CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THIS BOOK IS ONE OF A COLLECTION MADE BY BENNO LOEWY POETEY OF THE SENTIMENTS. EDITED BT R. W. GRISWOLD. LEAYITT & ALLEN BE'OS.,^ No. S HOWAPcD STREET. PREFACE. This volame is based on one with the same tilla published in Eegland, in 1841, which tlie Editor has revised, and perhaps improved. The Senti- ments have been called younger sisters of the Passions, differing from them only in intensity ; but Dr. Webster says they are only the thoughts prompted by feeling, perfectly distinct from feel- ing itself. Whatever may be the true definition of the word, the expressions of admiration, ado- ration, content, courage, friendship, gratitude, honour, hberty, mercy, patriotism, and supersti- tion, in this volume, constitute an agreeable poetical miscellany, which raav be read with as much advantage as if there had been never a diversity of opinion as to the meaning of the title aflBder which they are now published. CONTENTS. MJMIRATION. The ocean, li The Ursa Major, ....1 The ship, • IS The blood horse, 22 Miranda, 2H Herraione, 24 The spirit of poetry, 25 A forest walk, 27 The sea in calm, ^ 30 To a sky-lark, 31 To Venus, 35 The Parthenon, - 3(j A health, 44 To a highland girl, . • .4() The city of Jerusalem, 49 To a sleeping child, 50 Coliseum, 53 St. Leonard's, 55 Sunset near Venice, 6f Tranquillity of nature, 63 The Apollo Belvide^e, • 63 Green River, ^ 64 To Seneca Lake, • 66 To Mont Blanc, 68 Address to a wild deer, 72 An Italian summer evening, 75 Florizel's praise of Perdita, 76 Niagara, 77 How beautiful is earth, 79 Cathedral hymn, 80 A lover*s admiration, 82 n CONTENTS ADORATION. God's first temples, - 85 AU are thine, • 90 The country life, • 93 Hymn to contentment^ • • 95 Hymn before sunrise in the valley of Chamouni,* '98 An orison of Eden, 101 The love of God, 103 Hymn of the seasons, 105 On seeing Windsor castle, 109 A matin, 110 Abel's sacrificial address, •••• • 112 Hymn of the daughters of Jerusalem, 113 Hymn of nature, 117 Oh, Thou, before whose radiant shrine, 119 The prayer of nature, 121 Morning hymuj • 123 CONTENT. My mind to me a kingdom is, 127 The quiet mind, • 130 Summer in the heart, 133 Ambition, 134 Contentment, • 135 Happiness of the shepherd's life, 138 The richest jewel, 137 Halbertj -138 Rural content, • 139 Uses of adversity, • • • , 141 Reflections, ••• 142 Give me a cottage on some Cambrian wild, 145 A mingled sentiment, 146 Content is happiness, 150 Retirement, 151 Rural content, • 154 Of myself, 155 Inscription in a hermitage, 157 The fireside, • 158 A farswell to the vanities of the world,- •••• ••••169 Sonnet, • 164 A bachelor's retreat, 16* Vtt ^onnejl, • .....|69 A wish, -.-.nc eOTCTRAGE. Courage, - •••• 173 R^dittpnd in Rpkeby hall, • 175 Ardent courage, • • • • • • • 'l^B Hotspur *s impatience for battle,- ••••••••• 177 Fitz-James in the pass of the Trosachs, ^178 Death feared because unknown, 181 Courage in prospect of death, 'ISS Courage, in extremity, • 182 Basil's address to his mutinous troops, ..•••184 Harold the Dauntless, -c 185 If thou hast lost a friend, 186 0'RIENDSHIP. The friendship flower, 189 On friendship, • * ... .191 The kind old friendly feelings, •• ••1.99 The bleissings of friendship, • 200 terfect friendship, .203 Fast times, • • • • • • «204 An epistle to Charles Lamb, • • • * .205 Friendship till death, • .208 We have been friends together, • ...i.209 Old friends, • • 210 Early friends, .21 1 To a friend, .........212 Love and friendship, -215 Life's sunny spots, • . ..216 Value of friendship, .216 L'amitie est I'amour sans les ailes, .21'? A reminiscence of early friendship, 221 The dying Giaour, • 222 To Mrs. Agnes Baillie, 224 Recollections of friendship, '223 I go, sweet friends,- • • •231 GRATITUDE. A poet's gratitude, 33fi CONTENTf- Zamor, - 230 I thank thee, God ! for weal and woe, • • • • 237 To Sara, 239 A mother's gratitude, 241 Build up a column to Bolivar, 242 A monarch's gratitude, 243 To Charles Lloyd, 244 Conrade's refusal to assassinate Seyd, 245 Gulnare and Conrade, • '246 HONOUR. Honour its own reward, * 251 The pride of honour, 252 Honour uriafffcctf^d by slanden ♦ • • 253 Highland honour, 254 Honour coveted, 256 Wounded honour 357 LIBERTY. The vision of liberty, «81 To Liberty, Restraint no where endurable, 266 Effects of freedom, 267 To freedom, 269 The hunter of the prairies, 270 Sonnet, 272 The peasant, ' 273 Liberty, 276 Life without freedom, 278 Liberty preferred before patriotism, 277 The free, 278 Highland liberty defended, 280 Liberty 280 MERCY, Ode to mercy, 235 Henry VI. on his lenity, 286 Titus' address