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THE 
 
 VISION OF LAS CASAS, 
 

 LONDON! 
 
 PRINTED BY S. AND JR. BENTLEY, DORSET-STREET. 
 
JUL 
 IV9S 
 
 THE 
 
 VISION OF LAS CASAS, 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY EMILY TAYLOR. 
 
 - V 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED FOR TAYLOR AND HESSEY, 
 
 93, FLEET-STREET, 
 AND 13, WATERLOO-PLACE, PALL-MALL. 
 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 
if** 
 
The "Vision of Las Casas" is founded 
 on the popular opinion, adopted by Dr. Robert- 
 son on the authority of the historian Herrera, 
 that Bartholomew de Las Casas was the original 
 proposer or promoter of the African Slave Trade, 
 from motives of humanity towards the oppressed 
 Americans. 
 
 How far this opinion is correct the Author does 
 not feel herself qualified to judge. Very able 
 writers, and some among the most competent 
 writers of our day, have advocated it — (see 
 Wheaton^s Discourse, — North American Review, 
 No. VII, New Series; and Southey's History of 
 Brazil, Vol. II, p. 639, Note 16.) On the other 
 hand, Gregoire, and Verplanc, in his Dis- 
 course delivered before the Historical Society in 
 
VI 
 
 New York, have recorded their opinions of Las 
 Casas^s innocence. — A reference to these authori- 
 ties, and also to Llokente's new edition of the 
 Works of Las Casas, will put the reader in pos- 
 session of all that can be said on the subject. 
 
 In the mean time the Author claims a liberty 
 which has been freely accorded to others, of avail- 
 ing herself of a popular opinion to " point the 
 moral" of her Poem. 
 
 The Poems entitled " Winter Evenings" were 
 begun in sport, on some of the nights which they 
 commemorate. They who have ever been sur- 
 prised into a serious mood when the amusement of 
 an idle hour was their original object, will, per- 
 haps, not regard the very different style in which 
 these Pieces proceed as unnatural or incongruous. 
 
 NEW BUCKENHAM, 
 May 1825. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS . . l 
 
 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 First Evening . . . . 47 
 
 Second Evening .... 53 
 
 SONNETS . . . ... 67 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Song ...... 79 
 
 Translation of the South American Patriot's Song 82 
 
 To a Butterfly ..... 85 
 
 Song — to the Air of " Rousseau's Dream " . 87 
 
 Stanzas ...... 89 
 
 The Message . . . . . 91 
 
 A Birthday Thought .... 94 
 
 Stanzas on Visiting Newgate . f . 96 
 
Vlll 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Lines written in a Book, the Property of a deceased 
 
 Friend 
 Stanzas 
 
 To 
 
 Characters 
 
 Lines 
 
 The Mourner 
 
 The Bible 
 
 Life and Death 
 
 On Reading some Disquisitions on the Origin of 
 
 Evil, &c. 
 Address to the Deity- 
 
 Page 
 
 98 
 100 
 103 
 105 
 107 
 110 
 112 
 114 
 
 116 
 119 
 
THE 
 
 VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
THE 
 
 VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 i. 
 
 The midnight bell had toll'd : — worn, friendless, weak, 
 
 Upon his dying couch Las Casas lay ; 
 No friendly voice that awful pause to break,— 
 
 His steadfast eye was tow'rd that Eastern way, 
 
 Through which all joyously the God of Day 
 Goes forth to light the evil and the good ; — 
 
 Not that to him the dawning morrow's ray 
 Could bring the joys of mortals — for he stood 
 Trembling upon the brink of the o'erwhelming flood. 
 b 2 
 
 -V 
 
4 THF. VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Fourscore and ten revolving years to him 
 
 Had brought their joys, griefs, sins, and sorrowings : 
 The eloquent eye, time-touch'd, had now grown dim ; 
 
 Yet that kind drowsiness of mind, which brings 
 
 Rest to the aged, and all mortal things 
 Shrouds in the veil of placid apathy, 
 
 Came not to him :— but touch the silent strings, 
 And thou hadst started at the quick reply 
 Of the frail, shaken Harp's responsive harmony. 
 
 III. 
 
 Even now, undying, in his soul there dwelt 
 All the indignant soul of former years ; 
 
 More few, perchance, his words — whatever he felt, 
 Suppress'd in sighs, or uttered but in tears, 
 Nor the high head erect and firm he rears : 
 
 But this was Nature's work ; — the mighty mind, 
 Untouched by Time, in all its strength appears ; 
 
 And still the more, with every thought entwined, 
 
 Love triumphs in his breast,— Love, ardent, unconiincd. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. O 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thou, who hast felt thyself what good men feel 
 Turning the page of Life's eventful day, 
 
 In those truth-telling moments which reveal 
 The long, long sum of blessings past away> 
 That hour of trial thou canst well pourtray — 
 
 His crown of glory cast upon the ground, 
 
 When, bathed in tears, the good Las Casas lay ; 
 
 And clouds and darkness seem'd to gather round, 
 
 And thick impervious mists the mental sight to bound. 
 
 V. 
 
 Exhausted with unutterable thought, 
 Back on his couch the dying sufferer fell, 
 
 But found not there the peaceful rest he sought ;— 
 Unwonted forms — sounds, sights we may not tell, 
 Flitted before him, and he felt the spell 
 
 Was laid upon him. From that hour, no more 
 He sought the mighty vision to repel; 
 
 Passive, like infant in the giant's power, 
 
 Amazed and mute he saw the wonders of that hour. 
 
O THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 His eyes were open'd on a world of light, 
 
 The stars of Heaven beneath his feet were shedding 
 Their pale faint beams across the gloom of night ; 
 
 But he, above them all, was firmly treading. 
 
 His heart had lost its fears ; — no longer dreading 
 The deep dark vale — emerged at once, 4iis eye 
 
 Fell on a glorious prospect, widely spreading, 
 And thousand spirits welcomed him on high ; 
 Alldangers seem'd o'erpast — all doubts, all fears gone by. 
 
 VII. 
 
 That moment's ecstasy we may not paint : — 
 
 Death must give place to life, this earth to Heaven, 
 Time to Eternity — ere to the faint 
 
 And failing heart such glorious task be given ; 
 
 The soul, long tempest-tost, no longer driven 
 A weary wanderer from the peaceful shore,— 
 
 Each doubt resolved — each devious step forgiven— 
 And they, the comrades of our toil before, 
 Mingling their souls with ours in joys for evermore ! 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 7 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Not yet, not yet—- Las Casas hath not yet 
 His firm foot planted in that blest abode. 
 
 It was a vision still — he may forget, 
 
 And for a moment feel his lightened load, — 
 More anxious thoughts must now his bosom goad ; 
 
 This Heaven, these joys so holy, are they his ? 
 Have his feet trod the straight and narrow road ? 
 
 Or must he leave a Paradise like this, 
 
 To mourn untasted joys, and unpartaken bliss ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 An angel stood before him : his bright eye, 
 
 Awfully pure, Las Casas met, and shook 
 Through all his frame with inward agony; 
 
 Such piercing glance his spirit could not brook. 
 
 Yet in that angel's calm, expressive look, 
 Mercy and peace and gentleness were blended ; 
 
 The tear of pity scarce his eye forsook ; 
 But, from a heaven of holiness descended, 
 Judgment was on his brow, and Truth his steps attended. 
 
8 THE VISTON OF LAS CASA8. 
 
 X. 
 
 And " Child of Earth I" he said, " whose deeds of love, 
 
 By Heaven approved, have found a record here — ► 
 Whose fervent prayers have reach'd the throne above, 
 
 Before thy sight shall future things appear ; 
 
 For this I come — Thou, meekly silent, hear, 
 And humbly view the wonders I shall show, 
 
 Though oft thy sad and penitential tear, 
 Mourning the miseries thou hast wrought, shall &ow 
 Warm as thy heart's desire to soften human woe. 
 
 XL 
 
 " Yet hear in patience ; gloriously at length 
 
 The wrath of man shall speak the praise of God ; 
 
 He shall go forth in his resistless strength, 
 
 And powers of earth and Heaven obey his nod : 
 Then shalt thou own the chastenings of the rod 
 
 Their own pure purpose amply have fulfill' d ; 
 And, when thy limbs repose beneath the sod, 
 
 Though other hands than thine the fabric build, 
 
 He shall not be forgot whose heart its beauty will'd/* 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 9 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Judgment-book is open'd — every grace 
 And gift of God to erring man stood there, — 
 
 The large free offers to a guilty race, 
 
 The frequent calls to penitence and prayer : 
 
 And " These to thee were given, and to thy share 
 
 Long health, long years, beyond the common lot : 
 Where stray'd thy steps beyond his guardian care ? 
 
 When wast thou left forsaken or forgot P 
 
 Drooping, Las Casas heard, — and wept, but answer'd not. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Lightly the record spake of childhood; youth 
 It touch'd more strongly, — season of deceit, 
 
 When falsehood wears the very look of truth, 
 
 And hearts deceived revenge the wrong they meet ! — 
 Las Casas knew the bitter and the sweet 
 
 Of all that cheers, delights, bewilders man ; 
 Long in the bowers of pleasure found his feet 
 
 A rest — such rest as lofty spirits can, 
 
 Their eagle glance curtaiFd, and bounded by a span. 
 
JU THE VISION OF LAS CAS AS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh ! to look back upon the days, the hours 
 
 That brought us nothing, carried nought away ! 
 
 For ever loitering amidst beds of flowers, 
 The self-same round revolving day by day : 
 Las Casas was a man — we dare not say, 
 
 So did not he. Enough : the dreamer woke, — 
 Awoke to bless the pure and holy ray 
 
 That through the mists of error instant broke, 
 
 Teaching the soul to spurn her low unworthy yoke. 
 
 XV. 
 
 — There rides a bark in triumph o'er the wave ! 
 
 Her full sails catch the home-breeze joyfully: 
 Joy to the glorious heroes ! to the brave 
 
 Who tried the perils of that unknown sea ! 
 
 What though the closing waves indignantly 
 Reject the marks of man's far-spreading sway, 
 
 The conquest is achieved ! — by thine, and thee, 
 Dauntless Columbus ! is the dubious way 
 Unlocked, display'd at once — all darkness turn'd to day ! 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. ] 1 
 
 XVI. 
 
 How beautiful she comes ! Her errand peace 
 And joy, and tidings of a world new-found ! 
 
 Well may the toils of wonted labour cease ; 
 
 Well may the countless thousands throng around, 
 And Grief forget her sufferings ! — Hark ! the sound 
 
 Of hallelujahs, glorifying Him 
 
 Whose hand hath framed the earth's extremest bound, 
 
 And, as the light of ancient worlds grows dim, 
 
 Bids us at other fanes the lamp of Science trim. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And are there brothers o'er that watery waste — 
 
 Our new-found kindred ? Oh ! to carry there 
 The peaceful Olive-branch, and bid them haste 
 
 Our Arts to learn — our wondrous tales to hear ! 
 
 Oh ! to commingle joys — with them to share, 
 In sweet and sacred fellowship, the store 
 
 Of blended good which each to each may bear ! 
 And, more than all, together forth to pour 
 The mingled breath of praise — together to adore ! 
 
12 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Beautiful vision ! Though as soon as found 
 Dash'd and dispell'd, yet unforgotten still ! 
 
 Oft in the cold world's unennobling round 
 Of close contracted duties, come, and fill 
 The heart with kindness ; raise the selfish will, 
 
 And fix it firm in faith on Him, whose love 
 
 Nor time can change, nor height nor depth can chill ; 
 
 Who, in his own good time, sends forth the Dove 
 
 Of Peace to erring man, and summons him above ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Beautiful vision ! Yet more lovely still 
 
 When it hath visited a brother's eye, 
 And we can mark the rapturous tears that fill 
 
 That beaming eye, and share its holy joy; 
 
 And we can feel th' indissoluble tie, 
 Our hearts conjoining in one mighty cause; 
 
 On one dear altar every wish lay by, 
 The dreams of youth — the thirst for vain applause — 
 All that from heavenly bliss th* immortal mind with- 
 draws ! 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 13 
 
 XX. 
 
