of sorrow is holy. I cannot, 
 without some anxiety for the future, forsake, for 
 an untried and arduous field of duty, the quiet 
 scenes, where, during so much of my past last life, 
 I have enjoyed a more than usual sliare of earthly 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxv 
 
 comfort and prosperity; I cannot bid adieu to those 
 with whose idea almost every recollection of past 
 happiness is connected, without many earnest 
 wishes for their welfare, and (I will confess it) 
 without some severe self-reproach, that, while it 
 was in my power, I have done so much less than 
 I ought to have done, to render that welfare eternal. 
 There are, indeed, those here who know, and 
 there is Owe, above all, who knows better than 
 any of you, how earnestly I have desired the peace 
 and the holiness of his church; how truly I have 
 loved the people of this place; and how warmly I 
 have hoped to be the means, in his hand, of 
 bringing many among you to glory. But I am at 
 this moment but too painfully sensible, that in many 
 things, yea in all, my performance has fallen short 
 of my principles; that neither privately nor public- 
 ly have I taught you with so much diligence as 
 now seems necessary in my eyes: nor has my ex- 
 ample set forth the doctrines in which I have, how- 
 ever imperfectly, instructed you; yet, if my zeal 
 has failed in steadiness, it never has been wanting 
 in sincerity. I have expressed no conviction which 
 I have not deeply felt; have preached no doctrine 
 c 
 
xxvi MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. j 
 
 which I have not steadfastly believed: however , 
 inconsistent my life, its leading object has been / 
 your welfare — and I have hoped, and sorrowed, f 
 and studied, and prayed for your instruction, and ^ 
 that you might be saved. For my labours, such | 
 as they were, I have been indeed most richly re- | 
 warded, in the uniform affection and respect which |. 
 I have received from my parishioners; in their re- 
 gular and increasing attendance in this holy place, 
 and at the table of the Lord; in the welcome 
 which I have never failed to meet in the houses 
 both of rich and poor; in the regret (beyond my 
 deserts, and beyond my fullest expectations) with 
 which my announced departure has been received 
 by you; in your expfessed and repeated wishes for 
 my welfare and my return; in the munificent to- 
 ken of your regard, with which I have been this 
 morning honoured;* in your numerous attendance 
 on the present occasion, and in those marks of 
 emotion which I witness around me, and in which 
 I am myself well nigh constrained to join. For 
 
 * A piece of plate had been given to Mr. Heber by his 
 parishioners. 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxvii 
 
 all these accept such thanks as I can pay — accept 
 my best wishes — accept my affectionate regrets — 
 accept the continuance of the prayers which I have 
 hitherto offered up for you daily, and in which, 
 whatever and wherever my sphere of duty may 
 hereafter be, my congregation of Hodnet shall 
 (believe it!) never be forgotten.'* 
 
 His consecration to the office of bishop took 
 place in May, 1823. A few days previous to this 
 event, he wrote to a friend in the country: '' My 
 consecration is fixed for next Sunday; and, as the 
 time draws near, I feel its awfulness very strongly 
 — far more, I think, than the parting which is to 
 follow a fortnight after. I could wish to have the 
 prayers of my old congregation, but know not how 
 to express the wish in conformity with custom, or 
 without seeming to court notoriety." 
 
 Shortly after his consecration, a special meet- 
 ing of the ancient Society for Promoting Christian 
 Knowledge, which had for some years been en- 
 gaged in active benevolent operations in India, and 
 which comprises many of the most eminent mem- 
 bers of the Church of England, was called, for the 
 purpose of giving Bishop Heber a public dismissal 
 
xxvii.i MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 and farewell. There were present on this occa- 
 sion, the archbishop of Canterbury, several of the 
 Bishops, and a large and highly respectable at- 
 tendance of the fair, the wise, and the pious of the 
 realm. The Bishop of Bristol pronounced a 
 valedictory address to him in the name of that 
 venerable body, at once dignified, impressive, and 
 affectionate. From this address the following 
 passage is extracted, and while it does no more 
 than justice to the motives of Bishop Heber, it 
 will at the same time be gratifying to the reader. 
 
 " My Lord — The Society for promoting Chris- 
 tian Knowledge desire to offer to your Lordship 
 their sincere congratulations upon your elevation 
 to the Episcopal See of Calcutta. 
 
 '' They derive from your appointment to this 
 high office the certain assurance, that all the ad- 
 vantages which they have anticipated from the 
 formation of a Church Establishment in India, will 
 be realized; and that the various plans for the 
 diffusion of true religion among its inhabitants, 
 which have been so wisely laid and so auspiciously 
 commenced by your lamented predecessor, will, 
 under your superintendence and control, advance 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxix 
 
 with a steady and uninterrupted progress. They 
 ground this assurance upon the rare union of intel- 
 lectual and moral qualities which combine to form 
 your character. They ground it upon the steadfast- 
 ness of purpose, with which, from the period of your 
 admission into the ministry, you have exclusively 
 dedicated your time and talents to the peculiar 
 studies of your sacred profession ; abandoning that 
 human learning in which you had already shown 
 that you were capable of attaining the highest ex- 
 cellence, and renouncing the certain prospect of 
 literary fame. But, above all, they ground this 
 assurance upon the signal proof of self-devotion, 
 which you have given by your acceptance of the 
 episcopal office. With respect to any other indi- 
 vidual, who had been placed at the head of the 
 Church Establishment in India, a suspicion might 
 have been entertained that some worldly de- 
 sire, some feeling of ambition, mingled itself with 
 the motives by which he was actuated; but, in 
 your case, such a suspicion would be destitute even 
 of the semblance of truth : every enjoyment which 
 a well regulated mind can derive from the posses- 
 c2 
 
XXX MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 sion of wealth, was placed within your reach : 
 every avenue to professional distinction and dignity, 
 if these had been the objects of your solicitude, 
 lay open before you. What then was the motive 
 which could incline you to quit your native land? — 
 to exchange the delights of home for a tedious 
 voyage to distant regions? — to separate yourself 
 from the friends with whom you had conversed 
 from your earliest years? What, but an ardent 
 wish to become the instrument of good to others — 
 a holy zeal in your Master's service — a firm per- 
 suasion, that it was your bounden duty to submit 
 yourself unreservedly to his disposal; to shrink 
 from no labour which he might impose; to count 
 no sacrifice hard which he might -require ?" 
 
 In his reply the Bishop expressed " the settled 
 purpose of his soul," to devote his best talents" to 
 the great cause in which all their hearts were en- 
 gaged, and for which it was not their duty only 
 but their illustrious privilege to labour," and that 
 he looked forward with pleasure to " the time when 
 he should be enabled to preach to the natives of 
 India in their own language." About the same 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxxi 
 
 time the University of Oxford conferred on him 
 the Degree of Doctor in Divinity, by diploma. 
 
 On the sixteenth of June, he embarked for Cal- 
 cutta; accompanied to the ship by a lai-ge number 
 of his personal friends, who, as he modestly re- 
 marks in his Journal, were willing to let him see as 
 much of them as possible before his departure. 
 One of his first thoughts after the ship had sailed, 
 was to propose daily evening prayers, and he was 
 gratified at the readiness with which tlie captain 
 assented to the proposal. He accordingly offici- 
 ated as chaplain to the ship, reading prayers in the 
 cuddy daily during the voyage. He read prayers 
 and preached regularly once on each Sunday; 
 and on one occasion, having on the previous 
 Sunday discoursed to the passengers and crew, in 
 the way of preparation, he administered the Lord's 
 Supper, and was highly pleased; having been told 
 to expect only one or two, that he had twenty-six or 
 twenty-seve nparticipants; and his gratification was 
 much increased when he observed in the course of 
 the evening of the same day, that " all the young 
 men who had participated, had religious bookvS in 
 
xxxii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 their hands, and that they appeared, indeed, much 
 impressed." 
 
 The following incidents are extracted from his 
 journal of the voyage as tending to show the cha- 
 racter of his feelings at this interesting crisis. A 
 few days after they had left land, a vessel passed 
 the ship homeward bound. On this event he re- 
 marks, " my wife's eyes swam with tears as this 
 vessel passed us, and there were one or two of 
 the young men who looked wishfully after her. For 
 my own part, I am well convinced all my firmness 
 would go, if I allowed myself to look back, even 
 for a moment. Yet, as I did not leave home and 
 its blessings without counting the cost, I do not, 
 and I trust in God, that I shall not, regret the 
 choice I have made. But knowing how much 
 others have given up for my sake, should make 
 me more studious to make the loss less to them; 
 and also, and above all, so to discharge my duty, 
 as that they may never think that these sacrifices 
 have been made in vain." Again; about a month 
 after his departure, he writes — " How little did I 
 dream at this time last year, that I should ever be 
 in my present situation! How strange it now 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxxiii 
 
 seems to me to recollect the interest which I used 
 to take in all which related to southern seas and 
 distant regions, to India and its oceans, to Austra- 
 lasia and Polynesia! I used to fancy I should like 
 to visit them, but that I ever should, or could do 
 so, never occurred to me. Now, that I shall see 
 many of these countries, if life is spared to me, is 
 not improbable. God grant that my conduct in 
 the scenes to which he has appointed me may be 
 such as to conduce to his glory, and to my own 
 salvation through his Son." Such was the spirit 
 in which this holy man denied himself, took up his 
 cross, and followed Christ. 
 
 He arrived at Calcutta early in October, 1823, 
 and immediately entered upon the duties of his of- 
 fice. That he did so with satisfaction to himself 
 is proved by a letter to Mr. Wynn, his friend and 
 connexion, who had anxiously pressed him to ac- 
 cept the office, written soon after his arrival. He 
 says, '' you will judge from my description that I 
 have abundant reason to be satisfied with my pre- 
 sent and future prospects; and that in the field 
 which seems opened to me for extensive useful- 
 ness and active employment, I iiave more and 
 
xxxiv MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 more reason to be obliged to the friend who has 
 placed me here." 
 
 In the following spring (May 1824) he collected 
 around him the Episcopal clergy of the presidency 
 of Calcutta, and held a visitation. The number 
 was but small, but he experienced much pleasure 
 in bringing them together for mutual acquaint- 
 ance, and in particular that he might himself be 
 enabled to acquire a knowledge of their charac- 
 ters and views. At this time he had the pleasure 
 of ordaining the first native convert who was ad- 
 mitted to the ministry of the English Church, " in 
 the person of Christian David, a black catechist 
 of Ceylon, and a pupil of the celebrated Schwartz." 
 On this occasion he delivered to the clergy an elo- 
 quent charge, in which he expatiated at large upon 
 the qualities, principles, and habits, which to him 
 appeared to be necessary to the usefulness of 
 those who should undertake the labours of an In- 
 dian missionary. Dehghting, through the whole 
 of the time he passed in India, to be considered 
 simply as its chief missionary, it may easily be be- 
 lieved that he dwelt on those topics con amore» In 
 the following passage of that charge, he pours 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxxv 
 
 forth his soul in a strain of awful and indignant 
 rebuke against the Abbe Dubois, and other oppo- 
 sers of Christian missions, which is scarcely to be 
 paralleled in our language. 
 
 " Nor can it be a matter of reasonable surprise 
 to any of us, that the exertions (missionary) of 
 this kind, which the last fifteen years have wit- 
 nessed, should have excited a mingled feeling of 
 surprise and displeasure in the minds, not only of 
 those who are strangers to the powerful and pecu- 
 liar emotions which send forth the Missionary to 
 his toil, but of those who, though themselves not 
 idle, could not endure that God should employ 
 other instruments besides; and were ready to speak 
 evil of the work itself, rather than that others who 
 followed not with them should cast out devils in 
 the name of their common Master. To the for- 
 mer of these classes may be referred the louder 
 opposition, the clamours, the expostulation, the 
 alarm, the menace and ridicule which, some few 
 years ago, were systematically and simultaneously 
 levelled at whatever was accomplished or attempt- 
 ed for the illumination of our Indian fellow-sub- 
 jects. We can well remember, most of us, what 
 
xxxvl MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 revolutions and wars were predicted to arise from 
 the most peaceable preaching and argument; what 
 taunts and mockery were directed against scho- 
 lars who had opened to us the gates of the least 
 accessible oriental dialects; what opprobrious epi- 
 thets were lavished on men of whom the world 
 was not worthy. We have heard the threats of 
 the mighty; we have heard the hisses of the fool; 
 we have witnessed the terrors of the worldly wise, 
 and the unkind suspicions of those from whom the 
 Missionary had most reason to expect encourage- 
 ment. Those days are, for the present, gone by. 
 Through the Christian prudence, the Christian 
 meekness, the Christian perseverance, and indo- 
 mitable faith of the friends of our good cause, and 
 through the protection, above all, and the bljssing 
 of the Almighty, they are gone by ! The angel of 
 the Lord has, for a time, shut the mouths of these 
 fiercer lions, and it is the false brother now, the 
 pretended fellow-soldier in Christ, who has lift up 
 his heel against the propagation of the Christian 
 gospel. 
 
 <' But thus it is that the power of antichrist 
 hath worked hitherto and doth work. Like those 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxxvii 
 
 spectre forms which the madness of Orestes saw 
 in classical mythology, the spirit of religious party 
 sweeps before us in the garb and with the attri- 
 butes of pure and evangelical religion. The cross 
 is on her shoulders, the chalice is in her hand, and 
 she is anxiously busied, after her manner, in the ser- 
 vice of Him by whose holy name she is also called. 
 But outstrip her in the race, but press her a Httle 
 too closely, and she turns round on us with all the 
 hideous features of envy and of rage. Her hal- 
 lowed taper blazes into a sulphurous torch, her 
 hairs bristle into serpents, her face is as the face 
 of them that go down to the pit, and her words 
 are words of blasphemy! 
 
 " What other spirit could have induced a Chris- 
 tian minister, after himself, as he tells us, long la- 
 bouring to convert the heathen, to assert that one 
 hundred millions of human beings — a great, a civi- 
 lized, an understanding, and most ancient people, 
 are collectively and individually under the sentence 
 of reprobation from God, and under a moral in- 
 capacity of receiving that gospel which the God 
 who gave it hath appointed to be made known to 
 all? 
 
 D 
 
xxxviii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 " What other spirit could have prompted a 
 member of that church which professes to hold 
 out the greatest comfort to sinners, to assert of a 
 nation with whom, whatever are their faults, I, for 
 one, should think it impossible to live long with- 
 out loving them, that they are not only enslaved 
 to a cruel and degrading superstition, but that the 
 principal persons among them are sold to all man- 
 ner of wickedness and cruelty; without mercy to 
 the poor; without natural affection for each other; 
 and this with no view to quicken the zeal of Chris- 
 tians, to release them from their miserable condi- 
 tion, but that Christians may leave them in that 
 condition still, to the end that they may perish 
 everlastingly ? 
 
 " What other spirit, finally, could have led a 
 Christian missionary, (with a remarkable disre- 
 gard of truth, the proofs of which are in my 
 hands,) to disparage the success of the different 
 Protestant missions ; to detract from the num- 
 bers, and vihfy the good name of that ancient Sy- 
 rian church, whose flame, like the more sacred 
 fire of Horeb, sheds its lonely and awful bright- 
 ness over the woods and mountains of Malabar, 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xxxix 
 
 and to assure us, (hear, Oh Israel !) in the same 
 treatise, and almost in the same page, that the 
 Christians of India are the most despised and 
 wretched of its inhabitants ; that whoever takes 
 up the cross, takes up the hatred of his own 
 people, the contempt of Europeans, loss of goods, 
 loss of employment, destitution, and often beg- 
 gary ; and yet that it is interest alone^ and a love 
 of this world, which has induced, in any Hindu, 
 even a temporary profession of the gospel ? 
 
 " And this is the professed apologist of the 
 people of India ! My brethren, I have known the 
 sharpness of censure, and I am not altogether with- 
 out experience in the suffering of undeserved and 
 injurious imputations. And, let the righteous 
 smite me friendly, I shall receive it (I trust in 
 God) with gratitude. Let my enemy write a 
 book, so he be my open enemy, I trust (through 
 the same Divine aid) to bear it or to answer it. 
 But whatever reproofs I may deserve ; to what- 
 ever calumnies I may be subjected ; may the 
 mercy of Heaven defend me from having a false 
 friend for my vindicator I" 
 
 Soon after this he commenced his first visitation, 
 
xl MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 accompanied by his friend and chaplain, the Rev. 
 Martin Stowe, who had followed him from England. 
 As it was late in the season before he could leave 
 his family, which at first he intended should also 
 accompany him, he was obliged to travel by water 
 in preference to the then hazardous journey by land. 
 He accordingly left Calcutta in a pinnace for Upper 
 India, and ascended the Ganges as high as Alla- 
 habad, upwards of six hundred miles from Calcut- 
 ta ; stopping at all the principal places, and particu- 
 larly wherever any official duty awaited him, or a 
 congregation of Christians could be collected, how- 
 ever small ; and though obliged to preach, as was 
 often the case, within the contracted rooms of a 
 temporary Indian dwelHng house. At Dacca, he 
 was called to the painful trial, for such his journal 
 proves it to have been, of parting with his friend 
 Stowe ; who, from imprudent exposure, brought 
 on himself a disease of the climate, which in a few 
 days destroyed his life. Bishop Heber, in giving 
 an account, which is pathetically descriptive of his 
 loss, to Mrs. Heber, mentions incidentally, what he 
 had not otherwise alluded to, that from the very 
 beginning of the journey they had prayed and read 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xli 
 
 together daily, and that, on the last Sunday which he 
 saw, they had received the sacrament together ; and 
 adds, " I trust I shall never forget the deep contrition 
 and humility, the earnest prayer, or the earnest 
 faith in the mercies of Christ, with which he 
 commended himself to God." And his pious 
 habit of drawing instruction from every event, 
 is finely illustrated in the following passage 
 of the same letter. *' One lesson has been very 
 deeply imprinted on my heart by these few days. 
 If this man's innocent and useful life (for I have no 
 doubt that the greater part of his life has been both 
 innocent and useful) offered so many painful re- 
 collections, and called forth such deep contrition, 
 when in the hour of death he came to examine 
 every instance of omission or transgression, how 
 careful must we be to improve every hour, and 
 every opportunity of grace, and so to remember 
 God while we live, that we may not be afraid to 
 think on him when dying ! And, above all, how 
 blessed and necessary is the blood of Christ to us 
 all, which was poor Stowe's only and effectual 
 comfort !" Any man might be proud of such an 
 
 eulogy as he gave to the memory of his friend, 
 D 2 
 
xlii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 I 
 which, indeed, he dwells upon in successive letters 
 
 to Mrs. Heber, as if unable to abandon the subject. 
 This lingering over the recollection of a deserving 
 object evinces the strength of his attachment, and j 
 the more powerfully because alluded to incident- 
 ally, and in a way which he could not have sup- , 
 posed would meet any other eyes than those for 
 
 whose special perusal the letters were intended.* \ 
 
 i 
 
 In the same manner did he show the strength of I 
 
 his domestic feehngs, when, a few days before the | 
 
 decease of Stowe, after indulging himself in a de- | 
 
 scription of the beautiful scenery of the river in his j 
 
 journal, he suddenly, and, as if exultingly, remarks — j 
 
 " To day I had the delight of hearing again from » 
 
 my wife, and this is worth all the scenery in the J 
 
 world !" \ 
 
 It was understood between the Bishop and i 
 
 Mrs. Heber, that they were to meet at Boglipoor, | 
 
 a place on the river some distance above Dacca, i 
 
 but the dangerous sickness of their children com- \ 
 
 * His letter to Miss Stowe on the death of her bro- 
 ther is a fine specimen of the manner in which a feeling j 
 and Christian heart, though wounded, could pour conso- ! 
 lation into a bosom more deeply wounded still. \ 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xliii 
 
 pelled Mrs. Heber to remain at Calcuta, and this 
 feeling and sensitive man was doomed to be disap- 
 pointed of the happy meeting he was anticipating, 
 and to be deprived of the company of his beloved 
 wife, in a journey which was yet to be extended 
 through a whole year ! In a letter to her at this period 
 he says, " your joining me is out of the question;" 
 and adds, *' I am strangely tempted to come to 
 you. But I fear it might be a compromise of my 
 duty and a distrust of God ! I feel most grateful 
 indeed to him for the preservation of our inva- 
 luable treasures." And having said this he went 
 on his way, in the path to w^hich duty called. 
 
 From Allahabad he travelled on horseback, 
 with, as is usual, and even necessary in that coun- 
 try, a considerable suite, to Almorah in the Hima- 
 laya mountains, and from thence across the coun- 
 try to Surat, where he embarked for Bombay; at 
 which place he arrived on the 19th of April ; and 
 in a few days he had the dehght of meeting his 
 family, who came thither by sea from Calcutta, after 
 an absence of more than ten months. On the route 
 from Allahabad to Surat, he visited several small 
 congregations of Christians; not a few of whom 
 
xliv MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 were native converts, concerning whom his journal 
 contains many interesting anecdotes. He visited 
 also each of the native courts which lay in his 
 route, but, as he asserts in one of his letters, never 
 went out of his way for objects of curiosity. He 
 found, nevertheless, sufficient employment to keep 
 his attention fully awake, for he says, " In every 
 ride which I have taken, and in every wilderness in 
 which my tent has been pitched, I have as yet found 
 enough to keep my mind from sinking into the 
 languor and apathy which have been regarded as 
 natural to a tropical climate." 
 
 From Bombay he went with his family to Cey- 
 lon, where he remained several weeks, visiting 
 the churches and performing the duties of his 
 episcopal office. He held a visitation of his clergy 
 at Colombo, and addressed them : among those 
 present were two natives, one of whom was Chris- 
 tian David, who had been ordained by Bishop 
 Heber himself, as before mentioned — the other 
 had been educated at Cambridge, in England, and 
 had married a respectable English woman ; both 
 these were chaplains on the colonial establishment. 
 While here he exerted himself much to procure 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xlv 
 
 the reestablish ment of the general system of 
 schools and religious instruction, which the Dutch 
 government had originated while in possession of 
 the island, and which he was anxious to restore. 
 Another object, which at the same time engrossed 
 much of his attention, was a plan for furnishing 
 facilities for literary and theological education to the 
 native catechists, or " proponents," so as gradu- 
 ally to fit them for admission to holy orders, and 
 make them the groundwork of a regular paro- 
 chial clergy. To this end he suggested to some 
 of the clergy, the translation of a few of the 
 most popular Enghsh works into the Cingalese and 
 Tamul languages. At Candy he was waited on by 
 a deputation of the Bhuddist priests, whom Mrs. 
 Heber describes as " dressed in long yellow robes, 
 with the right arm and shoulder bare, and their 
 heads and eye-brows closely shaven." On his 
 return to Calcutta, after an absence of about fif- 
 teen months, which had been consumed in this 
 visitation, he had the gratification of ordainmg an- 
 other native christian, Abdul Museeh, whom he 
 describes as a venerable old man, a native of 
 Lucknow, and an elegant Persian and Hindoos- 
 
xlvi MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 tanee scholar. " He greatly impressed us all," 
 says Bishop Heber, " with his deep apparent emo- 
 tion, his fine voice and elegant pronunciation, as 
 well as his majestic countenance and long white 
 beard." 
 
 An individual who was present at the meeting 
 of a missionary association at Calcutta, at which 
 Bishop Heber presided, at this time, remarked 
 of him, " It was truly encouraging to witness the 
 kind spirit of Bishop Heber ; there he was, some 
 considerable time before the business of the even- 
 ing began : in fact, the impression which his con- 
 duct made on my mind, was, that he felt as though 
 every individual who attended the meeting con- 
 ferred a personal favour on him." 
 
 In January, 1826, he again left Calcutta and 
 his family, " with a heavy heart," on a visit to the 
 churches in the Indian peninsula, and the now well 
 known Syrian churches, of the Malabar coast. 
 The following note in his journal, made while yet 
 in the river, is interesting in its relation to his 
 character, " We proceeded to the Sandheads, and 
 dismissed the pilot. I was glad to learn from 
 him, that a poor man who had once taken us up the 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xlvii 
 
 river, and got miserably drunk on that occasion, 
 had been greatly impressed by some good advice 
 I had given him, and had since remained a water 
 drinker. I wish my good counsels were always 
 equally successful !" 
 
 During his stay at Madras he was gratified by 
 the attention shown him by the Armenians in that 
 city, and particularly with the presence, on one 
 occasion, when he held a Confirmation, of their 
 Archbishop Athanasius and two other dignified 
 ecclesiastics, in his congregation. It is very evi- 
 dent from his journals, that a fi-iendly and even 
 brotherly intercourse with the ancient churches of 
 the East lay very near his heart, and that he avail- 
 ed himself of every proper occasion to cultivate it. 
 At one of his visitations, at Calcutta, he invited se- 
 veral of the principal Armenian ecclesiastics to 
 meet his clergy at dinner at his own house ; and 
 he certainly excited in many of the members of 
 that church a very high degree of respect for his 
 person and character. 
 
 While at Madras he visited the Prince Azeem 
 Khan, uncle and guardian to the Nawab of the 
 Carnatic, accompanied by his clergy in their robes. 
 
xlviii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 They were received with as much state as this 
 Httle court could muster ; the prince being sur- 
 rounded with a crowd of " Ullemah" or learned 
 men. While the Bishop was conversing with the 
 prince, some of these learned men expressed to 
 Mr. Robinson, the Bishop's chaplain, their aston- 
 ishment that the Bishop was without a beard, ob- 
 serving, (the Bishop says, with much truth,) that 
 learned men lost much dignity and authority there 
 by the effeminate custom of shaving. They also 
 asked if the Bishop was the head of all the Eng- 
 lish church ; and being told that he was the head 
 in India, but that there was in England another cler- , 
 gyman superior to him, the question was repeated, 
 '' And does he not wear a beard ?" 
 
 The time he spent in Madras was about a fort- 
 night, and in this space he preached eleven times, 
 besides presiding at a large society meeting, giving 
 two large dinner parties, (for he was habitually 
 given to hospitality,) and receiving and paying '' vi- 
 sits innumerable." Circumstances which sufficient- 
 ly show his love of action, and his disposition to 
 fill up every moment of his time, with the duties ? 
 belonging to his station. ; 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. xlix 
 
 On leaving Madras he passed the spot where, 
 tradition says, the apostle St. Thomas was mar- 
 tyred. Bishop Heber thought this tradition well 
 founded, and noted in his journal that he left the 
 spot behind with regret, and should visit it, if he 
 returned to Madras, with a reverent, though, he 
 hoped, not a superstitious interest and curiosity. 
 He reached Tanjore on the 25th of March, and on 
 the 26th (Easter Sunday) preached an eloquent 
 and impressive sermon on the resurrection, in the 
 church, which, at the request of the native mem- 
 bers of the congregation, he promised to have 
 translated into the Tamul language and printed. 
 In concluding the sermon, he in the most feeling 
 manner impressed the duty of brotherly love upon 
 all present, without regard to rank or colour. 
 Divine service was performed the same evening in 
 the Tamul language, when, to the agreeable surprise 
 of all present, he pronounced the Apostohc bene- 
 diction in that language. On Monday he held a 
 confirmation. In the evening Divine service was 
 held in the chapel in the mission garden. At the 
 conclusion, he addressed the missionaries present 
 in an affectionate and animated manner ; observing 
 
1 MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 to them, that it was probably the last time that all 
 present could expect to meet in this world ; and 
 exhorted them to diligence and perseverance by 
 the example of Schwartz, near whose remains he 
 was then standing. On the 28th, attended by his 
 chaplain, and several missionaries of the district, 
 he paid a visit of ceremony to the Rajah of Tan- 
 jore. On the 29th and 30th he visited and inspected 
 the mission school and premises. On the 31st he 
 departed for Trichonopoly. Of the feelings which 
 governed him during this brief visit, a glowing but 
 evidently not exaggerated description, has been 
 given by the chaplain who accompanied him, Mr. 
 Robinson. " The missions at Tanjore and this 
 place," (Madras,) says Mr. Robinson, " awaken- 
 ed, in a most powerful degree, and beyond any 
 thing he had previously seen, the affections of his 
 heart ; and to devise and arrange a plan for their 
 revival and more extended prosperity, was the 
 object which occupied him for many days ; and to 
 the last hour of his hfe, his anxious thoughts, his 
 earnest prayers, and the concentrated energies of 
 his mind. Again and again did he repeat to me, 
 that all which he had witnessed in the native con- 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. li 
 
 gregations of these missions, their numbers, their 
 general order, their devout attendance on the ser- 
 vices of the church, exceeded every expectation 
 he had formed ; and that in their support and re- 
 vival he saw the fairest hope of extending the 
 Church of Christ. Never shall I forget the warm 
 Expressions of his delight, when on Easter-day he 
 gathered them around him as his children, as one 
 family with ourselves, administered to them the body 
 and blood of our common Saviour, and blest them in 
 their native tongue : and when in the evening of 
 that day, he had seen before him no less than 
 Thirteen hundred* natives of those districts 
 rescued from idolatry and superstition, and joining 
 as with one heart and voice in the prayers and 
 
 * Bishop Heber, in one of his letters, mentions the same 
 number as being present on this occasion, and adds, 
 " This however is only in the city of Tanjore. There 
 are scattered congregations, to the number of many 
 thousand Protestant Christians, in all the neighbouring 
 cities and villages ; and the wicker-bound graves, each 
 distinguished by a little cross of cane, of the poor people 
 by the road side, are enough to tell even the most careless 
 traveller that the country is, in a great measure, Chris- 
 tian." 
 
lii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 praises of our church,— I can never forget his ex- 
 clamation, that he would gladly 'purchase that day 
 with years of life .'" 
 
 Bishop Heber arrived at Trichonopoly on the 
 1st of April; on the following day (Sunday), he 
 preached to a crowded audience, and in the even- 
 ing confirmed forty young persons, and the next 
 morning at 6 o'clock he repeated this rite for the 
 benefit of some native Christians. He returned 
 home to breakfast; but, before sitting down, went 
 into a cold bath, as he had done the two preceding 
 days. His attendant, thinking that he staid more 
 than the usual time, entered the apartment, and 
 found his body at the bottom of the water, with 
 the face downwards, and lifeless. The usual res- 
 toratives were immediately but ineffectually tried. 
 The spirit had returned to God who gave it. On 
 examination, it was discovered that a vessel had 
 burst upon the brain, in consequence, as the medi- 
 cal attendants agreed, of the sudden plunge into 
 the cold water, while he was warm and exhausted. 
 His mortal remains were deposited on the north 
 side of the altar of St. John's church, Trichonopoly. 
 
 The melancholy intelligence of this overwhelm- 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. liii 
 
 ing calamity was communicated, in the most cau- 
 tious manner, to his amiable and accomphshed but 
 unfortunate widow, by Lord Combermere, her re- 
 lative. Bishop Heber left two children only, both 
 of whom were daughters. He died in the forty- 
 third year'of his age. 
 