to the Jews, • 287 Kingly clemency • — '.288 Hubert and Arthur, - - »99 Clemency, superior to revenge, 290 A soldier's pardon, 29i PATRIOTISM. Patriotism and freedom, ^^..,r 295 To England, 296 Hofer, 297 The green hills of my father-land, 299 "Douglas to the populace of Stirling, 302 Our country, 303 A young patriot, 304 New England, 305 This is my own, my native land, 307 SUPERSTITION. Ode to superstition, 311 Bertha's belief in the powers of darkness, • • • • "SIS Brian's prophecy, 319 Midnight imaginings, - - $ottv^ of tl)$ GmlminiB. ADMIRATION. THE OCEAN. BT lilCHAET) H. I>ANA. Wow stretch your eye oif shore, o'er waters made 1 o cleanse the &ir and bear the world's great trade To rise, and wet the mountains near the sun. Then back into themselves in rivers ruii, FulfilHng mighty lises far and wide, Through earth, in air, or here, as ocean-tide. Ho ! how the ^iant heaves himself, and strains And flings to break his strong and viewless chains ; Foams in his wrath ; and at his prison doors. Hark ! hear him ! how he beats, and tugs, and i-oars. As if he would break forth again and sweep Each Hving thing within his lowest deep. U 12 POETRY 13F THE SENTIMENTS. Type of the Infinite y I look away Over thy billows, and I cannot stay My thought upon a resting-place, or make A shore beyond my vision, where they break ; But on my spirit stretches, till it's pain To think ; then rests, and then puts forth again. Thou boldest me by a spell ; and on thy beach I feel all soul ; and thoughts unmeasured reach Far back beyond all date. And, O ! how old Thou art to me. For couptless years thou'st roU'd. Before an ear did hear ihee, thou didst mourn. Prophet of sorrows, o'er a race unborn ; Waiting, thou mighty minister of death, Lonely thy work, ere man had drawn his breath. At last thou didst it well ! The dread command Came, and thou swept'st to death the breathing land ; And then once more, unto the silent heaven Thy lone and melancholy voice was given. And though the land is throng'd again, O sea ! Strange sadness touches all that goes with thee. The small bird's plaining note, the wild, sharp call, Share thy own spirit : it is sadness all . How dark and stern upon thy waves looks down Yonder tall cliff— he with the iron crown. And see ! those sable pines along the steep, Are come to join thy requiem, gloomy deep ! Like stoled monks they stand and chant the dirg9 Over the dead, with thy low beaiingj:|prge. ADMIKATIOW. 13 T O THE URSA MA. OR. BY HENRY WARE, JR. Wkh what a stately and majestic step 1 hat glorious constellation of the north . Treads its eternal circle ! going forth Its princely way among the stars in slow And silent brightness. Mighty one, all hail C I joy to see thee on thy glowing path Walk, like some stout and girded giant; stem. Unwearied, resolute, whose toiling foot Disdains to loiter on its destined way. The other tribes forsake their midnight track. And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave ; But thou dost never close thy burning eye, Nor stay thy steadfast step. But on, still on. While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds Slumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds. The near horizon tempts to rest in vain. Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit Thy long-appointed watch ; but, sleepless still, Dost gaard the fixM light of the universe. And bid the north for ever know its place. Ages have witnessed thy devoted trust, Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven. And echa'd from the outer fpheres that b<>und 14 rOETUT OF THE SENTIMENTS. Tho illimitable universe, thy voice Join'd the high chorus; from thy radiant orbs The glad cry sounded, swelling to His praise, Who thus had cast another sparkling gem, Little, bfft beautiful, amid the crowd Of splendours that enrich his firmament. As thou art now, so "vvast thou then the jsame. Ages have roU'd their course, and time grown gray ; The earth has gathered to her womb again, And yet again, the myriads that were born Of her uncounted, unrememberM tribes. The seas have changed their beds; the eternal hills Have stpop'd with age ; the solid continents Have left their banks ; and man's imperial works— • The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung Tlieir haughty honours in the face of heaven. As if immortal — have been swept away : Shattered and mouldering, buried and forgot. But time has shed no dimness on thy froiit, Nor touch'd the firniness of thy tread; yomtl^ strength, And beauty still are thine ; as clear, as bright, As when the almighty Former sent the.e forth, Beautiful offspring of his curious skill. To W'atch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim The eternal chorus of eternal Love. I w onder as I gaze. That stream of light, ADMIRATION. 