 Beautiful vision ! Hath it shone on Thee, 
 Thou listless wanderer in that flowery field ? 
 
 Yes ! by that new and heaven-born energy, 
 The kindling eye — the purpose half reveal'd, 
 Yet half, in humbleness of heart, conceal' d, 
 
 Itself mistrusting, as it turns to view 
 
 The powerless arm that would presume to wield 
 
 A sword so mighty, in a field so new, 
 
 And doubts its own resolves, and fears its hope untrue. 
 
 XXI. 
 Yes, go, Las Casas ! Firm, yet meek of heart — 
 
 Go, friend of him who knows no friend beside — 
 Go, self-devoted to thy chosen part; 
 
 And, as the unknown ocean opens wide, 
 
 Gird up thy spirit to that strife untried : 
 No laurel- crown shall deck thee conqueror there, 
 
 No favouring smiles delight thy human pride ; 
 But thou thy Saviour's name in peace shalt bear : 
 Herald of Mercy, go ! — thy tale of Love declare. 
 
14 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Oh ! yet remember, though thy heart may bleed 
 
 As Misery pours her unavailing sigh. 
 There is a world where slaves are free indeed, 
 
 And drink unmix' d the cup of Liberty ! 
 
 Then tame thy breast's o'ermastering sympathy : 
 Better to speak the patient words of Love, 
 
 And bid the indignant plaint unaltered die, 
 Than turn the spirit from its hope above; — 
 The Serpent's wisdom gain — the meekness of the Dove. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 'Twas done : — upspringing, like the lion roused 
 Prom the strong chains of slumber, forth he went. 
 
 Thenceforth his eye, in singleness unclosed, 
 
 Droop'd not, nor wander'd from its high intent : 
 Earnest he look'd around the world, and bent 
 
 A searching glance on one sad scene of woe ; 
 
 He heard the whisper — <c Therefore art thou sent ; 
 
 There bend thy strength — each meaner aim forego ; 
 
 There stanch the bleeding heart — the tear forbid to 
 flow V s 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 1.5 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 He heard, and he obey'd ! — That instant fix'd 
 His heart, soul, mind, devoted to their aim. 
 
 Thenceforth, though variously the cup was mix'd 
 For him in joy or sorrow, 'twas the same : 
 Unchangingly he bore the grief, the shame 
 
 Of bitter disappointment ; and he took 
 Meekly the common lot of praise or blame, 
 
 As those who up to Heaven's tribunal look 
 
 With mild appealing eye to its decisive Book, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 He went :— the dangers of the deep, though fraught 
 In those dark days with terrors long gone by, 
 
 In vain assaiFd him, in his lonely thought — 
 Perhaps they came to terrify, to try : 
 Whom will they not ? — even when the steady eye 
 
 Is fix'd on Him who rules the winds and waves, 
 (And they obey Him !) yet the sea, the sky, 
 
 The threatening murmurs of the ocean caves, 
 
 Smite with a chilling awe, which scarce one spirit braves. 
 
16 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS, 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And even when winds are hush'd, the soft air balm, 
 
 And the light bark rests gently on the deep, 
 There is oppression in that awful calm, — 
 
 The death of Nature rather than her sleep; 
 
 The eye looks round for help, — we cannot keep 
 Its glance from wandering o'er that vacancy; 
 
 And, if a speck appear, the soul will leap, 
 Fill'd with the spirit of society, 
 Over the watery bound, its loneliness to fly. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 No! there is nothing lonely like the sea: 
 
 Though thousand thousand sails be speeding o'er, 
 
 And the mind knows the friendly wave to be 
 Medium of blessings to the farthest shore, 
 Still 'tis a changeful and capricious power, 
 
 Too fickle for man's mind to rest upon ; 
 In its most smiling times he hears the roar 
 
 Of distant thunder, and he feels like one 
 
 Who dreads to wear a smile, lest cause of smile be gone. 
 
THE VISION OF £AS CASAS. 17 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 In such a time, well pleased, the eye will turn 
 
 From the deep waves below to Heaven above, — - 
 Beautiful region! where the night-fires bum, 
 
 And seem to breathe benignity and love. 
 
 What though beyond the burning line we rove, 
 Where, one by one, each light must disappear 
 
 We knew in childhood ; never can we move 
 Beyond the glories of the starry sphere, 
 Or feel the Almighty arm less manifestly near ! 
 
 XXIX. 
 And there are feelings which the voyager 
 
 Can well remember — when upon his eye, 
 Ranging beneath another hemisphere, 
 
 First came the vision of the Southern sky. 
 
 Yes, there they shine ! those stranger lights on high — 
 The dream of childish years ! Yes, there they are ! 
 
 Bright Southern Cross, so dear to memory, 
 The Wolf, the Ship of Heaven, the Phoenix — there 
 Pouring their mingled lights — how beautiful, how fair ! 
 c 
 
18 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS, 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Las Casas felt, as mortal man should feel, 
 
 The glories of creation ; — his delight 
 Was in that silent, eloquent appeal, 
 
 Which day to day repeats, and night to night ! 
 
 Sweet were his hours, when, beautifully bright, 
 The equatorial sky its fires displayed — 
 
 Its tracts of darkness, and its gleams of light. 
 Stretch'd on the deck, in midnight hours of shade, 
 How sprang his soul to Him whose hand these wonders 
 made ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 He knew not yet to what a world, how vast, 
 
 The winds impell'd him ; for the daring prow, 
 Which cross' d the Atlantic first, not yet had past 
 
 On to the distant land we ought to know 
 
 Best by his name who found it. Gently blow 
 The steady breezes — and the hour is nigh, 
 
 When, all reveal'd, that mighty land shall show 
 Its train of marvels to the stranger's eye ; 
 Its old, untrodden woods — its hills that pierce the sky. 
 
THE VIRION OF LAS CASAS. 19 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 How placid was that evening !< — they had met — 
 
 The Chieftain and Las Casas — glad to seize 
 The time, when others hasten'd to forget 
 
 Those lighter toils which leave the mind at ease. 
 
 Then, differing oft by day, in hours like these 
 Their souls grew placid — learn' d to look within — 
 
 And, in the fellowship of midnight seas, 
 Each felt the glow of kindlier thought begin, 
 And strove from peaceful hours more peaceful fruits to 
 win. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 They talked of home — of childhood — of the hearts 
 
 Whose love, more dear than life, yet sway'd them not 
 When duty calTd them to their several parts, 
 
 And sternly pointed the severer lot — 
 
 Their own sweet land, the one beloved spot 
 Where all bright things, all fair were garnered-— 
 
 Its ancient memories, dearer to the thought, 
 Because between them ocean depths were spread, 
 And they themselves, perchance, were thought of as the 
 dead! 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE VISION OF LAS OASAS. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And then that look'd-for world they call'd to mind, 
 
 Much questioning its future destinies : 
 If to the treasures of the Eastern Ind 
 
 This way the future path of nations lies ; 
 
 If those fair Isles, so late Columbus' prize, 
 Be but as steps to fairer, yet unknown ; 
 
 Or if there be — so high their wishes rise — 
 A wide-spread land of rivers, like their own, 
 Where man exists — enjoys— even in the Torrid Zone! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Nor had they lived in that romantic time 
 Of young discovery, to its soul so dead, 
 
 But that for them, with every stranger clime. 
 Some wondrous tale was link-'d, by fancy bred : 
 Here <e El Dorado" all her wealth outspread; 
 
 There " right Divine" the female sovereigns claim ; 
 And here the youth-renewing fountains shed 
 
 Vigour and freshness through the aged frame ; 
 
 And here the garden blooms— and Eden is its name. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS (AS AS. 21 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 And loftier themes were theirs ; — the grand pure Heaven 
 Oft drew their eyes, — but most that cheering sign, 
 
 Emblem to Christian souls of sins forgiven — 
 Of dying Love, and Mercy's power divine — 
 Cross of the South ! whose grand illumined line 
 
 Of glory lights another firmament ! 
 
 Though to behold thee never must be mine, 
 
 Yet oft will fancy to mine eyes present 
 
 Thee in thy noon-tide hour, or 'cross the waters bent.* 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Hark ! while they speak, a sound, a sudden gush 
 
 Of waves, each moment louder and more nigh ! 
 The eddying waters boil ! impetuous rush 
 
 Strong currents, struggling for the mastery ! 
 
 Whence come these mighty floods, that^ hurrying by, 
 Rushing and rolling, mingle with the deep, 
 
 Freshening the ocean waters ? — -Up ! the cry 
 Of danger startles from their quiet sleep 
 The dreaming seamen all; — what anxious watch they 
 
 keep! 
 • " Midnight is past, the Cross begins to bend." — Paul and Virg. 
 
22 THE VISION OJ? LAS CASAS. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " Land ! land ! vast woods, wide rivers far and near I 
 
 But oh ! what perils hem the vessel round ! 
 Oh ! steer as for thy life, brave Pilot ! steer- 
 Perhaps some quiet gulph may yet be found.— 
 There ! there ! right onward ! — Now the bottom sound- 
 Tack to the right — but clear that narrow sea; 
 
 Pass but unharm'd that cape's projecting bound, 
 And there in safety may thy station be. 
 Now, praised be our God ! 'tis past, and we are free." 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 And equatorial darkness hath given place 
 To all the splendour of the risen day. — 
 
 Oh what a day ! then first the smiling face 
 Of this new world, fresh, beautiful, and gay, 
 Shone in the brightness of her fair array, 
 
 How sweet, how lovely, on the stranger's eye ! 
 There Nature holds her undisputed sway 
 
 Over the waste — but lordly man is nigh, 
 
 And now her powerless hand the sceptre must lay by. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 23 
 
 XL, 
 
 Deal gently with her, conquerors though ye be, 
 For she is gentle. To her quiet shade, 
 
 And the calm region of her privacy, 
 
 Ye came, unask'd, her treasury to invade : 
 
 And have ye hearts to draw the murderous blade 
 
 In her pure presence ? She hath given ye all- — 
 For you the secrets of her realms display'd : 
 
 And, oh ! how eloquent her accents fall ! — 
 
 ' s Sons of the Stranger Land ! enjoy, but not enthrall." 
 
 XLL 
 
 New-found Columbia ! pouring forth thy floods 
 
 Of many waters— rearing up the vast 
 And massy pile of thy gigantic woods, 
 
 Where even the savage foot hath rarely past ; 
 
 Thy gorgeous birds, that light and beauty cast 
 Over the forest's gloom ; the brilliant dyes 
 
 Of thousand flowers, that shed their sweets to waste ! 
 Can He who paints thee thus the dream- despise, 
 Which fondly saw in thee man's long-lost Paradise ? 
 
24 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 But onward ! onward ! they must spread the sail, 
 And leave this vision for a happier hour ; 
 
 Before the gentle steady breezes fail, 
 
 Columbus must retrace the Island shore — 
 
 His first-found Island of the West, once more, — 
 
 And thou, Las Casas ! must thy work begin ; 
 Yet still thy longing eyes that coast explore : 
 
 Oh ! were it thine some peaceful fruits to win, 
 
 Ere Mammon's sterner sons their spoils have gather'din ! 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Short space — and now again the vessel nears 
 
 The wish'd-for port; but, oh ! how changed the scene! 
 Grief, horror, bloodshed, slavery, and tears, 
 
 Mark where the white man's blasting foot hath been ; 
 
 And here it is, where Indian eyes have seen 
 Dark deeds of desolation ceaseless wrought ! 
 