 Though his death is thus to be imputed to an ap- 
 parent accident, yet there was reason to believe that 
 his constitution, like that of his predecessor, gradu- 
 ally yielding to the effects of a tropical climate, 
 combined with active habits of exertion formed 
 in a more temperate clime, and leading him to fre- 
 quent, and somewhat too heedless an exposure of 
 his person, even at times and in circumstances in 
 which he is obliged to admit in his journals, that it 
 was but a matter of ordinary prudence to leave 
 his family behind, rather than to expose them. 
 When he first ascended the Ganges, and before 
 he had reached the termination of his voyage, 
 Abdullah, a native convert, and faithful servant, 
 whom he had first met in England, and who had 
 accompanied him to India, on one occasion cau- 
 tioned him tenderly against the exposure to which 
 his habits of exertion constantly led him, conclud- 
 
liv MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 ing with the remark, " This has caused your 
 hair to turn so gray since your arrival in India ;" 
 a period less than a year. In Oude, when on his 
 way to the Himalaya mountains, he was taken ill 
 on the road, with the country fever, brought on 
 him, doubtless, by exposure to rain, and various 
 changes of the atmosphere, which he had just be- 
 fore been compelled to endure on horseback. 
 He was at this time without any companions but 
 natives, and probably two days' ride from any phy- 
 sician. It pleased Providence to bless the reme- 
 dies which he used, as he admits, in utter ignorance; 
 and he was cheered during the three or four days 
 in which he lay, almost hopeless, in his palanquin, at | 
 the road side, by the affectionate attentions, and kind 
 consideration of his native servants. To such an 
 extent did they carry this last particular, that, if 
 any noise was made, even accidentally, within his 
 hearing, several voices would softly urge "silence!" 
 upon the involuntary offender. At this time he 
 wrote to his mother and sister under the strong 
 impression of impending death. His natural 
 buoyancy of mind, and the ardour of his spirit, 
 combined with the novel character of the circum- 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. Iv 
 
 stances in which he was placed, were probably the 
 causes which made him thus thoughtless of him- 
 self. He knew, moreover, what extensive hopes 
 of the regeneration of India had been made to rest 
 upon him; — he knew that he was looked to as a 
 powerful instrument in the hand of God to this 
 end ; that from his talents, his disposition, his per- 
 sonal habits, his principles, and above all his 
 almost enthusiastic devotion, likening him in all 
 these respects to the very chiefest of the- apostles, 
 much more than he could reasonably expect to ac- 
 complish, was anticipated. He had set before 
 him, and never allowed to be absent from his 
 mind, the maxim of his Divine Master, — I must 
 work tJie works of him that sent me while it is day ; 
 the night cometh when no man can work. There 
 was one, however, who watched with an anxious 
 eye over his welfare, from whom it could not be 
 concealed that, before the attack which proved fatal 
 to him, decay had commenced its work, and that 
 his personal appearance had undergone no trifling 
 change. Indeed, it would seem to be but a waste 
 of human life and human talent, to place any com- 
 petent person, of sufficient age, whose habits have 
 
Ivi MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 been formed in Europe, in the oversight of such 
 a diocese as British India, with Polynesia and 
 Australasia, forms. And yet this was Bishop He- 
 ber's lot.* 
 
 * Of the extent and burthensome character of the 
 business details of his office he gave the following account 
 in a letter to his friend and successor at Hodnet, the Rev. 
 J. J. Blunt. 
 
 " I do not think, that, in the regular and ordinary 
 functions of my diocese, there is more, or even so much 
 to be done, as in any of the more extensive bishoprics of 
 England ; the small number of the clergy must prevent 
 this being the case. But on the other hand, every thing 
 which is done must be done by myself, both in its spirit 
 and its details ; and partly owing to the manner in which 
 we are scattered, and partly to the general habit of the 
 country, all must be done in writing. Questions, which 
 in England would not occupy more than five minutes 
 conversation, may here sometimes call for a letter of six 
 or eight pages ; and as nothing, or almost nothing, which 
 concerns the interests or duties of the clergy, can be set- 
 tled without a reference to Government, I have, in fact, 
 at least two sets of letters to write and receive, in every 
 important matter which comes before me. As visiter of 
 Bishop's College, I receive almost every week six or 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. Ivii 
 
 Of his death it has been beautifully said, that 
 " His sun was in its meridian power; and its warmth 
 
 seven sheets of close writing on the subject. I am call- 
 ed on to give an opinion on the architecture, expense, 
 and details of every church which is built, or proposed to 
 be built, in India ; every application for salary of either 
 clerk, sexton, schoolmaster, or bell-ringer, must pass 
 through my hands, and be recommended in a letter to 
 Government. I am literally the conductor of all the 
 missions in the three presidencies ; and what is most seri- 
 ous of all, I am obliged to act in almost every thing from 
 my own single judgment, and on my own single respon- 
 sibility, without any more experienced person to consult, 
 or any precedent to guide me. I have, besides, not 
 only the Indian clergy and the Indian government to 
 correspond with, but the religious societies at home, 
 whose agent I am, and to whom I must send occasional 
 letters, the composition of each of which occupies me 
 many days : while in the scarcity of clergy which is, and 
 must be felt here, I feel myself bound to preach, in some 
 one or other of the churches or stations, no less frequent- 
 ly than when I was in England. 
 
 " All this, when one is stationary at ' alcutta, may be 
 done, indeed, without difficulty : but my journeys throw 
 me sadly into arrears; and you may easily believe, 
 therefore, not only that I am obliged to let slip many op- 
 
Iviii MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 most genial when it was suddenly eclipsed, for- 
 
 ever. He fell as the standard bearer of the cross 'li^ 
 
 should ever wish to fall, by no lingering decay, but l 
 
 in the firmness and vigour of his age, and in the ^J 
 
 very act of combat and triumph. His Master l 
 
 came suddenly, and found him faithful in his \ 
 
 charge, and waiting for his appearing. His last |, 
 
 hour was spent in his Lord's service, and in minis- f; 
 
 tering to the humblest of his flock. He had i^\ 
 
 scarcely put off the sacred robes with which he i 
 
 served at the altar of his God on earth, when he d 
 
 was suddenly admitted to his sanctuary on high, |! 
 
 and clothed with the garments of immortality." i\ 
 
 Immediately on the intelligence of his death, '^j 
 
 public meetings were called at Calcutta, at Mad- |i 
 
 ras, and at Bombay, in which eulogies were pro- ji 
 
 portunities of writing to my friends at home, but that my 
 leisure for study amounts to little or nothing ; and that 
 even the native languages, in which it has been vxy ear- 
 nest desire to perfect myself, I am compelled to acquire 
 very slowly, an'l by conversation more than by reading. 
 With all this, however, in spite of the many disadvan- 
 tages of climate and banishment, I am bound to confess 
 tha tl like both my employments and my present country.'' 
 
MEMOIR OF BISHOP HEBER. lix 
 
 nounced upon his character, by those who had 
 known him long,* and who gave to his memory the 
 highest expressions of their praise. 
 
 It has been determined to erect monuments to 
 the memory of Bishop Heber at Calcutta, at 
 Madras, and in St. Paul's cathedral, London, and at 
 Oxford. Several scholarships have been found- 
 ed in Bishop's College, near Calcutta, which, 
 from the same motive, are to bear his name. The 
 monument at Madras has been already erected, 
 and bears the following inscription, composed by 
 Mr. Robinson, his chaplain. 
 
 * The chief justices of the three presidencies who 
 were present at these meetings, were by a singular coin- 
 cidence his contemporaries at college. 
 
INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT ERECTED 
 IN MEMORY OF BISHOP HEBER, AT MADRAS. 
 
 Composed by the Rev. Thomas Robinson, M. A. 
 
 M. S. 
 
 VIRI ADMODUM REVERENDI ET IN CHRISTO PATRIS 
 
 REGINALDI HEBER S. T. P. 
 
 PRIMO COLLEGII iENEI NASI IN ACADEMIA OXONIENSI ALUMNI 
 
 COLLEGII DEINDE OMNIUM ANIMARUM SOCII 
 
 PAROCHI^ HODNET IN AGRO SUO NATALI SALOPIENSI 
 
 RECTORIS 
 
 APUD SOCIETATEM HONORABILEM HOSPITII LINCOLNIENSFS 
 
 PR^DICATORIS 
 
 POSTREMO AUTEM EPISCOPI CALCUTTENSIS 
 
 QUI IN IPSO ADOLESCENTIiE FLORE 
 
 INGENII FAMA 
 
 HUMANITATIS CULTU 
 
 OMNIGEN^CIUE DOCTRINiE LAUDE 
 
 ORNATISSIMUS 
 
 EA OMNIA IN COMMUNEM ECCLESIjE FRUCTUM AFFERENS 
 
 SE SUAQUE DEO HUMILLIME CONSECRAVIT j 
 
 IN SANCTISSIMUM EPISCOPATUS ORDINEM j 
 
 BONIS OMNIBUS HORTANTIBUS ADSCRIPTUS i 
 
 ECCLESIjE APUD INDOS ANGLICANS INFANTIAM i 
 
 NON PRO VIRIBUS SED ULTRA VIRES ' 
 
 USQUE AD VITiE JACTURAM ] 
 
 ALUIT FOVIT SUSTENTAVIT 'j 
 
 ADMIRABILI INGENII CANDORE \ 
 
 SUAVISSIMA MORUM SIMPLICITATE I 
 
INSCRIPTION. Ixi 
 
 DIVINAQUE ANIMI BENEVOLENTIA 
 
 USQUE ADEO OMNES SIBI VINXERAT 
 
 UT MORTUUM 
 
 ECCLESIA UNIVERSA PATREM 
 
 ETIAM EXTERI PATRONUM CARISSIMUM 
 
 DESIDERARENT 
 
 NATUS DIE APRILIS XXI A. D. MDCCLXXXIII 
 
 SUBITA MORTE PR^REPTUS JUXTA URBEM TRICHINOPOLIM 
 
 MORTALES EXUVIAS DEPOSUIT APRILIS DIE III 
 
 ANNOSALUTIS MDCCCXXVI ^TATISSU^ XLIII EPISCOPATUS HI 
 
 MADRASENSES 
 
 NON SOLUM CHRISTIANI SED ET ETHNICI 
 
 PRINCIPES MAGNATES PAUPERES 
 
 AD HOC MARMOR EXSTRUENDUM 
 
 UNO CONSENSU ADFUERE. 
 
TRIBUTES 
 
 MEMORY OF BISHOP IIEBER. 
 
 If it be sad to speak of treasures gone, 
 Of sainted genius called too soon away, 
 
 Of light, from this world taken while it shone, 
 Yet kindling onward to the perfect day — 
 
 How shall our grief, if mournful these things be, 
 
 Flow forth, O guide and gifted friend ! for thee? 
 
 Hath not thy voice been here amongst us heard? 
 
 And that deep soul of gentleness and power. 
 Have we not felt its breath in every word. 
 
 Wont from thy lip, as Hermon's dew, to shower? 
 Yes ! in our hearts thy fervent thoughts have 
 
 burned — 
 Of heaven they were, and thither are returned. 
 
 How shall we mourn thee ? — With a lofty trust, 
 Our life's immortal birthright from above ! 
 
Ixiv TRIBUTES. 
 
 With a glad faith, whose eye, to track the just, 
 Through shades and mysteries Ufts a glance 
 of love. 
 And yet can weep 1 — for Nature so deplores 
 The friend that leaves us, though for happier shores. 
 
 And one high tone of triumph o'er thy bier, 
 One strain of solemn rapture be allowed I 
 
 Thou that, rejoicing on thy mid-career, 
 Not to decay, but unto death hast bow'd ! 
 
 In those bright regions of the rising sun. 
 
 Where Victory ne'er a crown like thine hath won. 
 
 Praise, for yet one more name, with power en- 
 dowed. 
 To cheer and guide us onward as we press, 
 Yet one more image on the heart bestow'd, 
 
 To dwell there — beautiful in holiness ! 
 Thine! Heber^ thine! whose memory from the 
 
 dead 
 Shines as the star, which to the Saviour led. 
 
 FELICIA HEMANS. 
 
TRIBUTES. Ixv 
 
 TO THE MEMORY -OF REGINALD HEBER, 
 BISHOP OF CALCUTTA. 
 
 By Amelia Opie. 
 
 How well I remember the day I first met thee I 
 'Twas in scenes long forsaken, in moments long 
 fled, 
 Then little thought I that a world would regret 
 thee ! 
 And Europe and Asia hoth mourn for thee dead. 
 
 Ah ! little I thought, in those gay social hours. 
 That round thy young head e'en the laurel 
 would twine, 
 Still less that a crown of the amaranth's flowers, 
 Enwreathed with the j^alm, would, O Heber! be 
 thine. 
 
 We met in the world, and the light that shone 
 round thee 
 
 Was the dangerous blaze of wit's meteor rav, 
 
 F 2 
 
Ixvi TRIBUTES. 
 
 But e'en then, though unseen, mercy's angel had 
 found thee, 
 And the bright star of Bethlehem was marking i 
 thy way. 
 
 To the banks of the Isis, a far fitter dwelling, 
 
 Thy footsteps returned, and thy hand to its lyre, | 
 
 While thy heart with the bard's bright ambition I 
 
 was swelhng, j 
 
 But holy the theme was that waken'd its fire. \ 
 
 I 
 
 Again in the world and with worldlings I met thee, ; 
 And then thou wert welcomed as Palestine's 
 bard, 
 They had scorned at the task which the Saviour 
 had set thee. 
 The Christian's rough labour, the martyr's re- \ 
 ward. j 
 
 Yet,* the one was my calling, thy portion the 
 
 other ; | 
 
 The far shores of India received thee, and blest, j 
 
 * At first he refused tlie appointment, but, " after de- j 
 vout prayer" he accepted it, thinkinor it was his duty to 
 do so. 
 
TRIBUTES. Ixvii 
 
 And its lowliest of teachers dared greet as a brother, 
 And love thee, though clad in the prelate's 
 proud vest. 
 
 In the meek humble Christian forgot was thy 
 greatness. 
 The follower they saw of a crucified Lord, 
 For thy zeal showed his spirit, tljy accents his 
 sweetness, 
 And the heart of the heathen drank deep of the 
 word. 
 
 Bright as short was thy course, when " a coal 
 from the altar" 
 Had touch'd thy blest lip, and the voice bade 
 thee " Go," 
 Thy haste could not pause, and thy step could 
 not falter, 
 Till o'er India's wide seas had advanced thy 
 swift prow. 
 
 In vain her fierce sun, with its cloudless efiulgence. 
 Seemed arrows of death to shoot forth with 
 each ray ; 
 
Ixviii TRIBUTES. }^ 
 
 k 
 Thy faith gave to fear and fatigue no indulgence, I 
 
 But on to the goal urged thy perilous way ! j| 
 
 And, martyr of zeal ! thou e'en here wert reward- f 
 
 ed, i 
 
 When the dark sons of India came round thee J 
 
 in throngs, j 
 
 While thee as a father they fondly regarded, | 
 
 • Who taught them and blessed in their own na- 'I 
 
 tive tongues. j 
 
 When thou heard'st them, their faith's awful errors \ 
 
 disclaiming, ^ 
 
 Profess the pure creed which the Saviour had ! 
 
 given, ,j 
 
 Those moments thy mission's blest triumph pro- ] 
 
 claiming, | 
 
 Gave joy which to thee seemed. a foretaste of j 
 
 Heaven.* i 
 
 i 
 
 * When they gathered round him on Easter-day even- * 
 ing to the number of thirteen hundred, and he blessed ., 
 them in their native tongue, he exclaimed, " that he 
 would gladly purchase that day with years of his life." 
 
 Robinson's Sermon. 
 
TRIBUTES. Ixix 
 
 Still " On," cried the voice, and surrounding 
 
 their altar, 
 
 Trichonopoly's sons hailed thy labours of love : 
 
 * Ah me ! with no fear did thine accents then falter ; 
 
 No secret forebodings thy conscious heart move? 
 
 Thou hadst ceased — having taught them what 
 rock to rely on, 
 And had doft the proud robes which to pre- 
 lates belong, 
 But the next robe for thee was the white robe of 
 Zion,^ 
 The next hymn thou heard'st was '* the sera- 
 phim's song." 
 
 Here hushed be my lay for a far sweeter verse — 
 Thy requiem I'll breathe in thy numbers alone, 
 
 For the bard's votive offering to hang on thy hearse, 
 Should be formed of no language less sweet 
 than thy own. 
 
 * He had scarcely put off his robes in which he offi- 
 ciated at the altar, when he was suddenly called away 
 " to be clothed with immortality." lb. 
 
Ixx TRIBUTES. 
 
 * " Thou art gone to tlie grave, but we will not 
 deplore thee, 
 Since God Avas thy refuge, thy ransom, thy 
 guide ; 
 He gave thee, He took thee, and he will restore 
 thee, 
 And death has no sting, since the Saviour has 
 died." 
 
 * Written by Bishop Heber on the death of a I'riend 
 See page 163. 
 
TRIBUTES. Ixxi 
 
 SONNET TO THE MEMORY OF BISHOP HEBER. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 How beautiful upon tlie mountains are the feet of Iiini that bringeth 
 good tidings, that publisheth peace ; that bringeth good tidings of good, 
 that publisheth salvation! Isaiah Hi. 7. 
 
 How bright and glorious are the sun's first gleams 
 Above yon blue horizon ! — Darkness flies 
 Before his presence. — Mountains, vallies, 
 trees, 
 
 Glow with resplendent beauty. — And the streams 
 
 Reflect the lustre of his orient beams. 
 
 So Hehcr shone— ^ for unto him was given 
 
 To spread the tidings of salvation round, 
 Whilst heathen nations caught the joyful 
 sound. 
 
 And learned to kneel before the shrine of Heaven; 
 
 That '' cross surmounted shrine," where Faith 
 and Prayer 
 Point to the crown of bliss, reserved there 
 
 For those whom Jesus loves — but his bright sun 
 
 Of glory set, ere yet its race was run. 
 
 And he that bliss has gained — that crown has 
 
The following dedication was prefixed to such of the 
 following poems as were published by the author in a 
 volume in 1812. 
 
 TO 
 
 RICHARD HEBER, ESQUIRE, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING 
 
 POEMS 
 
 ARE DEDICATED 
 
 AS A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE 
 
 TO THE 
 TALENT, TASTE, AND AFFECTION 
 WHICH 
 HE HAS UNIFORMLY EXERTED I 
 
 XN ENCOURAGING AND DIRECTING THE STUDIES } 
 
 OF HIS BROTHER. i 
 
PALESTINE: 
 
 A PRIZE POEM, 
 RECITED IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, 
 
 IN THE YEAR MDCCCIII. 
 
PALESTINE. 
 
 Reft of thy sons, amid thy foes forlorn, 
 Mourn, widow'd queen, forgotten Sion, mourn ! 
 Is this thy place, sad City, this thy throne. 
 Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone ? 
 While suns unblest their angry lustre fling. 
 And way-worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring ? — 
 Where now tliy pomp, which kings with envy 
 
 view'd ? 
 Where now thy might, which all those kings sub- 
 dued ? 
 No martial myriads muster in thy gate ; 
 No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait ; 
 No prophet bards, thy glittering courts among. 
 Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song : 
 
4 PALESTINE. 
 
 But lawless Force, and meagre Want is there, 
 And the quick-darting eye of restless Fear ; 
 While cold Oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid, 
 Folds his dank wing beneath the ivy shade. 
 
 Ye guardian saints ! ye warrior sons of heaven, 
 To whose high care Judaea's state was given ! 
 O wont of old your nightly watch to keep, 
 A host of gods, on Sion's towery steep ! 
 If e'er your secret footsteps linger still 
 By Siloa's fount, or Tabor's echoing hill ; 
 If e'er your song on Salem's glories dwell. 
 And mourn the captive land you lov'd so well ; 
 (For oft, 'tis said, in Kedron's palmy vale 
 Mysterious harpings swell the midnight gale, 
 And, blest as balmy dews that Hermon cheer, 
 Melt in soft cadence on the pilgrim's ear ;) 
 Forgive, blest spirits, if a theme so high 
 Mock the weak notes of mortal minstrelsy ! 
 Yet, might your aid this anxious breast inspire 
 With one faint spark of Milton's seraph fire. 
 Then should my Muse ascend with bolder flight, 
 And wave her eagle-plumes exulting in the light. 
 
 O happy once in heaven's pecuhar love, 
 Dehght of men below, and saints above I 
 
PALESTINE. 5 
 
 Though, Salem, now the spoiler's ruffian hand 
 Has loos'd his hell-hounds o'er thy wasted land ; 
 Though weak, and whelm'd beneath the storms 
 
 of fate, 
 Thy house is left unto thee desolate ; 
 Though thy proud stones in cumbrous ruin fall, 
 And seas of sand o'ertop thy mouldering wall ; 
 Yet shall the Muse to Fancy's ardent view 
 Each shadowy trace of faded pomp renew: 
 And as the Seer on Pisgah's topmost brow 
 With glistening eye beheld the plain below, 
 With prescient ardour drank tlie scented gale, 
 And bade the opening glades of Canaan hail ; 
 Her eagle eye shall scan the prospect wide, 
 From Carmel's clifls to Almotana\s tide ; 
 The flinty waste, the cedar-tufted hill, 
 The hquid health of smooth Ardeni's rill ; 
 The grot, where, by the watch-fire's evening 
 
 blaze. 
 The robber riots, or the hermit prays ; 
 Or, where the tempest rives the hoary stone. 
 The wintry top of giant Lebanon. 
 
 Fierce, hardy, proud, in conscious freedom bold, 
 Those stormy seats the warrior Druses hold ; 
 
6 PALESTINE. 
 
 From Norman blood their lofty line they trace, 
 Their lion courage proves their generous race. 
 They, only they, while all around them kneel 
 In sullen homage to the Thracian steel, 
 Teach their pale despot's waning moon to fear 
 The patriot terrors of the mountain spear. 
 
 Yes, valorous chiefs, while yet your sabres shine. 
 The native guard of feeble Palestine, 
 O, ever thus, by no vain boast dismay'd, 
 Defend the birthright of the cedar shade ! 
 What though no more for you th' obedient gale 
 Swells the white bosom of the Tyrian sail ; 
 Though now no more your glittering marts unfold 
 Sidonian dyes and Lusitanian gold ; 
 Though not for you the pale and sickly slave 
 Forgets the light in Ophir's wealthy cave ; 
 Yet yours the lot, in proud contentment blest. 
 Where cheerful labour leads to tranquil rest. 
 No robber rage the ripening harvest knows ; 
 And unrestrain'd the generous vintage flows : 
 Nor less your sons to manliest deeds aspire, 
 And Asia's mountains glow with Spartan fire. 
 
 So when, deep sinking in the rosy main, 
 The westenr sun forsakes the Syrian plain, 
 
FALESTliME. 7 
 
 His watery rays refracted lustre shed, 
 
 And pour their latest Hght on CarmeFs head. 
 
 Yet shines your praise, amid surrounding gloom, 
 As the lone lamp that trembles in the tomb : 
 For few the souls that spurn a tyrant's chain. 
 And small the bounds of freedom's scanty reign. 
 As the poor outcast on the cheerless wild, 
 Arabia's parent, clasp'd her fainting child. 
 And wander'd near the roof no more her home, 
 Forbid to linger, yet afraid to roam : 
 My sorrowing Fancy quits the happier height, 
 And southward throws her half-averted sight. 
 For sad the scenes Judcea's plains disclose, 
 A dreary waste of undistinguish'd woes : 
 See War untir'd his crimson pinions spread, 
 And foul Revenge, that tramples on the dead ! 
 Lo, where from far the guarded fountains shine. 
 Thy tents, Nebaioth, rise, and Kedar, thine ! 
 'Tis yours the boast to mark the stranger's way. 
 And spur your headlong chargers on the prey. 
 Or rouse your nightly numbers from afar, 
 And on the hamlet pour the waste of war ; 
 Nor spare the hoary head, nor bid your eye 
 Revere the sacred smile of iiifancv. 
 
8 PALESTINE. | 
 
 Such now the clans, whose fiery coursers feed j 
 Where waves on Kislion's bank the whispering -, 
 
 reed ; 1 
 
 And theirs the soil, where, curling to the skies, ,; 
 Smokes on Samaria's mount her scanty sacrifice, i 
 While Israel's sons, by scorpion curses driven, j 
 Outcasts of earth, and reprobate of heaven, \ 
 
 Through the wide world in friendless exile stray, ] 
 Remorse and shame sole comrades of their way, j 
 With dumb despair their country's wrongs behold, J 
 And, dead to glory, only burn for gold ! . 
 
 O Thou, their Guide, their Father, and their 
 
 Lord, 
 Lov'd for thy mercies, for thy power ador'd ! 
 If at thy name the waves forgot their force, 
 And refluent Jordan sought his trembling source ; 
 If at thy name like sheep the mountains fled, 
 And haughty Sirion bow'd his marble head ;— 
 To Israel's woes a pitying ear inchne, 
 And raise from earth thy long- neglected vine I 
 Ilcr rifled fruits behold the heathen bear. 
 And wild-wood boars her mangled clusters tear ! 
 Was it for this she stretch'd her peopled reign 
 From far Euphrates to the western main ? 
 
PALESTINE. 9 
 
 For this, o'er many a hill her boughs she threw, 
 And her wide arms hke goodly cedars grew ? 
 For this, proud Edom slept beneath her shade, 
 And o'er the Arabian deep her branches play'd ? 
 
 O feeble boast of transitory power ! 
 Vain, fruitless trust of Judah's happier hour ! 
 Not such their hope, when through the parted 
 
 main 
 The cloudy wonder led the warrior train : 
 Not such their hope, when through the fields of 
 
 night 
 The torch of heaven diifus'd its friendly light : 
 Not, when fierce Conquest urg'd the onward war, 
 And hurl'ti stern Canaan from his iron car : 
 Nor, when five monarchs led to Gibeon's fight, 
 In rude array, the harness'd Amorite : 
 Yes — in that hour, by mortal accents stay'd, 
 The lingering sun his fiery wheels delay 'd ; 
 The moon, obedient, trembled at the sound, 
 Curb'd her pale car, and check'd her mazy round ! 
 
 Let Sinai tell — for she beheld his might, 
 And God's own darkness veil'd her mystic height : 
 (He, cherub-borne, upon the whirlwind rode. 
 And the red mountain hke a furnace glow'd :) 
 
10 PALESTINE. 
 
 Let Sinai tell — but who shall dare recite 
 His praise, his power, — eternal, infinite ? — 
 Awe-struck I cease ; nor bid my strains aspire, 
 Or serve his altar with unhallow'd fire. 
 
 Such were the cares that watch'd o'er Israel's 
 fate, 
 And such the glories of their infant state. 
 — Triumphant race ! and did your power decay ? 
 Fail'd the bright promise of your early day ? 
 No : — by that sword, which, red with heathen gore, 
 A giant spoil, the striphng champion bore ; 
 By him, the chief to farthest India known. 
 The mighty master of the iv'ry throne ; 
 In heaven's own strength, high towerirfg o'er her 
 
 foes, 
 Victorious Salem's lion banner rose : 
 Before her footstool prostrate nations lay, 
 And vassal tyrants crouch'd beneath her sway. 
 — And he, the kingly sage, whose restless mind 
 Through nature's mazes wander'd unconfin'd ; 
 Who ev'ry bird, and beast, and insect knew. 
 And spake of every plant that quaffs the dew ; 
 To him were known — so Hagar's offspring tell — 
 The powerful sigil and the starry spell, 
 
PALESTINE. 1 1 
 
 The midnight call, hell's shadowy legions dread. 
 And sounds that burst the slumbers of the dead. 
 Hence all his might ; for who could these op- 
 pose ? 
 And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balbec rose. 
 Yet e'en the works of toiling Genii fall, 
 And vain was Estakhar's enchanted wall. 
 In frantic converse with the mournful wind. 
 There oft the houseless Santon rests reclin'd ; 
 Strange shapes he views, and drinks with won- 
 
 d'ring ears 
 The voices of the dead, and songs of other years. 
 
 Such, the faint echo of departed praise. 
 Still sound Arabia's legendary lays ; 
 And thus their fabling bards dehght to tell 
 How lovely were thy tents, O Israel ! 
 
 For thee his iv'ry load Behemoth bore. 
 And far Sofala teem'd with golden ore ; 
 Thine all the arts that wait on wealth's in- 
 crease, 
 Or bask and wanton in the beam of peace. 
 When Tyber slept beneath the cypress gloom, 
 And silence held the lonely woods of Rome : 
 
• J 
 
 t 
 
 12 PALESTINE. \ 
 
 Or ere to Greece the builder's skill was kiiovviu ; 
 
 Or the light chisel brush' d the Parian stone ; ' 
 
 Yet here fair Science nursM her infant fire, , - 
 
 Fann'd by the artist aid of friendly Tyre. : 
 
 Then tower'd the palace, then in awful state j 
 
 The Temple rear'd its everlasting gate. ; 
 
 No workman steel, no pond'rous axes rung ; I 
 
 Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung. ' 
 
 Majestic silence ! — then the harp awoke, ' 
 
 The cymbal clang'd, the deep-voic'd trumpet j 
 
 spoke ; ; 
 
 And Salem spread her suppliant arms abroad, \ 
 
 View'd the descending flame, and bless'd the J 
 
 present God! ! 
 
 Nor shrunk she then, when, raging deep and loud, i 
 
 Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud. 
 
 E'en they who, dragg'd to Shinar's fiery sand, I 
 
 Till'd with reluctant strength the stranger's land ; J 
 
 Who sadly told the slow-revolving years, ^ 
 
 And steep'd the captive's bitter bread with tears ; ; 
 
 Yet oft their hearts with kindling hopes would ; 
 
 burn, : 
 
 Their destin'd triumphs, and their glad return, ' 
 
PALESTINE. 13 
 
 And their sad lyres, which, silent and unstrung. 
 In mournful ranks on Babel's willows hung, 
 Would oft awake to chant their future fame, 
 And from the skies their ling'ring Saviour claim. 
 His promis'd aid could every fear control ; 
 This nerv'd the warrior's arm, this steel'd the 
 
 martyr's soul ! 
 Nor vain their hope: — Bright beaming through 
 
 the sky, 
 Burst in full blaze the Day-spring from on high ; 
 Earth's utmost isles exulted at the sight. 
 And crowding nations drank the orient hght. 
 Lo, star-led chiefs Assyrian odours bring, 
 And bending Magi seek their infant King ! 
 Mark'd ye, where, hov'ring o'er his radiant 
 
 head. 
 The dove's white wings celestial glory shed ? 
 Daughter of Sion ! virgin queen ! rejoice ! 
 Clap the glad hand, and Hft the exulting voice ! 
 He comes, — but not in regal splendour drest, 
 The haughty diadem, the Tyrian vest ; 
 Not arm'din flame, all glorious from afar. 
 Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war : 
 
14 PALESTINE. j 
 
 i 
 Messiah comes : let furious discord cease : j 
 
 Be peace on earth before the Prince of Peace ! i 
 
 Disease and anguish feel his blest control, j 
 
 And howling fiends release the tortur'd soul ; [ 
 
 The beams of gladness hell's dark caves illume, j 
 
 And Mercy broods above the distant gloom. | 
 
 Thou palsied earth, with noonday night over- 
 spread ! 
 Thou sick'ning sun, so dark, so deep, so red ! 
 Ye hov'ring ghosts, that throng the starless air. 
 Why shakes the earth ? why fades the light ? 
 
 declare ! 
 Are those his limbs, with ruthless scourges torn ? 
 His brows, all bleeding with the twisted thorn ? 
 His the pale form, the meek forgiving eye 
 Rais'd from the cross in patient agony ? r 
 
 — Be dark, thou sun — thou noonday night, arise, '! 
 And hide, oh hide, the dreadful sacrifice ! 
 