15 Undimm'd, unquench'd— just as I see it nowr- Has issued from those dazzling points through years That go back far into eternity. Exhaustless flood ! for ever spent, renew' d For. ever ! Yea, and those refulgent drop^, Which now descend upon my lifted eye, Left their far fountain twice three years ago. While those wing'd particles, whose speed out* strips The flight of thought, were on their way, the earth Compass' d its tedious circuit round and round, And, in the extremes of annual change, beheld Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom. So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve ! So vast the void through which their beams de- scend ! Yes, glorious lamp of God! He may have quench' d Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night Rest on your spheres ; and yet no tidings reach This distant planet. Messengers still come Laden with your far fire, and we may seem To see your lights still burning ; while tlieir blaza But hides the black wreck of extinguish' d realms/ Where anarchy and darkness long have reign' d. Yet what is this, which to the astonish' d mind Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought Confounds ? A span., a point, in those domains Which the ke^n eye c»n traverse. Seven stars 16 POETRY OF THE SEJJfTIMENTS. Dwell in that brilliant cluster, and the sight Embraces all at once ; vet each from each Recedes as far as each of them from earth. And every star from every other burns ^0 less remote. From the profound of heaven, Untraveird even in thought, keen, piercing rays Dart through the void, revealing to the sense Systems and worlds unnumber'd. Take the glase And search the skies. The opening skies pour down Upon your gaze thick showers of sparkling fire ; Stars, crowded, throng' d, in regions so remote, That their swift beams — the swiftest things that be— Have traveird centuries on their flight to earth. Earth, sun, and nearer constellations ! what Are ye amid this infinite extent And multitude of God*s most infinite works ! And these are suns I vast central, living fires, Lords of dependent systems, kings of worlds That wait as satelHtes upon their power, And flourish in their smile. Awake, my soul, And meditate the wonder ! Countless suns piaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds ! Worlds in whose bosoms living things rejoice, And drink the bliss of being from the fount Of all-pervading Love. What mind can knov, What tongue can utter a'll their multitudes ! Thus numberless in numberless abodes ! ADMIRATION. 1? Known but to thee, blessed Father ! Thine Aiey ■ are, Thy children, and thy care ; and none o'erlook'd Of thee ! No, not the humblest soul that dwells Upon the humblest globe, which wheels its course Amid the giant glories of the sky, Like the mean mote that dances in the beam Amongst the mirror'd lamps, which fling Their wasteful splendour from the palace wall, None, none escape the kindness of thy care , All compass'd underneath thy spacious wing, Each fed and guided by thy powerful hand. Tell me, ye splendid orbs ! as from youl throne Ye mark the rolling provinces that own Your sway, what beings fill those bright abodes I How form'd, how gifted? what their powers, their stale. Their happiness, their wisdom ? Do they bear The stamp of human nature ? Or has God Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forma And more celestial minds ? Does Innocence Still wear her native and untainted bloom ? Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad, And sow'd corruption in those fairy bowers ? Has War trod o'er them with his foot of .Ire ? And Slavery forged his chains ; and Wrath, and Hate, And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust B 18 POETRY OP THlI^SENTIMENTS. Leagued their base bands to tread out light attj truth, And scatter wo where Heaven had planted joy f Or are they yet all paradise, unfallen And uncorrupt ? existence one long joy, Without disease upon the frame, or sin Upon the heart, or weariness of life ; Hope never quench' d, and age unknown, And death unfear'd ; while fresh and fadefeiBS yOuth Glows in th^e light from God's neaif throne of love ? Open ypur lips, ye wonderful and fair ! Speak, speak ! the mysteries of those living ivorld« Unfold ! No language ? Everlasting hght And everlasting silence ? Yet the eye May read and understand. The hand of GoD Has written legibly what man may know, The glory of the Maker. There it shines, Ineffable, unchangeable ; and man, Bound to the surface of this pigmy globe, May know and ask no more. In other days; When death shall give the encumber'd spirit wings. Its range shall be extended ; it shall roahii. Perchance, among those vast, mysterious spherea, Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each, Familiar with its children ; learn their laws, And share their state, and study and adore The infinite varieties of bliss ADMIRATION, 19 And beauty, by the hand of Power (ilivine Lavish' d on all its works. Eternify Shall thus roll on with ever fresh delight ; No pause of pleasure or improvement ; world On world still opening to the instructed mind An unexhausted universe, and time But adding to its glories. While the soul Advancing ever to the Source of light And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss. — ^ — THE SHIP. BY MRS. SEBA SMITH. With graceful waist and carvings brave, The trim hull waits the sea — And she proudly stoops to the crested wave, While round go the cheerings three. Her prow swells up from the yeasty deep, Where it plunged in foam and spray : And the glad waves, gathering round her, sweep And buoy her in their play. Thou wert nobly reared, O heart of oak ! In the sound of the ocean roar, Wiere the surging wave o'er the rough lock broke, And bellow'd along the shore— 20 rOETRY OF TBIE SEIfTIMENTSo And how wilt thou in the storm rejoice, With the wihd through spar and shrouiSit To hear a ^ound hke the forest voice- When the blast was raging loud i With snow-white sail, and streamer g^y^ She sits like an ocean-sprite. Careering on in her trackless \vfey,, In sunshine or dark midnight : Her course is laid with fearless skill,, For brave hearts man the helm ; And the joyous winds her canvass fill — Shall the wave the stout ship whelm f On, on she goes, whei*e the icebergs roll,. Like floating cities by ; Where meteors flash by the northern pol^^- And the merry dancers fly ; Where the glittering light is backward flung From icy tower and dome, And the frozen shrouds are gayly hung With gems from the ocean foam. On the Indian sea was her shadow cast^ As it lay, hke molten gold, And her pendant, shroud, and towering tnm^, Seem'd twice on the waters told. The idle canvass slowly swung As the spicy breeze went by. And strange, rare music round her i-ung From the palm-tree growing nigh. ADlimATIOTT. O, gallant ship, taou didst bear with tiie« The gay and the breaking heart, And weeping eyes look'd out to see Thy white-spread sails depart. And when the rattling casement told Of many a perill'd ship, The anxious wife her babes would fold, And pray with trembling lip. The petrel wheel' d in its stormy flight The wind piped shrill and high ; On the topmast sat a pale blue light, That flicker' d not to the eye : The black cloud came, like a banner, dcwn^ And down came the shrieking blast ; The quivering ship on her beams is thrown, And gone are helm and mast. Helmless, but on before the gale, She ploughs the deep-trough'd wave: A gurgling sound — a frenzied wail — And the ship hath found a grave. And thus is the fate of the acorn told, That fell from the old oak tree, And the woodland Fays in the f 'osty ^oald Fr-eserved for its destinf . POETRY OF TETS SENTXMEJfTa THE BLOOD HORSE. BY BARRY CORHWAIX. Gamara is a dainty steed, Strong, black, and of a noble breed, Full of fire, and full of bone, With all his lin^ of fathers known, Fine his nose, his nostrils thin. But blown abroad by the pride within I His mane is Hke a river flowing, And his eyes like embers glowing In the darkness of the night, And his pace as swift as light. Look ! how 'round his straining throat Grace and shifting beauty float ! Sinewy strength is on his reins, And the red blood gallops through his vcina-* Richer, redder, never ran Through the boasting heart of man He can trace his lineage higher Than the Bourbons dare aspire — Douglas, Guzrnan, or the Guelph, Or O'Brien's blood itself! He, who hath no peer, w^s born Here, upon a red March morn ; Bu* his famous fathers, dead, Were Arabs all, and Arab bred ; ADMIRATION 23 And the last of that great line Trod like one of a race divine ! And yet — he was but friend to one, Who fed him at the set, of sun, By some lone fountain fringed with green : With him J a roving Bedouin, He lived — (none else would he obey Through alLthe hot Arabian day) — And died untamed upon the sands Where Balkh amid the desert stands ! — « MIRANDA. BV SHAKSPEARE. Admired Miranda I Indeed the top of admiration ; worth What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard ; and many a time The harniony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear ; for several virtues Have I liked several women ; never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owned And put it to the foil. But you, O you, So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of Qvery creature's best. 24 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS* HERMIONE. BY BARRY CORNWALL. Thou hast beauty bright and fair, Manner noble, aspect free, Eyes that are untouched by care : What then do we ask from thee ? Mermione, Hermionet Thou hast reason quick and strong, Wit that envious men admire, And a voice, itself a song ! What then can we still desire ? Ilermione, Hermionet Something thou dost want, O queen * (As the gold doth ask alloy), Tears, amid thy laughter seen. Pity, ir.ingling with thy joy. TJds is all we ask from tke9^ TIermione, Ilermione ' ADMIRATIOir. 25 THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. Fox Fame life's meaner recorcfs vainly strive, While, in fresh beauty, thy high dreams survive* Still Vesta's temple throws its classic shade O'er the bright foam of Tivoli's cascade, And to one Venus still we bow the knee, Divine as if just issued from the sea ; In fancy's trance, yet, deem on nights serene, "We hear the revels of the fairy queen. That Dian's smile illumes the marble fane, And Ceres whispers in the rustling grain, That Ariel's music has not died away. And in his shell still floats the culprit Fay. The sacred beings of poetic birth Immortal live to consecrate the earth. San Marco's pavement boast'S no Doge's tread, And all its ancient pageantry has fled ; Yet as we muse beneath some dim arcade. The mind's true kindred glide from ruin's shade f In every passing eye that sternly beams, We start to meet the Shylock of our dreams ; Each maiden form, where virgin grace is seen^ Crosses our path with Portia's noble irien, S6 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. While Desdemona, beauteous as of yore, Yields us the smile that once entranced th« Moor, How Scotland's vales are peopled to the heart By her bold minstrels* necromantic art I Along this fern moved Jeannie's patient feet, Where hangs yon mist, rose Ellangowan's seat, Here the sad bride first gave her love a tongue, And there the chief's last shout of triumph rung: Beside each stream, down every glen they throng, The cherished offspring of creative song ! Long ere brave Nelson shook the Baltic shore, The bard of Avon hallowed Elsinore : Perchance when moored the fleet, awaiting day To fix the battle's terrible array, Some pensive hero, musing o'er the deep. So soon to fold him in its dreamless sleep, Heard the Dane's sad and self- communing tone Blend with the water's melancholy moan. Recalled, with prayer and awe-suspended breftth His wild and solemn questionings of death. Or caught from land Ophelia's dying song. Swept by the night-breeze plaintively alon^ ! ADMIRATION. 22 A FOREST WALK. BY ALFRED B, STREET. A LOVELY sky, a cloudless sun, A wind that breathes of leaves and flowera. O'er hill, through dale, my steps have won, To the cool forest's shadowy bowers j One of the paths all round that wind, Traced by the browsing herds, I choose, A nd sights and sounds of human kind In nature's lone recesses lose ; The beech displays its marbled bark, ' The spruce its green tent stretches wide. While scowls the hemlock, grim and dark. The maple's scallop' d dome beside : All weave on high a verdant roof. That keeps the very sun aloof, Making a twilight soft and green, Within the column' d, vaulted sc-ene. Sweet forest-odours have their birth From the clothed boughs and teeming earth ; Where pine-cones dropp'd, leaves piled am} deaU, Long tufts of grass, and stars of fern, With many a wild flower's fairy urn, A thick, elastic carpet spread ; ^ POETRY "OF THE SESJTIMiSNTS. Here, whh its mossy pall, the trunk, Resolving into soil, is sunk ; There, wrench'd but lately from its thron«. By some fierce whirlwind circhng past, Its huge roots massM with earth and stone, One of the woodland kings is cast. Above, the forest tops are bright With the broad blaze of sunny light • But now a fitful air-gust parts The screening branches, and a glow Of dazzling, starthng, radiance darts Down the dark stems, and breaks beIow| The mingle4 shadows off are roll'd, The sylvan floor is bathed in gold : Low sprouts and herbs, before unseen. Display their shades of brown and green.: Tints brighten o'er the velvet moss. Gleams twhikle on the laurel's gloss ; The robin, brooding in her nest. Chirps as the quick ray strikes her breast; And, as my shadow prints the ground, I see the rabbit upward bound. With pointed ears an instant