 Here must Las Casas tell, with eye serene, 
 Of peace — of freedom by the Saviour brought ; 
 How easy is His yoke — what blessed truths He taught. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 25 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Then came the days of unremitting toil— 
 
 The nights by gentle sleep unvisited — 
 Life held in doubt, as the tumultuous broil 
 
 Of angry tempests gather'd round his head, 
 
 Or in the howling waste his couch was spread, 
 Or the still hour of midnight saw him bear 
 
 The torch of truth to cheer the dying bed, 
 And turn the sinner's curses into prayer, 
 And Him in darkness served, in words of light declare. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 And, worse than watchings, toil, disease, and death. 
 The sickening anguish of the spirit came, 
 
 Unheard, despised, to waste his shortening breath — 
 To hide, perhaps, in silence and in shame, 
 The glorious sound of that dishonour'd name, 
 
 Whose very thought is freedom ! Thou, whose tongue 
 Deals out with ease its ready dole of blame, 
 
 For once forgive, if, thus to madness stung, 
 
 Rash word and hasty deed from gentle heart were wrung ! 
 
26 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 XL VI. 
 O'er the wide waters, lo ! he comes again. — 
 
 Hark ! heard ye not those accents, awful, deep, 
 That taught thy dying eye, proud King of Spain, 
 
 Dismay'd, the ruin thou hadst wrought to weep ? 
 
 Sleep not again ; — thou canst not, darest not sleep- 
 Those awful words are ever in thine ear ; 
 
 His ceaseless watch the holy Priest shall keep, 
 Till tardy Mercy stay the mad career 
 Of the rapacious bands that mock Columbia's tear. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 And now again he cleaves the billowy wave, 
 
 Herald of hope, of liberty, once more ; 
 No other home he seeks, no fitter grave, 
 
 Than mid the wilds of that afflicted shore. 
 
 Alas ! in vain — more hopeless than before, 
 As more matured, indignantly he sees 
 
 Slavery, in all her plenitude of power, 
 Loading with cries of woe the ocean breeze ; — 
 Yet not the less he strives such anguish to appease. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 27 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Again th' angelic strain uprose — the song 
 
 That sung the Christian hero's manly daring ; 
 And that celestial Spirit smiled again, 
 
 The message of accepted deeds declaring. 
 
 O blessed thought ! that heavenly hearts are sharing 
 Our earthly triumphs, all our toils survey — 
 
 For us in Heaven's immortal bowers preparing 
 Th' unenvied crown !— And who so blest as they, 
 When wandering feet return to seek the narrow way ? 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 O blessed thought, while only thought ! — but Thou, 
 
 Favoured Las Casas, hadst a glimpse more high : 
 That angel-look was fix'd on thee even now, 
 
 And thou hast caught its glance of sympathy. 
 
 Now let thy heart its load of cares lay by, 
 Servant of God ! whose dying eyes have seen 
 
 Into the secret counsels of the sky : 
 Though all unfathom'd be the gulf between, 
 Now placid be thine eye — thy mind, thy heart serene ! 
 
28 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 L. 
 
 Yet trembling ! — Yes, the Angel's darken'd brow 
 
 Betokens tales of sorrow yet to come. 
 All Heaven is mute — reluctantly and slow,, 
 
 As He who once pronounced the fearful doom 
 
 Of man's long exile from his earliest home., 
 The Spirit turns that fatal record o'er :— 
 
 cc And who was he ? — The light of life to some — 
 To Afric's sons, the stripes, the chains, who bore ! 
 Barterer of human blood ! curse of that wretched shore !" 
 
 LI. 
 
 Then forth from highest heavens in thunder came 
 A wild full chorus to the voice, replying — 
 
 tc Thine, thine, deceived Las Casas ! was the shame, 
 With Afric's woes Columbia's freedom buying!" — 
 And then there came the wailings of the dying, 
 
 And low, faint prayers for mercy ; and the cry 
 Of some self-murderer, from his tortures flying, 
 
 In the deep sounds of life's last agony 
 
 Cursing the white man's name, while Echo made reply. 
 
THE VISION OF LA3 CA3AS. 29 
 
 LIL 
 
 Oh ! hide him, earth ! — for, in that aged breast, 
 What thoughts of tenfold anguish now upspring ! 
 
 Oh! could he flee away, and be at rest ! 
 
 But grief hath laid her fetters on his wing, 
 And deeper shades around their horrors fling, 
 
 And he must quaff alone the cup of woe ; 
 For the kind Angel, mute and sorrowing, 
 
 Stands with averted eye and downcast brow: 
 
 And who shall give him rest, and soothe the sufferer now? 
 
 LIIL 
 
 Hark ! breathless angels hang upon the sound — 
 A " still small accent/' awful and alone — 
 
 Nor in the air it seems, nor from the ground — 
 Single, and sweet, and gentle as the tone 
 Wherein a mother pleadeth for her own ; 
 
 And they that heard it felt as if their breath, 
 Suspended, lived in that, and that alone : — 
 
 And who could dread the gloomy vale of death, 
 
 If voice of peace like this the spirit summoneth ?— 
 
30 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " Tear out that page of sorrow I" — Hark ! no more ?— 
 " The guilty leaf is cancell'd — thou art free !" 
 
 Mute, mid the thousand thousands that adore 
 The deep-felt presence of the Deity, 
 Las Casas stands — no more his eye can see, 
 
 Intensely drinking in the words of Peace ; 
 To him the Seraph's sweetest song can be 
 
 But as the warbling of the senseless breeze : — 
 
 All Heaven is in his heart— his doubts, his conflicts cease. 
 
 LV. 
 
 That voice again — " As many as I love, 
 
 Those I rebuke. Thy life in labours spent, 
 A worthy offering to the Throne above, 
 
 Thy soul, while yet unhumbled, dared present ; 
 
 And therefore hast thou found the chastisement 
 Of earthly wisdom, and hast wept to see 
 
 How thine own hand the scourge, the yoke, has sent 
 To suffering nations — that such wrong could be, 
 In all thy dear-nursed schemes of mild philanthropy. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 31 
 
 LVL 
 
 u Repentant and forgiven, arise !" — No more — 
 The voice is hush'd — a moment — is it gone? 
 
 Then bursts the song of thousands, then before 
 The glorious portals of the Eternal Throne — - 
 " Blessing, and praise, and honour, Holy One/' 
 
 Rejoicing and exulting angels sing — 
 
 i( Blessing to Him, Jehovah ! God alone ! 
 
 Blessing to Him, the martyr'd Lamb, they bring, 
 
 Who burst the grave's dark bounds, and snatch'd from 
 death his sting!" 
 
 LVIL 
 
 But mid the joy of that triumphant scene, 
 Is there no friendly voice to greet him here ? 
 
 Have angel-tears falTn o'er him ? and serene 
 When now the skies in beauty re-appear, 
 And heaven and earth a placid radiance wear, 
 
 Shall there be none to greet him — none to bless 
 His very blessings, his weak head uprear ?— 
 
 That were not earthly love : — can Angels less, 
 
 Who share the sinner's grief, than share his happiness ? 
 
32 THE VISION Ob LAS CASAS. 
 
 LVIIL 
 
 And at his side the Angel stands — his eye 
 
 Hath brightness indescribable ; — the glow 
 Of love that liveth everlastingly 
 
 Sate on his cheek and lighten'd up his brow: — . 
 
 " Come,, thou beloved Las Casas, open now 
 Once more thine eyes on that afflicted shore ; 
 
 The counsels of the Highest shalt thou know — 
 The mighty workings of that wondrous Power, 
 Which light from gloom can bring, and wrath to peace 
 restore/' 
 
 LIX. 
 Then, starting into life, Las Casas sees 
 
 A holy band, their fathers' faults retrieving ; 
 With pious hands they hasten to appease 
 
 Nature's long anguish, o er her children grieving, 
 
 And gently, duteously, their task achieving, 
 Like him who clears defacing stains away 
 
 From the pale marble, all its glory leaving ; — 
 So toii'd they on, for many a weary day, 
 Even from their morn of youth to age's evening grey. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 33 
 
 LX. 
 
 And from the snares of wealthy from pleasure's maze, 
 From all that cheers and soothes the heart of man — 
 
 From ease, from leisure, earthly peace and praise, 
 Undaunted turning, they their work began : 
 Cold in their veins the life-blood often ran, 
 
 For they had human feelings ; — yet to be 
 Heaven's ministers, end work upon its plan, 
 
 Breathed through their souls resistless energy, 
 
 And the world heard their voice — " The Negro shall 
 be free !" 
 
 LXL 
 
 There thou, " in journeyings oft, in perils, pains," 
 First in a field whose meanest place was fame, 
 
 Unbinder of the Negro's massive chains, 
 Intrepid Clarkson ! at whose single name 
 Wealth hid her head and guilt grew pale with shame; 
 
 Before whose single eye proud cities brought 
 Nor danger nor allurement, — all thine aim 
 
 To clear their fame from one dishonouring blot, 
 
 And wipe the stains away themselves regarded not ; — 
 
^4 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 There,, in that vision, wert thou founds whom we 
 In Mercy's service still delight to find : 
 
 Thy heart is not grown cold to Misery's plea, 
 And passing years have left untouched thy mind. 
 On, generous Clarkson ! ever unconfined 
 
 By selfish aims, thy steady path pursue ; 
 On to the mark ! forget the things behind, 
 
 Draw round thee Mercy's friends, though all too few; 
 
 And, year by year, proceed- — thy daring charge renew! 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 And thou, whose voice, in strength or weakness plying, 
 
 Senates have heard, most mild, most musical, — 
 Each varying string of human feeling trying — 
 
 The meek to win, the mighty to appall ! 
 
 Who can forget thee, Wilberfokce ? Though all 
 The fruit of patient toil thou must not see, 
 
 Though Slavery holds her thousand sons in thrall, 
 The Spirit is gone forth—and Liberty 
 Chants in the Negro's land a grateful song to thee. 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 35 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Glory and happiness ! the Western main, 
 By setting suns illumined, brings the time. 
 
 Of gentler evening, leading in her train 
 
 The happiest moments of that burning clime. — 
 Hark ! through the neighbouring hills the well-known 
 chime 
 
 That calls the Negro to the House of Prayer ! 
 No longer now the minister of crime, 
 
 The white man goes with brother men to share 
 
 His glory and his hope — and God is worshipped there. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Glory and happiness ! the fetter'd limb/ 
 
 Exulting in its strength, at last goes free, 
 And the bewildering clouds of error dim 
 
 Before the dawn of knowledge break and See. 
 
 The peaceful bark is gliding o'er the sea; 
 No blood-stain'd flag, no pomp of war she bears — 
 
 A gentle messenger of love is she ; 
 And wheresoever her goodly form appears, 
 There Freedom lifts her head, and Sorrow dries her tears. 
 d 2 
 
36 THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 " Glory and happiness !" Las Casas cries : 
 
 The vision is dispell' d — the grateful burst 
 Of joy and wonder, from his tranced eyes 
 
 At once the opening glories have dispersed ; 
 
 The moon-beams falling on his couch — the first 
 And faintest call of early matins' bell — 
 
 The well-remember' d voices, interspersed 
 With sighings of the gale, — all broke the spell; 
 His head, in transport raised, back on his pillow fell. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 And he hath grasp'd the hand of one, whose love, 
 Long tried and faithful, hath pursued him here, 
 
 Like the kind Angel, whom he saw above, 
 Bending beside, to strengthen and to cheer : 
 Together both, for many a painful year, 
 
 The self-same patient work of love they plied ; — 
 And sweet it is, when life's last pang draws near, 
 
 To see the brother-labourer at our side, 
 
 And speak of coming joys, where Death shall not divide 
 
THE VISION OF LAS CASAS. 37 
 
 LXVIIL 
 So look'd Las Casas : — look'd — but utter'd not 
 
 A word to break the deepening peace of Death : 
 Still his quick eye its lightning glances shot, 
 
 But fainter and more faint his parting breath 
 
 Went and return'd ; yet he who watch'd him saith, 
 That ever, as he whisper'd words of cheer, 
 
 The hand uplifted told the spirit's faith- 
 Down the worn cheek oft stole the grateful tear, 
 And hope was in his eye, and love, that casts out fear. 
 
 , LXI3L 
 
 So pass'd he. — He who loved him saw his eye 
 Closed in the slumber of its dreamless rest ; 
 
 Saw the chili limbs in shrouded stiffness lie, 
 
 And the cold earth heap'd high upon his breast : 
 And then he laid him down — the pillow press' d 
 
 Where he, the brother of his heart, had lain ! 
 And, ere the morrow's sun had gain'd the West, 
 
 For him, too, rose the requiem's solemn strain, 
 
 Spreading the tale of death o'er all th' extended plain. 
 