 Ye faithful few, by bold affection led. 
 Who round the Saviour's cross your sorrows shed. 
 Not for his sake your tearful vigils keep ; — 
 Weep for your country, for your children weep I 
 — Vengeance ! thy fiery wing their race pursu'd ; 
 Thy thirsty poniard blush'd with infant blood. 
 
PALESTINE. 15 
 
 Rous'd at thy call, and panting still for game, 
 The bird of war, the Latian eagle came. 
 Then Judah rag'd, by ruffian Discord led, 
 Drunk with the steamy carnage of the dead : 
 He saw his sons by dubious slaughter fall. 
 And war without, and death within the wall. 
 Wide-wasting Plague, gaunt Famine, mad Despair, 
 And dire Debate, and clamorous Strife was tliere : 
 Love, strong as Death, retain'd his might no more. 
 And the pale parent drank her children's gore. 
 Yet they, who wont to roam th' ensanguin'd plain, 
 And spurn with fell dehght their kindred slain ; 
 E'en they, when, high above the dusty fight, 
 Their burning Temple rose in lurid hght. 
 To their lov'd altars paid a parting groan. 
 And in their country's woes forgot their own. 
 
 As 'mid the cedar courts, and gates of gold, 
 The trampled ranks in miry carnage roll'd, 
 To save their Temple every hand essayM, 
 And with cold fingers grasp'd the feeble blade : 
 Through their torn veins reviving fury ran, 
 And life's last anger warm'd the dying man ! 
 
 But heavier far the fetter'd captive's doom ! 
 To glut with sighs the iron ear of Rome : 
 
16 PALESTINE. 
 
 To swell, slow-pacing by the car's tall side, 
 The stoic tyrant's philosophic pride ; 
 To flesh the hon's rav'nous jaws, or feel 
 The sportive fury of the fencer's steel ; 
 Or pant, deep plung'd beneath the sultry mine, 
 For the light gales of balmy Palestine. 
 
 Ah ! fruitful now no more, — an empty coast, 
 She mourn'd her sons enslav'd, her glories lost : 
 In her wide streets the lonely raven bred. 
 There bark'd the wolf, and dire hyaenas fed. 
 Yet midst her towery fanes, in ruin laid. 
 The pilgrim saint his murmuring vespers paid ; 
 'Twas his to climb the tufted rocks, and rove 
 The chequer'd twilight of the olive grove ; 
 'Twas his to bend beneath the sacred gloom, 
 And wear with many a kiss Messiah's tomb : 
 While forms celestial fiU'd his tranced eye, 
 The day-hght dreams of pensive piety. 
 O'er his still breast a tearful fervour stole. 
 And softer sorrows charm'd the mourner's soul. 
 
 Oh, lives there one, who mocks his artless zeal 
 Too proud to worship, and too wise to feel ? 
 Be his the soul with wintry Reason blest, 
 The dull, lethargic sov'reign of the breast ! 
 
PALESTINE. 17 
 
 Be his the hfe that creeps in dead repose. 
 No joy that sparkles, and no tear that flows ! 
 
 Far other they who rear'd yon pompous shrine, 
 And bade the rock with Parian marble shine. 
 Then hallow'd Peace renew'd her wealthy reign, 
 Then altars smok'd, and Sion smil'd again. 
 There sculptur'd gold and costly gems were seen, 
 And all the bounties of the British queen ; 
 There barb'rous kings their sandal'd nations led, 
 And steel-clad champions bow'd the crested head. 
 There, when her fiery race the desert pour'd, 
 And pale Byzantium fear'd Medina's sword, 
 When coward Asia shook in trembling wo. 
 And bent appalPd before the Bactrian bow ; 
 From the moist regions of the western star 
 The wand'ring hermit wak'd the storm of war. 
 Their limbs all iron, and their souls all flame, 
 A countless host, the red-cross warriors came : 
 E'en hoary priests the sacred combat wage, 
 And clothe in steel the palsied arm of age ; 
 Wliile beardless youths and tender maids assume 
 The weighty morion and the glancing plume. 
 In sportive pride the warrior damsels wield 
 The ponderous falchion, and the sun like shield, 
 B 2 
 
18 PALESTINE. 
 
 And start to see their armour's iron gleam 
 Dance with blue lustre in Tabaria's stream. 
 
 The bloodied banner floating o'er their van, 
 All madly bUthe the mingl'd myriads ran : 
 Impatient Death beheld his destin'd food, 
 And hov'ring vultures snuflTd the scent of blood. 
 
 Not such the numbers, nor the host so dread, 
 By northern Brenn or Scythian Timur led. 
 Nor such the heart-inspiring zeal that bore 
 United Greece to Phrygia's reedy shore ! 
 There Gaul's proud knights with boastful mien 
 
 advance. 
 From the long line, and shake the cornel lance ; 
 Here, link'd with Thrace, in close battalions stand 
 Ausonia's sons, a soft inglorious band ; 
 There the stern Norman joins the Austrian train, 
 And the dark tribes of late-reviving Spain ; 
 Here in black files, advancing firm and slow. 
 Victorious Albion twangs the deadly bow : — 
 Albion, — still prompt the captive's wrong to aid, 
 And wield in freedom's cause the freeman's gene- 
 rous blade I 
 
 Ye sainted spirits of the warrior dead, 
 Whose giant force Britannia's armies led ! 
 
PALESTINE. 19 
 
 Whose bickering falchions, foremost in the fight, 
 Still pour'd confusion on the Soldan's might ; 
 Lords of the biting axe and beamy spear, 
 Wide-conquering Edward, hon Richard, hear ! 
 At Albion's call your crested pride resume, 
 And burst the marble slumbers of the tomb ! 
 Your sons behold, in arm, in heart the same, 
 Still press the footsteps of parental fame, 
 To Salem still their generous aid supply. 
 And pluck the palm of Syrian chivalry ! 
 
 When he, from towery Malta's yielding isle. 
 And the green waters of reluctant Nile, 
 Th' apostate chief, — from Misraim's subject shore 
 To Acre's walls his trophied banners bore ; 
 When the pale desert mark'd his proud array. 
 And Desolation hop'd an ampler sway ; 
 What hero then triumphant Gaul dismay'd ? 
 What arm repell'd the victor renegade ? 
 Britannia's champion I — bath'd in hostile blood, 
 High on the breach the dauntless seaman stood : 
 Admiring Asia saw th' unequal fight, — 
 E'en the pale crescent bless'd the Christian's 
 might. 
 
20 PALESTINE. j 
 
 Oh day of death ! Oh thirst, beyond control, > 
 
 Of crimson conquest in th' invader's soul ! i 
 
 The slain, yet Warm, by social footsteps trod, i 
 O'er the red moat supplied a panting road ; 
 O'er the red moat our conquering thunders flew, \ 
 
 And loftier still the grisly rampire grew. ■ 
 
 While proudly glow'd above the rescued tower ■ 
 
 The wavy cross that mark'd Britannia's power. i 
 
 Yet still destruction sweeps the lonely plain. 
 
 And heroes lift the generous sword in vain. j 
 
 Still o'er her sky the clouds of anger roll, ^ 
 
 And God's revenge hangs heavy on her souL ] 
 
 Yet shall she rise ; — ^but not by war restor'd, j 
 
 Not built in murder, — planted by the sword. ; 
 Yes, Salem, thou shalt rise : thy Father's aid 
 Shall heal the wound his chastening hand has made; j 
 
 Shall judge the proud oppressor's ruthless sway, i 
 
 And burst his brazen bonds, and cast his cords] 
 
 t 
 
 away. ] 
 
 Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring ; j 
 Break forth, ye mountains, and, ye valleys, sing ! j 
 No more your thirsty rocks shall frown forlorn, \ 
 The unbeliever's jest, the heatlien's scorn ; j 
 
PALESTINE. 21 
 
 The sultry sands shall tenfold harvests yield, 
 And a new Eden deck the thorny field. 
 E'en now, perchance, wide-waving o'er the land, 
 That mighty Angel lifts his golden wand, 
 Courts the bright vision of descending power, 
 Tells every gate, and measures every tower ; 
 And chides the tardy seals that yet detain 
 Thy Lion, Judah, from his destin'd reign ! 
 
 And who is He ? the vast, the awful form. 
 Girt with the whirlwind, sandal'd with the storm ? 
 A western cloud around his limbs is spread. 
 His crown a rainbow, and a sun his head. 
 To highest heaven he lifts his kingly hand, 
 And treads at once the ocean and the land ; 
 And, hark ! his voice amid the thunder's roar. 
 His dreadful voice, that time shall be no more ! 
 
 Lo ! cherub hands the golden courts prepare, 
 Lo ! thrones arise, and every saint is there ; 
 Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway, 
 The mountains worship, and the isles obey ; 
 Nor sun nor moon they need, — nor day, nor night; 
 God is their temple, and the Lamb their light : 
 And shall not Israel's sons exulting come. 
 Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home? 
 
22 PALESTINE. 
 
 On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, 
 And the dry bones be warm vs^ith life again. 
 Hark I white-rob'd crowds their deep hosannas 
 
 raise, 
 And the hoarse flood repeats the sound of praise ; i 
 Ten thousand harps attune the mystic song, ^ 
 
 Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong ; j 
 " Worthy the Lamb ! omnipotent to save, j 
 
 '* Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave ! " : 
 
EUROPE: 
 
 LINES ON THE PRESENT WAR. 
 
 WRITTEN IN 1809. 
 
ID. dVANDO. ACCIDERIT. NON. SATIS. AVDEO { 
 
 EFFARI. SiaVIDEM. NON. CLARIVS. MIHI ' 
 
 I 
 
 PER. SACROS. TRirODES. CERTA. REFERT. DEV9 '] 
 
 NEC. SERVAT. PENITVS. FIDEM { 
 
 ;i 
 
 QVOD. SI. QVID. LICEAT. CREDERE. ADHVC. TAMEN '■ 
 
 NAM. LAEVVM. TONVIT. NON. FVERIT. PROCVL, , 
 
 QVAERENDVS. CELERI. QVI. PROPERET. GRADV , 
 
 ET. GALLVM. REPRIMAT. FEROX ■ 
 
 PETRVS. CRINITVS. IN. CARMINE 
 AD. BER. CARAPHAM. ! 
 
EUROPE. 
 
 At that dread season when th' indignant North 
 Pour'd to vain wars her tardy numbers forth, 
 When Frederic bent his ear to Europe's cry, 
 And fann'd too late the flame of Hberty ; 
 By feverish hope oppress'd, and anxious thought. 
 In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought. 
 Through tangled boughs the broken moonshine 
 
 play'd, 
 And Elbe slept soft beneath his linden shade : — 
 Yet slept not all ; — I heard the ceaseless jar, 
 The ratthng wagons, and the wheels of war ; 
 The sounding lash, the march's mingled hum, 
 And, lost and heard by fits, the languid drum ; 
 O'er the near bridge the thundering hoofs that 
 
 trode, 
 And the far-distant fife that thrilled alonsr the road. 
 
26 EUROPE. 
 
 Yes, sweet it seems across some watery dell 
 To catch the music of the pealing bell ; 
 And sweet to list, as on the beach we stray, 
 The ship-boy's carol in the wealthy bay : 
 But sweet no less, when Justice points the spear, 
 Of martial wrath the glorious din to hear, 
 To catch the war-note on the quivering gale. 
 And bid the blood-red paths of conquest hail. 
 
 Oh ! song of hope, too long delusive strain ! 
 And hear we now thy flattering voice again ? 
 But late, alas ! I left thee cold and still, 
 Stunn'd by the wrath of Heaven, on Pratzen's hill, 
 Oh ! on that hill may no kind month renew 
 The fertile rain, the sparkling summer dew ! 
 Accurs'd of God, may those bleak summits tell 
 The field of anger where the mighty fell. 
 There youthful Faith and high-born Courage rest, 
 And, red with slaughter. Freedom's humbled crest ; 
 There Europe, soil'd with blood her tresses gray. 
 And ancient Honour's shield — all vilely thrown 
 away. 
 
 Thus mus'd my soul, as in succession drear 
 Rose each grim shape of Wrath and Doubt and 
 Fear ; 
 
EUROPE. 27 
 
 Defeat and shame in grizzly vision passed, 
 
 And Vengeance, bought with blood, and glorious 
 
 Death the last. 
 Then as my gaze their waving eagles met, 
 And through the night each sparkling bayonet, 
 Still Memory told how Austria's evil hour 
 Had felt on Praga's field a Frederic's power, 
 And GalHa's vaunting train, and Mosco's horde, 
 Had flesh'd the maiden steel of Brunswic's sword. 
 Oh ! yet, I deem'd, that Fate, by Justice led, 
 Might wreath once more the veteran's silver head ; 
 That Europe's ancient pride would yet disdain 
 The cumbrous sceptre of a single reign ; 
 That conscious right would tenfold strength afford, 
 And Heaven assist the patriot's holy sword. 
 And look in mercy through th' auspicious sky, 
 To bless the saviour host of Germany. 
 
 And are they dreams, these bodings, such as 
 shed 
 Their lonely comfort o'er the hermit's bed ? 
 And are they dreams ? or can th' Eternal Mind 
 Care for a sparrow, yet neglect mankind ? 
 Why, if the dubious battle own his power, 
 And the red sabre, where he bids, devour, 
 
28 EUROPE. 
 
 Why then can one the curse of worlds deride, 
 And millions weep a tyrant's single pride ? 
 
 Thus sadly musing, far my footsteps stray'd, 
 Rapt in the visions of th' Aonian maid. 
 It was not she, whose lonely voice I hear 
 Fall in soft whispers on my love-lorn ear ; 
 My daily guest, who wont my steps to guide 
 Through the green walks of scented even-tide, | 
 Or stretch'd with me in noonday ease along, | 
 
 To list the reaper's chaunt, or throstle's song : | 
 But she of loftier port ; whose grave control f 
 
 ■i 
 
 Rules the fierce workings of the patriot's soul ; 
 She, whose high presence, o'er the midnight oil, 
 With fame's bright promise cheers the student's 
 
 toil ; 
 That same was she, whose ancient lore refin'd 
 The sober hardihood of Sydney's mind. | 
 
 Borne on her wing, no more I seem'd to rove 
 By Dresden's glittering spires, and linden grove ; 
 No more the giant Elbe, all silver bright. 
 Spread his broad bosom to the fair moonlight, 
 While the still margent of his ample flood 
 Bore the dark image of the Saxon wood — 
 
 1 
 
EUROPE. 29 
 
 (Woods happy once, that heard the carols free 
 Of rustic love, and cheerful industry ; 
 Now dull and joyless lie their alleys green, 
 And silence marks the track where France has 
 
 been.) 
 Far other scenes than these my fancy view'd : 
 Rocks rob'd in ice, a mountain solitude ; 
 Where on Helvetian hills, in godlike state, 
 Alone and awful, Europe's Angel sate : 
 Silent and stern he sate ; then, bending low, 
 Listen'd th' ascending plaints of human wo, 
 And waving as in grief his towery head, 
 '' Not yet, not yet the day of rest," he said ; 
 " It may not be. Destruction's gory wing 
 Soars o'er the banners of the younger king. 
 Too rashly brave, who seeks with single sway 
 To stem the lava on its destin'd way. 
 Poor, glittering warriors, only wont to know 
 The bloodless pageant of a martial show ; 
 Nursehngs of peace; for fiercer fights prepare. 
 And dread the step-dame sway of unaccustom'd 
 
 d2 
 
30 EUROPE. 
 
 They fight, they bleed !— Oh ! had that blood 
 
 been shed 
 When Charles and Valour Austria's armies led ; 
 Had these stood forth the righteous cause to 
 
 shield, 
 When victory waver' d on Moravia's field ; 
 Then France had mourn' d her conquests made in 
 
 vain. 
 Her backward-beaten ranks, and countless slain ; 
 Then had the strength of Europe's freedom stood, 
 And still the Rhine had roll'd a German flood ! 
 
 '* Oh ! nurs'd in many a wile, andpractis'd long 
 To spoil the poor, and cringe before the strong ; 
 To swell the victor's state, and hovering near, 
 Like some base vulture in the battle's rear, 
 To watch the carnage of the field, and share 
 Each loathsome alms the prouder eagles spare : 
 A curse is on thee, Brandenburgh ! the sound 
 Of Poland's waihng drags thee to the ground ; 
 And, drunk with guilt, thy harlot lips shall know 
 The bitter dregs of Austria's cup of wo. 
 
 " Enough of vengeance ! O'er th' cnsanguin'd 
 
 plain 
 I gaze, and seek their numerous host in vain ; 
 
EUROPE. 31 
 
 Gone like the locust band, when whirlwinds bear 
 Their flimsy legions through the waste of air. 
 Enough of vengeance ! — By the glorious dead, 
 Who bravely fell where youthful Lewis led ; 
 By Blucher's sword in fiercest danger tried, 
 And the true heart that burst w^hen Brunswic died ; 
 By her whose charms the coldest zeal might warm, 
 Tlie manliest firmness in the fairest form — 
 Save, Europe, save the remnant ! — Yet remains 
 One glorious path to free the world from chains. 
 Why, when your northern band in Eylau's wood 
 Retreating struck, and tracked their course with 
 
 blood, 
 While one firm rock the floods of ruin stay'd, 
 Why, generous Austria, were thy wheels delay 'd ? 
 And Albion 1" — Darker sorrow veil'd his brow — 
 " Friend of the friendless — Albion! where art thou? 
 Child of the Sea, whose wing-like sails are spread, 
 The covering cherub of the ocean's bed ! 
 The storm and tempest render peace to thee, 
 And the wild-roaring waves a stern security. 
 But hope not thou in Heaven's own strength to 
 
 ride, 
 Freedom's lov'd ark, o'er broad oppression's tide ; 
 
32 EUROPE. j 
 
 i 
 tf virtue leave thee, if thy careless eye ! 
 
 Glance in contempt on Europe's agony. 
 
 Alas ! where now the bands who wont to pour ,; 
 
 Their strong deliverance on th' Egyptian shore ? ?] 
 
 Wing, wing your course, a prostrate world to save, | 
 
 Triumphant squadrons of Trafalgar's wave. f 
 
 " And thou, blest star of Europe's darkest hour, | 
 
 Whose words were wisdom, and whose counsels | 
 
 power, « 
 
 Whom Earth applauded through her peopled i 
 
 shores ! 
 (Alas ! whom Earth too early lost deplores. ; — ) 
 Young without follies, without rashness bold, j 
 
 And greatly poor amidst a nation's gold ! 
 In every veering gale of faction true, • 
 
 Untarnish'd Chatham's genuine child, adieu ! ' 
 
 Unlike our common suns, whose g]adual ray * 
 
 Expands from twihght to intenser day, i 
 
 Thy blaze broke forth at once in full meridian 
 
 sway. i 
 
 O, prov'd in danger ! not the fiercest flame j 
 
 Of Discord's rage thy constant soul could tame ; \ 
 Not when, far-striding o'er thy palsied land, ' 
 
 Gigantic Treason took iiis bolder stand ; j 
 
* 
 PALESTINE. 33 
 
 Not when wild Zeal, by murderous Faction led, 
 On Wicklow's hills, her grass-green banner spread ; 
 Or those stern conquerors of the restless wave 
 Defied the native soil they wont to save. — 
 Undaunted patriot ! in that dreadful hour, 
 When pride and genius own a sterner power ; 
 When the dimm'd eyeball, and the struggling 
 
 breath. 
 And pain, and terror, mark advancing death ; — 
 Still in that breast thy country held her throne, 
 Thy toil, thy fear, thy prayer were hers alone, 
 Thy last faint effort hers, and hers thy parting 
 
 groan. 
 " Yes, from those lips while fainting nations 
 
 drew 
 Hope ever strong, and courage ever new ; — 
 Yet, yet, I deem'd, by that supporting hand 
 Propp'd in her fall might Freedom's ruin stand ; 
 And purg'd by fire, and stronger from the storm, 
 Degraded Justice rear her reverend form. 
 Now, hope, adieu ! — adieu the generous care 
 To shield the weak, and tame the proud in war I 
 The golden chain of realms, when equal awe 
 Pois'd the strong balance of impartial law ; 
 
34 EUROPE. I 
 
 When rival states as federate sisters shone, t, 
 
 AHke, yet various, and though many, one ; ' 
 
 And, bright and numerous as the spangled sky, > 
 Beam'd each fair star of Europe's galaxy — , i 
 
 All, all are gone, and after-time shall trace | 
 
 One boundless rule, one undistinguish'd race ; | 
 Twilight of vt^orth, where nought remains to move ^^ 
 The patriot's ardour, or the subject's love. | 
 
 " Behold, e'en now, while every manly lore | 
 And ev'ry muse forsakes my yielding shore ; 
 Faint, vapid fruits of slavery's sickly clime, 
 Each tinsel art succeeds, and harlot rhyme ! 
 To gild the vase, to bid the purple spread 
 In sightly foldings o'er the Grecian bed. 
 Their mimic guard where sculptur'd gryphons 
 
 keep. 
 And Memphian idols watch o'er beauty's sleep ; 
 To rouse the slumbering sparks of faint desire 
 With the base tinkling of the Teian lyre ; 
 While youth's enervate glance and gloating age 
 Hang o'er the mazy waltz, or pageant stage ; 
 Each wayward wish of sickly taste to please. 
 The nightly revel and the noontide ease — 
 These, Europe, arc thy toils, thy trophies these ! 
 
EUROPE. 35 
 
 " So, when wide-wasting hail, or whehning 
 rain, 
 Have strew'd the bearded hope of golden grain. 
 From the wet furrow, struggling to the skies, 
 The tall, rank weeds in barren splendour rise ; 
 And strong, and towering o'er the mildew 'd ear, 
 Uncomely flowers and baneful herbs appear ; 
 The swain's rich toils to useless poppies yield, 
 And Famine stalks along the purple field. 
 
 " And thou, the poet's theme, the patriot's 
 prayer ! 
 Where, France, thy hopes, thy gilded promise 
 
 where ; 
 When o'er Montpelier's vines, and Jura's snows, 
 All goodly bright, young Freedom's planet rose ? 
 What boots it now, (to our destruction brave,) 
 How strong thine arm in war ? a valiant slave ! 
 What boots it now that wide thine eagles sail, 
 Fann'd by the flattering breath of conquest's gale? 
 What, that, high-pil'd within yon ample dome, 
 The blood-bought treasures rest of Greece and 
 
 Rome? 
 Scourge of the highest, bolt in vengeance hurl'd 
 By Heaven's dread justice on a shrinking world ! 
 
36 EUROPE. 
 
 Go, vanquish'tl victor, bend thy proud helm down 
 Before thy sullen tyrant's steely crown. 
 For him in Afric's sands, and Poland's snows, 
 Rear'd by thy toil the shadowy laurel grows ; 
 And rank in German fields the harvest springs 
 Of pageant councils and obsequious kings. 
 Such purple slaves, of glittering fetters vain, 
 Link'd the wide circuit of the Latian chain ; 
 And slaves like these shall every tyrant find, 
 To gild oppression, and debase mankind. 
 
 " Oh I five there yet whose hardy souls and high 
 Peace bought with shame, and tranquil bonds defy? 
 Who, driven from every shore, and lords in vain 
 Of the wide prison of the lonely main. 
 Cling to their country's rights with freeborn zeal, 
 More strong from every stroke, and patient of the 
 
 steel ? 
 Guiltless of chains, to them has Heaven consign'd 
 Th' entrusted cause of Europe and mankind I 
 Or hope we yet in Sweden's martial snows 
 That Freedom's weary foot may find repose ? j 
 
 No ; — from yon hermit shade, yon cypress dell, j 
 Where faintly peals the distant matin-bell ; 1 
 
EUROPE. 37 
 
 Where bigot kings and tyrant priests liad shed 
 Their sleepy venom o'er his dreadful head ; 
 He wakes, th' avenger — hark ! the hills around, 
 ontam'd Austria bids her clarion sound ; 
 And many an ancient rock, and fleecy plain, 
 And many a valiant heart returns the strain : 
 Heard by that shore, where Calpe's armed steep 
 Flings its long shadow, o'er th' Herculean deep, 
 And Lucian glades, whose hoary poplars ^vave 
 In soft, sad murmurs over Inez' grave. 
 They bless the call who dar'd the first withstand 
 The Moslem Vasters of their bleeding land. 
 When firm in faith, and red with slaughter'd foes, 
 Thy spear-encircled crown, Asturia, rose, 
 Nor these alone ; as loud the war-notes sv/ell, 
 La Mancha's shepherd quits his cork-built cell ; 
 Alhama's strength is there, and those who till 
 (A hardy race !) Morena's scorched hill ; 
 And in rude arms through wide GaUicia's reign. 
 The swarthy vintage pours her vigorous train. 
 ^' Saw ye those tribes ? not theirs the plumed 
 
 boast. 
 The sightly trappings of a marshall'd host ; 
 
 j> 
 
38 EUROPE. 
 
 No weeping nations curse their deadly skilL 
 Expert in danger, and inur'd to kill : — 
 But theirs the kindling eye, the strenuous arm ; 
 Theirs the dark cheek, with patriot ardour warm, 
 Unblanch'd by sluggard ease, or slavish fear, 
 And proud and pure the blood that mantles there. 
 Theirs from the birth is toil ; — o'er granite steep. 
 And heathy wild, to guard. the wandering sheep ; 
 To urge the labouring mule, or bend the spear 
 'Gainst the night-prowling wolf, or felon bear ; 
 The bull's hoarse rage in dreadful sport to mock. 
 And meet with single sword his bellowing shock. 
 Each martial chant they know, each manly rhyme, 
 Rude, ancient lays of Spain's heroic time. 
 Of him in Xeres' carnage fearless found, 
 (His glittering brows with hostile spear-heads 
 
 bound ;) 
 Of that chaste king whose hardy mountain train 
 O'erthrew the knightly race of Charlemagne ; 
 And chiefest him who rear'd his banner tall 
 (Illustrious exile 1) o'er Valencia's wall ; 
 Ungrac'd by kings, whose Moorish title rose 
 The toil-earn'd homage of his wondering foes.. 
 
EUROPE. 39 
 
 ■ Yes ; ev'ry moukrring tow'r and haunted 
 
 flood, 
 And the wild murmurs of the waving wood ; 
 Each sandy waste, and orange-scented dell, 
 And red Buraba's field, and Lugo, tell. 
 How their brave fathers fought, how thick the 
 
 invaders fell. 
 " Oh ! virtue long forgot, or vainly tried, 
 To glut a bigot's zeal, or tyrant's pride ; 
 Condemn'd in distant climes to bleed and die 
 'Mid the dank poisons of Tlascala's sky ; 
 Or when stern Austria stretch'd her lawless reign. 
 And spent in northern fights the flower of Spain ; 
 Or war's hoarse furies yell'd on Ysell's shore. 
 And Alva's ruflian sword was drunk with gore. 
 Yet dar'd not then Tlascala's chiefs withstand 
 The lofty daring of Castilia's band ; 
 And weeping France her captive king deplor'd, 
 And curs'd the deathful point of Ebro's sword. 
 Now, nerv'd with hope, their night of slavery past. 
 Each heart beats high in freedom's buxom blast ; 
 Lo ! Conquest calls, and beck'ning from afar. 
 Uplifts his laurel wreath, and waves them on to 
 
 war. 
 
40 EUROPE, 
 
 • — Wo to th' usurper then, who dares defy 
 The sturdy wrath of rustic loyalty ! 
 Wo to the hireling bands, foredoom'd to feel 
 How strong in labour's horny hand the steel • 
 Behold e'en now, beneath yon Boetic skies 
 Another Pavia bids her trophies rise ; — 
 E'en now in base disguise- and friendly night 
 Their robber-monarch speeds his secret flight ; 
 And with new zeal the fiery Lusians rear, 
 (Rous'd by their neighbour's worth,) the long- 
 neglected spear. 
 
 '' So when stern winter chills the April showers, 
 And iron frost forbids the timely flowers ; 
 Oh! deem not thou the vigorous herb below 
 Is crush'd and dead beneath the incumbent snow ; 
 Such tardy suns shall wealthier harvests bring 
 Than all the early smiles of flattering spring." 
 
 Sweet as the martial trumpet's silver swell, 
 On my charm'd sense th' unearthly accents fell ; 
 Me wonder held, and joy chastis'dby fear, 
 As one who wish'd, yet hardly hop'd to hear. 
 '* Spirit," I cried, " dread teacher, yetdeclaie. 
 In that good fight, shall Albion's arm be there ? 
 
EUROPE. 41 
 
 Can Albion, bravo, and wise, and proud, refrain 
 To hail a kindred soul, and link her fate with 
 
 Spain ? 
 Too long her sons, estrang'd from war and toil, 
 Have loath'd the safety of the sea-girt isle ; 
 And chid the waves which pent their fire within, 
 As the staird war-horse woos the battle's din. 
 Oh, by this throbbing heart, this patriot glow. 
 Which, well I feel, each English breast shall know ; 
 Say, shall my country, rous'd from deadly sleep, 
 Crowd with her hardy sons yon western steep ; 
 And shall once more the star of France grow pale. 
 And dim its beams in Roncesvalles' vale ? 
 Or shall foul sloth and timid doubt conspire 
 To mar our zeal, and waste our manly fire ?" 
 
 Still as I gaz'd, his low'ring features spread, 
 High rose his form, and darkness veil'd his head ; 
 Fast from his eyes the ruddy lightning broke, 
 To heaven he rear'd his arm, and thus he spoke : 
 
 " Wo, trebly wo to their slow zeal who bore 
 Delusive comfort to Iberia's shore ! 
 Who in mid conquest, vaunting, yet dismay'd, 
 Now gave and now withdrew their laggard aid ; 
 D 2 
 
42 EUROPE. 
 
 Who, when each bosom glow'd, each heart beat 
 
 high, 
 
 Chill'd the pure stream of England's energy, j 
 
 And lost in courtly forms and blind delay J 
 
 The loiter'd hours of glory's short-liv'd day. i 
 
 " O peerless island, generous, bold, and free, i 
 
 Lost, ruin'd Albion, Europe mourns for thee ! | 
 
 Hadst thou but known the hour in mercy given j 
 To stay thy doom, and ward the ire of Heaven ; 
 
 Bar'd in the cause of man thy warrior breast, ! 
 