look, Then scamper to the darkest nook. Where, with crouch'd limb, and ^taring eye He watches while I saunter by. A narrow vista, carpeted Wjlh rich green grass, indtes my tread* ADMIRATION, Here sBowers the light in golden dots, There sleeps the shade in ebon spots, So blended, that the very air Seems network as I enter there,. The partridge, whose deep-rolling drun> Afar has sounded on my ear, Ceasing his beatings as I come, Whirrs to the sheltering branches near ^ The Httle milk-snake glides away,, The brindled marmot dives from day; And now, between the boughs, a space Of the blue, laughing sky I trace : On each side shrinks the bowery shade f Before me spreads an emerald glade ; The sunshine steeps its grass and moss, That couch my footsteps as I cross- ; Merrily hums the tawny bee, The glittering humming-bird I see j Floats the bright butterfly along, The insect choir is loud in song : A spot of light and life, it seems A fairy haunt for fancy dreams. Here stretched, the pleasant turf I press, In luxury of idleness ; Sun-streaks, and glan.cing-wings, and sky, Spotted with cloud-shapes, charm my eye% While murmuring grass, and waving trees, Their leaf-harps sounding to the breeze. 30 rOETRY OP THE SENTIMENTS And water-tones that tinkle near, Blend their sweet music to my ear ; And by the changing shades alone The passage of the hours is known. — THE SEA— IN CALM. BY BARRY CORITWALL. Look what immortal floods the sunset pours Upon us!— Mark! how still (as though Ji dreams Bound) the once wild and terrible Ocean seems ! How silent are the winds ! No billow roars : But all is tranquil as Elysian shores - The silver margin which aye runneth round The moon- enchanted sea, hath here no sound: Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors ! What ! is the giant of the ocean dead, Whose strength was all unmatched beneati) the sun ? No ; he reposes ! Now his toils are done, More quiet than the babbling brooks is he. So mightiest powers by deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be .• ADMIBATIOH. s TO A SKY-LARK. BY SHELLET. Hail to the&, blithe spirit I Bird thou never we^-t, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart lu profuse strains of unpremeditated art* Higher still and higher, From the earth thou spriiigest Like a cloud of fire ; The blue deep thou wingest. And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever Fingesl^ In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun. O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run ; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. The pale purple even Melts around thy flight ; Like a star of heaven, In the broad day-light Thou art mseen, but yet I hear th}- shrili delight 33 POETRY OF TOE SENTIMENTS, Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, .Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven 'm overflowed. What thou art we know not ; What is most hke thee ? From rainbow clouds they flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought. Singing hymns unbidden. Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heedethnot. Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul, in secret hour. With music sweet as love, which overflows hei bower : ABMlRArON. j^ke a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, V/hich screen it from the view : Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy- winged thieves. Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers,. All that ever was S oyous,and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpaas, Teach us, sprite or bird,, What sweet thoughts are thine ; I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine, Chorus hymeneal, Or triumphal chaant. Matched with thine would be all But an empty vaunt-^ A. thing wherein we feel there is some hidden wanJ C 34 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignoranoc of pain ? With thy keen clear joyance, Languor cannot be ; Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. Waking or asleep, THou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream. Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? We look before and after, And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught ; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear ; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come neai ABillRATIOM'. 