38 THE VISION OF LAS, CAS AS. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 O thou who readst ! whose heart has felt the glow 
 Of warm benevolence ; whose untired feet 
 
 Have trod those paths of duty here below, 
 Where toil is sanctified and trouble sweet, — 
 Blessings be on thee ! As thy labour great, 
 
 Great be the harvest ; — yet remember still 
 How unsuspected lurks the deep deceit, — 
 
 How oft, for good, we snatch the cup of ill, 
 
 And, brimming though it be, that cup yet higher fill. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Instructed, go! — Each high and noble aim 
 Still in thy deepest musings love to rear ! 
 
 Go ! — light more eagerly the holy flame 
 Of love to all mankind ; and if the fear^ 
 That where thy wish a smile decreed, a tear 
 
 May flow the faster for thine erring zeal, — 
 If doubt like this intrude, a throne is near, 
 
 Where they that meekly and incessant kneel, 
 
 Strengthen^ and heal'd themselves, shall others learn 
 to heaL 
 
NOTE S. 
 
 Stanza XXV. 
 
 ;c The young Las Casas, whose spirit of adventure led him, 
 at the age of nineteen, to accompany Columbus in his second 
 expedition to the West Indies, was one of those rare com- 
 pounds which Nature forms, from time to time, for the ornament 
 and consolation of the human race," &c. 
 
 w He saw with grief and indignation the crimes of his country- 
 men, and the cry of the oppressed entered deeply into his heart. 
 From that hour, like the young Hannibal, but in a purer cause, 
 he vowed himself to one sacred object. Rejecting with scorn 
 every lure which interest or ambition held out to tempt him 
 from his course, refuting by the blameless sanctity of his life all 
 the calumnies which were showered upon him, despising danger, 
 disregarding toil, braving alike the sneer of the world and the 
 frown of power, he laboured with a benevolence which never 
 cooled, and a zeal which knew no remission for more than 
 seventy years, as the protector of the Indian race. Dangerous 
 as was the navigation at that period, he crossed the Atlantic 
 
40 NOTES. 
 
 nine times for this purpose, besides traversing Europe, and pene- 
 trating, in all directions, the trackless wilds of the New World." 
 — Verplanck, Discourse delivered before the New York Historical 
 Society. 
 
 The track pursued by the vessel of Columbus being nearly 
 similar to that followed by Humboldt, I have availed myself of 
 this circumstance in the following stanzas. 
 
 Stanza XXIX. — "And there are feelings which the voyager." 
 
 Those who have read the beautiful reflections of Baron Hum- 
 boldt, of which this stanza is but an imperfect imitation, will re- 
 cognize the ideas. " From the time we entered the Torrid Zone, 
 we were never wearied with admiring, every night, the beauty 
 of the Southern sky, which, as we advanced toward the South, 
 opened new constellations to our view. We feel an indescribable 
 sensation, when, on approaching the Equator, and particularly on 
 passing from one hemisphere to another, we see those stars which 
 we have contemplated from our infancy, progressively sink, and 
 finally disappear. Nothing awakens in the traveller a livelier 
 remembrance of the immense distance by which he is separated 
 from his country, than the aspect of an unknown firmament. 
 The grouping of the stars of the first magnitude, some scattered 
 nebulae rivalling in splendour the Milky Way, and tracts of space 
 remarkable for their extreme blackness, give a particular phy- 
 siognomy to the Southern sky. This sight fills with admiration 
 even those who, uninstructed in the branches of accurate science, 
 feel the same emotion of delight in the contemplation of the hea- 
 venly vault, as in the view of a beautiful landscape or a majestic 
 
NOTES. / 41 
 
 site. A traveller has no need of being a botanist, to recognize 
 the Torrid Zone on the mere aspect of its vegetation ; and, with- 
 out having acquired any notions of astronomy, without any ac- 
 quaintance with the celestial charts of Flamsteed and De la 
 Caille, he feels he is not in Europe, when he sees the immense 
 constellation of the Ship, or the phosphorescent clouds of Magel- 
 lan, arise on the horizon. The heaven, and the earth, and every 
 thing in the Equinoctial regions, assumes an exotic character. 
 The lower regions of the air were loaded with vapours for several 
 days. We saw distinctly, for the first time, the Cross of the South, 
 only in the night of the 4th and 5th of July, in the 16th degree 
 of latitude : it was strongly inclined, and appeared from time to 
 time between the clouds, the centre of which, furrowed by un« 
 condensed lightnings, reflected a silver light. If a traveller may 
 be allowed to speak of his personal emotions, I may add, that in 
 this night I saw one of the reveries of my earliest youth accom- 
 plished. When we begin to fix our eyes on geographical maps, 
 and read the narratives of navigators, we feel for certain coun- 
 tries and climates a sort of predilection, for which we know net 
 how to account at a more advanced period of life. These im- 
 pressions, however, exercise a considerable influence over our de- 
 terminations ; and, from a sort of instinct, we endeavour to con- 
 nect ourselves with objects on which the mind has long been 
 fixed as by a secret charm. At a period when I studied the hea- 
 vens, not with the intention of devoting myself to astronomy, * 
 but only to acquire a knowledge of the stars, I was agitated by a 
 fear unknown to those who love a sedentary life. It seemed 
 painful to me to renounce the hope of beholding those beautiful 
 constellations which border the Southern Pole." 
 
42 NOTES. 
 
 Stanza XXXI. 
 See Note to Stanza XXV. 
 
 Stanza XXXV « Nor had they lived," %c. 
 
 I must be excused for taking some liberty with the unities in 
 this place. Raleigh did not give his report of El Dorado till up- 
 wards of eighty years after this time; and Pouce de Leon had 
 not then made his far-famed discovery of the fountain whose wa- 
 ters possessed the virtue of renewing youth. — As for the commu- 
 nity of females, according to Baron Humboldt, there is still some 
 reason to believe in its existence. (Personal Narrative, Vol. V. 
 Part I. page 391-2.) — Columbus himself was not proof against 
 the enthusiasm of the time, when, on first discovering that part 
 of America which stretches from the Orinoco to the Province of 
 Cumana, he exclaimed, that he must have found the seat of 
 Paradise ! 
 
 Stanza XXXVII.—" Hark while they speak," $c. 
 The accounts given by the discoverers of America, of the con- 
 flict of the Orinoco with the waters of the ocean, is no doubt 
 exaggerated. Guarilla says, that it freshens the ocean for many 
 leagues with its flood. This is denied by Humboldt, who, how- 
 ever, admits the difficulty of the navigation through La Boca del 
 Drago. 
 
 Stanza XLVI. — " O'er the wide waters," ^c. 
 " He easily obtained admittance to the King (Ferdinand), 
 whom he found in a declining state of health. With much free- 
 dom, and no less eloquence, he represented to him all the fatal 
 effects of the repartimentos in the New World ; boldly charging 
 
NOTES. 43 
 
 him with the guilt of having authorised this impious measure, 
 which had Drought misery and destruction upon a numerous and 
 innocent race of men, whom Providence had placed under his 
 protection. Ferdinand, whose mind as well as body was much 
 enfeebled by his distemper, was greatly alarmed at the charge of 
 impiety, which at another juncture he would have despised, 
 listened with deep compunction to the discourse of Las Casas, 
 and promised to take into serious consideration the means of re- 
 dressing the evil of which he complained," &c. — Robertson, 
 Vol. L Book III. p. 309. 12th Edit. 
 
 Stanza XLIII " Guilt, horror," $c. 
 
 The historian of America tells us, that when Columbus 
 reached Hispaniola (on his second voyage), he found that island 
 in the most deplorable situation. Roldan had mutinied ; the ship 
 Columbus, despatched with provisions for the Colonies, had fallen 
 into the hands of the mutineers ; and the wretched inhabitants, 
 oppressed by all in turn, had diminished in numbers greatly. — 
 Robertson, Vol. I. p. 198. 
 
 Stanza L. 
 
 See Advertisement. 
 
WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 FIRST EVENING. 
 
 THE FARMER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 I. 
 
 Gathering in sullen wrath, around, above, 
 
 The chill damp vapours of a wintry sky 
 From the dense margin of th* horizon move, 
 
 Marking the closing hour of evening nigh. 
 
 Fainter and fainter, to the gazer's eye, 
 The well-known view of house, and field, and tree ; 
 
 Yet still the more, though still in vain, we try 
 To pierce the shades, our market-cart to see, 
 And learn how butter sells, and what the news may be. 
 
48 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 II. 
 
 And smile not thou, nor deem our wisdom less, 
 
 If haply thus we waste an idle hour ; 
 But, child of knowledge ! in thy pride confess 
 
 How oft, like us, thy wit hath learn' d no more, 
 
 Than thus, with anxious eye, intent to pore 
 Through deepening shades that mock thine utmost art ; 
 
 Go — thread the mazes of scholastic lore, 
 And sound its depths, and light and truth impart, 
 Then turn and mock our toil — to find our market-cart. 
 
 III. 
 
 And not in vain our search — triumphant, see ! 
 
 The conquering Heroine's carriage " stops the way!" 
 The farmer quits in haste his toast and tea, 
 
 To learn the varying fortunes of the day ; 
 
 And if the mare, perchance, hath run away — . 
 Or if the old blind horse hath journey 'd well, 
 
 And _" Hath he had, indeed, his fill of hay ? — 
 And didst thou in the market bear the bell? 
 And what is beef per pound, and how does mutton sell?" 
 
FIRST EVENING. 49 
 
 IV. 
 
 A different tribe of querists next draw nigh, 
 
 Nor less impatient from the charge refrain : — 
 <c Well, has my bandbox travell'd safe and dry, 
 
 Spite of the driving wind and pelting rain ? 
 
 Or has another evening come in vain, 
 And brought no bonnet ' turn'd and trimm'd' for me ? 
 
 And must I write, and scold, and write again ? 
 Will never tradesman's word and deed agree ? 
 Or are they faithless all ? — true but to treachery?" * 
 
 
 V. 
 
 Then, proud as warrior, when his crutch he wields, 
 
 And fights his thousand battles o'er again, 
 The dauntless champion of our humbler fields 
 
 Recounts the history of her brief campaign ; 
 
 Tells how her willing steed obey'd the rein, 
 And trotted homewards with his load, untired ; — 
 
 How quick the butter sold — how oft, in vain, 
 The hungry cits another pound required, 
 And of their cousins' weal so anxiously inquired. 
 
 * " True to the veriest slaves of treachery." — Lord Bymn. 
 
50 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 True, we may envy not the busier lot 
 
 Of those who tread the crowded streets along ; 
 
 Yet, not forgetting, " not to be forgot/' 
 Lost in the vortex of that busy throng, 
 Our pride, our feelings — call them right or wrong — 
 
 Wring from the heart that wish where'er we stray : 
 And if to mightiest souls such wish belong, 
 
 As oft affirmed — nor less, perhaps, than they, 
 
 We love the voice that asks — " How fare our friends 
 to-day ?" 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Now ope the budget !" — Life hath joys more bright, 
 That come in sweetness, and in sadness part ; — 
 
 Yet, when my eye hath dwelt with fond delight 
 On the kind greetings of a friendly heart, 
 And felt each cloud of care at once depart, 
 
 And felt the spirits, light as air, rebound, 
 At the glad impulse words like these impart, 
 
 Well may I ask, as week to week comes round, 
 
 il If joy be found not here, where then shall joy be found ?" 
 
FIRST EVENING. 51 
 
 VIIL 
 
 O well-remember'd ! lost, yet present still, 
 
 To the fond memory of a grateful mind — 
 Though other hand than thine the void may fill 
 
 With aim as friendly, and with act as kind ; 
 
 Yet, could these hours return, and cease to find 
 Thy memory link'd with every joy they bring, 
 
 And find thine image less with life entwined, 
 Deep, deep indeed, at dull oblivion's spring — 
 Must the changed soul have drank, and bathed her 
 active wing ! 
 