 And crush'd on yonder hills th' approaching pest, j 
 
 Then had not murder sack'd thy smihng plain, • 
 
 And wealth, and worth, and wisdom all been vain, i 
 
 " Yet, yet awake ! while fear and wonder wait, ^ 
 
 On the pois'd balance, trembling still with fate ! j 
 
 If aught their worth can plead> in battle tried, \ 
 
 Who ting'd with slaughter Tajo's curdhng tide ; ^^ 
 
 (What time base truce the wheels of war could j 
 
 stay, • I 
 
 And tlie weak victor flung his wreath away ;) — ^ 
 
 Or theirs, who, dol'd in scanty bands afar, ^ 
 
 Wag'd without hope the disproportion'd war, ^ 
 
 And cheerly still, and patient of distress, { 
 
 Led their forwasted fdes on numbers numberless ! | 
 
EUROPE. 43 
 
 '^ Yes, through the march of many a weary day, 
 As yon dark column toils its seaward way ; 
 As bare, and shrinking from th' inclement sky, 
 The languid soldier bends him down to die ; 
 As o'er those helpless limbs, by murder gor'd, 
 The base pursuer waves his weaker sword. 
 And, trod to earth, by trampling thousands pressM, 
 The horse-hoof glances from that mangled breast ; 
 E'en in that hour his hope to England flies, 
 And fame and vengeance fire his closing eyes. 
 
 " Oh I if such hope can plead, or his, whose bier 
 Drew from his conquering host their latest tear ; 
 Whose skill, whose matchless valour, gilded flight ; 
 Entomb'd in foreign dust, a hasty soldier's rite ; — 
 Oh ! rouse thee yet to conquer and to save, 
 And Wisdom guide the sword which Justice gave ! 
 
 " And yet the end is not! from yonder tow'rs 
 While one Saguntum mocks the victor's pow'rs ; 
 While one brave heart defies a servile chain, 
 And one true soldier wields a lance for Spain ; 
 Trust not, vain tyrant, though thy spoiler band 
 In tenfold myriads darken half the land ; 
 (Vast as that power, against whose impious lord 
 Bethulia's matron shook the nightly sword ;) 
 
44 EUROPE. 
 
 Though ruth and fear thy woundless soul defy, 
 And fatal genius fire thy martial eye ; 
 Yet trust not here o'er yielding realms to roam, 
 Or cheaply bear a bloodless laurel home. 
 
 '' No ! by His viewless arm whose righteous 
 care 
 Defends the orphan's tear, the poor man's prayer ; 
 Who, Lord of nature, o'er this changeful ball 
 Decrees the rise of empires, and the fall ; 
 Wondrous in all his ways, unseen, unknown, 
 Who treads the wine-press of the world alone ; 
 And rob'd in darkness, and surrounding fears, 
 Speeds on their destin'd road the march of years ! 
 No ! — shall yon eagle, from the snare set free, 
 Stoop to thy wrist, or cower his wing for thee ? 
 And shall it tame despair, thy strong control, 
 Or quench a nation's still reviving soul ? — 
 Go, bid the force of countless bands conspire 
 To curb the wandering wind, or grasp the fire ! 
 Cast thy vain fetters on the troublous sea ! — 
 But 'Spain, the brave, the virtuous, shall be free." 
 
THE PASSAGE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE RED SEA 
 
 With heat o'erlabour'd and the length of way, 
 On Ethan's beach the bands of Israel lay. 
 'Twas silence all, the sparkling sands along, 
 Save where the locust trill'd her feeble song, 
 Or blended soft in drowsy cadence fell 
 The wave's low whisper or the camel's bell. — 
 'Twas silence all 1 — the flocks for shelter fly 
 Where, waving hght, the acacia shadows lie ; 
 Or where, from far, the flatt'ring vapours make 
 The noon-tide semblance of a misty lake : 
 While the mute swain, in careless safety spread, 
 With arms enfolded, and dejected head, 
 
46 THE PASSAGE j 
 
 Dreams o'er his wondrous call, his lineage high, '; 
 And, late reveal'd, his children's destiny. ■ 
 
 For, not in vain, in thraldom's darkest hour, : 
 
 Had sped from Amram's sons the word of pow'r ; | 
 Nor fail'd the dreadful wand, whose god-like sway |1 
 Could lure the locust from her airy way ; | 
 
 With reptile war assail their proud abodes, f 
 
 And mar the giant pomp of Egypt's gods. 
 Oh helpless gods ! who nought avail'd to shield 
 From fiery rain your Zoan's favour'd field 1 — 
 Oh helpless gods ! who saw the curdled blood 
 Taint the pure lotus of your ancient flood, 
 And fourfold-night the wondering earth enchain, 
 While Memnon's orient harp was heard in vain !— 
 Such musings held the tribes, till now the west 
 With milder influence on their temples prest ; 
 And that portentous cloud which, all the day, 
 Hung its dark curtain o'er their weary way, 
 (A cloud by day, a friendly flame by night,) 
 Roll'd back its misty veil, and kindled into light ! — 
 Soft fell the eve : — But, ere the day was done. 
 Tall, waving banners streak'd the level sun ; 
 And wide and dark along th' horizon red. 
 In sandy surge the rising desert spread. — 
 
OF THE RED SEA. 47 
 
 " Mark, Israel, mark !" — On that strange sight 
 
 intent, 
 In breathless terror, every eye was bent ; 
 And busy faction's undistinguished hum 
 And female shrieks arose, "They come, they 
 
 come !" 
 They come, they come ! in scintillating show 
 O'er the dark mass the brazen lances glow ; 
 And sandy clouds in countlesss hapes combine, 
 As deepens or extends the long tumultuous line ; — 
 And fancy's keener glance ev'n now may trace 
 The threatening aspects of each mingl'd race ; 
 For many a coal-black tribe and cany spear, 
 The hireling guards of Misraim's throne, were 
 
 there. 
 From distant Gush they troop'd, a warrior train, 
 Siwah's green isle and Sennaar's marly plain : 
 On either wing their fiery coursers check 
 The parch'd and sinewy sons of Amalek : 
 While close behind, inur'd to feast on blood, 
 Deck'd in Behemoth's spoils, the tall Shangalla 
 
 strode. 
 'Mid blazing helms and bucklers rough with gold 
 Saw ye how swift the scythed chariot roll'd ? 
 
48 THE PASSAGE 
 
 Lo, these are they whom, lords of Afric's fates, 
 Old Thebes had pour'd through all her hundred 
 
 gates, 
 Mother of armies ! — How the emeralds glow'd, 
 Where, flush'd with power and vengeance, Pha- 
 
 raoh rode ! 
 And stol'd in white, those brazen wheels before, 
 Osiris' ark his swarthy wizards bore ; 
 And still responsive to the trumpet's cry 
 The priestly sistrum murmur'd — Victory ? — 
 Why swell these shouts that rend the desert's 
 
 gloom ? 
 Whom come ye forth to combat ? — warriors, 
 
 whom ? — 
 These flocks and herds — this faint and weary 
 
 train — 
 Red from the scourge and recent from the chain ? 
 God of the poor, the poor and friendless save ! 
 Giver and Lord of freedom, help the slave ! — 
 North, south, and west the sandy whirlwinds fly, 
 The circling horns of Egypt's chivalry. 
 On earth's last margin throng the weeping train : 
 Their cloudy guide moves on ; — '' And must we 
 swim the main ?" 
 
OF THE RED SEA. 49 
 
 'Mid the light spray their snorting camels stood, 
 Nor bath'd a fetlock in the nauseous flood — 
 He comes — their leader comes ! — the man of God 
 O'er the wide waters hfts his mighty rod, 
 And onward treads — The circling waves retreat, 
 In hoarse deep murmurs, from his holy feet ; 
 And the chas'd surges, inly roaring, show 
 The hard wet sand and coral hills below. 
 
 With limbs that falter, and with hearts that swell, 
 Down, down they pass — a steep and slippery dell 
 Around them rise, in pristine chaos hurl'd. 
 The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world ; 
 And flowers that blush beneath the ocean green, 
 And caves, the sea-calves' low-roofd haunt, are 
 
 seen. 
 Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread ; 
 The beethng waters storm above their head : 
 While far behind retires the sinking day. 
 And fades on Edom's hills its latest ray. 
 
 Yet not from Israel fled the friendly Ught, 
 Or dark to them, or cheerless came the night. 
 Still in their van, along that dreadful road, 
 Blaz'd broad and fierce the brandish'd torch of 
 
 God. 
 
50 THE PASSAGE 
 
 Its meteor glare a tenfold lustre gave 
 On the long mirror of the rosy wave: 
 While its blest beams a simlike heat supply, 
 Warm every cheek and dance in every eye- 
 To them alone — for Misraim's wizard train 
 Invoke for light their monster-gods in vain : 
 Clouds heap'd on clouds their strugghng sight 
 
 confine, 
 And tenfold darkness broods above their line. 
 Yet on they fare by reckless vengeance led, 
 And range unconscious through the ocean's bed. 
 Till midway now — that strange and fiery form 
 Show'd his dread visage lightening through the 
 
 storm ; 
 With withering splendour blasted all their might, 
 And brake their chariot-wheels, and marr'd their 
 
 coursers' flight. 
 " Fly, Misraim, fly !" — The ravenous floods they 
 
 see, 
 And, fiercer than the floods, the Deity. 
 « Fly, Misraim, fly !" — From Edom's coral strand 
 Again the prophet stretch'd his dreadful wand : — 
 With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep. 
 And ttll is waves — a dark and lonely deep — 
 
OF THE RED SEA. 51 
 
 Yet o'er those lonely waves such murmurs past, 
 As mortal waiUng swell' d the nightly blast : 
 And strange and sad the wliispering breezes bore 
 The groans of Egypt to Arabia's shore. 
 
 Oh! welcome came the morn, where Israel 
 stood 
 In trustless wonder by th' avenging flood ! 
 Oh ! welcome came the cheerful morn, to show 
 The drifted wreck of Zoan's pride below ; 
 The mangled hmbs of men — the broken car — 
 A few sad relics of a nation's war : 
 Alas, how few ! — Then, soft as EUm's well, 
 The precious tears of new-bom freedom fell. 
 And he, whose harden'd heart alike had borne 
 The house of bondage and th' oppressor's scorn. 
 The stubborn slave, by hope's new beams subdued, 
 In faltering accents sobb'd his gratitude- 
 Till kindling into warmer zeal, around 
 The virgin timbrel wak'd its silver sound : 
 And in fierce joy, no more by doubt supprest, 
 The struggling spirit throbb'd in Miriam's breast. 
 She, with bare arms, and fixing on the sky, 
 The dark transparence of her lucid eye. 
 
52 THE PASSAGE, &c. 
 
 Pour'd on the winds of heaven her wild sweet 
 
 harmony. 
 " Where now," she sang, '* the tall Egyptian 
 
 spear ? 
 " On's sunhke shield, and Zoan's chariot, where ? 
 *' Above their ranks the whelming waters spread. 
 " Shout, Israel, for the Lord has triumphed !" — 
 And every pause between, as Miriam sang, 
 From tribe to tribe the martial thunder rang, 
 And loud and far their stormy chorus spread, — 
 ** Shout, Israel, for the Lord hath triumphed I" 
 
LINES 
 
 SPOKEN IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, 
 
 ON LORD GRENVILLE'S INSTALLATION 
 
 AS CHANCELLOR. 
 
 Ye viewless guardians of these sacred shades, 
 
 Dear dreams of early song, Aonian maids ! — 
 
 And you, illustrious dead ! whose spirits speak 
 
 In every flush that tints the student's cheek, 
 
 As, wearied with the world, he seeks again 
 
 The page of better time^ and greater men ; 
 
 If with pure worship we your steps pursue, 
 
 And youth, and health, and rest forget for you, 
 
 (Whom most we serve, to whom our lamp burns 
 
 bright 
 
 Through the long toils of not ingrateful night,) 
 
 Yet, yet be present ! — Let the worldly train 
 
 Mock our cheap joys, and hate our useless strain, 
 
 Intent on freighted wealth, or proud to rear 
 
 The fleece Iberian or the pamper'd steer ;— 
 
 Let sterner science with unwearied eye 
 
 Explore the circling spheres and map the skv ] 
 E 2 
 
54 LINES SPOKEN ON 
 
 His long-drawn mole let lordly commerce scan, 
 
 And of his iron arch the rainbow span : 
 
 Yet, while, in burning characters imprest, 
 
 The poet's lesson stamps the youthful breast ; 
 
 Bids the rapt boy o'er suffering virtue bleed, 
 
 Adore a brave or bless a gentle deed. 
 
 And in warm feeling from the storied page 
 
 Arise the saint, the hero, or the sage ; 
 
 Such be our toil ! — Nor doubt we to explore 
 
 The thorny maze of dialectic lore. 
 
 To chmb the chariot of tlie gods, or scan 
 
 The secret workings of the soul of man ; 
 
 Upborne aloft on Plato's eagle flight. 
 
 Or the slow pinion of the Stagyrite. 
 
 And those gray spoils of Herculanean pride, 
 
 If aught of yet untasted sweets they hide ; — 
 
 If Padua's sage be there, or art have power 
 
 To wake Menander from his secret bower. 
 
 Such be our toil ! — Nor vain the labour proves. 
 
 Which Oxford honours, and which Grenville loves ! 
 
 — On, eloquent and firm ! — whose warning high 
 
 Rebuked the rising surge of anarchy^ 
 
 When, like those brethren stars to seamen known, 
 
 In kindred splendour Pitt and Grenville shone ; 
 
LORD GRENVILLE'S INSTALLATION. 55 
 
 On in thy glorious course I not yet the wave 
 Has ceas'd to lash the shore, nor storm forgot to 
 
 rave. 
 Go on ! and oh, while adverse factions raise 
 To thy pure worth involuntary praise ; 
 While Gambia's swarthy tribes thy mercies bless, 
 And from thy counsels date their happiness ; 
 Say, (for thine Isis yet recalls with pride 
 Thy youthful triumphs by her leafy side,) 
 Say, hast thou scorn'd, mid pomp, and wealth, and 
 
 power. 
 The sober transports of a studious hour ? — 
 No, statesman, no ! — thy patriot jfire was fed 
 From the warm embers of the mighty dead ; 
 And thy strong spirit's patient grasp combin'd 
 The souls of ages in a single mind. 
 —By arts like these, amidst a world of foes, 
 Eye of the earth, th' Athenian glory rose ; — 
 Thus, last and best of Romans, Brutus shgne ; 
 Our Somers thus, and thus our (Jlarendon ; 
 Such Cobham was ; — such, Grenville, long be 
 
 thou, 
 Our boast before — our chief and champion now ! 
 
EPITAPH 
 ON A YOUNG NAVAL OFFICER, 
 
 DESIGNED FOR A TOMB IN A SEAPORT TOWN 
 IN NORTH WALES. 
 
 Sailor ! if vigour nerve thy frame, 
 "If to high deeds thy soul is strung, 
 
 Revere this stone that gives to fame 
 
 The brave, the virtuous, and the young ! — 
 
 For manly beauty deck'd his form. 
 
 His bright eye beam'd with mental power ; 
 
 Resistless as the winter storm, 
 
 Yfit mild as summer's mildest shower. 
 
 In war's hoarse rage, in ocean's strife, 
 For skill, for force, for mercy known ; 
 
 Still prompt to shield a comrade's life, 
 And greatly careless of his own. — 
 
EPITAPH. 57 
 
 Yet, youthful seaman, mourn not thou 
 The fate these artless lines recall ; 
 
 No, Cambrian, no, be thine the vow, 
 Like him to live, like him to fall ! — 
 
 But hast thou known a father's care. 
 Who sorrowing sent thee forth to sea ; 
 
 Pour'd for thy weal th' unceasing prayer. 
 And thought the sleepless night on thee ? — 
 
 Has e'er thy tender fancy flown. 
 
 When winds were strong and waves were high, 
 Where, listening to the tempest's moan, 
 
 Thy sisters heav'd the anxious sigh ? — 
 
 Or, in the darkest hour of dread. 
 
 Mid war's wild din, and ocean's swell, 
 
 Hast mourn'd a hero brother dead, 
 And did that brother love thee well ? — 
 
 Then pity those whose sorrows flow 
 In vain o'er Shipley's empty grave ! — 
 
 — Sailor, thou weep'st : — Indulge thy wo ; 
 Such tears will not disgrace the brave ! — 
 
AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL. 
 
 Our task is done ! on Gunga's breast 
 The sun is sinking down to rest ; 
 And moor'd beneath the tamarind bough, 
 Our bark has found its harbour now. 
 With furled sail, and painted side, 
 Behold the tiny frigate ride. 
 Upon her deck, 'mid charcoal gleams, 
 The Moslems' savoury supper steams. 
 While all apart, beneath the wood. 
 The Hindoo cooks his simpler food. 
 
 Come walk with me the jungle through ; 
 If yonder hunter told us true, 
 Far off, in desert dank and rude, 
 The tiger holds his solitude ; 
 Nor (taught by secret charm to shun 
 The thunders of the English gun,) 
 A dreadful guest but rarely seen, 
 Returns to scare the village green. 
 
AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL. 59 
 
 Come boldly on ! no venom'd snake 
 Can shelter in so cool a brake : 
 Child of the sun ! he loves to lie 
 'Mid nature's embers parch'd and dry, 
 Where o'er some tower in ruin laid, 
 The peepul spreads its haunted shade, 
 Or round a tomb his scales to wreathe, 
 Fit warder in the gate of death ! 
 Come on ! yet pause ! behold us now 
 Beneath the bamboo's arched bough. 
 Where gemming oft that sacred gloom, 
 Glows the geranium's scarlet bloom, 
 And winds our path through many a bower 
 Of fragrant tree and giant flower ; 
 The ceiba's crimson pomp display'd 
 O'er the broad plaintain's humbler shade, 
 And dusk anana's prickly blade ; 
 While o'er the brake, so wild and fair, 
 The betel waves his crest in air. 
 With pendent train and rushing wings. 
 Aloft the gorgeous peacock springs ; 
 And he, the bird of hundred dyes, 
 Whose plumes the dames of Ava prize. 
 
60 AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL. 
 
 So rich a shade, so green a sod, 
 Our English fairies never trod ; 
 Yet who in Indian bower has stood, 
 ^ But thought on England's " good green wood ?" 
 ' And blessed beneath the palmy shade, 
 Her hazel and her hawthorn glade, 
 And breath'd a prayer, (how oft in vain!) 
 To gaze upon her oaks again ? 
 
 A truce to thought ! the jackal's cry 
 Resounds like sylvan revelry ; 
 And through the trees, yon failing ray - 
 
 Will scantly serve to guide our way. 
 Yet, mark ! as fade the upper skies, i 
 
 Each thicket opes ten thousand eyes. 
 Before, beside us, and above. 
 The fire-fly lights his lamp of love, 
 Retreating, chasing, sinking, soaring, 
 The darkness of the copse exploring ; 
 While to this cooler air confest, 
 The broad Dhatura bares her breast, 
 Of fragrant scent, and virgin white, 
 A pearl around the locks of night ! 
 Still as we pass in soften'd hum. 
 Along the breezy valleys come 
 
AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL. 61 
 
 The village song, the horn, the drum. 
 Still as we pass, from bush and briar. 
 The shrill cigala strikes his lyre ; 
 And, what is she whose liquid strain 
 Thrills through yon copse of sugar-cane ? 
 I know that soul-entrancing swell ! 
 It is, — it must be, — Philomel ! 
 
 Enough, enough, the rusthng trees 
 Announce a shower upon the breeze, — 
 The flashes of the summer sky 
 Assume a deeper, ruddier dye ; 
 Yon lamp that trembles on the stream, 
 From forth our cabin sheds its beam ; 
 And we must early sleep to find 
 Betimes the morning's healthy wind. 
 But O ! with thankful hearts confess, 
 Ev»n here there may be happiness ; 
 And He, the bounteous Sire, has given 
 His peace on earth, his hope of heaven 1 
 
LINES WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE 
 
 WHILE ON A VISIT TO UPPER INDIA. 
 
 If thou wert by my side, my love ! 
 
 How fast would evening fail 
 In green Bengala's palmy grove, 
 
 Listening the nightingale ! 
 
 If thou, my love I wert by my side, 
 
 My babies at my knee, 
 How gaily would our pinnace glide 
 
 O'er Gunga's mimic sea ! 
 
 I miss thee at the dawning gray. 
 When, on our deck reclined, 
 
 In careless ease my limbs I lay, 
 And woo the cooler wind. 
 
 I miss thee when by Gunga's stream 
 
 My twilight steps I guide, 
 But most beneath the lamp's pale beam, 
 
 I miss thee from mv side. 
 
LINES WRITTEiN TO HIS WIFE. 63 
 
 I spread my books, my pencil try. 
 
 The lingering noon to cheer, 
 But miss thy kind approving eye, 
 
 Thy meek attentive ear. 
 
 But when of morn and eve the star 
 
 Beholds me on my knee, 
 I feel, though thou art distant far. 
 
 Thy prayers ascend for me. 
 
 Then on ! Then on ! where duty leads, 
 
 My course be onward still, 
 On broad Hindostan's sultry meads. 
 
 O'er black Almorah's hill. 
 
 That course nor Delhi's kingly gates, 
 
 Nor mild Malwah detain, 
 For sweet the bliss us both awaits. 
 
 By yonder western main. 
 
 Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say. 
 
 Across the dark blue sea. 
 But never were hearts so light and gay. 
 
 As then shall meet in thee ! 
 
HAPPINESS. 
 
 One morning in the month of May 
 
 I wandered o'er the hill ; 
 Tho' nature all around was gay, 
 
 My heart was heavy still. 
 
 Can God, I thought, the just, the great, 
 These meaner creatures bless, 
 
 And yet deny to man's estate 
 The boon of happiness ? 
 
 Tell me, ye woods, ye smihng plains, 
 
 Ye blessed birds around, 
 In which of nature's wide domains 
 
 Can bliss for man be found. 
 
HAPPINESS. 65 
 
 The birds wild caroll'd over head, 
 
 The breeze around me blew, 
 And nature's aw^l chorus said^ — 
 
 No bhss for man she knew. 
 
 I (juestion'd love, whose early ray. 
 
 So rosy bright appears, 
 And heard tlie timid genius say 
 
 His Hght was dimm'd by tears. 
 
 I questioned friendship : Fiiendship sigh'd, 
 
 And thus her answer gave — 
 The few whom fortune never turn'd 
 
 Were wither' d in the grave ! 
 
 I ask'd if vice could bhss bestow ? 
 
 Vice boasted loud and well, 
 But fading from her wither' d brow, 
 
 The borrowed roses fell. 
 
 1 sought of feeling, if her skill 
 Could sooth the wounded breast ; 
 
 And found her mourning, faint and still, 
 For others' woes distressed ! 
 
(56 HAPPINESS. 
 
 I question'd virtue : virtue sighed, 
 No boon could she dispense — 
 
 Nor virtue was her name, she cried, 
 But humble penitence. 
 
 I questional death — the grisly shade i 
 
 Relax'd his brow severe — \ 
 
 s 
 And " I am happiness," he said, i 
 
 " If Virtue guides thee here." I 
 
THE MOONLIGHT MARCH. 
 
 I SEE them on their winding way, 
 About tlieir ranks the moonbeams play ; 
 Their lofty deeds and daring high 
 Blend with the notes of victory. 
 And waving arms, and banners bright, 
 Are glancing in the mellow light : 
 They're lost — and gone, the moon is past, 
 The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast ; 
 And fainter, fainter, fainter still 
 The march is rising o'er the hill. 
 
 Again, again, the pealing drum, 
 The clashing horn — they come, they come ; 
 Thrcfugh rocky pass, o'er wooded steep, 
 In long and glittering files they sweep. 
 And nearer, nearer, yet more near, 
 Their soften'd chorus meets the ear ; 
 Forth, forth, and meet them on their way ; 
 The trampling hoofs brook no delay ; 
 With thrilling fife and pealing drum, 
 And clashing horn, they come, they come. 
 
LINES. 
 
 Reflected on the lake 1 love 
 To see the stars of evening glow ; 
 
 So tranquil in the heavens above, 
 So restless in the wave below. 
 
 Thus heavenly hope is all serene, 
 But earthly hope, how bright so e'er, 
 
 Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene, 
 As false and fleeting as 'tis fair. 
 
FAREWELL. 
 
 When eyes are beaming 
 What never tongue might tell, 
 
 When tears are streaming 
 From their crystal cell ; 
 
 When hands are linked that dread to part, 
 
 And heart is met by throbbing heart, 
 
 Oh ! bitter, bitter is the smart 
 Of them that bid farewell ! 
 
 When hope is chidden 
 
 That fain of bliss would tell. 
 And love forbidden 
 
 In the breast to dwell ; 
 When fettered by a viewless chain. 
 We turn and gaze, and turn again, 
 Oh ! death were mercy to the pain 
 
 Of them that bid farewell ! 
 
VESPERS. 
 
 God that madest Earth and Heaven» 
 
 Darkness and light ! 
 Who the day for toil hast given, 
 
 For rest the night ! 
 May thine angel guards defend us, 
 Slumber sweet ihy mercy send us, 
 Holy dreams and hopes attend us. 
 
 This livelong night ! 
 
TO LIEUTENANT-GENERAL, 
 SIR ROWLAND HILL, K. B. 
 
 Hill ! whose high daring with renew'd success 
 Hath cheer 'd our tardy war, what time the cloud 
 Of expectation, dark and comfortless, 
 Hung on the mountains ; and yon factious crowd 
 Blasphem'd their country's valour, babbling loud ! 
 Then was thine arm reveal'd, to whose young 
 
 might, 
 By Toulon's leaguer'd wall, the fiercest bow'd ; 
 Whom Egypt honour'd, and the dubious fight 
 Of sad Corunna's winter, and more bright 
 Douro, and Talavera's gory bays ; 
 Wise, modest, brave, in danger foremost found. — 
 O still, young warrior, may thy toil-earn'd praise, 
 With England's love, and England's honour 
 
 crown'd. 
 Gild with delight thy Father's latter days ! 
 
IMITATION 
 
 AN ODE BY KOODRUT, IN HINDOOSTANEE. 
 
 Ambition's voice was in my ear, she whisper'd l 
 
 yesterday, 
 " How goodly is the land of Room, how wide the : 
 
 Russian sway I j 
 
 How blest to conquer either realm, and dwell ; 
 
 through hfe to come, i 
 
 LuU'd by the harp's melodious string, cheer'd by j 
 
 the northern drum !" | 
 
 But Wisdom heard; "O youth," she said, "in j 
 
 passion's fetter tied, -^ 
 
 O come and see a sight with me shall cure thee 
 
 of thy pride!" 
 She led me to a lonely dell, a sad and shady 
 
 ground, 
 Where many an ancient sepulchre gleamed in the 
 
 moonshine round. 
 
IMITATION OF AN ODE. 73 
 
 And '* Here Secunder sleeps," she cried; — 
 
 " this is his rival's stone ; 
 And here the mighty chief reclines who rear'dthe 
 
 Median throne. 
 Inquire of these, doth aught of all their ancient 
 
 pomp remain, 
 Save late regret, and bitter tears for ever, and in 
 
 vain? 
 Return, return, and in thy heart engraven keep 
 
 my lore ; 
 The lesser wealth, the lighter load, — small blame 
 
 betides the poor." 
 
HYMNS, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR 
 
 THE WEEKLY CHURCH SERVICE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE YEAR 
 
HYMNS. 
 
 ADVENT SUNDAY. 
 
 Matt. xxi. 
 
 IlosAis'NA to the living Lord ! 
 Hosanna to the incarnate Word ! 
 To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, 
 Let earth, let heaven, Hosanna sing ! 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 Hosanna, Lord ! thine angels cry ; 
 Hosanna, Lord ! thy saints reply ; 
 Above, beneath us, and around, 
 The dead and living swell the sound ; 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 G 2 
 
78 
 
 Oh, Saviour ! with protecting care. 
 Return to this thy house of prayer ! 
 Assembled in thy sacred name, 
 Where we thy parting promise claim ! 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest 
 
 But, chiefest, in our cleansed breast, 
 Eternal ! bid thy spirit rest, 
 And make our secret soul to be 
 A temple pure, and worthy thee ! 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 So, in the last and dreadful day, 
 When earth and heaven shall melt away, 
 Thy flock, redeem'd from sinful stain, 
 Shall swell the sound of praise again, 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
79 
 
 SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 
 
 John i. 
 
 The Lord will come 1 the earth shall quake, 
 The hills their fixed seat forsake ; 
 And, withering, from the vault of night 
 The stars withdraw their feeble light. 
 
 The Lord will come ! but not the same 
 
 As once in lowly form he came, 
 
 A silent lamb to slaughter led. 
 
 The bruis'd,the suffering, and the dead. 
 
 The Lord will come ! a dreadful form, 
 With wreath of flame, and robe of storm, 
 On cherub wings, and wings of wind? 
 Anointed Judge of human-kind ! 
 
80 
 
 Can this be He wlio wont to stray 
 
 A pilgrim on the world's highway ; 
 
 By power oppress'd and mock'd by pride ? 
 
 Oh, God ! is this the crucified ? 
 
 Go, tyrants ! to the rocks complain ! 
 Go, seek the mountain's cleft in vain ! 
 But faith, victorious o'er the tomb, 
 Shall sing for joy — the Lord is come ! 
 
81 
 
 SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 
 
 Luke xxi. 
 
 In the sun and moon and stars 
 Signs and wonders there shall be ; 
 
 Earth shall quake with inward wars, 
 Nations with, perplexity. 
 
 Soon shall ocean's hoary deep, 
 
 Toss'd with stronger tempests, rise : 
 
 Darker storms the momitain sweep, 
 Redder lightning rend the skies. 
 
 Evil thoughts shall shake the proud, 
 Racking doubt and restless fear ; 
 
 And amid the thunder cloud 
 Shall the Judge of men appear. 
 
 But though from that awful face 
 
 Heaven shall fade and earth shall fly, 
 
 Fear not ye, his chosen race, 
 Your redemption draweth nigh ! 
 
8^2 
 
 THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 
 
 Matt. xi. 
 
 Oh, Saviour, is thy promise fled ? 
 
 No longer might thy grace endure, 
 To heal the sick and raise the dead, 
 
 And preach thy gospel to the poor ? 
 
 Come, Jesus ! come ! return again ; 
 
 With brighter beam thy servants bleSs, 
 Who long to feel thy perfect reign, 
 
 And share thy kingdom's happiness ! 
 
 A feeble race, by passion driven, 
 In darkness and in doubt we roam, 
 
 And lift our anxious eyes to Heaven, 
 Our hope, our harbour, and our home t 
 
 Yet 'mid the wild and wint'rygale, 
 When Death rides darkly o'er the sea, 
 
 And strength and earthly daring fail, 
 Our prayers, Redeemer ! rest on Thee ! 
 
Come, Jesus ! come ! and, as of yore 
 The prophet went to clear thy way, 
 
 A harbinger thy feet before, 
 A dawning to thy brighter day : 
 
 So now may grace with heavenly shower 
 Our stony hearts for truth prepare ; 
 
 Sow in our souls the seed of power, 
 Then come and reap thy harvest there 
 
84 
 
 THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. 
 