 Years have rolFd by since thou thy place hast left, 
 
 And busy hours move on, as when with thee ; 
 And Time her sting from Sorrow has bereft, 
 
 But added sweetness to thy memory. 
 
 That field of thought, whose treasures, large and free, 
 Thy hand first open'd to my youthful sight, 
 
 Still spreads its stores of boundless wealth to me, — 
 While thousand things, less permanently bright, 
 Gleam transient o'er the mind — then lose themselves in 
 night. 
 
 e 2 
 
52 WTNTETl EVENINGS. 
 
 X. 
 Thoughts of man's transient fate ! — how fast entwined ! 
 
 Even in our gayest moods we feel ye near ! 
 Touch but a string, and lo ! how close behind 
 
 Grief follows joy — the smile hath left a tear. 
 
 Go, idle verse ! I have not heart to rear 
 Thine empty unsubstantial frame again : 
 
 The time may come, and thou once more shalt cheer 
 The wintry eve : — till then, farewell the strain, 
 Record of one brief hour — its pleasure and its pain ! 
 
SECOND EVENING. 
 
 L 
 
 Fast, fast the driving snow, involving all 
 
 Our little world, descends ; and every tree 
 Clothes with its plumes, and weaves them as they fall 
 
 In icy garlands, twining gracefully. 
 
 How lovely, thus, amid the waste, to see 
 This fairy work of Nature's frolic hand ! 
 
 As if, in all her toils, there still must be 
 Some light creation, exquisitely plann'd, 
 Blending for man's delight the graceful with the grand. 
 
54 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Let her not speak in vain ! — the mind may rear 
 
 Its unsubstantial visions — only made, 
 Like as the glittering garland hanging there, 
 
 To charm the eye — then into nothing fade : 
 
 Still they are beautiful ; and we are paid 
 For all their emptiness, if thus they come 
 
 To brighten up the lengthened hours of shade — 
 To gild with smiles the little world of home, 
 And cheer the mental sight, and chase the Winter's gloom. 
 
 III. 
 
 Winter ! with all thy storms, with all thy snows, 
 
 Thy scanty daylight and thy length of shade, 
 To me there seems a grandeur, a repose, 
 
 Even in the waste thy ruthless hand hath made. 
 
 Ruin hath done his work ! — before him laid 
 Prostrate, the bud, the bloom of Summer, dies ; 
 
 A few brief days shall see his power displayed : 
 Then rise, sweet Hope ! delightful visions, rise ! 
 Fill the tired soul with joy, and glad the weary eyes. 
 
I SECOND EVENING. DO 
 
 IV. 
 en come the brightest and the best of days, 
 Children of Spring ! Although, perchance, there be 
 Who love the Autumn sun's declining rays — 
 The closing hour of Nature's revelry, 
 Oh ! let my spirit still be true to thee ; 
 And let me never, never leave thy shrine : 
 
 For life, and joy, and health, and energy, 
 Inspiring season ! these, and more, are thine ! 
 Parent of soaring hopes, and noble thoughts divine ! 
 
 V. 
 
 True, all are beautiful ! the changing year, 
 
 Winter and Summer, seed-time, harvest — all ; — 
 Yet not alike on every mind and ear, 
 
 Th' harmonious tones of Nature's music fall. 
 
 Some love the pensive — such obey the call 
 Of melancholy Autumn ; — but, to me, 
 
 She strikes a chord not half so musical 
 As the full, clear, rebounding harmony, 
 Drawn from the depths of mind, inspiring Spring ! by 
 thee. 
 
56 WINTER EVENINGS, 
 
 VI. 
 
 Soon comes thy reign, — yet waste we not the time 
 Of calm retirement, and the lengthen'd eve ; 
 
 Ply quick the needle — let the sportive rhyme 
 Grow fast beneath thine hand : it shall not grieve 
 Our hearts, if, doom'd a busier scene to leave, 
 
 The dwellers there our humbler walk disdain. 
 Each hath his destined path : — we would believe 
 
 That He who fix'd them, fix'd them not in vain ; 
 
 And what are we, or ours. His bidding to arraign ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 In such an hour, oh ! come, sweet Poesy ! 
 
 Come with thy melting eye, thy soul of fire ! 
 Bring all the sweetness of delights gone by ; 
 
 With holy hope the chasten'd soul inspire. 
 
 Thou the gay Summer sun dost not require, 
 ec The universal year" is all thine own, 
 
 Nor from the keenest blast wilt thou retire ; 
 Bear witness, " Blossoms of the North !" bestrown 
 Upon our Island plains, as fresh as newly blown. 
 
SECOND EVENING. 57 
 
 VIII. 
 
 No sickly progeny — the warm South breeze 
 
 May waft us strains voluptuously gay : 
 But in the strength, the healthfulness of these 3 
 
 The spirit's energy, the spirit's play, 
 
 We trace the genius of a better day; 
 And well we thank the hand that interposed, 
 
 Tearing, with friendly aim, the veil away, 
 And showing beauties which had else reposed, 
 Perhaps, for many a day, unvalued, undisclosed. 
 
 IX. 
 
 It is no selfish aim- — to give the light 
 
 Of other minds, when there is that within, 
 As full of life, in genius as bright, 
 
 As aught its toil from foreign fields can win ; 
 
 But those who, from its earliest origin, 
 Delight to trace the windings of the mind, 
 
 And see the infant stream of thought begin, 
 No meagre praises, Bo wring ! have assigned 
 To thee, who bring'st us in these tidings of our kind. 
 
58 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Nor can we mark, without a throb of joy, 
 
 Heaven's noblest gifts — how lavishly outspread! 
 What lofty thoughts a thousand minds employ, 
 
 Afar, apart, in distant regions bred ! 
 
 North, South, and East, in turn the flame have fed : 
 And now, fair Western world ! our eyes shall see 
 
 The genius of thy shores uplift her head ; 
 Soon first in arts, as first among the free, 
 Unenvying shall our souls., Columbia ! yield to thee. 
 
 XI. 
 
 They err, who call this world a wilderness, 
 
 Each joy deception, each fair flower a weed; 
 Who seem to strive for language to express 
 
 How much its evil doth its good exceed. 
 
 What ! is the glorious work of God indeed 
 Thus emptied of the traces of his hand ? 
 
 No ! we might learn with clearer eyes to read 
 The volume of Creation, than to stand 
 Thus basely slandering Heaven — in its own temple 
 grand ! 
 

 
 SECOND EVENING. 59 
 
 XII. 
 'Tis not that He, who made us as we are, 
 
 Forbids the smile His very bounties wake ; 
 His gifts press round us, meet us every where, 
 
 And we must love them for the Giver's sake: 
 
 But to be bound by them, to let them take 
 The spirit captive, and chain down the mind 
 
 Prisoner to sense and fancy — is to make 
 Ourselves the slaves to powers ourselves should bind, 
 In union with our God- — in love with all mankind. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thence swerving, comes the heavy sickening chill 
 
 Over the spirit's energy; no more 
 Revelling along, delighted and at will, 
 
 And gathering sweets the wide creation o'er. 
 
 Then clouds behind, and chilling mists before, 
 Obscure the mental vision — once so bright ; 
 
 And all the sweetness of poetic lore, 
 The mirth of morn, the melody of night, 
 No longer charm the ear — no more the eye invite, 
 
60 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 None serve thee truly,, O enchanting lyre ! 
 
 But they whose spirits may command thee too : 
 None serve thee truly,, but whose souls of fire 
 
 From Heaven the breath of inspiration drew, 
 
 And back to Heaven their steady way pursue; 
 Still proud to trace their glory to its source, 
 
 To join in thought the beautiful and true, 
 And make them partners in their equal course. 
 Shame! that what God hath join'd, proud man should 
 e'er divorce. 
 
 XV. 
 There have been those, and there may be once more, 
 
 Though few their numbers — few, and far apart — 
 Who love the Muse ; but, servants of a Power 
 
 They love yet more, His higher claims assert. 
 
 But grant them these, — each power of mind, of heart, 
 Strong and harmonious to the task they bring: 
 
 O'er all the various progenies of Art 
 Truth sits supreme, the moving master-spring, 
 And Genius' self has felt that touch inspiriting. 
 
SECOND EVENING. 61 
 
 XVI. 
 
 That spirit, glorious Milton ! dwelt in thee : 
 
 And who of erring thought or idle tongue 
 Can chide the gentle lyre's sweet harmony, 
 
 When hands like thine its boldest chords have strung ? 
 
 Not that thine active mind, entranced, hung 
 The willing captive of an empty sound ; 
 
 Like trumpet to the steed, the voice of song 
 But urged thy soul one moment from the ground ; 
 The next — and at their post were all thy forces found ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Whose soul, like thine, had burn'd within him, there 
 Where Memory holds her undisputed reign, 
 
 And Fancy peoples all the living air 
 
 With glorious spirits, such as on thy plain, 
 
 Proud Marathon ! once spurn' d the oppressor's chain? 
 
 Yet that fair land could forge no chains for thee : 
 Thy country pleaded — pleaded not in vain; 
 
 And thou couldst leave the shade of Liberty, 
 
 To plant her standard here, and bid her sons be free. 
 
62 WINTEIt EVENINGS, 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 How beautiful, how fair, to eyes like thine — 
 
 Eyes fed on scenes so exquisitely wrought 
 By labouring Fancy in her secret mine — 
 
 Those living pictures of thy classic thought ! 
 
 All thy mind's fair ideas, instant brought 
 To the clear daylight of reality : 
 
 The hills, the groves where ancient sages taught 
 The glorious aspect of a cloudless sky, 
 Through that bright medium seen — the Bard's in- 
 structed eye. 
 
 XIX. 
 And oh ! how proudly in thy breast had swelTd 
 
 The Christian triumph ! — there, where awful rear'd 
 His holy arm, by sacred zeal impelled, 
 
 The bold Apostle — and his God declared ! — 
 
 Abash'd the sages sate — all unprepared 
 For the high knowledge of " the God unknown :" 
 
 Him had they darkly worshipp'd — Him had fear'd; 
 But idol-gods had shared his peerless throne; — 
 Now darkness yields to day, and he is Lord alone. 
 
SECOND EVENING. 63 
 
 XX. 
 
 There hadst thou gazed ; — and it would seem the same 
 
 To worship Virtue and be virtuous — No : 
 Milton,, thou better knew'st to feed the flame 
 
 Of noble enterprize ! — 'tis not the glow 
 
 Of momentary feeling, high or low, 
 Or warm aspirings of the enthusiast mind, 
 
 That stamp us virtuous, — 'tis the even flow 
 Of an unbounded love to all our kind, 
 Calm as the peaceful stream — as ocean unconfined. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And, great Creator ! 'tis to worship Thee 
 
 With the firm purpose of the steadfast soul ; 
 To yield the heart and mind, unshrinkingly, 
 
 Full and complete, to Thy divine controul. 
 
 What though the roaring waters round us roll ? 
 Still " deep to deep" proclaims Thy matchless might; 
 
 And, in that strife, Thy presence to the soul 
 Darts o'er the darkness like a beam of light — 
 Earnest of beams to come, more beautiful and bright ! 
 
64 WINTER EVENINGS. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Oh ! yet forgive ! if thus an idle song, 
 
 Begun in sportiveness, in Thee should end ; 
 And the tired rover, Thought, a wanderer long, 
 
 Her steady course to Thee at last should bend. 
 
 And ever thus, my Father and my Friend ! 
 May Thine own gifts to Thee revert again : 
 
 Thou art my rest ! — though meaner thoughts contend, 
 Let them not bind me with a galling chain ; 
 But leave the spirit free, where only Thou shouldst 
 reign. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 SECOND EVENING. 
 
 Stanza VII. — " Blossoms of the North." 
 Bowring's Russian Anthology. 
 
 Stanza X.— ." Unenvying" &c. 
 " Westward the course of empire takes its way: 
 
 The four first acts already past, 
 A fifth shall close the drama with the day — 
 Time's noblest offspring is the last." 
 
 Bishop Berkeley: 
 Written fifty years before the declaration of American inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 Stanza XVI. 
 See Milton's Second Defence of the People of England. 
 " As I was preparing to pass over also into Sicily and Greece, 
 I was restrained by the melancholy tidings from England of the 
 Civil War, — for I thought it base that I should be travelling at 
 my ease, even for the improvement of my mind, when my fellow - 
 citizens were fighting for their liberty at home." 
 F 
 
66 NOTES. 
 
 I was not aware, at the time I wrote the stanzas in reference 
 to this remarkable passage in the Life of Milton, that Mr. Ro* 
 gers had alluded to it in his beautiful poem of Human Life, 
 Having, however, made a different application of it, I hope I 
 may escape the charge of plagiarism — The passage in question 
 is, indeed, chiefly worthy of remark, as evincing the entire subor- 
 dination of Milton's imagination, and relish for literary pursuits, 
 to what he considered as the call of active duty. It is a truly 
 remarkable thing, that one of the most busy politicians of that 
 busy time should also have been the noblest of poets : a proof* 
 surely, that the cultivation of poetical talent does not require the 
 sacrifice of a life of active usefulness, and an eternal rebuke to 
 those who can sink all interest in the well-being of their fellow- 
 creatures, in the selfish indulgence of their own imaginations* 
 
SONNETS. 
 

 ss 
 
 SONNE T. 
 
 ng once more that sweet and soothing strain ! 
 
 Or: ::: :„f -.v.-: n:;::: :: c:n:c5 ::■ n:f. 
 
 V."::~ -f- :rr :: :~e r -s:. <:: h:~e. -:.i :"--. 
 With joys deputed erer in its train. — 
 S~e-e: strain .' s~ee: Iats! I: :*~ere be i:u:s ~\:er. ;;.;;: 
 
 O'er pk™ sw^s, jwj^ xeoHHnb^ 
 Soon can my heart those weaker thoughts restrain, 
 
 Anc. dv'j.er n'ls'jirj :; r_:~ stiti: inn; : 
 X : -^ooid I prise th* uncertain dawning light 
 
 Abo ve the splendour of the noontide son; 
 Nor lire again the hours, however bright 
 
 And foil of jot, with which my life begun,— 
 If my mint knowledge of the just and true, 
 And good and hohr, must forsake me too ! 
 
70 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Yes ! it is beautiful, — that summer scene, 
 
 With all the lights of morning o'er it gleaming : 
 
 And thou art beautiful— thy sweet eye beaming 
 In Virtue's brightness, sparkling, yet serene ! 
 
 But there is in my mind a thought which decks 
 With brighter beauty all mine eye can see— 
 
 A thought whose presence quenches not, nor checks, 
 The fervour of my gaze, beholding thee, — 
 Thought of the pure made purer still — and all 
 
 Of Beauty, yet more beautiful. — To me 
 Such musings are delightful ; for they fall, 
 
 Like the Sun's beams, on every thing I see — 
 Gilding, refining, sanctifying all, 
 
 With noble thoughts of immortality ! 
 
71 
 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 How beautiful the feet of those that bring 
 Tidings of peace below and joy above ! — 
 Hope, motive, impulse, liberty, and love, 
 
 A power that bids the slave of sense upspring, 
 
 And, light as air, his chains behind him fling, — 
 These are their glorious proffers ! — Bid them speed, 
 Ye that are servants of the Lord indeed ! 
 
 Give them the wish, the prayer inspiriting. 
 
 Yes, they shall prosper ! — He, beneath whose wing, 
 Calm and confiding, they are gone to trust — 
 
 He shall uphold them, soothe their sorrowing, 
 And, if they perish, guard their sleeping dust ! — 
 
 Farewell ! — though half the globe divide us now, 
 
 Content before the Eternal throne we bow. 
 
72 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 TO THE MOON. 
 
 Fairest of all yon fair and goodly train, 
 
 Pale lovely Moon ! that, 'mid the gloom of night, 
 With rays of splendour beautifully bright, 
 
 Shinest on the couch of peacefulness or pain; — 
 " Oh ! could I worship aught beneath the sky/' 
 
 When God himself demands — accepts the praise, 
 
 How could I pour my never-ceasing lays, 
 Eye of the Night, to thy bright majesty ! 
 
 But thou, too, in thy pride, hast One above, 
 Before whose brighter beams thy glory dies; — 
 
 He speaks ! and thou and thine, attendant, move 
 Along the glorious pathway of the skies. 
 
 And He hath pour'd a better light than thine 
 
 Upon a darkened world— His Word, His grace divine ! 
 
/3 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Oh ! let me still be near thee ! — for with thee, 
 Thou favour' d one, where'er thou art, are smiles ; 
 And the sweet influence of thy playful wiles 
 
 Comes o'er us with resistless mastery. 
 
 Thou young and light of heart ! of footstep free ! 
 Exulting in thy spirit's consciousness 
 Of powers within thee to enjoy and bless, 
 
 Well may the world-tired soul delight in thee ! 
 
 Yet, loving thee, (who knows yet loves thee not?) 
 Forgive the whisper'd wish, that says — " Beware !' J 
 
 Beware, lest in the luxury of thy lot, 
 All happy as thou art, the nobler care 
 
 Of that within thee, which shall deathless be, 
 
 Less than the light world's smiles be prized by thee. 
 
74 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 I saw Heaven open'd ; — on the o'ershadow'd throne 
 Sate the Invisible, — around him ranged, 
 Myriads of spirits stood — not yet estranged, 
 It seem'd, from earth ; for eager each look'd down- 
 Each seem'd to mark one wanderer for his own : 
 And, as the earthly pilgrim went his way, 
 If chance his erring footsteps turn'd astray, 
 A gem had vanish' d from the AngeFs crown. 
 The thought came o'er me — ce Is there not an eye 
 
 Through all this maze of life to follow me ?" 
 I turned — I met a gaze so sweet, so mild, 
 I could not bear its steadfast scrutiny. 
 What ! tear the glories of thy crown from thee, 
 My mother ? — Perish first thy guilty child ! . 
 
75 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Not to my souFs Creator would I bring 
 (So He one breath of Christian life impart) 
 An uninstmcted mind and thankless heart ; 
 Nor deem it wisdom madly thus to fling 
 His blessings from me : — ever on the wing 
 My soul would be, still sedulous to find 
 Food which may nourish the immortal mind^ 
 That else would dwindle to a worthless thing,— 
 Nor yet miscall it Pride. What other boon 
 
 Of bounteous Heaven may man, unblamed, debase ? 
 And this, that lifts him from earth's dwelling-place 
 
 To angel courts — oh ! say not this alone, 
 O'er all beside His glory and His grace, 
 Must, soiFd and shamed, its origin disown, 
 
76 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Upon mine ear, methought, at midnight hour, 
 When all beside was still, there came a sound, 
 Deep, full, and solemn, issuing from the ground — 
 
 A chorus, swelled with wild, unearthly power,—* 
 
 And this its burden-—" Pilgrim of a day, 
 Few, dark, and evil, shall thy days be here ; 
 Oft shall thy cheek be stain' d with sorrow's tear, 
 
 And thou in weariness shalt pass away, 
 
 And join thy sleeping kindred!" — Ceased the strain. 
 Oh ! bursting on mine ear, what accents then 
 
 Charm'd every sense to rapture ! — then again 
 Intent I listen'd — u Blessed are the men," 
 
 It said, " that die in Jesus ! for they rest 
 
 From earthly labours, and their souls are blest V 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
79 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Forget not thou our childish hours, — 
 
 The spirit of our joys, 
 Like music past and gather'd flowers, 
 
 Each passing hour destroys ! 
 Yet, much too lovely to be lost, 
 Far wisest they who prize them most. 
 
 We do not mourn them ;— days have come, 
 
 More calm, without decline- 
 Days that have peopled Memory's home 
 
 With deeds and thoughts divine : 
 And years have taught our souls to prize 
 Man's noblest aims and destinies. 
 
80 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But those sweet, careless, joyous hours., 
 And all they promised us, — . 
 
 The cloudless sky, the path of flowers, 
 Still may delight us, thus : 
 
 A glimpse of Heaven was given us then, 
 
 And we would see that Heaven again. 
 
 We want to look this wide world through. 
 
 As then it brightly lay 
 Before our eyes — a thing all new, 
 
 A game for us to play : 
 And to our rash, unskilful hand, 
 Its chances seem'd at our command. 
 
 And in the dim unmeasured length 
 
 Of many a distant day, 
 A treasure of exhaustless strength 
 
 Behind, before us, lay; 
 And hearts to love, and hopes to gain 
 The love we prized, were given us then. 
 
SONG. 8 1 
 
 Well,, all is beautiful — the bright 
 And dazzling dawn of youths 
 
 The glories of that better light, 
 When Fancy yields to Truth ; 
 
 Yet still the voice of Nature says, — 
 
 " Forget not thou our childish days !" 
 
82 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SOUTH AMERICAN PATRIOTS SONG. 
 
 (From the Spanish, printed at Buenos Ayres, 1818.) 
 
 I. 
 'Tis the voice of a nation waking 
 
 From her long, long sleep, to be free ; 
 'Tis the sound of the fetters breaking 
 
 At the watchword — cc Liberty I" . 
 The laurel-leaves hang o'er her, 
 
 The gallant victor's prize ; 
 And see, how low before her, 
 
 In dust the lion lies ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Eternal glory crown us ! 
 
 Eternal laurels bloom, 
 To deck our heads with honour 
 
 Or nourish o'er our tomb ! 
 
SONG. 83 
 
 II. 
 
 On the steps of our heroes treading, 
 
 See the god of the fight at hand ; 
 The light of his glory shedding 
 
 On his own devoted band ! 
 Our Incas* tombs before ye 
 
 Upheave to meet your tread, 
 As if the beam of glory 
 
 Could rouse the sleeping dead. 
 
 Ohobus. — Eternal, &c. 
 
 III. 
 
 Saw ye the Tyrant shedding 
 
 The blood of the pure and free ? 
 Heard ye his footstep treading 
 
 On thy golden sands, Potose ? 
 Saw ye his red eye watching, 
 
 As the ravenous beast, its prey; 
 And the strong arm fiercely snatching 
 
 The pride of our land away ? 
 
 Chorus. — Eternal, &c. 
 g 2 
 
84 song. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Argentines ! by the pride of our nation, 
 
 By the hopes and the joys of the free, 
 We will hurl the proud from their station, 
 
 And bring down the haughty knee I 
 E'en now, our banners streaming 
 
 Where fell the conquer'd foe, 
 In the summer-sun bright gleaming, 
 
 Our march of glory show. 
 
 Chorus. — Eternal, &c. 
 
 V. 
 
 Hark ! o'er the wide waves sounding, 
 
 Columbia ! Columbia ! thy name — 
 While from Pole to Pole rebounding, 
 
 " Columbia !" the nations proclaim. 
 Thy glorious throne is planting 
 
 Over Oppression's grave, 
 And a thousand tongues are chaunting — • 
 
 " Health to the free and brave !". 
 
 Chorus. — Eternal, &c. 
 
85 
 
 TO A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Go, go in thy beauty, 
 
 Bright child of a day ! 
 Go, catch the Sun's splendour — 
 
 His beams pass away. 
 I sigh as I watch thee ; 
 
 For never again 
 My eye shall behold thee 
 
 Thus skim o'er the plain. 
 
 And where lives the heartless, 
 
 Who, gazing his last 
 On the bright light of beauty. 
 
 So quickly o'er cast, 
 
86 TO A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Can smile at the sadness 
 That springs to the eye, 
 
 As the fairest of creatures 
 Thus breathes but to die? 
 
 Go, go, thou gay being ! 
 
 The pride and the joy 
 Of thy transient existence 
 
 No reasonings destroy. 
 To see thee, and ponder 
 
 The brief written line 
 Of thy life and extinction — 
 
 That sorrow is mine. 
 
87 
 
 SONG. 
 