 The world is grown old, and her pleasures are 
 
 past ; 
 The world is grown old, and her form may not 
 
 last ; 
 The world is grown old, and trembles for fear ; 
 For sorrows abound and judgment is near ! 
 
 The sun in the heaven is languid and pale ; 
 And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale ; 
 And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear, 
 For the world is grown old, and judgment is 
 near ! 
 
 The king on his throne, the bride in her bower, 
 The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour ; 
 The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer, 
 For the world is grown old, and judgment is near ' 
 
83 
 
 The world is grown old ! — but should we com- 
 plain, 
 
 Who have tried her and know that her promise is 
 vain ? 
 
 Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here, 
 
 And we look for our crown when judgment is 
 near ! 
 
86 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 Oh, Saviour, whom this holy morn 
 Gave to our world below ; 
 
 To mortal want and labour born^ 
 And more than mortal wo ! 
 
 Incarnate Word ! by every grief. 
 By each temptation tried, 
 
 Who lived to yield our ills relief, 
 And to redeem us died ! 
 
 If gaily clothed and proudly fed. 
 In dangerous wealth we dwell, 
 
 Remind us of thy manger bed. 
 And lowly cottage cell ! 
 
 If prest by poverty severe, 
 In envious want we pine. 
 
 Oh may thy spirit whisper near, 
 How poor a lot was thine ! 
 
87 
 
 Through fickle fortune's various scene 
 Ftom sin preserve us free ! 
 
 Like us thou hast a mourner been, 
 May we rejoice with Thee ! 
 
88 
 
 ST. STEPHEN'S DAY. 
 
 The Son of God goes forth to war, 
 
 A kingly crown to gain ; 
 His blood-red banner streams afar ! 
 
 Who follows in his train ? 
 Who best can drink his cup of wo, 
 
 Triumphant over pain, 
 Who patient bears his cross below, 
 
 He follows in his train ! 
 
 The martyr first, whose eagle eye 
 
 Could pierce beyond the grave ; 
 Who saw his Master in the sky. 
 
 And call'd on him to save. 
 Like Him, with pardon on his tongue 
 
 In midst of mortal pain, 
 He pray'd for them that did the wrong ! 
 
 Who follows in his train ? 
 
89 
 
 A glorious band, the chosen few, 
 
 On whom the spirit came ; 
 Twelve vahant saints, their hope they knew, 
 
 And mock'd the cross and flame. 
 They met the tyrant's brandish'd steel, 
 
 The lion's gory mane : 
 They bow'd their necks the death to feel ! 
 
 Who follows in their train ? 
 
 A noble army — men and boys, 
 
 The matron and the maid, 
 Around the Saviour's throne rejoice, 
 
 In robes of light array'd. 
 They chmb'd the steep ascent of Heaven, 
 
 Through peril, toil, and pain ! 
 Oh, God ! to us may grace be given 
 
 To follow in their train ! 
 
 M 2 
 
90 
 
 ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST'S DAY. 
 
 Oh, God ! who gav'st thy servant grace, 
 Amid the storms of life distrest, 
 
 To look on thine incarnate face, 
 And lean on thy protecting breast : 
 
 To see the light that dimly shone, 
 Echps'd for us in sorrow pale, 
 
 Pure Image of the Eternal One ! 
 
 Through shadows of thy mortal veil t 
 
 Be ours, oh, King of Mercy ! still 
 To feel thy presence from above, 
 
 And in thy word, and in thy will, 
 
 To hear thy voice and know thy love ; 
 
 And when the toils of life are done, 
 And nature waits thy dread decree, 
 
 To find our rest beneath thy throne, 
 And look, in humble hope, to Thee I 
 
91 
 
 INNOCENT'S DAY. 
 
 Oh weep not o'er thy children's tomb, 
 
 Oh, Rachel, weep not so ! 
 The bud is cropt by martyrdom, 
 
 The flower in heaven shall blow ! 
 
 Firstlings of faith ! the murderer's knife 
 Has miss'd its deadliest aim : 
 
 The God for whom they gave their life, 
 For them to suffer came ! 
 
 Though feeble were their days and few, 
 
 Baptized in blood arid pain, 
 He knows them, whom they never knew, 
 
 And they shall live again. 
 
 Then weep not o'er thy children's tomb, 
 
 Oh, Rachel, weep not so ! 
 The bud is cropt by martyrdom, 
 
 The flower in heaven shall blow ! 
 
-92 
 
 SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS 
 OR, CIRCUMCISION. 
 
 Lord of mercy and of might ! 
 Of mankind the hfe and Hght ! 
 Maker, teacher infinite ! 
 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
 Who, when sin's tremendous doom 
 Gave Creation to the tomb, 
 Didst not scorn the Virgin's womb, 
 Jesus ! hear and save 1 
 
 Mighty monarch ! Saviour mild ! 
 Humbled to a mortal child, 
 Captive, beaten, bound, revil'd, 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
 Throned above celestial things, 
 Borne aloft on angel's wings, 
 Lord of lords, and King of kings ! 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
93 
 
 Who shalt yet return from hi^h, 
 Robed in might and majesty, 
 Hear us ! help us when we cry ! 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
d'i 
 
 EPIPHANY. 
 
 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 
 
 Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid ! 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 
 Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! 
 
 Cold on his cradle the dew drops are shhiing, 
 Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall, 
 
 Angels adore him in slumber reclining, 
 Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all! 
 
 Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, 
 Odours of Edom and offerings divine ? 
 
 Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, 
 Myrrh from the forest or gold from the mine ? 
 
 Vainly we offer each ampler oblation ; 
 
 Vainly with gifts would his favour secure : 
 Richer by far is the heart's adoration ; 
 
 Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 
 
Brightest and best of the sons oftlie nnorning ! 
 
 Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid ! 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 
 Guide wliere our infant Redeemer is laid ! 
 
96 
 
 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 
 Luke ii. 
 
 Abash'd be all the boast of age ! 
 
 Be hoary learning dumb ! 
 Expounder of the mystic page. 
 
 Behold an Infant come ! 
 
 Oh, Wisdom, whose unfading power 
 
 Beside th' Eternal stood, 
 To frame, in nature's earliest hour, 
 
 The land, the sky, the flood ; 
 
 Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile 
 
 An infant form to wear ; 
 To bless thy mother with a smile. 
 
 And lisp thy falter'd prayer. 
 
 But, in thy Father's own abode. 
 
 With Israel's elders round. 
 Conversing high with Israel's God. 
 
 Thy chiefest joy was found. 
 
97 
 
 So may our youth adore thy name I 
 And, Saviour, deign to bless 
 
 With fostering grace the timid flame 
 Of early holiness ! 
 
98 
 
 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 
 
 By cool Siloam's shady rill 
 
 How sweet the lily grows ! 
 How sweet the breath beneath the hill 
 
 Of Sharon's dewy rose ! 
 
 Lo ! such the child whose early feet 
 The paths of peace have trod ; 
 
 Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, 
 Is upward drawn to God ! 
 
 By cool Siloam's shady rill 
 
 The Hly must decay ; 
 The rose that blooms beneath the hill 
 
 Must shortly fade away. 
 
 And soon, too soon, the wint'ry hour 
 
 Of man's maturer age 
 Will shake the soul with sorrow's power^ 
 
 And stormy passion's rage! 
 
99 
 
 O Thou, whose infant feet were found 
 
 Within thy Father's shrine ! 
 Whose years, with changeless virtue crown'd, 
 
 Were all alike divine, 
 
 Dependent on thy bounteous breath, 
 
 We seek thy grace alone, 
 In childhood, manhood, age and death. 
 
 To keep us still thine own ! 
 
100 
 
 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 
 
 Oh, hand of bounty, largely spread, 
 By whom our every want is fed, 
 Whate'er we touch, or taste, or see, 
 We owe them all, oh Lord! to Thee ; 
 The corn, the oil, the purple wine. 
 Are all thy gifts, and only thine I 
 
 The stream thy word to nectar dyed, 
 The bread thy blessing multiplied, 
 The stormy wind, the whelming flood, 
 That silent at thy mandate stood, 
 How well they knew thy voice divine. 
 Whose works they were, and only thine ! 
 
 Though now no more on earth we trace 
 Thy footsteps of celestial grace. 
 Obedient to thy word and will 
 We seek thy daily mercy still ; 
 Its blessed beams around us shine, 
 And thine we are, and only thine ! 
 
101 
 
 FOR THE SAME, 
 
 Incarnate Word, who, wont to dwell 
 In lowly shape and cottage cell, 
 Didst not refuse a guest to be 
 At Cana's poor festivity : 
 
 Oh, when our soul from care is free, 
 Then, Saviour, may we think on Thee, 
 And seated at the festal board, 
 In Fancy's eye behold the Lord. 
 
 Then may we seem, in Fancy's ear, 
 Thy manna-dropping tongue to hear. 
 And think, — even now, thy searching gaze 
 Each secret of our soul surveys ! 
 
 So may such joy, chastised and pure, 
 Beyond the bounds of earth endure ; 
 Nor pleasm-e in the wounded mind 
 Shall leave a rankling sting behind ! 
 I 2 
 
102 
 
 FOR THE SAME. 
 
 When on her Maker's bosom 
 The new-born earth was laid, 
 
 And nature's opening blossom 
 Its fairest bloom display'd ; 
 
 When all with fruit and flowers 
 The laughing soil was drest, 
 
 And Eden's fragrant bowers 
 Receiv'd their human guest ; 
 
 No sin his face defiling, 
 The heir of Nature stood, 
 
 And God, benignly smiling, 
 Beheld that all was good ! 
 
 Yet in that hour of blessing, 
 A single want was known ; 
 
 A wish the heart distressing ; 
 For Adam was alone ! 
 
103 
 
 Oh, God of pure affection ! 
 
 By men and saints adored, 
 Who gavest thy protection 
 
 To Cana's nuptial board, 
 
 May such thy bounties ever 
 To wedded love be shown. 
 
 And no rude hand dissever 
 Whom thou hast link'd in one ! 
 
104 
 
 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY, 
 
 Matt. viii. 
 
 Lord ! whose love, in power excelling, 
 Wash'd the leper's stain away, 
 
 Jesus ! from thy heavenly dwelling, 
 Hear us, help us, when we pray ! 
 
 From the filth of vice and folly, 
 From infuriate passion's rage, 
 
 Evil thoughts and hopes unholy, 
 Heedless youth and selfish age ; 
 
 From the lusts whose deep pollutions 
 Adam's ancient taint disclose, 
 
 From the tempter's dark intrusions. 
 Restless, doubt and blind repose ; 
 
 From the miser's cursed treasure, 
 From the drunkard's jest obscene, 
 
 From the world, its pomp and pleasure, 
 Jesus ! Master ! make us clean ! 
 
105 
 
 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. 
 
 When through the torn sail the wild tempest is 
 
 streaming, 
 When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is 
 
 gleaming, 
 Nor hope lends a ray the poor seamen to cherish, 
 We fly to our Maker — " Help, Lord ! or we 
 
 perish !" 
 
 Oh, Jesus ! once toss'd on the breast of the billow, 
 Aroused by the shriek of despair from thy pillow, 
 Now, seated in glory, the mariner cherish. 
 Who cries in his danger — '^ Help, Lord ! or we 
 perish!" 
 
 And oh, when the whirlwind of passion is raging, 
 When hell in our heart his wild warfare is waging, 
 Arise in thy strength thy redeemed to cherish. 
 Rebuke the destroyer — " Help, Lord! or wc 
 perish !" 
 
106 
 
 SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. 
 
 The God of glory walks his round, 
 From day to day, from year to year, 
 And warns us each with awful sound, 
 " No longer stand ye idle here ! 
 
 " Ye whose young cheeks are rosy bright, I 
 
 Whose hands are strong, whose hearts are clear, ] 
 Waste not of hope the morning Hght ! i 
 
 Ah, fools ! why stand ye idle here ? 
 
 '* Oh, as the griefs ye would assuage 
 That wait on life's dechning year, 
 Secure a blessing for your age. 
 And work your Maker's business here I 
 
 " And ye, whose locks of scanty gray 
 Foretell your latest travail near. 
 How swiftly fades your worthless day ! 
 And stand ye yet so idle here ? 
 
107 
 
 " One hour remains, there is but one ! 
 But many a shriek and many a tear 
 Through endless years the guilt must moan 
 Of moments lost and wasted here 1" 
 
 Oh Thou, by all thy works adored. 
 To whom the sinner's soul is dear, 
 Recall us to thy vineyard, Lord ! 
 And grant us grace to please thee here ! 
 
108 
 
 SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY. 
 
 Oh, God ! by whom the seed is given ; 
 
 By whom the harvest blest ; 
 
 Whose word hke manna shower'd from heaven, 
 
 Is planted in our breast ; 
 
 Preserve it from the passing feet, 
 And plunderers of the air ; 
 The sultry sun's intenser heat, 
 And weeds of Avorldly care ; 
 
 Though buried deep or thinly strewn, 
 Do thou thy grace supply ; 
 The hope in earthly furrows sown 
 Shall ripen in the sky ! 
 
109 
 
 QUINQUAGESIMA. 
 
 Lord of mercy and of mightj 
 Of mankind the life and light. 
 Maker, teacher infinite, 
 Jesus, hear and save ! 
 
 Who, when sin's primaeval doom 
 Gave Creation to the tomb, 
 Didst not scorn a Virgin's womb, 
 Jesus, hear and save ! 
 
 Strong Creator, Saviour mild. 
 Humbled to a mortal child. 
 Captive, beaten, bomid, reviled, 
 Jesus, hear and save ! 
 
 Throned above celestial things, 
 Borne aloft on angels' wings, 
 Lord of lords, and King of kings, 
 Jesus, hear and save t 
 
 K 
 
no 
 
 Soon to come to eartli again. 
 Judge of angels and of men, 
 Hear us now, and hear us then, 
 Jesus, hear and save ! 
 
11 
 
 THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. 
 
 ViRGiN-born I we bow before thee ! 
 Blessed was the womb that bore thee ! 
 Mary, mother meek and mild, 
 Blessed was she in her child ! 
 
 Blessed was the breast that fed thee I 
 Blessed was the hand that led thee ! 
 Blessed was the parent's eye 
 That watch' d thy slumbering infancy ! 
 
 Blessed she by all creation, 
 
 Who brought forth the world's salvation ! 
 
 And blessed they, for ever blest, 
 
 Who love thee most and serve thee best ! 
 
 Virgin-born ! we bow before thee ! 
 Blessed was the womb that bore thee ! 
 Mary, mother meek and mild, 
 Blessed was she in her child ! 
 
12 
 
 FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 
 
 Oh, King of earth and air and sea ! 
 The hungry ravens cry to thee ; 
 To thee the scaly tribes that sweep 
 The bosom of the boundless deep ; 
 
 To thee the lions roaring call, 
 The common Father, kind to all ! 
 Then grant thy servants, Lord ! we pray, 
 Our daily bread from day to day ! 
 
 The fishes may for food complain ; 
 The ravens spread their wings in vain ; 
 The roaring lions lack and pine ; 
 But, God I thou carest still for thine ! 
 
 Thy bounteous hand with food can bless 
 The bleak and lonely wilderness ; 
 And thou hast taught us, Lord ! to pray 
 For daily bread from day to day ! 
 
113 
 
 And oh, when through the wilds we roam 
 That part us from our heavenly home ; 
 When, lost in danger, want, and wo, 
 Our faithless tears begin to flow ; 
 
 Do thou thy gracious comfort give. 
 By which alone the soul may live ; 
 And grant thy servants. Lord ! we pray. 
 The bread of life from day to day ! 
 
 K 2 
 
114 
 
 FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 
 
 Oh Thou, whom neither time nor space 
 Can circle in, unseen, unknown, 
 
 Nor faith in boldest flight can trace, 
 Save through thy Spirit and thy Son ! 
 
 And Thou that from thy bright abode, 
 To us in mortal weakness shown, 
 
 Didst graft the manhood into God, 
 Eternal, co-eternal Son ! 
 
 And Thou whose unction from on high 
 By comfort, hght, and love is known ! 
 
 Who, with the parent Deity, 
 Dread Spirit ! art for ever one ! 
 
 Great First and Last ! thy blessing give ! 
 
 And grant us faith, thy gift alone, 
 To love and praise thee while we live, 
 
 And do whatever thou would'st have done ! 
 
U.j 
 
 SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT. 
 
 The Lord of might, from Sinai's brow, 
 Gave forth his voice of thunder ; 
 
 And Israel lay on earth below, 
 Outstretch'd in fear and wonder. 
 
 Beneath his feet was pitchy night. 
 
 And, at his left hand and his right, 
 The rocks were rent asunder ! 
 
 The Lord of love, on Calvary, 
 A meek and suffering stranger. 
 
 Upraised to heaven his languid eye, 
 In nature's hour of danger. 
 
 For us he bore the weight of wo. 
 
 For us he gave his blood to flow. 
 And met his Father's anger. 
 
116 
 
 The Lord of love, the Lord of might, 
 
 The king of all created, 
 Shall back return to claim his right, 
 
 On clouds of glory seated ; 
 With trumpet-sound and angel-song, 
 And hallelujahs loud and long 
 
 O'er Death and Hell defeated ! 
 
117 
 
 GOOD FRIDAY. 
 
 Oh more than merciful ! whose bounty gave 
 Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave ! 
 Whose heart was rent to pay thy people's price, 
 The great High-priest at once and sacrifice 1 
 Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain, 
 Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain ! 
 
 When sin with flow'ry garland hides her dart, 
 When tyrant force would daunt the sinking heart, 
 When fleshly lust assails, or worldly care. 
 Or the soul flutters in the fowler's snare, — 
 Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain, 
 Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain ! 
 
 And, chiefest then, when nature yields the strife, 
 And mortal darkness wraps the gate of life. 
 When the poor spirit, from the tomb set free, 
 Sinks at thy feet and lifts its hope to thee — 
 Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain ! 
 Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain ! 
 
IB 
 
 EASTER DAY. 
 
 God is gone up with a merry noise 
 
 Of saints that sing on high ; 
 With his own right hand and his holy arm 
 
 He hath won the victory ! 
 
 Now empty are the courts of death, 
 And crush'd thy sting, despair : 
 
 And roses bloom in the desert tomb, 
 For Jesus hath been there ! 
 
 And he hath tamed the strength of hell, 
 And dragg'd him through the sky, 
 
 And captive behind his chariot wheel, 
 He hath bound captivity ! 
 
 God is gone up with a merry noise 
 
 Of saints that sing on high ; 
 With his own right hand and his holy arm 
 
 He hath won the victory ! 
 
119 
 
 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. 
 
 Life nor Death shall us dissever 
 From his love who reigns for ever ! 
 Will he fail us ? Never ! never ! 
 When to him we cry ! 
 
 Sin may seek to snare us, 
 Fury passion tear us ! 
 Doubt and fear, and grim despair, 
 Their fangs against us try ; 
 
 But his might shall still defend us. 
 And his blessed Son befriend us. 
 And his Holy Spirit send us 
 Comfort ere we die ! 
 
120 
 
 ASCENSION DAY, AND SUNDAY AFTER, i 
 
 " Sit thou on my right hand, my Son I" sailh ; 
 the Lord. j 
 
 " Sit thou on my right hand, my Son ! ; 
 
 Till in the fatal hour , 
 
 Of my wrath, and my power, I 
 
 Thy foes shall be a footstool to thy throne ! ! 
 
 "Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son !" saith \ 
 
 the Lord. ! 
 
 " Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son ! i 
 
 From earth and air and sea, | 
 
 And all that in them be, ! 
 
 Which thou for thine heritage hast won 1" 
 
 " Daily be thou praised, my Son !" saith the Lord. 
 
 '' Daily be thou praised, my Son ! 
 And all that live and move. 
 Let them bless thy bleeding love, 
 
 And the work which thy worthiness hath done 1" 
 
1^1 
 
 WHITSUNDAY. 
 
 Spirit of Truth I on this thy day 
 
 To thee for help we cry; 
 To guide us through the dreary way 
 
 Of dark mortaUty ! 
 
 We ask not, Lord I thy cloven flame, 
 Or tongues of various tone ; 
 
 But long thy praises to proclaim 
 With fervour in our own. 
 
 We mourn not that prophetic skill 
 Is found on earth no more ; 
 
 Enough for us to trace thy will 
 In Scripture's sacred lore, 
 
 We neither have nor seek the power 
 
 111 demons to control ; 
 But thou in dark temptation's hour, 
 
 Shall chase them from the soul. 
 
 L 
 
122 
 
 No heavenly harpings soothe our ear, 
 
 No mystic dreams we share ; 
 Yet hope to feel thy comfort near, 
 
 And bless thee in our prayer. 
 
 When tongues shall cease, and power decay, 
 
 And knowledge empty prove, 
 Do thou thy trembling servants stay 
 
 With Faith, with Hope, with Love ! 
 
IZi 
 
 TRINITY SUNDAY. 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, 
 Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee ; 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty ! 
 God in three persons, blessed Trinity I 
 
 Holy, holy, holy ! all the saints adore thee, 
 
 Casting down their golden crowns around the 
 glassy sea ; 
 
 Cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, 
 Which wert and art and evermore shalt be ! 
 
 Holy, holy, holy ! though the darkness hide thee. 
 Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may 
 not see, 
 
 Only thou art holy, there is none beside thee, 
 Perfect in power, in love, and purity ! 
 
124 
 
 ■ 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty ! | 
 
 All thy works shall praise thy name in earth and | 
 
 sky and sea. \ 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty ! 1 
 
 God in three persons, blessed Trinity ! : 
 
125 
 
 FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Room for the proud ! Ye sons of clay, 
 From far his sweeping pomp survey, 
 Nor, rashly curious, clog the way 
 His chariot wheels before ! 
 
 Lo ! with what scorn his lofty eye 
 Glances o'er age and poverty, 
 And bids intruding conscience fly 
 Far from his palace door ! 
 
 Room for the proud ! but slow the feet 
 That bear his coffin down^the street : 
 And dismal seems his winding-sheet 
 Who purple lately wore ! 
 
 Ah ! where must now his spirit fly 
 
 In naked, trembling agony ? 
 
 Or how shall he for mercy cry, . 
 
 Who show'd it not before ! 
 
 L 2 
 
126 
 
 Room for the proud ! in ghastly state 
 The lords of hell his coming wait, 
 And flinging wide the dreadful gate, 
 That shuts to ope no more, 
 
 " Lo here with us the seat," they cry, 
 " For him who mock'd at poverty, 
 And bade intruding conscience fly 
 Far from his palace door I" 
 
127 
 
 FOR THE SAME. 
 
 The feeble pulse, the gasping breath, 
 The clenched teeth, the glazed eye, 
 
 Are these thy sting, thou dreadful death I 
 O grave, are these thy victory ? 
 
 The mourners by our parting bed. 
 The wife, the children weeping nigh, 
 
 The dismal pageant of the dead, — 
 These, these are not thy victory ! 
 
 But, from the much-loved world to part, 
 Our lust untamed, our spirit high. 
 
 All nature struggling at the heart. 
 Which, dying, feels it dare not die ! 
 
 To dream through life a gaudy dream 
 Of pride and pomp and luxury, 
 
 Till waken'd by the nearer gleam 
 Of burning, boundless agony ; 
 
128 
 
 To meet o'er soon our angry king, 
 Whose love we past unheeded by ; 
 
 Lo this, O Death, thy deadhest sting ! 
 O Grave, and this thy victory I 
 
 O Searcher of the secret heart, 
 Who deign 'd for sinful man to die ! 
 
 Restore us ere the spirit part, 
 Nor give to hell the victory ! 
 
129 
 
 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Forth from the dark and stormy sky, 
 Lord, to thine altar's shade we fly ; 
 Forth from the world, its hope and fear, 
 Saviour, we seek thy shelter here : 
 Weary and weak, thy grace we pray ; 
 Turn not, O Lord ! thy guests away ! 
 
 Long have we roam'd in want and pain, 
 Long have we sought thy rest in vain ; 
 Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost. 
 Long have our souls been tempest-tost : 
 Low at thy feet our sins we lay ; 
 Turn not, O Lord ! thy guests away ! 
 
130 
 
 THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. > 
 
 There was joy in heaven ! 
 There was joy in heaven ! 
 When this goodly world to frame 
 The Lord of might and mercy came 
 Shouts of joy were heard on high, 
 And the stars sang from the sky — 
 " Glory to God in heaven !" 
 
 There was joy in heaven ! 
 There was joy in heaven ! 
 When the billows, heaving dark, 
 Sank around the stranded ark, 
 And the rainbow's watery span 
 Spake of mercy, hope to man, 
 And peace with God in Heaven ! 
 
131 
 
 There was joy in heaven ! 
 There was joy in heaven ! 
 When of love the midnight beam 
 Dawn'd on the towers of Bethlehem 
 And along the echoing hill 
 Angels sang — " On earth good will, 
 And glory in the Heaven !" 
 
 There is joy in heaven ! 
 There is joy in heaven ! 
 When the sheep that went astray 
 Turns again to virtue's way ; 
 When the soul, by grace subdued, 
 Sobs its prayer of gratitude, 
 Then is there joy in Heaven ! 
 
132 
 
 FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. | 
 
 I prais'd the earth, in beauty seen 1 
 
 With garlands gay of various green ; i 
 
 I prais'd the sea, whose ample field j 
 
 Shone glorious as a silver shield ; J 
 
 And earth and ocean seem'd to say, ■ 
 
 " Our beauties are but for a day !" 1 
 
 I prais'd the sun, whose chariot roll'd 1 
 
 On wheels of amber and of gold ; j 
 
 I prais'd the moon, whose softer eye ,; 
 
 Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky ! ', 
 
 And moon and sun in answer said, \ 
 
 '* Our days of Hght are numbered !" ! 
 
 O God ! O good beyond compare ! ] 
 
 If thus thy meaner works are fair I : 
 
 If thus thy bounties gild the span ! 
 
 Of ruin'd earth and sinful man, ] 
 
 How glorious must the mansion be ^ 
 
 Where thy redeem'd shall dwell with Thee ! ' 
 
133 
 
 FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Creator of the rolling flood ! 
 
 On whom thy people hope alone ; 
 Who cam'st, by water and by blood, 
 
 For man's offences to atone ; 
 
 Who from the labours of the deep 
 Didst set thy servant Peter free, 
 
 To feed on earth thy chosen sheep, 
 And build an endless church to thee. 
 
 Grant us, devoid of worldly care. 
 And leaning on thy bounteous hand, 
 
 To seek thy help in humble prayer. 
 And on thy sacred rock to stand : 
 
 And when, our Hvelong toil to crown, 
 Thy call shall set the spirit free, 
 
 To cast with joy our burthen down, 
 And rise, O Lord ! and follow thee ! 
 
 M 
 
134 
 
 SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the ^ 
 
 laughing soil ; f 
 
 When summer's balmy showers refresh the S 
 
 mower's toil ; ? 
 
 When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow fi 
 
 and the flood, j 
 
 In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his ! 
 
 Maker good. 
 
 The birds that wake the morning, and those that 
 
 love the shade ; 
 The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the 
 
 drowsy glade ; 
 The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on 
 
 his way, 
 The moon and stars, then Master's name in 
 
 silent pomp display. 
 
135 
 
 Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the 
 
 sky, 
 Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise 
 
 deny ? 
 No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons 
 
 cease to be. 
 Thee, Master, must we always love, and. Saviour, 
 
 honour thee. 
 
 The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of 
 
 summer fade. 
 The autumn droop in winter, the birds forsake 
 
 the shade ; 
 The winds be lull'd — the sun and moon forget 
 
 their old decree. 
 But we in nature's latest hour, O Lord! will 
 
 cling to thee. 
 
136 
 
 TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Jerusalem, Jerusalem ! enthroned once on high, 
 Thou favour'd home of God on earth, thou heav'n ' 
 
 below the sky! 
 Now brought to bondage with thy sons, a curse 
 
 and grief to see, 
 Jerusalem, Jerusalem! our tears shall flow for | 
 
 thee. I 
 
 Oh! hadst thou known thy day of grace, and I 
 
 flock'd beneath the wing ♦ 
 
 Of him who call'd thee lovingly, thine own anointed f 
 
 King, I 
 
 Then had the tribes of all the world gone up thy 
 
 pomp to see. 
 And glory dwelt within thy gates, and all thy sons 
 
 been frecl 
 
 " And who art Uiou that mournest me?" replied ' 
 the ruin gray, j 
 
 -' And fear'st not rather thai thyself may prove a • 
 castaway? \ 
 
 I 
 
137 
 
 1 am a dried and abject branch, my place is given 
 
 to thee; 
 But wo to every barren graft of thy wild olive-tree! 
 
 " Our day of grace is sunk in night, our time of 
 
 mercy spent, 
 For heavy was my children's crime, and strange 
 
 their punishment; 
 Yet gaze not idly on our fall, but, sinner, warned 
 
 be, 
 Who spared not his chosen seed may send his 
 
 wrath on thee ! 
 
 '' Our day of grace is sunk in night, thy noon is in 
 
 its prime ; 
 Oh ! turn and seek thy Saviour's face in this 
 
 accepted time ! 
 So, Gentile, may Jerusalem a lesson prove to thee. 
 And in the new Jerusalem thy home for ever be! " 
 
138 
 
 THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, i 
 
 *' Who yonder on the desert heath, 
 Complains in feeble tone ?" 
 
 ■ — " A pilgrim in the vale of death, 
 Faint, bleeding, and alone !" 
 
 " How cam'st thou to this dismal strand 
 
 Of danger, grief, and shame ?" f 
 
 — '* From blessed Sion's holy land, 
 By folly led, I came !" 
 
 '* What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare ? 
 
 Whose fury laid thee low ?" 
 — " Sin for my footsteps twin'd her snare, 
 
 And death has dealt the blow !" 
 
 " Can art no medicine for thy wound, 
 
 Nor nature strength supply ?*" 
 — " They saw me bleeding on the ground, 
 
 And pabsM in bilence by !" 
 
139 
 
 " But, sufferer ! is no comfort near 
 
 Thy terrors to remove ?" 
 — " There is to whom my soul was dear, 
 
 But I have scorned his love." 
 
 " What if his hand were nigh to save 
 From endless death thy days ?" 
 
 — " The soul he ransom'd from the grave 
 Should live but to his praise !" 
 
 " Rise then, oh rise ! his health embrace. 
 With heavenly strength renew'd ; 
 
 And such as is thy Saviour's grace, 
 Such be thy gratitude !" 
 
140 
 
 FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Lo I the lilies of thefield, 
 
 How their leaves instruction yield ! 
 
 Hark to nature's lesson given 
 
 By the blessed birds of Heaven ! 
 
 Every bush and tufted tree 
 
 Warbles sweet philosophy ; 
 
 " Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow : 
 
 God provideth for the morrow ! 
 
 " Say, with richer crimson glows 
 The kingly mantle than the rose ? 
 Say, have kings more wholesome fare 
 Than we, poor citizens of air ? 
 Barns nor hoarded grain have we, 
 Yet we carol merrily. 
 Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow ! 
 Ood provideth for the morrow ! 
 