 TO THE AIR OF " ROUSSEAU'S DREAM." 
 I. 
 
 Hope no more — in peace he sleepeth;* 
 
 All his toils and pains are o'er ; — 
 'Tis thine eye alone that weepeth — 
 
 His is closed to ope no more. 
 He hath gain'd that unknown river — 
 
 He hath found a Hero's grave, — 
 There his head in peace for ever 
 
 Rests beneath the limpid wave. 
 
 * Suggested by the fate of the unfortunate Mungo Park. 
 
SONG. 
 II. 
 
 We, like him, our barks are guiding: 
 Swiftly to an unknown shore : 
 
 Here, we know, is no abiding ; 
 There is rest for evermore. 
 
 Pilot through this boundless ocean, 
 Lord of earth, and air, and sea ! 
 
 Thou canst still the wild wave's motion- 
 All our hopes are fiVd on Thee. 
 
89 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 O young and fair ! 
 The softly-stirring breeze,, how like to thee ! 
 The breeze^ with sweet and pleasant harmony 
 
 Filling the air ! 
 
 Thus dost thou move 
 Over the languid energies of earth ! 
 Thy step of liveliness-— thy look of mirth^ 
 
 Who would not love ? 
 
 Thou dost beguile 
 The world-tired spirit of a load within. 
 Where is the rugged heart thou couldst not win 
 
 By one bright smile ? 
 
90 STANZAS. 
 
 No counsel sage, 
 Nor grave rebuke, perchance, may dwell with thee; 
 Nor with the world, in stern severity, 
 
 War dost thou wage; 
 
 Nor is it thine 
 The self-appointed censor's place to fill ; — 
 If such thy power, yet quickly would thy will 
 
 That place resign. 
 
 But if the soul, 
 Which from this evil world a shade has caught, 
 Back to benevolence be instant brought 
 
 By thy controul ; 
 
 And if the love 
 Of thee, sweet spirit ! win to virtue's way, 
 By its own light, the feet that else astray 
 
 Too oft would move, — 
 
 Then may'st thou reign 
 Long o'er the weakness of humanity ; 
 And, soother of the soul ! to learn of thee 
 
 Let none disdain. 
 
91 
 
 THE MESSAGE. 
 
 When thou shalt see my friend again, 
 And hear the voice I cannot hear; 
 
 And when that smile, so sweet and bright, 
 Once more thy favour'd soul shall cheer; 
 
 Then ask her what, for one she loved 
 Most dearly, would her wishes be ? 
 
 And, when her lips have breathed them forth, 
 Say — u These, and more, I bring to thee." 
 
 And tell her how I strove to check 
 
 The envious thoughts which sometimes came, 
 To think thine eye should see her thus — 
 
 Thine ear should hear her name my name. — 
 
92 THE MESSAGE. 
 
 Ask her if ever thought of me 
 
 Hath come,, o'ershaded with a fear 
 
 Lest present things and passing shows 
 Should make her memory less dear ? 
 
 And if it hath — thou know'st me well — 
 I say not, chide her for that thought ; 
 
 But tell her all thou canst of me, 
 
 And charge her that she wrong me not. 
 
 And if she ask thee what report 
 
 Thou bring'st of these my fleeting hours ; 
 
 Tell her, I never look'd to find 
 
 The path of life bestrew' d with flowers ;— - 
 
 Yet say — in duty's path, though rough, 
 Is sweetness, — she hath found it true : 
 
 And tell her, more and more my heart 
 Admits, believes, and feels it too. 
 
 Nor let her think a boastful thought 
 
 With words like these is close entwined : 
 
 She knows the heart may acquiesce, 
 While <e practice grovels far behind." 
 
THE MESSAGE. 93 
 
 M ore could I say, — of hopes to meet, 
 
 Some distant hour, on earth again — 
 To talk with her of sorrows past, 
 
 Or count the joys that yet remain: 
 
 And more, — of hopes far brighter — hopes 
 
 That, when the work of life is done, 
 Oar paths, though here diverging wide, 
 
 At last may meet — may end in one. 
 
 But thou must tell her all thy heart; 
 
 And I may cease my own to tell. 
 Go, then— with blessings on thy way, 
 
 To her I love ;— -go — fare thee well ! 
 
94 
 
 A BIRTH-DAY THOUGHT. 
 
 And art thou here again, truth-telling day ! 
 
 That sent me forth to take my fill of earth ; 
 To pass, as others pass, from grave to gay, 
 
 And bear my part in mourning or in mirth ? 
 Come, pause awhile, and give me time to know 
 If I may bid thee speed, and gaily let thee go. 
 
 Thou art no day of mirth) — though early taught 
 
 To hail thy coming as the hour for joy, 
 Years scarce can check that childishness of thought, 
 
 And teach the man no more to be a boy. — . 
 Thou art no day of mirth, — for with thee come 
 Thoughts, grave and high to all — piercing and keen to 
 some. 
 
A BIRTH-DAY THOUGHT. 95 
 
 Thou art no flatterer ! — faithless friends there be, 
 Specious and gay, of promise insincere, — 
 
 But on thine honest front at once I see 
 
 Thou comest to bring plain tidings to my ear ; 
 
 And I shall not outlive thee, — thou wilt be 
 
 Fix'd faithful to my fate, and pass away with me ! 
 
 Then tell thy tale unchecked, while life moves on; 
 
 And louder yet, and louder be the call ! 
 But, should it sound too often and too long, 
 
 Till on a deaden d ear its warnings fall, 
 Then may'st thou cease to speak, as I to hear, 
 And both in silence sleep, till better days appear ! 
 
96 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 ON VISITING NEWGATE IN COMPANY WITH MRS. FRY, 
 JULY 1818. 
 
 I. 
 
 She came; — she pierced the dungeon's gloom, — 
 
 She braved the lion in his lair, — 
 She walk'd among the foes of man ; — 
 
 The God she served upheld her there. — 
 
 II. 
 
 Dauntless she came : — yet, meek and mild, 
 No worldly weapons' strength she tried ; 
 
 Before her went the Spirit's sword — 
 The shield of Faith was by her side. 
 
STANZAS, &C. 97 
 
 DDL 
 
 I saw her take her patient stand, 
 
 I heard her speak the words of love ; 
 The world seem'd fading from my sight, 
 
 And every thought was fix'd above. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And never from my mind shall fade 
 
 The memory of that blessed hour : 
 It seem'd to ope a world unknown, 
 
 It touch'd a string untouched before. 
 
 V. 
 
 O conqueror in a bloodless field ! 
 
 How poor the proudest boast shall be, 
 When weighed, in that impending hour, 
 
 Against the deeds achieved by Thee ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Proceed ! — thy race of glory run, 
 
 More boldly urge sweet mercy's claim ; 
 
 From strength to strength still travel on, 
 While Heaven's own book records thy name. 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN A BOOK, THE PROPERTY OP A 
 DECEASED FRIEND, 
 
 Oh ! dear indeed — unutterably dear, 
 
 The words that speak of memory and of thee I 
 
 And grief shall bathe them with a holy tear, 
 And sacred long the treasured page shall be. 
 
 Thou wert indeed a beam of living light, 
 Guiding us on with undissembling ray; — 
 
 Oh ! how unlike those meteors of the night, 
 That cross our path to dazzle and betray 1 
 
*LTNES WRITTEN IN A BOOK, &C 9® 
 
 "Tis sweet to think on thee — to rest awhile 
 
 On the calm thought of what thy life hath been 5 
 
 To think, as on the weary way we toil, 
 
 Nor toil nor tumult break thy sleep serene. 
 
 Sleep on;— this changefulworld was not for thee; 
 
 Well as thine active spirit play'd its part, 
 Thou could'st not make its scenes of vanity 
 
 A worthy dwelling for the pure in heart. 
 
 Yet hast thou left a line of light for us; 
 
 And though the heart may faint, and blessings flef^ 
 The gloomy path of life, illumined thus, 
 
 Shall lead at last to Peace, and Rest, and Thee:1 
 
 h 2 
 
100 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 It is not in the first dark hours, when streaming eyes 
 o'erflow, 
 
 And humbled nature mourns the stroke that lays her I 
 treasures low, — 
 
 It is not then, in hours like those, though full of grief 
 they be, 
 
 That sorrow feels, as they should feel whose hearts re- 
 member thee. 
 
 'Tis not in gloomy thoughts that come we know not 
 
 whence or where, 
 That break upon our troubled nights, when none their 
 
 weight can share; 
 
STANZAS. 101 
 
 Nor yet in wintry days, when winds are singing 
 
 mournfully, 
 That we, who knew thy powerful mind, should dare 
 
 remember thee : 
 
 Nor, least of all, in evil times, when earth our feet 
 
 withdraws 
 From virtue's strict and even track, or high Religion's 
 
 laws ; 
 Not when temptations crowd our path, we might but 
 
 will not flee, 
 Our tongues should dare pronounce thy name — our 
 
 hearts remember thee. 
 
 But when we feel a brother's love — a sister's kindness 
 share, 
 
 And uncondemn'd our smiles arise, — thine image 
 should be there ; 
 
 Or if above a darken'd scene hope soars triumphantly, 
 
 Oh ! then and there our cheerful souls may well re- 
 member thee. 
 
102 
 
 STANZAS.- 
 
 Remember thee, whose active mind, whose firm, un- 
 daunted soul 
 
 Then highest rose when all around gave place to grief's: 
 controul I 
 
 Whose heart, where once it loved, loved on, whate'er 
 its pains might be ;, 
 
 Whose latest breath was raised in prayers for them 
 that watch'd o'er thee ! 
 
 In every high and generous hour, when self no longer 
 
 sways, 
 In every clear discerning glance, that threads the wide 
 
 world's maze, 
 In all the joys, the cares of life — in death's last 
 
 agony, 
 In thoughts of Heaven's eternal peace, — thy memory 
 
 shall be- 
 
103 
 
 TO 
 
 Yes, go : — and if a wish could smooth 
 That trying way which thou must tread, 
 
 Or words of peace thy spirit soothe, 
 And chase one anxious hour of dread, 
 
 Oh ! take them — bear them on with thee, 
 The chosen inmates of thy heart ; 
 
 Nor let that hope which speaks to me, 
 Deep from its inmost shrine depart. 
 
 Go — shed the balm of peace, once more, 
 In sweetness o'er a sister's head ; 
 
 Go— try the smiles well-proved before, 
 And light, and peace,, and comfort shed ! 
 
104 to 
 
 And may'st thou see the rose upspring 
 On the pale cheek where sickness sate ; 
 
 And smiles take place of sorrowing, 
 And sadness yield to hope elate. 
 
 Then, go: — and though we miss thee here, 
 And mourn thee, parting soon as known, 
 
 Not ours to shed the selfish tear, 
 And wish thy smiles again our own. 
 
 Keep them to gild a happier day, 
 When all that dims the present hour 
 
 Across our sky hath pass'd away, 
 And left it brighter than before. 
 
 Then come, my friend; — then once again 
 
 More cheering scenes shall beam for thee ! 
 ( 
 And, gloomy as the past hath been, 
 
 Bright shall the peaceful future be ! 
 
105 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 There be, before whose giant minds 
 
 All meaner minds bow down, 
 Feeling with painful consciousness 
 
 The weakness of their own. 
 
 Such is the tyranny of mind; — 
 
 We loath, yet own its power, 
 And rather pluck each worthless weed, 
 
 Than seek such dear-bought flower. 
 
 But there are those to whom we bring, 
 
 Delighted, heart and soul ; 
 Whose strength is sweetness, — love to man 
 
 The centre of the whole ; 
 
106 CHARACTERS* 
 
 Whose beaming eye assures the heart 
 No being breathes, too small 
 
 To meet the comprehensive glance 
 Of Christian love for all I 
 
 Like their own land, first seen from far 
 By men long toss'd at sea ; 
 
 Like fountains in the wilderness* 
 Are minds like this to me* 
 
10T 
 
 LINES, 
 
 I. 
 