141 
 
 •' One there lives whose guardian eye 
 Guides our humble destiny ; 
 One there lives who, Lord of all, 
 Keeps our feathers lest they fall : 
 Pass we blithely, then, the time, 
 Fearless of the snare and lime, 
 Free from doubt and faithless sorrow ; 
 God provideth for the morrow T' 
 
142 
 
 SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY, 
 
 Wake not, oh mother ! sounds of lamentation ! [ 
 
 I 
 Weep not, oh widow ! weep not hopelessly ! j 
 
 Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation, | 
 
 Strong is the word of God to succour thee ! ! 
 
 Bear forth the cold corpse, slowly, slowly bear i 
 
 him: I 
 
 Hide his pale features with the sable pall: 
 
 Chide not the sad one wildly weeping near him: I 
 
 Widow'd and childless, she has lost her all! | 
 
 Why pause the mourners? Who forbids our 
 
 weeping? \ 
 
 Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delay 'd? I 
 
 *' Set down the bier — he is not dead but sleeping! 
 
 *' Young man, arise!" — He spake, and was | 
 
 obey'd ! ] 
 
 t 
 I 
 
143 
 
 Change, then, oh sad one! grief to exultation, 
 Worship and fall before Messiah's knee. 
 
 Strong was his arm, the bringer of salvation, 
 Strong was the word of God to succour thee! 
 
144 
 
 NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Oh blest were the accents of early creation, > 
 
 When the Word of Jehovah came down from 
 above ; 
 
 In the clods of the earth to infuse animation, j 
 
 And wake their cold atoms to life and to love ! I 
 
 And mighty the tones which the firmament ; 
 
 rended, 
 When on wheels of the thunder, and wings of 
 
 the wind, 
 By light'ning, and hail, and thick darkness 
 
 attended, 
 
 He utter'd on Sinai his laws to mankind. 
 
 j 
 
 And sweet was the voice of the First-born of j 
 
 heaven, | 
 
 (Though poor his apparel, though earthly his j 
 
 form,) J 
 
145 
 
 Who said to the mourner, " Thy sins are for- 
 given!" • 
 " Be whole !" to the sick, — and '' Be still !" to 
 the storm. 
 
 Oh, Judge of the world ! when, array'd in thy 
 glory, 
 Thy summons again shall be heard from on 
 high, 
 While nature stands trembling and naked before 
 thee, 
 And waits on thy sentence to live or to die ; 
 
 When the heav'n shall fly fast from the sound of 
 thy thunder, 
 And the sun, in thy lightnings, grow languid 
 and pale, 
 And the sea yield her dead, and the tomb cleave 
 asunder. 
 In the hour of thy terrors, let mercy prevail I 
 
146 
 
 i 
 TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. || 
 
 The sound of war ! In earth and air 
 
 The volleying thunders roll : 
 Their fiery darts the fiends prepare, 
 And dig the pit, and spread the snare, 
 
 Against the Christian's soul. 
 The tyrant's sword, the rack, the flame, 
 
 The scorner's serpent tone. 
 Of bitter doubt the barbed aim, 
 All, all conspire his heart to tame : 
 Force, fraud, and hellish fires assail 
 The rivets of his heavenly mail, 
 
 Amidst his foes alone. 
 
 Gods of the world ! ye warrior host 
 
 Of darkness and of air, 
 In vain is all your impious boast, 
 In vain each missile lightning tost, 
 
 In vain the tempter's snare ! 
 
147 
 
 Though fast and far your arrows fly, 
 
 Though mortal nerve and bone 
 Shrink in convulsive agony, 
 The Christian can your rage defy ; 
 Towers o'er his head salvation's crest, 
 Faith, like a buckler, guards his breast, 
 Undaunted, though alone. 
 
 'Tis past ! 'tis o'er ! in foul defeat 
 
 The demon host are fled ! 
 Before the Saviour's mercy-seat, 
 (His live-long work of faith complete,) 
 
 Their conqueror bends his head. 
 " The spoils thyself hast gained, Lord ! 
 
 I lay before thy throne : 
 Thou wert my rock, my shield, my sword ; 
 My trust was in thy name and word : 
 'Twas in thy strength my heart was strong : 
 Thy spirit went with mine along ; 
 
 How was I then alone ?"' 
 
148 
 
 TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 Oh God I my sins are manifold, against my life 
 
 they cry, 
 And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to thy temple 
 
 fly; ,j 
 
 Wilt thou release my trembling soul, that to des- )\ 
 
 pair is driven ? I \ 
 
 '* Forgive!" a blessed voice repHed, " and thou ^! 
 
 shalt be forgiven !" 
 
 My foemen, Lord ! are fierce and fell, they spurn 
 
 me in their pride. 
 They render evil for my good, my patience they . 
 
 deride ; 
 Arise, oh King I and be the proud to righteous 
 
 ruin driven ! 
 '♦ Forgive !" an awful answer came, " as thou 
 
 would'st be forgiven !" 
 
149 
 
 Seven times, Oh Lord ! 1 pardon'd them, seven 
 tunes they sinn'd again : 
 
 They practise still to work me wo, they triumph 
 in my pain ; 
 
 But let them dread my vengeance now, to just re- 
 sentment driven! 
 
 '* Forgive !" the voice of thunder spake, '' or 
 never be forgiven !" 
 
 IN' 2 
 
150 
 
 TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 From foes that would the land devour ; 
 From guilty pride, and lust of power ; 
 From wild sedition's lawless hour ; 
 
 From yoke of slavery ; 
 From blinded zeal by faction led ; 
 From giddy change by fancy bred ; 
 From poisonous error's serpent head, 
 
 Good Lord, preserve us free ! 
 
 Defend, oh God ! with guardian hand, 
 
 The laws and ruler of our land, 
 
 And grant our church thy grace to stand 
 
 In faith and unity ! 
 The Spirit's help of thee we crave, 
 That thou whose blood was shed to save, 
 May'st, at thy second coming, have 
 
 A flock to welcome thee ! 
 
t.Sl 
 
 TWENTY-FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 
 
 To conquer and to save, the Son of God 
 Came to his own in great humihty, 
 Who wont to ride on cherub wings abroad, 
 And round him wrap the mantle of the sky. 
 The mountains bent their necks to form his road ; 
 The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high ; 
 Beneath his feet the wild waves softly flow'd, 
 And the winds kissed his garment tremblingly ! 
 
 The grave unbolted half his grisly door, 
 
 (For darkness and the deep had heard his fame, 
 
 Nor longer might their ancient rule endure ;) 
 
 The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame : 
 
 And, trooping on strong wing, his angels came 
 
 To work his will, and kingdom to secure : 
 
 No strength he needed save his Father's name ; 
 
 Babes were his heralds, and his friends the poor ! 
 
152 
 
 FOR ST. JAMES' DAY. 
 
 Though sorrows rise and dangers roll 
 In waves of darkness o'er my soul, 
 Though friends are false and love decays, 
 And few and evil are my days, 
 Though conscience, fiercest of my foes. 
 Swells with remembered guilt my woes, 
 Yet cv'n in nature's utmost ill, 
 I love thee, Lord ! I love thee still ! 
 
 Though Sinai's curse, in thunder dread, 
 Peals o'er mine unprotected head, 
 And memory points, with busy pain. 
 To grace and mercy given in vain. 
 Till nature, shrieking in the strife, 
 Would fly to hell, to 'scape from life. 
 Though every thought has power to kill. 
 1 love thee, Lord ! I love thee still ! 
 
153 
 
 Oh, by the pangs thyself hast borne, 
 
 The ruffian's blow, the tyrant's scorn ; 
 
 By Sinai's curse, whose dreadful doom 
 
 Was buried in thy guiltless tomb : 
 
 By these my pangs, whose healing smart 
 
 Thy grace hath planted in my heart ; 
 
 I know, I feel, thy bounteous will I 
 
 Thou lovest me, Lord ! thou lovest me still ! 
 
154 
 
 MICHAELMAS DAY. 
 
 Oh, captain of God's host, whose dreadful might 
 Led forth to war the armed Seraphim, 
 
 And from the starry height, 
 
 Subdued in burning fight. 
 Cast down that ancient dragon, dark and grim ! 
 
 Thine angels, Christ ! we laud in solemn lays, 
 Our elder brethren of the crystal sky, 
 
 Who, 'mid thy glory's blaze. 
 
 The ceaseless anthem raise, 
 And gird thy throne in faithful ministry ! 
 
 We celebrate their love, whose viewless wing 
 Hath left for us so oft their mansion high. 
 
 The mercies of their king, 
 
 To mortal saints to bring, 
 Or guard the couch of slumbering infancy. 
 
135 
 
 But thee, the first and last, we glorify, 
 Who, when thy world was sunk in death and sin, 
 
 Not with thine hierarchy, 
 
 The armies of the sky, 
 But didst with thine own arm the battle win, 
 
 Alone didst pass the dark and dismal shore, 
 Alone didst tread the wine-press, and alone. 
 
 All glorious in thy gore, 
 
 Didst light and hfe restore. 
 To us. who lay in darkness and undone ! 
 
 Therefore, with angels and archangels, we 
 To thy dear love our thankful chorus raise. 
 
 And tune our songs to thee 
 
 Who art, and ought to be, 
 And, endless as thy mercies, sound thy praise ! 
 
156 
 
 IN TIMES OF DISTRESS AND DANGER. 
 
 Oh God, that madest earth and sky, the darkness 
 and the day, 
 
 Give ear to this thy family, and help us when we 
 pray! 
 
 For wide the waves of bitterness around our ves- 
 sel roar. 
 
 And heavy grows the pilot's heart to view the 
 rocky shore I 
 
 The cross our master bore for us, for him we 
 fain would bear, 
 
 But mortal strength to weakness turns, and cour- 
 age to despair ! 
 
 Then mercy on our faihngs, Lord ! our sinking faith 
 renew ! 
 
 And when thy sorrows visit us, oh send thy pa 
 tience too ! 
 
Id^i 
 
 INTENDED TO BE SUNG ON OCCASION OF 
 
 HIS PREACHING A SERMON FOR THE 
 
 CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY, 
 
 IN APRIL, 1820. 
 
 From Greenland's icy mountains, 
 
 From India's coral strand, 
 Where Afric's sunny fountains 
 
 Roll down their golden sand ; 
 From many an ancient river, 
 
 From many a palmy plain, 
 They call us to deliver 
 
 Their land from error's chain ! 
 
 What though the spicy breezes 
 
 Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, 
 Though every prospect pleases, 
 
 And only man is vile : 
 In vain with lavish kindness 
 
 The gifts of God are strown. 
 The heathen, in his bhndness, 
 
 Bows down to wood and stone ! 
 
158 
 
 Can we, whose souls are lighted 
 
 With wisdom from on high, 
 Can we to men benighted 
 
 The lamp of life deny? 
 Salvation ! oh salvation ! 
 
 The joyful sound proclaim, 
 Till each remotest nation 
 
 Has learn'd Messiah's name ! 
 
 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, 
 
 And you, ye waters, roll. 
 Till, Uke a sea of glory. 
 
 It spreads from pole to pole ; 
 Till o'er our ransom'd nature. 
 
 The Lamb for sinners slain, 
 Redeemer, King, Creator, 
 
 In bliss returns to reign ! 
 
159 
 
 AN INTROIT TO BE SUNG BETWEEN THE 
 LITANY AND COMMUNION SERVICE. 
 
 Oh most merciful ! 
 
 Oh most bountiful ! 
 
 God the Father Almighty ! 
 
 By the Redeemer's 
 
 Sweet intercession 
 
 Hear us, help us when we cry ! 
 
160 
 
 BEFORE THE SACRAMENT. 
 
 Bkead of the world, in mercy broken ! 
 
 Wine of the soul, in mercy shed ! 
 By whom the words of life were spoken, 
 
 And in whose death our sins are dead ! 
 
 Look on the heart by sorrow broken, 
 Look on the tears by sinners shed, 
 
 And be thy feast to us the token 
 That by thy grace our souls are fed ! 
 
161 
 
 AT A FUNERAL. 
 
 Beneath our feet and o'er our head 
 
 Is equal warning given ; 
 Beneath us he the countless dead, 
 
 Above us is the heaven ! 
 
 Their names are graven on the stone, 
 Their bones are in the clay ; 
 
 And ere another day is done, 
 Ourselves may be as they. 
 
 Death rides on every passing breeze, 
 He lurks in every flower ; 
 
 Each season has its own disease, 
 Its peril every hour I 
 
 Our eyes have seen the rosy hght 
 
 Of youth's soft cheek decay, 
 
 And Fate descend in sudden night 
 
 On manhood's middle day. 
 o 2 
 
162 
 
 Our eyes have seen the steps of age 
 Halt feebly towards the tomb, 
 
 And yet shall earth our hearts engage, 
 And dreams of days to come ? 
 
 Turn, mortal, turn ! thy danger know : 
 Where'er thy foot can tread 
 
 The earth rings hollow from below, 
 And warns thee of her dead ! 
 
 Turn, Christian, turn ! thy soul apply 
 
 To truths divinely given ; 
 The bones that underneath thee lie 
 
 Shall live for hell or heaven ! 
 
163 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not de- 
 plore thee, 
 
 Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb: 
 
 Thy Saviour has pass'd through its portal before 
 thee, 
 
 And the lamp of his love is thy guide through 
 the gloom ! 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold 
 
 thee, 
 Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side ; 
 But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold 
 
 thee, 
 And sinners mav die, for the sinless has died ! 
 
165 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave ! and, its mansion for- 
 saking. 
 
 Perchance thy weak spirit in fear hnger'd long ; 
 
 But the mild rays of paradise beam'd on thy 
 waking, 
 
 And the sound which thou heardst was the 
 seraphim's song ! 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not de- 
 plore thee, 
 
 Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and 
 guide ; 
 
 He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore 
 thee, 
 
 And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died!* 
 
 * The following stanzas were written as an addition to 
 the above hymn, by an English clergyman, on hearing 
 of the decease of the author. 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave ! and whole nations bemoan 
 thee, 
 
 Who caught from thy lips the glad tidings of peace : 
 Yet grateful, they still in their hearts shall enthrone thee, 
 
 And ne'er shall thy name from their memories cease. 
 
165 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave I but thy work shall not 
 perish, 
 
 That work which the Spirit of wisdom hath blest ; 
 His strength shall sustain it, his comforts shall cherish, 
 
 And make it to prosper, though thou art at rest. 
 
166 
 
 ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. 
 
 Oh, Saviour of the faithful dead, 
 With whom thy servants dwell, 
 
 Though cold and green the turf is spread 
 Above their narrow cell, — 
 
 No more we cling to mortal clay, 
 
 We doubt and fear no more. 
 Nor shrink to tread the darksome way 
 
 Which thou hast trod before ! 
 
 'Twas hard from those I loved to go, 
 
 Who knelt around my bed. 
 Whose tears bedew'd my burning brow, 
 
 Whose arms upheld my head ! 
 
 As fading from my dizzy view, 
 
 I sought their forms in vain, 
 The bitterness of death I knew, 
 
 And groan'd to live again. 
 
167 
 
 'Twas dreadful, when th' accuser's power 
 
 Assail'd my sinking heart, 
 Recounting eveiy wasted hour, 
 
 And each unworthy part : 
 
 But, Jesus ! in that mortal fray, 
 
 Thy blessed comfort stole, 
 Like sunshine in a stormy day. 
 
 Across my darken' d soul ! 
 
 When soon or late this feeble breath 
 
 No more to thee shall pray, 
 Support me through the vale of death, 
 
 And in the darksome way ! 
 
 Whencloth'd in fleshly weeds again 
 
 I wait thy dread decree. 
 Judge of the world ! bethink thee then 
 
 That thou hast died for me. 
 
TRANSLATIONS 
 
 OP 
 
 PINDAR 
 
THE FIRST OLYMPIC ODE. 
 
 TO HIERO OF SYRACUSE, VICTOR IN THE HORSE 
 RACE. 
 
 Can earth, or fire, or liquid air, 
 With water's sacred stream compare ? 
 Can aught that wealthy tyrants hold 
 Surpass the lordly blaze of gold ? — 
 Or hves there one, whose restless eye 
 Would seek along the empty sky, 
 Beneath the sun's meridian ray, 
 A warmer star, a purer day ? — 
 O thou, my soul, whose choral song 
 Would tell of contests sharp and strong, 
 Extol not other lists above 
 The circus of Olympian Jove ; 
 Whence borne on many a tuneful tongue, 
 To Saturn's seed the anthem sung, 
 
172 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 With harp, and flute and trumpet's call, 
 Hath sped to Hiero's festival. — 
 
 Over sheep-clad Sicily 
 
 Who the righteous sceptre beareth, 
 Every flower of virtue's tree 
 
 Wove in various wreath he weareth. — 
 But the bud of poesy 
 
 Is the fairest flower of all ; 
 Which the bards, in social glee. 
 
 Strew round Hiero's wealthy hall. — 
 The harp on yonder pin suspended, 
 Seize it, boy, for Pisa's sake ; 
 And that good steed's, whose thought will 
 wake 
 A joy with anxious fondness blended : — 
 No sounding lash his sleek side rended : — 
 
 By Alpheus' brink, with feet of flame. 
 Self-driven, to the goal he tended : 
 And earn'd the olive wreath of fame 
 For that dear lord, whose righteous name 
 The sons of Syracusa tell : — 
 Who loves the generous courser well : 
 Belov'd himself by all who dwell 
 
OF PINDAR. 173 
 
 In Pelop's Lydian colony. — 
 
 — Of earth-embracing Neptune, he 
 
 The darhng, when, in days of yore, 
 
 All lovely from the caldron red 
 
 By Clotho's spell dehvered, 
 
 The youth an ivory shoulder bore. — 
 
 — Well ! — these are tales of mystery ! — 
 
 And many a darkly-woven lie 
 
 With men will easy credence gain ; 
 
 While truth, calm truth, may speak in vain ; 
 
 For eloquence, whose honey'd sway 
 
 Our frailer mortal wits obey, 
 
 Can honour give to actions ill. 
 
 And faith to deeds incredible ; — 
 
 And bitter blame, and praises high, 
 
 Fall truest from posterity. — 
 
 But, if we dare the deeds rehearse 
 
 Of those that aye endure, 
 'Twere meet that in such dangerous verse 
 
 Our every word were pure. — 
 Then, son of Tantalus, receive 
 
 A plain unvarnish'd lay ! — 
 
 p 2 
 
174 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 My song shall elder fables leave, 
 
 And of thy parent say, 
 That, when in heaven a favour'd guest, 
 He call'd the gods in turns to feast 
 On Sipylus, his mountain home : — 
 The sovereign of the ocean foam, 
 — Can mortal form such favour prove ? — ■ 
 Rapt thee on golden car above 
 To highest house of mighty Jove ; 
 
 To virhich, in after day, 
 Came golden-haired Ganymede, 
 As bard in ancient story read. 
 
 The dark-viring'd eagle's prey. — 
 
 And when no earthly tongue could tell 
 The fate of thee, invisible ; — 
 Nor friends, who sought thee wide in vain. 
 To sooth thy weeping mother's pain, 
 Could bring the wanderer home again ; 
 
 Some envious neighbour's spleen, 
 In distant hints, and darkly, said. 
 That in the caldron hissing red, 
 And on the god's great table spread. 
 
 Thy mangled limbs were seen. — 
 
OF PINDAR. 175 
 
 But who shall tax, I dare not, I, 
 The blessed gods with gluttony ? — 
 Full oft the sland'rous tongue has felt 
 By their high wrath the thunder dealt ; — 
 And sure, if ever mortal head 
 Heaven's holy watchers honoured. 
 
 That head was Lydia's lord. — 
 Yet, could not mortal heart digest 
 The wonders of that heavenly feast ; 
 Elate with pride, a thought unblest 
 
 Above his nature soar'd. — 
 And now, condemn'd to endless dread, — 
 (Such is the righteous doom of fate,) 
 He eyes, above his guilty head. 
 The shadowy rocks' impending weight : — 
 The fourth, with that tormented three 
 In horrible society ! — 
 
 For that, in frantic theft. 
 
 The nectar cup he reft. 
 And to his mortal peers in feasting pour'd 
 
 For whom a sin it were 
 
 With mortal life to share 
 The mystic dainties of th' immortal board : 
 
176 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 And who by policy 
 Can hope to 'scape the eye 
 Of him who sits above by men and gods ador'd ? 
 
 For such ofTence, a doom severe, 
 Sent down the sun to sojourn here 
 Among the fleeting race of man ; — 
 Who, when the curly down began 
 To clothe his cheek in darker shade, 
 To car-borne Pisa's royal maid 
 A lover's tender service paid. — 
 But, in the darkness first he stood 
 Alone, by ocean's hoary flood. 
 And raised to him the suppliant cry, 
 The hoarse earth-shaking deity. — 
 
 Nor call'd in vain, through cloud and storm 
 Half-seen, a huge and shadowy form, 
 
 The god of waters came. — 
 He came, whom thus the youth address'd — 
 *' Oh thou, if that immortal breast 
 
 Have felt a lover's flame, 
 A lover's prayer in pity hear, 
 Repel the tyrant's brazen spear 
 
OF PINDAR. 177 
 
 That guards my lovely dame ! — 
 And grant a car whose rolling speed 
 May help a lover at his need ; 
 Condemn'd by Pisa's hand to bleed, 
 Unless I win the envied meed 
 
 In Elis' field of fame ! — 
 
 For youthful knights thirteen 
 
 By him have slaughter'd been, 
 His daughter vexing with perverse delay. — 
 
 Such to a coward's eye 
 
 Were evil augury ; — 
 Nor durst a coward's heart the strife essay ! 
 
 Yet, since alike to all 
 
 The doom of death must fall. 
 Ah ! wherefore, sitting in unseemly shade, 
 
 Wear out a nameless life, 
 
 ■Remote from noble strife, 
 And all the sweet applause to valour paid ? — 
 Yes ! — I will dare the course ! but, thou. 
 Immortal friend, my prayer allow !" — 
 
 Thus, not in vain, his grief he told— 
 The ruler of the wat'ry space 
 
178 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Bestow'd a wondrous car of gold, 
 
 And tireless steeds of winged pace. — 
 So, victor in the deathful race, 
 
 He tam'd the strength of Pisa's king, 
 And, from his bride of beauteous face, 
 
 Beheld a stock of warriors spring, 
 
 Six valiant sons, as legends sing. — 
 And now, with fame and virtue crown'd, 
 
 Where Alpheus' stream in wat'ry ring, 
 Encircles half his turfy mound. 
 He sleeps beneath the piled ground ; 
 
 Near that blest spot where strangers move 
 In many a long procession round 
 
 The altar of protecting Jove. — 
 Yet chief, in yonder hsts of fame, 
 Survives the noble Pelop's name ; 
 Where strength of hands and nimble feet 
 In stern and dubious contest meet ; 
 And high renown and honey'd praise, 
 And following length of honour'd days, 
 The victor's weary toil repays. — 
 
 But what are past or future joys ? — 
 The present is our own ! — 
 
OF PINDAR. 179 
 
 And he is wise who best employs 
 
 The passing hour alone. — 
 To crown with knightly wreath the king, 
 
 (A grateful task,) be mine ; 
 And on the smooth ^Eolian string 
 
 To praise his ancient line ! — 
 For ne'er shall wandering minstrel find 
 A chief so just, — a friend so kind ; 
 With every grace of fortune blest ; 
 The mightiest, wisest, bravest, best ! — 
 
 God, who beholdeth thee and all thy deeds, 
 Have thee in charge, king Hiero ! — so again 
 The bard may sing thy horny-hoofed steeds 
 In frequent triumph o'er the Olympian plain ; 
 Nor shall the Bard awake a lowly strain, 
 His wild notes flinging o'er the Cronian steep ; 
 Whose ready muse, and not invoked in vain, 
 For such high mark her strongest shaft shall keep. 
 
 Each hath his proper eminence ! 
 To kings indulgent, Providence 
 
180 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 (No farther search the will of Heaven) 
 The glories of the earth hath given. — 
 Still may'st thou reign ! enough for me 
 To dwell with heroes like to thee, 
 Myself the chief of Grecian minstrelsy.- 
 
OF PINDAR. UU 
 
 II, 
 
 TO THERON OF AGRAGAS, VICTOR IN THE 
 CHARIOT RACE. 
 
 O SONG ! whose voice the harp obeys, 
 Accordant aye with answering string ; 
 What god, what hero wih thou praise, 
 What man of godhke prowess sing ? — 
 Lo, Jove himself is Pisa's king ; 
 And Jove's strong son the first to raise 
 The barriers of th' Olympic ring. — 
 And now, victorious on the wing 
 Of sounding wheels, our bards proclaim 
 The stranger Theron's honour'd name, 
 The flower of no ignoble race. 
 And prop of ancient Agra^as ! — 
 
 His patient sires, for many a year, 
 Where that blue river rolls its flood, 
 Mid fruitless war and civil blood 
 
 Essay'd their sacred home to rear, — 
 Till time assign'd, in fatal hour, 
 Their native virtues, wealth and power ; 
 
182 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 And made them from their low degree. 
 The eye of warlike Sicily. 
 
 And, may that power of ancient birth, 
 From Saturn sprung, and parent Earth, 
 
 Oftall Olympus' lord. 
 Who sees with still benignant eye 
 The games' long splendour sweeping by 
 
 His Alpheus' holy ford : — 
 Appeas'd with anthems chanted high. 
 To Theron's late posterity 
 
 A happier doom accord ! — 
 Or good or ill, the past is gone. 
 Nor time himself, the parent one, 
 Can make the former deeds undone ; — 
 
 But who would these recall, — 
 When happier days would fain efface 
 The memory of each past disgrace. 
 And, from the gods, on Theron's race 
 
 Unbounded blessings fall ? — 
 
 Example meet for such a song, 
 The sister queens of Laius' blood ; 
 
 Who sorrow's edge endured long, 
 Made keener bv remember'd cood ! — 
 
OF PINDAR. 183 
 
 Yet now, she breathes the air of Heaven 
 (On earth by smouldering thunder riven.) 
 
 Long-haired Semele : — 
 
 To Pallas dear is she ; — 
 Dear to the sire of gods, and dear 
 To him, her son, in dreadful glee 
 Who shakes the ivy-wreathed spear. — 
 
 And thus, they tell that deep below 
 The sounding ocean's ebb and flow, 
 Amid the daughters of the sea, 
 A sister nymph must Ino be. 
 And dwell in bliss eternally : — 
 
 But, ignorant and blind. 
 We little know the coming hour ; 
 Or if the latter day shall low'r ; 
 Or if to nature's kindly power 
 
 Our life in peace resign'd. 
 Shall sink like fall of summer eve. 
 And on the face of darkness leave 
 
 A ruddy smile behind. — 
 For grief and joy with fitful gale 
 Our crazy bark by turns assail. 
 
184 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 And, whence our blessings flow, 
 That same tremendous Providence 
 Will oft a varying doom dispense, 
 
 And lay the mighty low.~ 
 
 To Theban Laius that befell, 
 
 Whose son, with murder dyed, 
 Fulfill'd the former oracle, 
 
 Unconscious parricide ! — 
 Unconscious ! — yet avenging hell 
 Pursued th' offender's stealthy pace, 
 And heavy, sure, and hard it fell. 
 The curse of blood, on all his race ! — 
 
 Spar'd from their kindred strife, 
 
 The young Thersander's life. 
 Stern Polynices' heir, was left alone : 
 
 In every martial game, 
 
 And in the field of fame, 
 For early force and matchless prowess known : 
 
 Was left, the pride and prop to be 
 
 Of good Adrastus' pedigree. 
 
 And hence, through loins of ancient kings, 
 
 The warrior blood of Theron springs ; 
 
OF PINDAR. 185 
 
 Exalted name ! to whom belong 
 The minstrel's harp, the poet's song, 
 In fair Olympia crownM ; 
 And where, mid Pythia's olives blue, 
 An equal lot his brother drew : 
 And where his twice-twain coursers flew 
 
 The isthmus twelve times round. — 
 Such honour, earn'd by toil and care, 
 May best his ancient wrongs repair. 
 
 And wealth, unstain'd by pride, 
 May laugh at fortune's fickle power, 
 And blameless in the tempting hour 
 
 Of syren ease abide : — 
 Led by that star of heavenly ray, 
 Which best may keep our darkling way 
 
 O'er life's unsteady tide ! — 
 
 For, whoso holds in righteousness the throne, 
 
 He in his heart hath known 
 How the foul spirits of the guilty dead. 
 
 In chambers dark and dread, 
 Of nether earth abide, and penal flame : 
 
 Where he, whom none may name. 
 Lays bare the soul by stern necessity ; 
 
186 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Seated in judgment high ; 
 The minister of God whose arm is there, 
 In heaven ahke and hell, almighty every where ! 
 
 But, ever bright, by day, by night, 
 Exulting in excess of light ; 
 From labour free and long distress, 
 The good enjoy their happiness. — 
 No more the stubborn soil they cleave, 
 Nor stem for scanty food the wave ; 
 
 But with the venerable gods they dwell : — 
 No tear bedims their thankful eye, 
 Nor mars their long tranquillity ; 
 
 While those accursed howl in pangs unspeakable. 
 
 But, but who the thrice-renew'd probation 
 * Of either world may well endure ; 
 And keep with righteous destination 
 The soul from all transgression pure ; 
 To such and such alone is given, 
 To walk the rainbow paths of heaven. 
 To that tall city of almighty time. 
 Where Ocean's balmy breezes play. 
 And, flashing to the western da'y. 
 
OF PINDAR. 187 
 
 The gorgeous blossoms of such blessed clime, 
 Now in the happy isles are seen 
 Sparkling through the groves of green ; 
 And now, all glorious to behold, 
 Tinge the wave with floating gold, — 
 
 Hence are their garlands woven — hence their 
 
 hands 
 Fill'd with triumphal boughs ; — the righteous 
 
 doom 
 Of Rhadamanthus, whom, o'er these his lands, 
 A blameless judge in every time to come, 
 Chronos, old Chronos, sire of gods hath placed ; 
 
 Who with his consort dear. 
 
 Dread Rhea, reigneth here, 
 On cloudy throne with deathless honour graced. 
 