 Try — and perhaps thou may'st not err 
 
 To sound the depths of ocean caves r 
 Where., long and late; the mariner 
 
 Impels his bark o'er unknown waves; 
 But think not; with thine utmost art; 
 To fathom all thy brother's heart* 
 
 II. 
 There is an evil and a good 
 
 In every soul; unknown to thee — - 
 A darker or a brighter mood; 
 
 Than aught thine eye can ever see: 
 Words; actions, faintly mark the whole 
 That lies within a human souL 
 
108 LINES. 
 
 III. 
 
 Perhaps thy sterner mind condemns 
 
 Some brother mind,, that, reasoning less, 
 The tide of error slowly stems, 
 
 In pain — in woe — in weariness. 
 Thou ealFst him weak ; — he may be so ; — 
 What made him weak thou canst not know. 
 
 IV. 
 Perhaps thy tongue may censure one 
 
 Whose tearless eye hath view'd the bed, 
 Where all it loved beneath the Sun 
 
 Was hasting on to join the dead : 
 Oh ! stay — that anguish long and deep 
 Can never, never learn to weep. 
 
 V. 
 Perhaps thy spirit's calm repose 
 
 No evil dream hath come to spoil ; 
 A firm, resistless front it shows 
 
 Amid the passions' fiercest broil ! 
 'Tis well — enjoy and bless thy lot, 
 Still pitying him who shares it not. 
 
LINE&. 109 
 
 VI. 
 
 The pure, the holy — they, perchance, 
 
 About thy path have still been seen ; 
 Nor could thy feet a step advance, 
 
 But there their pious aid hath been ! 
 Ah ! happy in that better state ! 
 Yet pray for hearts more desolate. 
 
 VII. 
 But One from first to last can read 
 
 The history of each human breast — 
 The springs of thought, and word, and deed — 
 
 Where evil rose, where good represt ! — 
 One heart alone to Thee is known : 
 Oh ! guard and keep it, — 'tis Thine own ! 
 
110 
 
 THE MOURNER 
 
 Yes! call the mourner " wretched !" — Thou, whose 
 
 mind, 
 Heavy and dull, chahrd to ignoble dust, 
 Discerns but tears of anguish — hears but sighs, — 
 The common signs of earthly hopelessness. 
 Yes ! call him " wretched 1" — almost impious ask 
 Why Heaven hath dealt its cup of bitterness 
 Without one drop of sweetening balm for him ? 
 Ask him — hath he no comforts ? — all entomb'd 
 In the dark bosom of the cheerless grave, 
 Where Love and Hope lie perish'd .? — all the past 
 Dimm'd by the present? — all the future robed 
 In the dull garb of everlasting woe ? 
 No, no — he doth not say it ! — There are thoughts 
 That steal across the midnight of his mind, 
 
THE MOURNER. Ill 
 
 ILike the sweet gleamings of the fair moonshine, 
 That, 'mid the funeral pomp, came, silently, 
 Tempering its gloomy grandeur ! — God of Peace 1 
 Like those sweet moonbeams, let thy mercy fall 
 Bright on his darkened spirit ! 
 
 True — his eye, 
 Tracing the future way, may light upon 
 No rapturous dreams of earth-born happiness ; — » 
 True — dead &nd chill, as the dear form he loved, 
 To the gay scenes of earthly vanity, 
 His soul shall, sickening, scorn them. It hath drunk 
 Too deep at Wisdom's fountain to return 
 And quaff the dull and stagnant draughts of Folly i! 
 Happier, far happier, on it winds its way 
 Above the chasing mists that break and bound 
 Our sphere of vision ! Thence to earth again 
 Returns, with purpose high, and heart resolved 
 To tread the holiest, happiest, purest way, 
 Till Heaven to bliss recall him ! 
 
 God of Peace I 
 Thou, in thy mercy, on his dark path shine* 
 And guide him on to glory ! 
 
112 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 It is the one True Light, 
 
 That, when all other lamps grow dim, 
 Shall never burn less purely bright, 
 
 Nor lead astray from Him. 
 
 It is Love's blessed band, 
 
 That reaches from the eternal throne 
 To him — whoe'er he be — whose hand 
 
 Will seize it for his own ! 
 
 It is the Golden Key 
 
 To treasures of celestial wealth, 
 Joy to the sons of poverty, 
 
 And to the sick man, health ! 
 
THE BIBLE. 113 
 
 The gently proffer* d aid 
 
 Of one who knows us — and can best 
 Supply the beings he has made 
 
 With what will make them blest. 
 
 It is the sweetest sound 
 
 That infant ears delight to hear, 
 Travelling across that holy ground, 
 
 With God and Angels near. 
 
 There rests the weary head, 
 
 There age and sorrow love to go, f\ 
 
 I 
 And how it smooths the dying bed, 
 
 Oh ! let the Christian show ! 
 
114 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 Oh ! fear not thou to die ! 
 
 Far rather fear to live ! for life 
 Has thousand snares thy feet to try, 
 
 By peril, pain, and strife ! 
 Brief is the work of Death ! — 
 
 But Life ! — the spirit shrinks to see 
 How full, ere Heaven recalls the breath, 
 
 The cup of woe may be. 
 
 Oh ! dread not thou to die ! 
 
 No more to suffer or to sin ; 
 No snares without thy feet to try, 
 
 No traitor heart within. 
 
LIFE AND DEATH. 115 
 
 But fear, oh ! rather fear 
 
 The gay, the light, the changeful scene, 
 The nattering smiles which greet thee here, 
 
 From Heaven thy thoughts that wean. 
 
 Fear, lest in evil hour, 
 
 Thy pure and holy hope o'ercome 
 By clouds that in th' horizon lower, 
 
 Thy Spirit feel that gloom, 
 Which oyer earth and Heaven 
 
 Throws the dark veil of fell despair, 
 And stamps itself the unforgiven 
 
 Predestined child of care. 
 
 Oh ! rather wish to die ! — 
 
 To die, and be that blessed one, 
 Who, in the bright and beauteous sky, 
 
 May feel his conflict done ; — 
 May feel that never more 
 
 The tears of shame — of guilt, shall come, 
 For thousand wanderings from the Power 
 
 Who loved and calFd him home. 
 i 2 
 
116 
 
 ON READING SOME DISQUISITIONS 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 ORIGIN OP EVIL, ON PROVIDENCE, &c. 
 
 Oh ! never, never from thee tear 
 That simple faith, whose fruit is Prayer ! 
 Though far beyond the common creed 
 Thy practised eye hath learnt to read, — 
 Though deep and high thy musings be 
 On Heaven, and man's fix'd destiny, — 
 Though the fair tree of knowledge shower 
 In rich redundance all her store, — 
 Though earth, and air, and sea, combined, 
 Have brought their treasures to thy mind, 
 And thou hast look'd and iook'd again 
 At all the springs of joy and pain, 
 
ON READING SOME DISQUISITIONS. 117 
 
 Not deeming Heaven itself too high 
 
 To meet thy piercing scrutiny: 
 
 Yet to thyself — to others, spare 
 
 That simple faith, whose fruit is Prayer ! 
 
 Oh ! pause — if, mid those darker themes, 
 Where staggering Reason scarcely seems 
 To hold her empire o'er the breast, 
 And, weary, longs to be at rest, — 
 If there one Spirit mourns her lot, 
 Her light obscured—her trust forgot. 
 Oh ! dearly bought the joy, the pride 
 Of wisdom, thus to doubt allied; 
 And better, better far, to spare 
 That simple faith which causeth Prayer, 
 
 That faith which oft, in times gone by, 
 Hath raised to Heaven the martyr's eye, 
 The faint and feeble heart endued 
 With more than mortal hardihood ! 
 And now, even now, will sometimes come, 
 When the heart mourns its martyrdom — 
 
118 ON HEADING SOME DISQUISITIONS. 
 
 Peels thy cold hand, Suspicion ! rest 
 On many a kind and faithful breast, — 
 Feels that the power which once allied 
 Its joys to theirs, must now divide ! 
 Yet, gathering sweetness out of pain, 
 Turns back to Heaven and Hope again — 
 Looks patient, through the cloud, and there 
 Breathes out the rising sigh in Prayer ! 
 
 That cheering faith, whose glories steal 
 O'er all we see — or know — or feel,— 
 The grandeur and the beauty give 
 To earth — and make it life to live ! 
 Whose brightest rays are ever shed 
 Upon the dying and the dead : — 
 Which, in the fellowship of love, 
 Joins men below with saints above ; 
 Which quickens — elevates-— makes wise- 
 Cheers — soothes — supports — and sanctifies !— 
 
 No ! — from thy spirit do not tear 
 This simple Faith — whose fruit is Prayer ! 
 
119 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh, thou ! whom eye hath seen not — ne'er shall see; 
 
 Whose way is in the deep ! — whose steps unknown ; 
 Enshrined thyself in clouds of mystery, 
 
 Yet darting beams of heavenly brightness down I — 
 
 Thou art my God ! and prostrate at thy throne, 
 And firm in faith, and strengthened in thy power, 
 
 I yield my all : — O God ! accept thine own, 
 
 From the frail heart that seeks to know no more 
 
 Than that thou liv'st and reign'st — to tremble and 
 
 adore ! 
 
 i4 
 
120 ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh ! let my soul,, content to worship Thee, 
 
 Each daring thought, each prouder wish resign, 
 Till thine own voice shall set the spirit free, 
 
 And mortal knowledge ripen to divine ! 
 
 Perhaps (forgive that daring hope of mine) 
 Thine eye of grace the humbler prayer may view, 
 
 And bid thy heavenly light more brightly shine 
 On those who, panting for its beams, yet knew 
 To wait in patient hope — -till death the veil undrew ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Oh ! not on doubt's interminable main 
 
 Let my frail bark by varying winds be crost; 
 Where human aid, alas ! but shows in vain, 
 
 To the wreck'd wretch, the port for ever lost ! 
 
 Who shall assuage thy griefs, " thou tempest-tost V 
 And speak of comfort, " Comfortless I" to thee ? 
 
 Who but the Power that knows thy weakness most, 
 And in his own good time can set thee free, 
 Spreading the Oil of Peace o'er thy tumultuous sea ? 
 
ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 121 
 
 IV. 
 
 And let not him who never felt a fear, 
 
 Safe in his pride of heart thy woes deride : 
 Perhaps that scornful eye or brow severe, 
 
 Hath thoughts less hallow' d than thine own to hide. 
 
 Ev'n the dark days of doubt have purified 
 Thy chasten' d soul from many an earthly stain, 
 
 And driven afar the demon power of Pride, 
 That once had mark'd thee in his menial train, 
 But now hath lost his slave, and spreads his lures in 
 vain ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Poor child of darkness ! happier in thy tears — 
 Happier than they that mock them as they flow ; 
 
 With all thy doubts, thy weakness, and thy fears, 
 Thy heart hath learnt this simple truth to know, — 
 That not to man, whose dwelling is below, 
 
 Whose brother is the worm, whose bed the dust — 
 Partner with thee in want, and guilt, and woe, — 
 
 Doth God the records of thy deeds entrust ; 
 
 But He alone is Judge — whose law alone is just. 
 
 K 
 
122 ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Father of Light ! whose loveliest name is Love ! 
 
 Whose throne the contrite seek — the guilty fly, — 
 Thou art my God; around, beneath, above, 
 
 I see no frowns — no terror in thine eye ! 
 
 All breathes of that pervading harmony 
 Which draws from present ill the future good ; 
 
 All points our spirits to that peaceful sky, 
 Where, banish'd far, nor sorrow's wayward mood. 
 Nor fancy's evil train, nor real ills intrude ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But who shall know Thee, and be known of Thee, 
 
 When thou, Great Shepherd ! call'st us to thy fold ? 
 And who shall taste thy glorious liberty, 
 
 And, " face to face/' thine awful form behold ? 
 
 Olr, God ! Oh, Father ! mould our spirits — mould 
 To thine each purpose of th' obedient heart ; 
 
 Shake off the mists that now our eyes enfold ; 
 Let every fear but fear of thee depart, 
 And let us see thy face, and know thee as Thou art ! 
 
 THE END. 
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