 And still, they say, in high communion, 
 Peleus and Cadmus here abide ; 
 And, with the blest in blessed union, 
 (Nor Jove has Thetis' prayer denied.) 
 The daughter of the ancient sea 
 Hath brought her warrior boy to be ; 
 
188 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Him whose stern avenging blow 
 Laid the prop of Ilium low, 
 Hector, train'd to slaughter, foil, 
 By all but him invincible ; — 
 And sea-born Cycnus tamed ; and slew 
 Aurora's knight of Ethiop hue. — 
 
 Beneath my rattling belt I wear 
 A sheaf of arrows keen and clear, 
 Of vocal shafts, that wildly fly, 
 Nor ken the base their import high, 
 Yet to the wise they breathe no vulgar melody. 
 Yes, he is wise whom nature's dower 
 
 Hath raised above the crowd. — 
 But, train'd in study's formal hour, 
 There are who hate the minstrel's power, 
 As daws who mark the eagle tower, 
 
 And croak in envy loud ! — 
 So let them rail I but thou, my heart ! 
 Rest on the bow thy levell'd dart ; 
 
 Nor seek a worthier aim 
 For arrow sent on friendship's wing, 
 Than him the Agragantine king 
 
 Who best thy song may claim.— 
 
OF PINDAR. 189 
 
 For, by eternal truth I swear, 
 His parent town shall scantly bear 
 A soul to every friend so dear, 
 
 A breast so void of blame ; 
 Though twenty lustres rolhng round 
 With rising youth her nation crown'd, 
 In heart, in hand, should none be found 
 
 Like Theron's honour'd name. — 
 Yes ! we have heard the factious lie ! — 
 But let the babbling vulgar try 
 To blot his worth with tyranny. — 
 
 Seek thou the ocean strand ! — 
 And when thy soul would fain record 
 The bounteous deeds of yonder lord, 
 
 Go — reckon up the sand ! 
 
190 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 III. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 May my solemn strain ascending 
 
 Please the long-hair'd Helen well, 
 
 And those brave twins of Leda's shell 
 
 The stranger's holy cause defending 1 
 
 With whose high name the chorus blending 
 
 To ancient Agragas shall rise, 
 
 And Theron for the chariot prize 
 
 Again, and not in vain, contending.— 
 
 The muse, in numbers bold and high, 
 
 Hath taught my Dorian note to fly, 
 
 Worthy of silent awe, a strange sweet harmony. 
 
 Yes ! — as I fix mine eager view 
 
 On yonder wreath of paly blue. 
 
 That olive wreath, whose shady round 
 
 Amid the courser's mane is bounded ; 
 
 I feel again the sacred glow 
 
 That bids my strain of rapture flow, 
 
 With shrilly breath of Spartan flute. 
 
 The many-voiced harp to suit ; 
 
 And wildly fling my numbers sweet. 
 
 Again mine ancient friend to greet.— 
 
OF PINDAR. 191 
 
 Nor, Pisa, thee I leave unstrung ; 
 To men the parent of renown. 
 Amid whose shady ringlets strung, 
 Etolia binds her olive crown ; 
 Whose sapling root from Scythian down 
 And Ister's fount Alcides bare, 
 To deck his parent's hallow'd town ; 
 With placid brow and supphant prayer 
 Soothing the favour'd northern seed, 
 Whose horny-hoofed victims bleed 
 To Phoebus of the flowing hair. 
 
 A boon from these the hero pray'd : 
 One graft of that delightful tree ; 
 To Jove's high hill a welcome shade. 
 To men a blessed fruit to be. 
 And crown of future victory. — 
 For that fair moon, whose slender hglit 
 With inefficient horn had shone, 
 When late on Pisa's airy height 
 He rear'd to Jove the altar stone ; 
 Now, through the dappled air, alone, 
 In perfect ring of glory bright. 
 Guided her golden-wheeled throne ; 
 
192 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 The broad and burning eye of night.-— 
 And now the days were told aright, 
 When Alpheus, from his sandy source, 
 Should judge the champion's eager might, 
 And mark of wheels the rolling force. — 
 Nor yet a tree to cheer the sight 
 The Cronian vale of Pelops bore ; — 
 Obnoxious to the noonday weight 
 Of summer suns, a naked shore.- — 
 
 But she who sways the silent sky, 
 Latona's own equestrian maid, 
 Beheld how far Alcides stray'd, 
 Bound on adventure strange and high : 
 Forth from the glens of Arcady 
 To Istrian rocks in ice array'd 
 He urged th' interminable race, 
 (Such penance had Eurystheus laid,) 
 The golden-horned hind to chase, 
 Which, grateful for Diana's aid, 
 By her redeem'd from foul embrace, 
 Old Atlas' daughter hallowed. — 
 Thus, following where the quarry fled, 
 
OF PINDAR. 193 
 
 Beyond the biting North he past, 
 
 Beyond the regions of blast, 
 
 And, all unknown to traveller's tread, 
 
 He saw the blessed land at last. — 
 
 He stopt, he gazed with new dehght, 
 
 When that strange verdure met his sight ; 
 
 And soft desire enflamed his soul 
 
 (Where twelve- times round the chariots roll,) 
 
 To plant with such the Pisan goal. 
 
 But now, unseen to mortal eyes. 
 
 He comes to Theron's sacrifice ; 
 
 And with him brings to banquet there 
 
 Higli-bosom'd Leda's knightly pair. — 
 
 Himself to high Olympus bound, 
 
 To these a latest charge he gave, 
 
 A solemn annual feast to found, 
 
 And of contending heroes round 
 
 To deck the strong, the swift, the brave.™ 
 
 Nor doubt I that on Theron's head. 
 
 And on the good Emmenides, 
 
 The sons of Jove their blessings shed ; 
 
 Whom still, with bounteous tables spread, 
 
194 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 That holy tribe delight to please ; 
 Observing with religious dread 
 The hospitable god's decrees. — 
 
 But, wide as water passeth earthy clay, 
 Or sun-bright gold transcendeth baser ore ; 
 Wide as from Greece to that remotest shore 
 Whose rock-built pillars own Alcides' sway ; 
 Thy fame hath past thine equals ! — To explore 
 The further ocean all in vain essay, 
 Or fools or wise ; — here from thy perilous way 
 Cast anchor here, my bark I I dare no more ! — 
 
OF PINDAR. 195 
 
 IV. 
 
 TO PSAUMIS OF CAIVIARINA. 
 
 Oh, urging on the tireless speed 
 Of Thunder's elemental steed, 
 Lord of the world, Almighty Jove ! 
 Since these thine hours have me forth 
 The witness of thy champions' worth, 
 And prophet of thine olive grove ; — 
 And since the good thy poet hear. 
 And hold his tuneful message dear ; — 
 Saturnian Lord of Etna hill ! — 
 Whose storm-cemented rocks encage 
 The hundred-headed rebel's rage ; 
 Accept with favourable will 
 The Muses' gift of harmony ; 
 The dance, the song, whose numbers high 
 Forbid the hero's dame to die, 
 A crown of life abiding still ! — 
 
 Hark ! round the car of victory, 
 Where noble Psaumis sits on high, 
 
196 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 The cheering notes resound ; 
 Who vows to swell with added fame 
 His Camarina's ancient name ; 
 
 With Pisan olive crown'd. — 
 And thou, oh father, hear his prayer ! — 
 For much I praise the knightly care 
 
 That trains the warrior steed : — 
 Nor less the hopitable hall 
 Whose open doors the stranger call ; — 
 Yet, praise I Psaumis most of all 
 
 For wise and peaceful rede, 
 And patriot love of liberty. — 
 — What ? — do we wave the glozing lie?— 
 Then whoso list my truth to try. 
 
 The proof be in the deed ! — 
 
 To Lemnos's laughing dames of yore, 
 Such was the proof Ernicus bore, 
 
 When, matchless in his speed, 
 All brazen-arm' d the racer hoar, 
 Victorious on the applauding shore, 
 
 Sprang to the profier'd meed; — 
 Bow'd to the queen his wreathed head ; — 
 " Thou seest my limbs are light," he said ; 
 
OF PINDAR. 197 
 
 " And, lady, may'st thou know, ♦ 
 That ev'ry joint is firmly strung, 
 And hand and heart alike are young ; 
 Though treacherous time my locks among 
 
 Have strew'd a summer snow !" 
 
 V. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 Accept of these Olympian games the crown, 
 Daughter of Ocean, rushy Camarine ! — 
 The flower of knightly worth and high renown. 
 Which car-borne Psaumis on thy parent shrine, 
 (Psaumis, the patriot, whom thy peopled town 
 Its second author owns,) with rite divine 
 Suspends ! — His praise the twice six altars tell 
 Of the great gods whom he hath feasted well 
 With blood of bulls ; the praise of victory, 
 
198 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Where cars* and mules and steeds contest the 
 
 prize ; 
 And that green garland of renown to thee 
 He hallows, virgin daughter of the sea ! 
 And to his sire and household deities — 
 Thee too, returning home from Pelop's land, 
 Thee, guardian Pallas, and thy holy wood, ' 
 He hails with song ; and cool Oanus' flood ; 
 And of his native pool the rushy strand ; 
 And thy broad bed, refreshing Hipparis, 
 Whose silent waves the peopled city kiss ; 
 That city which hath blest his bounteous hand. 
 Rearing her goodly bowers on high. — 
 That now, redeem'd from late disgrace, 
 The wealthy mother of a countless race. 
 She lifts her front in shining majesty. — 
 
 'Tis ever thus ! by toil, and pain. 
 And cumbrous cost, we strive to gain 
 Some seeming prize whose issues lie 
 In darkness and futurity. 
 And yet, if conquest crown our aim, 
 Then, foremost in the rolls of fame, 
 
OF PINDAR. 199 
 
 Even from the envious herd a forced applause we 
 
 claim. 
 O cloud-enthron'd, protecting Jove, 
 Who sitt'st the Cronian cliffs above, 
 
 And Alpheus' ample wave, 
 And that dark gloom hast deign'd to love 
 
 Of Ida's holy cave ! 
 On softest Lydian notes to thee 
 
 £ tune the choral prayer, 
 That this thy town, the brave, the free, 
 The strong in virtuous energy, 
 
 May feel thine endless care. — 
 
 And, victor thou, whose matchless might 
 
 The Pisan wreath hath bound ; 
 Still, Psaumis, be thy chief delight 
 
 In generous coursers found. — 
 Calm be thy latter age, and late 
 And gently fall the stroke of fate, 
 
 Thy children standing round ! — 
 And know, whep favouring gods have given 
 A green old age, a temper even, 
 
 And wealth and fame in store, 
 The task were vain to scale the heaven ;— 
 -=Have those immortals more ?— 
 
200 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 VI. 
 
 TO AGESIAS OF SYRACUSE. 
 
 Who seeks a goodly bower to raise, 
 Conspicuous to the stranger's eye, 
 With gold the lintel overlays, 
 And clothes the porch in ivory.- — 
 So bright, so bold, so wonderful, 
 The choicest themes of verse I cull, 
 To each high song a frontal high ! — 
 But, lives there one whose brows around 
 The green Olympian wreath is bound ; 
 Prophet and priest in those abodes 
 Where Pisans laud the sire of gods ; 
 And Syracusa's denizen ? — 
 Who, 'mid the sons of mortal men. 
 While envy's self before his name 
 Abates her rage, may fitlier claim 
 Whate'er a bard may yield of fame ? 
 
OF PINDAR. 201 
 
 For sure to no forbidden strife, 
 In hallow'd Pisa's field of praise, 
 He came, the priest of blameless life ! — 
 Nor who in peace hath past his days. 
 Marring with canker sloth his might, 
 May hope a name in standing fight 
 Nor in the hollow ship to raise ! — 
 By toil, illustrious toil alone, 
 Of elder times the heroes shone ; 
 And, bought by like emprize, to thee, 
 Oh warrior priest, like honour be ! — 
 Such praise as good Adrastus bore 
 To him, the prophet chief of yore. 
 When, snatch' d from Thebes' accursed fight. 
 With steed and car and armour bright, 
 Down, down he sank to earthy night. — 
 
 When the fight was ended. 
 And the sevenfold pyres 
 All their funeral fires 
 In one sad lustre blended. 
 
 The leader of the host 
 
202 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Murmur'd mournfully, 
 
 *^ I lament for the eye 
 
 Of all mine army lost ! — 
 
 To gods and mortals dear, 
 
 Either art he knew ; 
 
 Augur tried and true, 
 
 And strong to wield the spear I" 
 
 And by the powers divine, 
 
 Such praise is justly thine. 
 
 Oh Syracusian peer, 
 For of a gentle blood thy race is sprung, 
 As she shall truly tell, the muse of honey 'd 
 tongue. 
 
 ■»^ 
 Then yoke the mules of winged pace, 
 And, Phintis, climb the car with me ; 
 For well they know the path to trace 
 Of yonder victor's pedigree ! — 
 
 Unbar the gates of song, unbar ! — 
 
 For we to day must journey far, 
 To Sparta, and to Pitane. — 
 
 She, mournful nymph, and nursing long 
 Her silent pain and virgin wrong, 
 
OF PINDAR. 203 
 
 To Neptune's rape a daughter fair, 
 
 Evadne of the glossy hair, 
 
 (Dark as the violet's darkest shade,) 
 
 In sohtary sorrow bare. 
 
 Then to her nurse the infant maid 
 
 She weeping gave, and bade convey 
 
 To high Phersana's hall away : 
 
 Where woman-grown, and doom'd to prove 
 
 In turn a god's disastrous love, 
 
 Her charms allured the lord of day. 
 
 Nor long the months, ere, fierce in pride. 
 
 The painful tokens of disgrace 
 
 Her foster-father sternly eyed. 
 
 Fruit of the furtive god's embrace. — 
 He spake not, but, with soul on flame. 
 He sought th' unknown offender's name, 
 
 At Phcebus' Pythian dwelling place. — 
 
 But she, beneath the greenwood spray, 
 Her zone of purple silk untied ; 
 And flung the silver clasp away 
 That rudely pressed her heaving side ; 
 While, in the solitary wood, 
 
204 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Lucina's self to aid her stood, 
 And fate a secret force supplied. — 
 
 But, who the mother's pang can tell, 
 
 As sad and slowly she withdrew. 
 
 And bade her babe a long farewell, 
 
 Laid on a bed of violets blue ? — 
 When ministers of Heaven's decree, 
 (Dire nurses they and strange to see,) 
 
 Two scaly snakes of azure hue 
 Watch' d o'er his helpless infancy, 
 And, rifled from the mountain bee. 
 Bare on their forky tongues a harmless honey 
 dew. — 
 
 Swift roll the wheels I from Delphos home 
 Arcadia's car-borne chief is come ; 
 
 But, ah, how chang'd his eye ! — 
 His wrath is sunk, and past his pride, 
 '* Where is Evande's babe," he cried, 
 
 «' Child of the deity? 
 " 'Twas thus the augur god replied, 
 '* Nor strove his noble seed to hide ; 
 " And to his favoured boy, beside, 
 
OF PINDAR. 205 
 
 '* The gift of prophecy, 
 " And power beyond the sons of men 
 " The secret things of fate to ken, 
 
 " His blessing will supply." — 
 
 But, vainly, from his liegemen round. 
 
 He sought the noble child ; 
 Who, naked on the grassy ground. 
 
 And nurtur'd in the wild, 
 Was moistenM with the sparkling dew 
 
 Beneath his hawthorn bower ; 
 Where morn her wat'ry radiance threw. 
 Now golden bright, now deeply blue. 
 
 Upon the violet flower. — 
 
 From that dark bed of breathing bloom 
 
 His mother gave his name ; 
 And lamus, through years to come, 
 
 Will live in lasting fame ; 
 Who, when the blossom of his days, 
 
 Had ripen'd on the tree, 
 From forth the brink where Alpheus strays, 
 Invok'd the god whose sceptre sways 
 
 The hoarse resounding sea ; 
 
206 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 And, whom the Dehan isle obeys, 
 
 The archer deity. — 
 Alone amid the nightly shade, 
 Beneath the naked heaven he pray'd, 
 And sire and grandsire call'd to aid ; 
 When lo, a voice that loud and dread 
 
 Burst from the horizon free ; 
 " Hither !" it spake, " to Pisa's shore ! 
 " My voice, oh son, shall go before, 
 
 '* Beloved, follow me !" — 
 
 So, in the visions of his sire, he went 
 
 Where Cronium's scarr'd and barren brow 
 Was red with morning's earliest glow 
 
 Though darkness wrapt the nether element. - 
 There, in a lone and craggy dell, 
 A double spirit on him fell, 
 Th' unlying voice of birds to tell, 
 And, (when Alcmena's son should found 
 The holy games in Elis crown'd,) 
 
 By Jove's high altar evermore to dwell, 
 Prophet and priest ! — From him descend 
 The fathers of our valiant friend, 
 Wealthy ahke and just and wise, 
 
OF PINDAR, 207 
 
 Who trod the plain and open way ; 
 
 And who is he that dare despise 
 
 With galling taunt the Cronian prize, 
 
 Or their illustrious toil gainsay, 
 
 Whose chariots whirhng twelve times round 
 
 With burning wheels the Olympian ground 
 
 Have guilt their brow with glory's ray ? 
 
 For, not the steams of sacrifice 
 
 From cool Cyllene's height of snow. 
 
 Nor vainly from thy kindred rise 
 
 The heaven-appeasing litanies 
 
 To Hermes, who, to men below, 
 
 Or gives the garland or denies : — 
 
 By whose high aid, Agesias, know, 
 
 And his, the thunderer of the skies. 
 
 The olive wreath hath bound thy brow ! — 
 
 Arcadian ! Yes, a warmer zeal 
 Shall whet my tongue thy praise to tell ! 
 I feel the sympathetic flame 
 Of kindred love ; — a Theban I, 
 Whose parent nymph from Arcady 
 (Metope's daughter, Thebe) came. — 
 Dear fountain goddess, warrior maid. 
 
208 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 By whose pure rills my youth hath play'd ; 
 Who now assembled Greece among, 
 To car-borne chiefs and warriors strong, 
 Have wove the many-colour'd song. — 
 
 Then, minstrel ! bid thy chorus rise 
 
 To Juno, queen of deities, 
 
 Parthenian lady of the skies 1 
 
 For, live there yet who dare defame 
 
 With sordid mirth our country's name ; 
 
 Who tax with scorn our ancient line, 
 
 And call the brave Boeotians swine ; — 
 
 Yet, iEneas, sure thy numbers high 
 
 May charm their brutish enmity ; 
 
 Dear herald of the holy muse, 
 
 And teeming with Parnassian dews, 
 
 Cup of untasted harmony ! — 
 
 That strain once more ! — The chorus raise 
 
 To Syracusa's wealthy praise, 
 
 And his the lord whose happy reign 
 
 Controls Trincria*s ample plain, 
 
 Hiero, the just, the wise, 
 
 Whose steamy offerings rise 
 To Jove, to Ceres, and that darling maid, 
 
OF PINDAR. 209 
 
 Whom, rapt in chariot bright, 
 And horses silver-white, 
 Down to his dusky bower the lord of hell convey'd ! 
 
 Oft hath he heard the muses' string resound 
 His honour'd name ; and may his latter days, 
 With wealth and worth, and minstrel garlands 
 
 crown'd, 
 Mark with no envious ear a subject praise, 
 Who now from fair Arcadia's forest wide 
 To Syracusa, homeward, from his home 
 Returns, a common care, a common pride, — 
 (And, whoso darkling braves the ocean foam, 
 May safehest moor'd with twofold anchor ride.) 
 Arcadia, Sicily, on either side 
 Guard him with prayer ; and thou who rulest the 
 
 deep, 
 Fair Amphitrite's lord ! in safety keep 
 His tossing keel,— and evermore to me 
 No meaner theme assign of poesy ! 
 
TRANSLATIONS 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 HINDOOSTANEE. 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 213 
 
 SONNET BY THE LATE NAWAB OF OUDE, 
 ASUF UD DOWLA. 
 
 In those eyes the tears that glisten as in pity for 
 
 my pain, 
 Are they gems, or only dew-drops ? can they, will 
 
 they long remain ? 
 
 Why thy strength of tyrant beauty thus, with seem- 
 ing ruth, restrain ? 
 
 Better breathe my last before thee, than in linger- 
 ing grief remain ! 
 
 To yon planet, Fate has given every month to 
 
 wax and wane ; 
 And— thy world of blushing brightness— can it, 
 
 will it, long remain ? 
 
214 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 Health and youth in balmy moisture on thy cheek 
 
 their seat maintain ; 
 But — the dew that steeps the rose-bud — can it, 
 
 will it long remain ? 
 
 Asuf ! why, in mournful numbers, of thine absence 
 
 thus complain, 
 Chance had joined us, chance has parted ! — nought 
 
 on earth can long remain. 
 
 In the world may'st thou, beloved! live exempt from 
 
 grief and pain ! 
 On my lips the breath is fleeting, — can it, will it 
 
 long remain ? 
 
FROM THE HINDOOSTANEE. 21£ 
 
 FROM THE GULISTAN. 
 
 Brother ! know the world deceiveth ! 
 Trust on Him who safety giveth ! 
 Fix not on the world thy trust, 
 She feeds us — but she turns to dust, 
 And the bare earth or kingly throne 
 Alike may serve to die upon.!" 
 
 FROM THE SAME. 
 
 The man who leaveth life behind, 
 May well and boldly speak his mind ; 
 Where flight is none from battle field, 
 We bUthely snatch the sword and shield ; 
 Where hope is past, and hate is strong, 
 The wretch's tongue is sharp and long ; 
 Myself have seen, in wild despair, 
 The feeble cat the mastiff tear," 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 FROM THE SAME. 
 
 " Who the silent man can prize, 
 If a fool he be or wise ? 
 Yet, though lonely seem the wood, 
 Therein may lurk the beast of blood. 
 Often bashful looks conceal 
 Tongue of fire and heart of steel, 
 And deem not thou, in forest gray, 
 Every dappled skin thy prey ; 
 Lest thou rouse, with luckless spear, 
 The tiger for the fallow-deer !" 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 p. 4. 1.4. 
 Folds his dank wing. 
 
 Alluding to the usual manner in which Sleep is repre- 
 sented in ancient statues. See also Pindar, Pyth. I. v. 
 16, 17. " Kvas-a-oev uy^ov vmrov ciice^u,^^ 
 
 P. 4. 1.5. 
 Ye warrior sons of heaven. 
 
 Authorities for these celestial warriors may be found, 
 Josh. V. 13. 2 Kings vi. 2» 2 Mace. v. 3. Ibid. xi. Jo- 
 seph. Ed. Huds. vi. p. 1282. et alibi passim. 
 
 P. 4. 1. 8. 
 Sion's towery steep. 
 It is scarcely necessary to mention the lofty site of Je- 
 rusalem. " The hill of God is a high hill, even a high 
 hill as the hill of Bashan." 
 
 P. 4. 1. 14. 
 Mysterious harpings. 
 See Sandys, and other travellers into Asia. 
 
'2'ici , NOTES, 
 
 P. 4. 1.21. 
 Then should my Muse. 
 Common practice, and the authority of Milton, seem 
 sufficient to justify using this term as a personification 
 of poetry. 
 
 P. 5. 1. 4. 
 Thy house is left unto thee desolate, 
 St. Matthew, xxiv. 38. 
 
 P. 5. 1. 9. 
 The seer. 
 Moses. 
 
 P. 5. 1. 14. 
 Almotana^s tide. 
 
 Almotana is the oriental name for the Dead Sea, as 
 Ardeni is for Jordan. 
 
 P. 5. I. 18. 
 The robber riots, or the hermit prays. 
 
 The mountains of Palestine are full of caverns, which 
 are generally occupied in one or other of the methods 
 here mentioned. Vide Sandys, Maundrell, and Calmet, 
 passim. 
 
 P. 5. 1. 22. 
 Those stormy seats the warrior Druses hold. 
 
 The untameable spirit, feodal customs, and affection 
 for Europeans, which distinguish this extraordinary race, 
 who boast themselves to be a remnant of the Crusaders, 
 are well described in Pag^s. The account of their ce- 
 lebrated Emir, Facciardini, in Sandys, is also very in- 
 
NOTES. 221 
 
 teresting. Puget de S. Pierre compiled a small volume 
 on their history ; Paris, 1763. 12mo. 
 
 P. 6. 1. 5. 
 Teach their pale despofs waning moon to fear. 
 
 " The Turkish Sultans, whose moon seems fast ap- 
 proaching to its wane." Sir W. Jones's 1st Discourse 
 to the Asiatic Society. 
 
 P. 6. 1. 14. 
 Sidanian dyes and Lusitanian gold. 
 The gold of the Tyrians chiefly came from Portugal, 
 which was probably their Tarshish. 
 
 P. 6. 1. 20. 
 And unrestrained the generous vintage Jlows. 
 In the southern parts of Palestine the inhabitants reap 
 their corn green, as they are not sure that it will ever 
 be allowed to come to maturity. The oppression to 
 which the cultivators of vineyards are subject through- 
 out the Ottoman empire is well known. 
 
 P. 7. 1. 8. 
 Arabians parent. 
 
 Hagar. 
 
 P. 7. 1. 18. 
 The guarded fountains shine. 
 
 The watering places are generally beset with Arabs, 
 who exact toll from all comers. See Harmer and Pag^s. 
 
 P. 7. 1. 19. 
 Thy tents, Nehaioth, rise, and., Kedar, thine! 
 
 See Amnxianus Marcellinus, lib. xiv. p. 43. Ed. Vales'. 
 
222 NOTES. 
 
 P. 7. 1. 24. 
 Nor spare the hoary head^ nor bid your eye 
 Revere the sacred smile of infancy. 
 " Thine eye shall not spare them." 
 
 P. 8. 1. 4. 
 Smokes on Samaria'' s mount her scanty sacrifice, 
 
 A miserable remnant df Samaritan worship still exists 
 on Mount Gerizim. Maundrell relates his conversation 
 with the high priest. 
 
 P. 8. 1. 14. 
 And refluent Jordan sought kis trembling source. 
 
 Psalm cxiv. 
 
 P. 8. 1. 17. 
 To Israel's woes a pitying ear incline, 
 And raise from earth thy long-neglected vine ! 
 See Psalm Ixxx. 8 — 14. 
 
 P. 9. 1. 14. 
 The harnessed Amorite. 
 Josh. X. 
 
 P. 10. 1. 4. 
 Or serve his altar with unhallowed fire. 
 
 Alluding to the fate of Nadab and Abihu. 
 
 P. 10. 1. 12. 
 The mighty master of the iv'ry throne. 
 
 Solomon. Ophir is by most geographers placed in 
 the Aurea Chersonesus. See Tavernier and Raleigh. 
 
i\OTES. 223 
 
 P. 10. 1. 18. 
 Through nature's mazes wandered unconjin'd. 
 
 The Arabian mythology respecting Solomon is in 
 itself so fascinating, is so illustrative of the present state 
 of the country, and on the whole so agreeable to Scrip- 
 ture, that it was judged improper to omit all mention 
 of it, though its wildness might have operated as an 
 objection to making it S, principal object in the poem. 
 
 P. 11. 1. 4. 
 And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balhec rose. 
 
 Palmyra (" Tadmor in the desert") was really built by 
 Solomon, (1 Kings ix. 2 Chron. viii.) and universal tra- 
 dition marks him out, with great probability, as the 
 founder of Balbec. Estakhar is also attributed to him by 
 the Arabs. See the Romance of Vathek, and the vari- 
 ous Travels into the East, more particularly Chardin's, 
 in which, after a minute and interesting description of 
 the majestic ruins of Estakhar, or Persepolis, the ancient 
 capital of Persia, an account follows of the wild local 
 traditions just alluded to. Vol. ii. p. 190. Ed. Amst. 
 1735, 4to. Vide also Sale's Koran ; D'Herbelot, Bibl. 
 Orient, (article Soliman Ben Daoud) ; and the Arabian 
 Nights' Entertainments, passim. 
 
 P. 11. 1.8. 
 Houseless Santon. 
 
 m 
 It is well known that the Santons are real or affected 
 
 madmen, pretending to extraordinary sanctity, who 
 
 wander about the country, sleeping in caves or ruins. 
 
 P. 11. 1. 14. 
 How lovely were thy tents, O Israel ! 
 
 Numbers xxiv. 5, 
 
224 NOTES. 
 
 P. 11.1.15. 
 For thee his w''ry load Behemoth bore. 
 
 Behemoth is sometimes supposed to mean the elephant, 
 in which sense it is here used. 
 
 P. 11. 1. 16. 
 And far Sofala teemed with golden ore. 
 
 An African port to the south of Bab-el-mandeb, 
 celebrated for gold mines. 
 
 P. 12. 1. 6. 
 The Temple reared its everlasting gate. 
 Psalm xxiv. 7. 
 
 P. 12. 1. 7. 
 No workman steel, no ponderous axes rung. 
 " There was neither hammer, nor axe, nor any tool of 
 iron, heard in the house while it was in building." 1 
 Kings vi. 7. 
 
 P. 12. 1. 12. 
 View''d the descending Jlame, and bless'' d the pre 
 sent God. 
 
 " And when all the children of Israel saw how the fire 
 came down, and the glory of the Lord upon the house, 
 they bowed themselves with their faces to the ground 
 upon the pavement, and worshipped." 2 Chron. vii. 3. 
 
 P. 12. 1. 14. 
 Beat o''er her soul the billows of the proud. 
 Psalm cxxiv. 4. 
 
 P. 14. 1. 20. 
 Weep for your country, for.y our children weep ! 
 Luke xxiii. 27, 28. 
 
NOTES. 225 
 
 P. 15. 1. 10. 
 And the pale parent drank her children s gore. 
 Josephus vi. p. 1275. Ed. Huds. 
 P. 16. 1. 2. 
 The stoic tyranfs philosophic pride. 
 The Roman notions of humanity cannot have been very 
 exalted when they ascribed so large a share to Titus. For 
 the horrible details of his conduct during the siege of Je- 
 rusalem and after its capture, the reader is referred to 
 Josephus. When we learn that so many captives were 
 crucified, that cT/* to ttxhB-oc %a>f>x tz inKUTTBTO rot; ^uvpoic 
 Kut ^-eivpot roig a-a>fAaa-tv ; and that after all was over, in cold 
 blood and merriment, he celebrated his brother's birth- 
 day with similar sacrifices ; we can hardly doubt as to 
 the nature of that untold crime, which disturbed the 
 dying moments of the " darling of the human race." 
 After all, the cruelties of this man are probably softened 
 in the high priest's narrative. The fall of Jerusalem 
 nearly resembles that of Zaragoza, but it is a Moria who 
 tells the tale. 
 
 P. 17. I. 3. 
 Yon pompous shrine. 
 The temple of the Sepulchre. 
 
 P. 17. 1. 4. 
 And bade the rock with Parian viarble shine. 
 See Cotovicus, p. 179, and from him Sandys.** 
 P. 17. 1. 8. 
 The British queen. 
 St. Helena, who was, according to Camden, born at 
 Colchester. See also Howel's Hist, of the World, 
 
226 NOTES. 
 
 P. 17. 1. 12. 
 And pale Byzantium fear' d Medina's sword. 
 
 The invasions of the civilized parts of Asia by the 
 Arabian and Turkish Mahometans. 
 P. 17. 1. 16. 
 The wandering hermit wak'd the storm of war. 
 
 Peter the hermit. The world has been so long accus- 
 tomed to hear the Crusades considered as the heiglit of 
 phrenzy and injustice, that to undertake their defence 
 might be perhaps a hazardous task. We must however 
 recollect, that, had it not been for these extraordinary 
 exertions of generous courage, the whole of Europe 
 would perhaps have fallen, and Christianity been buried 
 in the ruins. It was not, as Voltaire has falsely or weak- 
 ly asserted, a conspiracy of robbers; it was not an un- 
 provoked attack on a distant and inoffensive nation ; it 
 was a blow aimed at the heart of a most powerful and 
 active enemy. Had not the Christian kingdoms of Asia 
 been established as a check to the Mahometans, Italy, 
 and the scanty remnant of Christianity in Spain, must 
 again have fallen into their power ; and France herself 
 have needed all the heroism and good fortune of a 
 Charles Martel to deliver her from subjugation. 
 
 P. 17. 1. 21. 
 While beardless youths and tender maids assume 
 The weighty morion and the glancing plume. 
 
 See ^ertot. Hist. Chev. Malthe. liv. i. 
 P. 18. 1. 2. 
 Tabaria's stream. 
 
 Tabaria (a corruption of Tiberias) is the name used 
 for the Sea of Galileo in the old romances. 
 
NOTES. 227 
 
 P. 18.1.8. 
 By northern Brenn, or Scythian Timur led. 
 
 Brennus, and Tamerlane. 
 
 P. 18. 1. 11. 
 There GauVs proud knights with boastful mien 
 advance. 
 
 The insolence of the French nobles twice caused the 
 ruin of the army ; once by refusing to serve under Rich- 
 ard Cceur de Lion, and again by reproaching the Eng- 
 lish with cowardice in St Louis's expedition to Egypt. 
 See Knolles's History of the Turks. 
 P. 18. 1. 12. 
 Form the long line. 
 The line (combat a la /laye), according to Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, was characteristic of French tactics ; as the co- 
 lumn (herse) was of the English. The English at Cr^ci 
 were drawn up thirty deep. 
 
 P. 18. 1. 22. 
 Whose giant force Britannia's armies led. 
 
 All the British nations served under the same banner. 
 Sono gP Inglesi sagittarii ed hanno 
 Gente con lor, ch' e piu vicina al polo, 
 Questi da I'alte selve irsuti manda 
 La divisa dal mondo, ultima Irlanda. 
 
 Tasso, Gierusal. lib. i. 44. 
 Ireland and Scotland, it is scarcely necessary to ob- 
 serve, were synonymous. 
 
 P. 19. 1. 3. 
 Lords of the biting axe and beamy spear 
 The axe of Richard was very famous. See Warton's 
 Hist, of Anc. Poetry. 
 
228 NOTES. 
 
 P. 20. 1. 18. 
 And burst his hrazen honds^ and cast his eord^ 
 away. 
 
 Psalm ii. 3. cvii. 16. 
 
 P. 20. 1. 19. 
 Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring > 
 
 " I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase 
 of the field, that ye shall receive no more the reproach 
 of famine among the heathen." — And they shall say, 
 This land that was desolate is become like the garden 
 of Eden," (tc. Ezek. xxxvi. 
 
 P. 21. 1. 5. 
 Courts the hrigM vision of descending power. 
 
 •■' That great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out 
 of heaven from God, having the glory of God." Rev. 
 xxi. 10. 
 
 P. 21. 1.6. 
 Tells every gate and measures every tower 
 Ezekiel xl. 
 
 P. 21. 1. 9. 
 And who is He? the vast, the awful form. 
 Rev, X. 
 
 P. 21.1. 18. 
 Lo ! thrones arise, and every saint is there. 
 Rev. XX. 
 
 P. 21. 1. 22. 
 God is their temple^ and the Lamb their light. 
 
 *' And I saw no temple therein : for the Lord God Al~ 
 
NOTES. 229 
 
 mighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the 
 city had Ho need of the sun, neither of the moon, to 
 shine in it : for the glory of God did lighten it, and 
 the Lamb is the light thereof." Rev. xxi. 22. 
 
 F. 22. 1. 2. 
 And the dry bones be warm with life again > 
 
 "> Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones, Behold 
 I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall 
 live." — " Then he said unto me, Son of man, these 
 bones are the whole house of Israel." Ezek. xxxvii. 
 
 P. 25. 1. 6. 
 In Dresden's grove the dewy cool I sought. 
 
 The opening lines of this poem were really composed 
 in the situation (the Park of Dresden), and under the in- 
 fluence of the feelings, which they attempt to describe. 
 The disastrous issue of King Frederic's campaign took 
 away from the author all inclination to continue them, 
 and they remained neglected till the hopes of Europe 
 were again revived by the illustrious efforts of the 
 Spanish people. 
 
 P. 26. 1. 12. 
 Pratzen's hill. 
 
 The hill of Pratzen was the point most obstinately con- 
 tested in the great battle which has taken its name from 
 the neighbouring town of Austerlitz ; and here the 
 most dreadful slaughter took place, both of French and 
 Russians. The author had, a few weeks before he 
 wrote the above, visited every part of this celebrated 
 field. 
 
 U 
 
230 NOTES. 
 
 P. 26. 1. 18. 
 And, red with slaughter, Freedom^ s humhle crest. 
 
 It is necessary perhaps to mention, that, by freedom, 
 in this and in other passages of the present poem, politi- 
 cal liberty is understood in opposition to the usurpation 
 of any single European state. In the particular instance 
 of Spain, however, it is a hope which the author has not 
 yet seen reason to abandon, that a struggle so nobly 
 maintained by popular energy, must terminate in the es- 
 tablishment not only of national independence, but of 
 civil and religious liberty. 
 
 P. 27. 1. 7. 
 Gallia's vaunting train. 
 The confidence and shameful luxury of the French 
 nobles, during the seven years' war, are very sarcastically 
 noticed by Templeman. 
 
 P. 31. 1. 4. 
 Where youthful Leiois led. 
 Prince Lewis Ferdinand of Prussia, who fell gloriously 
 with almost the whole of his regiment. 
 
 P. 31. 1. 7. 
 By her whose charms, ^c. 
 
 The Queen of Prussia ; beautiful, unfortunate, and un- 
 subdued by the severest reverses. 
 
 P. 31. 1. 18. 
 The covering cherub., dfc. 
 
 " Thou art the anointed cherub that coverest." — 
 Addressed to Tyre, by Ezekiel, xxviii. 14. 
 
NOTES. 231 
 
 P. 37. 1. 10. 
 Inez^ grave. 
 
 Inez de Castro, the beloved mistress of the Infant Don 
 Pedro, son of Alphonso IV. King of Portugal, and stab- 
 bed by the orders, and, according to Camoens, in the 
 presence of that monarch. A fountain near Coimbra, 
 the scene of their loves and misfortunes, is still pointed 
 out by tradition, and called Amores. — De la Clede, Hist, 
 de Portugalle, 4to torn. i. page 282-7 : — and Camoens' 
 Lusiad, canto 3, stanza cxxxv. 
 
 P. 37. 1. 11. 
 
 Who dar''d the first withstand 
 
 The Moslem waters of their bleeding land. 
 
 The Asturians, who under Pelagius first opposed the 
 career of Mahometan success. 
 
 P. 37. 1. 13. 
 Thy spear-encircled crown, Asturia. 
 
 " La couronne de fer de Dom Pelage, — cette couronne 
 si simple mais si glorieuse, dont chaque fleuron est 
 ' forme du fer d'une lance arrachee aux Chevaliers Mau- 
 res que ce heros avoit fait tomber sous ses coups." 
 *• Roman de Dom Ursiuo le Navarin, Tressan, tom. 
 ix. 52. 
 
 P. 38. 1. 14. 
 Rude ancient lays ofSyain's heroic time. 
 See the two elegant specimens given by Bishop Percy 
 in his Reliques ; and the more accurate translations of 
 Mr. Rodd in his Civil Wars of Grenada. 
 P. 38. 1. 15. 
 Him in Xeres' carnage fearless found. 
 The gothic monarchy in Spain was overthrown by 
 
232 NOTES. 
 
 the Mussulmans ai the battle of Xeres, the Christian 
 army being defeated with drea'dful slaughter, and the 
 death of their King, the unhappy and licentious Roderigo. 
 Pelagius assembled the small band of those fugitives who 
 despised submission, amid the mountains of the Asturias, 
 under the name of King of Oviedo. 
 
 P. 38. 1. 17. 
 Of that chaste king^ <^c. 
 
 Alonso, surnamed the Chaste, with ample reason, if we 
 believe his historians ; who defeated, according to the 
 Spanish romances, and the graver authority of Mariana, 
 the whole force of Charlemagne and the twelve peers of 
 Frarice, at Roncesvalles. Bertrand del Carpio, the son 
 of Alonzo's sister, Ximena, was his general ; and accor- 
 ding to Don Quixote (no incompetent authority on such 
 a subject) put the celebrated Orlando to the same death 
 as Hercules inflicted on AntsDus. His reason was, that 
 the nephew of Charlemagne was enchanted, and like 
 Achilles only vulnerable in the heel, to guard which he 
 wore always iron shoes. — See Mariana, 1. vii. c. xi. ; 
 Don Quixote, book i. c. 1.; and the notes on Mr. Sou- 
 they's Chronicle of the Cid ; a work i-eplete with power- 
 ful description, and knowledge of ancient history 
 and manners, and which adds a new wreath to one, who 
 " nullum fere scribendi genus intactum reliquit, nullum 
 quod tetigit non ornavit." 
 
 P. 3y. 1. 19. 
 Chief est him icho reared his banner tall, 4*c. 
 
 Rodrigo Diaz, of Bivar, surnamed the Cid by the 
 Moors. —See Mr. Southey's Chronicle. 
 
NOTES. 233 
 
 • 
 
 P. 39. 1. 4. 
 Red Buraba^s field, and Lugo — 
 
 Buiata and Lugo were renowned scenes of Spanish 
 victories over the Moors, in the reigns of Bermudo, or, as 
 his name is Latinized, Veremundus, and Alonso the 
 Chaste. Of Lugo the British have since obtained a 
 melancholy knowledge. 
 
 P. 39.1.9. 
 
 Tlascala. 
 
 An extensive district of Mexico ; its inhabitants were 
 the first Indians who submitted to the Spaniards under 
 Cortez. 
 
 P. 39. 1. 16. 
 Her captive king. 
 Francis L taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia. 
 P. 40. 1. 5. 
 Yon Bceotic skies. 
 Andalusia forms a part of the ancient Hispania Boetica. 
 P. 4L1.12. 
 Roncesvalles' vale. 
 See the former note on Alonso the Chaste. 
 P. 42. 1. 14. 
 The pois'd balance trembling still with fate. 
 This line is imitated from one in Mr. Roscoe's spirited 
 verses on the commencement of the French revolution. 
 
 P. 42. 1. 22. 
 
 Numbers numberless. 
 
 *' He look'd and saw what numbers numberless." 
 Milton, Paradise Regamed. 
 
 V 2 
 
234 NOTES. 
 
 P. 43. 1. 18. 
 
 One Saguntum. 
 The ancient siege of Saguntum has been now rivalled 
 by Zaragoza. The author is happy to refer his readers 
 to the interesting narrative of his friend Mr. Vaughan. 
 P. 43. 1. 24. 
 Bethulia's matron. 
 Judith. 
 
 P. 44. 1. 10. 
 Who treads the wine-press of the world alone. 
 " I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the peo- 
 ple there was none with me, for I will tread them in 
 mine anger, and trample them in my fury." — Isaiah 
 Ixiii. 3. 
 
 P. 47. 1. 14. 
 
 Siwah. Oasis. Sennaar. — Meroe. 
 
 P. 47. 1. 18. 
 
 Shangalla. 
 
 The black tribes whom Bruce considers as the abori- 
 ginal Nubians, are so called. For their gigantic stature, 
 and their custom of ornamenting themselves and their 
 houses with the spoils of the elephant, see the account 
 he gives of the person and residence of one of their chiefs 
 whom he visited on his departure from Ras el Feel. 
 
 P. 48. 1. 3. 
 
 Emeralds. 
 
 The emerald, or whatever the ancients dignified by the 
 
 name of smaragdus, is said to have been found in great 
 
 quantities in the mountain now called Gebul Zumrud 
 
 (the mount of emeralds.) 
 
NOTES. 235 
 
 P. 51.1. 11. 
 Elim's well. 
 
 It is interesting to observe with what pleasure and 
 minuteness Moses, amid the Arabian wilderness, enume- 
 rates the " twelve wells of water," and the " threescore 
 and ten palm-trees," of Elim. 
 
 P. 53. 1. 1. 
 Ye viewless guardians of these sacred shades. 
 
 These lines were spoken (as is the custom of the uni- 
 versity on the installation of a new chancellor) by a 
 youug nobleman, whose diffidence induced him to content 
 himself with the composition of another. Of this diffi- 
 dence his friends have reason to complain, as it suppressed 
 some elegant lines of his own on the same occasion. 
 
 P. 56. 1.4. 
 The brave, the virtuous, and tJie young. 
 
 Captain Qonway Shipley, third son to the dean of St. 
 Asaph, perished in an attempt to cut out an enemy's 
 vessel from the Tagus with the boats of his majesty's 
 frigate La Nymphe, April 22, 1808, in the 26th year of 
 his age, and after nearly sixteen years of actual service ; 
 distinguished by every quality both of heart and head 
 which could adorn a man or an officer. Admiral Sir 
 Charles Cotton, and the captains of his fleet, have since 
 erected a monument to his memory in the neighbourhood 
 of Fort St. Julian. 
 
 P. 58. 1. 1. 
 On Gunga's breast. 
 
 These lines were written at a small village on the 
 banks of the Ganges, which he was ascending in a pin- 
 
236 NOTES. 
 
 nace, on his first visilation of his dioccise, in August? 
 1824. 
 
 P. 59. I. 22. 
 The bird of hundred dyes. 
 
 "The Mucharunga — many coloured. I learned at 
 Dacca, that while we were at peace with the Burmans, 
 many traders used to go over all the eastern provinces of 
 Bengal, buying up these beautiful birds for the Golden 
 Zennanah : at Ummerapoora it was said that they were 
 sometimes worth a gold mohur each." 
 P. 72. 1. 2. 
 The land of Room. 
 The oriental name for the Turkish Empire. 
 
 P. 73. 1. 1. 
 Secunder. 
 
 Alexander the Great. 
 
 P. 73. 1. 2. * 
 
 The mighty Chief who reared the Median throne. 
 
 The founder of the Median throne was Ky-Kaoos, or 
 Deiioces. 
 
 P. 75. 
 
 Several of these hymns were originally published in 
 the Christian Observer, in the years 1811 and 1812, 
 and were then accompanied by the following pre- 
 fatory notice, which, it is thought due to the author, 
 should be here preserved. 
 
 " The following Hymns are part of an intended series, 
 appropriate to the Sundays, and principal holidays of 
 the year; connected in some degree with their parti- 
 
NOTES. 237 
 
 cular Collects and Gospels, and designed to be sung be- 
 tween the Nicene Creed and the Sermon. The effect of 
 an arrangement of this kind, though only partially 
 adopted, is very striking in the Romish liturgy ; and its 
 place should seem to be imperfectly supplied by a few 
 verses of a Psalm, entirely unconnected with the peculiar 
 devotions of the day, and selected at the discretion of a 
 clerk or organist. On the merits of the present imper- 
 fect essays, the author is unaffectedly diffident ; and as 
 his labours are intended for the use of his own congrega- 
 tion, he will be thankful for any suggestion which may 
 advance or correct them. In one respect, at least, he 
 hopes the following poems will not be found reprehensi- 
 ble; — -no fulsome or indecorous language has been know- 
 ingly adopted : no erotic addresses to him whom no 
 unclean lip can approach, no allegory ill understood, and 
 worse applied. It is not enough, in his opinion, to 
 object to such expressions that they are fanatical ; they 
 are positively profane. When our Saviour was on earth 
 and in great humility conversant with mankind ; when 
 he sat at the tables, and washed the feet, and healed the 
 diseases of his creatures ; yet did not his disciples give 
 him any more familiar name than Master or Lord. And 
 now at the right hand of his Father's majesty, shall we 
 address him with ditties of embraces and passion, or 
 language which it would be disgraceful in an earthly so- 
 vereign to endure? Such expressions, it is said, are 
 taken from Scripture ; but even if the original application, 
 which is often doubtful, were clearly and unequivocally 
 ascertained, yet, though the collective Christian church 
 may very properly be personified as the spouse of Christ, 
 an application of such language to individual believers is 
 
238 NOTES. 
 
 as dangerous as it is absurd and unauthorized. Nor is it 
 going too far to assert, that the brutalities of a common 
 swearer can hardly bring religion into more sure con- 
 tempt, or more scandalously profane the Name which is 
 above every name in heaven and earth, than certain 
 epithets applied to Christ in our popular collections of 
 religious poetry." 
 
 Bishop Heber subsequently arranged these hymns, with 
 some others by various writers, in a regular series adapt- 
 ed to the services of the Church of England throughout 
 the year, and it was his intention to publish them soon 
 after his arrival in India ; but the arduous duties of his 
 station left little time, during the short life there allotted 
 to him, for any employment not immediately connected 
 with his diocese. This arrangement of them has been 
 published in England since his death, and republished in 
 this country . 
 
 The Hymns in this volume are solely from Bishop 
 Heber 's pen. 
 
 P. 175. 1. 16. 
 The fourth with that tormented three. 
 
 The three were Sisyphus, Tityus and Ixion. The 
 author of the Odyssey, or, at least, of that passage which 
 describes the punishments of Tantalus, assigns him an 
 eternity of hunger, thirst, and disappointment. Which 
 of these opinions is most ancient, is neither very easy 
 nor very material to decide. The impending rock of 
 Pindar is perhaps a less appropriate, but surely, a more 
 picturesque mode of punishment. 
 
NOTES. 239 
 
 P. 176.1.9. 
 * Car -home Pisa's royal maid. 
 CEnomaus, king of Pisa, had promised his daughter, 
 the heiress of his states, in marriage to any warrior who 
 should excel him in the chariot race, on condition how- 
 ever that the candidates should stake their lives on the 
 issue. Thirteen had essayed and perished before Pelops. 
 
 P. 178. 1. 11. 
 Sleeps beneath the piled ground. 
 
 Like all other very early tombs, the monument of Pe- 
 lops was a barrow or earthen mound. I know not 
 whether it may still be traced. The spot is very ac- 
 curately pointed out, and such works are not easily 
 obliterated. 
 
 P. 179. 1. 11. 
 God who beholdeth thee and all thy deeds. 
 
 The solemnity of this prayer contrasted with its 
 object, that Hiero might again succeed in the chariot 
 race, is ridiculous to modern ears. I do not indeed 
 believe that the Olympic and other games had so much 
 importance attached to them by the statesmen and 
 warriors of Greece, as is pretended by the sophists of 
 later ages ; but where the manners are most simple, 
 public exhibitions, it should be remembered, are always 
 most highly estimated, and religious prejudice combined 
 with the ostentation of wealth to give distinction to the 
 Olympic contests. 
 
 P. 181. 1. II. 
 Thejlower of no ignoble race. 
 
 Theron was a decendant of (Edipus, and conse- 
 
'II 
 
 240 NOTES. 
 
 quently of Cadmus. His family liad, tlirough a long 
 line of ancestors, been remarkable, both in Greece and 
 Sicily, for misfortune ; and he was himself unpopular 
 with his subjects and engaged in civil war. Allusions 
 to these circumstances often occur in the present ode. 
 
 P. 185. 1. 22. 
 He whom none may name. 
 
 In the original " tk," "a certain nameless person."' 
 The ancients were often scrupulous about pronouncing 
 the names of their gods, particularly those who presided 
 over the region of future hopes and fears ; a scruple 
 corresponding with the Rabbinical notions of the ineffable 
 word. The pictures which follow present a striking 
 discrepancy to the mythology of Homer, and of the 
 general herd of Grecian poets, whose Zeus is as far 
 inferior to the one supreme divinity of Pindar, as the 
 religion of Pindar himself falls short of the clearness and 
 majesty of Revelation. The connection of these Eleu- 
 sinian doctrines with those of Hindustan, is in many 
 points sufficiently striking. Southey and Pindar might 
 seem to have drunk at the same source. 
 
 P. 187. 1. 17. 
 ^or Jove has Thetis' prayer denied. 
 
 I know not why, except for his brutality to the body of 
 Hector, Achilles is admitted with so much difficulty into 
 the islands of the blessed. That this was considered in 
 the time of Pindar as sufficient to exclude him without 
 particular intercession, shows at least that a great ad- 
 vance had been made in moral feeling since the days of 
 Homer. 
 
NOTES. 241 
 
 P. 188. 1. 14. 
 'Pi'ain'd in study'' s formal hoiir^ 
 There are lolio hate the minstreVs potver. 
 
 It was not likely that Pindar's peculiarities should es- 
 cape criticism, nor was his temper such as to bear it with 
 a very even mind. He treats his rivals and assailants 
 with at least a sufficient portion of disdain as servile ad- 
 herents to rule, and mere students without genius. Some 
 of their sarcasms passed however into proverbs. " A/oc 
 Kc^/v3-cf," an expression in ridicule of Pindar's perpe- 
 tual recurrence to mythology and antiquities, is preserv- 
 ed in the Phsedon: while his occasional mention of 
 himself and his own necessities, is parodied by Aristo- 
 phanes. I cannot but hope, however, that the usual con- 
 duct of Pindar himself, was less obtrusive and importu- 
 nate than that of the Dithyrambic poet who intrudes on 
 the festival of Nephelocoggugia, like the Gselic bard in 
 " Christ's kirk o' the green." 
 
 P. 191.1.5. 
 Whose sapling root from Scythian down 
 And Ister'' s fount Alcides hare. 
 Tliere seems to have been, in all countries, a disposi- 
 tion to place a region of peculiar happiness and fertility 
 among inaccessible mountains, and at the source of their 
 principal rivers. Perhaps, indeed, the Mount Meru of 
 Hindustan, the blameless Ethiopians at the head of the 
 Nile, and the happy Hyperborean regions at the source 
 of the Ister, are only copies of the garden and river of 
 God in Eden. Some truth is undoubtedly mixed with 
 the tradition here preserved by Pindar. The olive was 
 not indigenous in Greece, and its first specimens were 
 X 
 
M2 NOTES. 
 
 planted near Pisa. That they ascribed its introduction 
 to the universal hero, Hercules, and derived its stock 
 from the land of the blessed, need not be wondered at by 
 those who know the importance of such a present. The 
 Hyperborean or Atlantic region, which continually re- 
 ceded in proportion as Europe was explored, still seems 
 to have kept its ground in the fancies of the vulgar, 
 under the names of the island of St. Brandan, of Flath 
 Innis, or the fortunate land of Cockayne, till the disco- 
 very of America peopled the western ocean with some- 
 thing less illusive. 
 
 P. 192. 1. 21. 
 Old Atlas'' daughter hallowed. 
 Taygeta. 
 
 P. 196. 1. 16. 
 To Lemnos'' laughing dames ofyore.^ 
 Such was the proof Ernicus bore. 
 
 Ernicus was one of the Argonauts, who distinguished 
 himself in the games celebrated at Lemnos by its hospi- 
 table queen Hj'^psipile, as victor in the foot-race of men 
 clothed in armour. He was prematurely gray-headed, 
 and therefore derided by the Lemnian women before he 
 had given this proof of his vigour. It is not impossible 
 that Psaumis had the same singularity of appearance. 
 
 There is a sort of playfulness in this ode, which would 
 make us suspect that Pindar had no very sincere respect 
 for the character of Psaumis. Perhaps he gave offence 
 by it ; for the following poem to the same champion is in 
 a very different style. 
 
NOTES. 243 
 
 P. 198. 1. 12. 
 Rearing her goodly towers on high. 
 Camarina had been lately destroyed by fire, and re= 
 built in a great measure by the liberality of Psaumis. 
 
 P. 201. 1. 12. 
 
 Such praise as good Adrastus hore 
 
 To him the prophet chief. 
 
 The prophet chief is Amphiaraus, who was swallowed 
 up by the Earth before the attack of Polynices and his 
 allies on Thebes, either because the gods determined to 
 rescue his virtues from the stain of that odious conflict ; 
 or according to the sagacious Lydgate, because, being a 
 sorcerer and a pagan " byshoppe," the time of his com- 
 pact was expired, and the infernal powers laid claim to 
 him. 
 
 P. 202. 1. 13. 
 Then yoke the mules of winged pace., 
 And Phintis climb the car with me. 
 Agesias had been victor in the Apene or chariot drawn 
 by mules ; Phintis was, probably, his charioteer. 
 
 P. 203. 1. 20. 
 And flung the silver clasp away 
 That rudely prest her heaving side. 
 I venture in the present instance to translate "^a^T/f" 
 a clasp, because it was undoubtedly used for the stud or 
 buckle to a horse's bit, as " x.ctXTrct^iti'' signifies to run 
 by a horse's side holding the bridle. The " kaw^^^ too, 
 appended to the belt of Hercules, which he left with his 
 Scythian mistress, should seem, from the manner in 
 
244 NOTES. 
 
 which Herodotus mentions it, to have been a clasp or 
 stud, nor can I in the present passage understand why 
 the pregnant Evadne should encumber herself with a 
 water-pot, or why the water-pot and zone should be men- 
 tioned as laid aside at the same time. But the round and 
 cup-like form of an antique clasp may well account for 
 such names being applied to it. 
 
 P. 207. 1. 9. 
 — Cool Cyllene's height of snow. 
 
 Cyllene was a mountain in Arcadia dedicated to Mer- 
 cury. 
 
 P. 208. 1. 5. 
 Then, minstrel ! hid thy chorus rise 
 To Juno queen of deities. 
 
 Such passages as this appear to prove, first, that the 
 Odes of Pindar, instead of being danced and chaunted by 
 a chorus of hired musicians and actors, in the absurd and 
 impossible manner pretended by the later Grecian 
 writers, (whose ignorance respecting their own antiqui- 
 ties, is in many instances apparent,) were recited by the 
 poet himself sitting, (his iron chair was long preserved at 
 Delphos,) and accompanied by one or more musicians, 
 such as the Theban ^neas whom he here compliments. 
 Secondly, what will account at once for the inequalities 
 of his style and the rapidity of his transitions, we may 
 infer that the Dincaean swan was, often at least, an " im- 
 provisatorc." I know not the origin of the Boeotian ag- 
 nomen of swine. In later times we find their region 
 called " vervecum pattria." 
 
NOTES. 243 
 
 P. 209. 1. 7. 
 Mark with no envious ear a subject's praise. 
 
 Either the poet was led by his vanity to ascribe a 
 greater consequence to his verses than they really pos- 
 sessed, when he supposes that the praise of Agesias may 
 move his sovereign to jealousy ; or we may infer from 
 this little circumstance that the importance attached 
 to the Olympic prize has not been so greatly overrated 
 by poets and antiquaries, and that it was indeed " a 
 gift more valuable than a hundred trophies." 
 
 P. 214. 
 The inscription, says Sadi, over the arched alcove of 
 Feridoon's Hall 
 
JUST PUBLISHED, 
 BY CAREY, LEA & CAREY, 
 
 I.— NARRATIVE of a Journey through the Upper 
 Provinces of India, from Calcutta to Bombay. By the 
 Late REGINALD FIEBER, D. D. Lord Bishop of Cal- 
 cutta. In 2 vols. 8vo. with a map. 
 
 "It forms a monument of talent sufficient, singly and 
 alone, to establish its author in a very high rank of 
 English Literature. It is one of the most delightful books 
 in the language, and will, we cannot doubt, command po- 
 pularity as extensive and as lasting as any book of travels 
 that has been printed in our time. Certainly, no work 
 of its class that has appeared since Dr. Clarke's, can be 
 compared to it for variety of interesting matter, still less 
 for elegance of execution. The style throughout is easy, 
 graceful, and nervous, carries with it a charm of fresh- 
 ness and originality not surpassed in any personal me- 
 moir with which we are acquainted." — Quarterly Re- 
 view, JVo. 73. 
 
 " The mass of interesting matter which they contain ; 
 the ease of their style ; and the fresh, unstudied outpour- 
 ings of this highly cultivated mind which they display 
 throughout, are indeed rare charms in our book-making 
 age." 
 
 " For, in truth, the reading of this Journal is fascinat- 
 ing." — Lit. Gazette. 
 
 " We can only indicate, certainly neither illustrate nor 
 discuss, the great beauties of these volumes. Were we 
 in ill humour with ourselves and the world, we think 
 half an hour of Bishop Heber's page would reconcile us 
 to either. There is a suavity, a kindness, a fine human 
 sympathy in every syllable he breathes, which elevates 
 our species." — Ibid, 
 
 II.— MR. BROUGHAM'S SPEECH on the 
 
 Present State of the Law. Corrected by himself. 8vo. 
 
III.— ELI A 
 
 that Signature i; 
 Vol. I. 
 
 Essays that have appeared under 
 the London Magazine. Second Ed. 
 
 The South Sea Hovise. 
 
 Oxford in Vacation. 
 
 Christ's Hospital live and thirty 
 
 years ago. 
 The two races of Men. 
 New Year's Eve. 
 Mrs. Battle's opinion on Whist. 
 A Chapter on Ears. 
 All fools day. 
 A Quaker Meeting. 
 The old and new Schoolmaster. 
 Valentine's Day. 
 Imperfect Sympathies. 
 Witches and other Night Fears. 
 My Relations. 
 
 Mackery End, in Hertfordshire. 
 Modern Gallantry. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Old Benchers of the Middle 
 Temple 
 
 Grace before Meat. 
 
 My first play. 
 
 Dream-Children ; a reverie. 
 
 Distant Correspondence. 
 
 Tiie praise of Chimney Sweep- 
 ers. 
 
 A complaint of the Decay of Beg- 
 gars in the Metropolis. 
 
 A dissertation upon Roast Pig. 
 
 A Bachelor's complaint of the 
 Behaviour of Married people. 
 
 On some of the OJd Actors. 
 
 On the artificial cojuedy of the 
 last century. 
 
 On the Acting of Munden. 
 
 IV. ELIA. SECOND SERIES. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To Elia. 
 
 Rejoicings upon the New Years' 
 coming of Age. 
 
 Refliections in the Pillory. 
 
 Twelfth Night, or What You 
 Will. 
 
 The Old Margate Hoy. 
 
 On the Inconveniences resulting 
 from being Hanged. 
 
 Letter to an Old Gentleman whose 
 Education has been neglected. 
 
 Old Cliina. 
 
 On Burial Societies ; and the cha- 
 racter of an undertaker. 
 
 Barbara S . 
 
 Guy Faux. 
 
 Poor Relations. 
 
 A Vision of Horns. 
 
 On the Danger of Confounding 
 
 Moral with Personal Deformity. 
 On the Melancholy of Tailors. 
 The Nuns and Ale of Caverswell. 
 Valentine's Day. 
 The Child Angel. 
 Amicus Redivivus. 
 
 Blakesmoor in H siiire. 
 
 Detached Thoughts on Books and 
 
 Reading. 
 Captain Jackson. 
 Confessions of a Drunkard. 
 The Old Actors. 
 The Gentle Giantess. 
 A Character of the late Elia. 
 
 V,-^ST. VALENTIJYE'S DAY, 
 
 OR THE FAIR MAJD OF PERTH. 
 
 By the Author of Waverley. 
 

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