35 Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground * Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such har:pionious madness From my lips would flow. The ^vorld shorald listen then, as I am listening now. — « — * TO VENUS. Br ALBERT PlKt, 0, THOTT, most lovely and most beautiful ! Whether thy doves now lovingly do lull Thy bright eyes to soft slumbering upon Some dr«amy south wind : whether thou hast gone Upon the heaven now, or if thou art Within some floating cloud, and on its heart Pourest rich-tinted joy ; whether thy wheels Are touching on the sun-forsaken fields. And brushing oflf the dew from bending grass, Leaving the poor green blades to look— alas I |6 POETRSr OF THE SENTIMEI^TS. With dim eyes at the moon — (ah ! so dost thou Full oft quench brightness D—VfiNtrs, whethel now Thou passest o'er the sea, while each hght wing Of thy fair doves is wet, while sea-maids bring Sweet odours for thee— (ah ! how foolish they * They have not felt thy smart !) ~ They know not, while in ocean-caves they play, How strong thou art. Where'©?: thou art, O Venus ! hear our song — Kind goddess, hear ! for unto thee belong All pleasant offerings : bright doves coo to thee, The while they twine their necks with quiet glee Among the morning leaves : thine are all sounds Of pleasure on the earth ; and where abounds Most happiness, for thee we ever look ; Among the leaves, in dimly-lighted nook, Most often hidest thou, where winds may wave Thy sunny curls, and cool airs fondly lave Thy beaming brow, and ruffle the white wings Of thy tired doves ; and where his love-song sings, With hghtsome eyes, some little, strange, sws^t bird. With notes that never but by thiee are heard- O, in such scene, most bright, thdii liest now And, with half-open eye, Drinkest in beauty — O, most fair, that thou Wouldst hear our cry ! ADMIKATIOlf. 37 0, thou, through whom all things upon the earth Grow brighter: thou for whom even laughing mirth Lengthens his note ; thou whom the joyous bird Singeth continuously ; whose name is heard In every pleasant sound : at whose warm glance All things look brighter : for whom wine doth dance More merrily within the brimming vase, To meet thy Hp : thou, at whose quiet pace Joy leaps on faster, with a louder laugh, And Sorrow tosses to the sea his staft'. And pushes back the hair from his dim eyes, To look again upon forgotten skies ; While Ayarice forgets to count his gold, Yea, unto thee his wither' d hand doth hold, Fill'd with that heart-blood: thou, to whose high might All things are made to bow. Come thou to us, and turn thy looks of light Upon us now I O, hear, great goddess ! thou whom all obey;. At whose desire rough satyrs leave their play, And gather wild-flowers, decking the bright hair Of her they love, and oft blackberries bear To shame them at her eyes : O, thou ! to whom ^I'hey leap in awkward mood, within the gloom Of darkening oak trees, or at lightsome noon Sing unto thee, upon th!?ir pipes, a tune 88 POETRY 01 THE SENTIMENTS. Of wondrous languishment : thou whose great power Brings up the sea-maids from each ocean-bower, With many an idle song, to sing to thee, And bright locks flowing half above the sea, And gleaming eyes, as if in distant caves They spied their lovers— (so among the waves Small bubbles flit, mocking the kindly sun, With little, laughing brightness) — O, come, and ere out festival be done. Our new loves bless ! O, thou who once didst weep, and with sad tears Bedew the pitying woods ! — by those great fears That haunted thee when thy beloved lay Whh dark eyes drown'd in death — by that dull day When poor Adonis fell, with many a moan Among the leaves, and sadly and alone Breathed out his spirit — 0, do thou look on All maidens who, for too great love, grow wan, And pity them : come to us when night brings Her first faint stars, and let us hear the wings Of thy most beauteous and bright-eyed doves Stirring the breathless air ; let all thy loves Be flying round thy car, with pleasant songs Moving upon their lips : come ! each maid longs For thy fair presence — goddess of rich love ' Come on the odorous air ; And, as thy light wheels roll, from us remove AU Ioi3»sick care ! ADMTRlTlOlf^ 39 Lo, we have many kinds of incense here To offer thee, and sunny wine and clear, Fit for young Bacchus : flowers we have here too; That we have gather'd when the morning dew Was moist upon them ; myrtle wreaths we bear, To place upon thy bright, luxuriant hair, And shade thy temples too ; 'tis now the time Of all fair beauty : thou who lovest the clime Of our dear Cyprus, where sweet flowers blow With honey in their cups, and with a glow Like thine own cheek, raising their modest heads To be refresh' d with the transparent beads _ Of silver dew : behold, this April night. Our altars burn for thee ; lo, on the light We pour out incense from each golden vase , O, goddess, hear our words ! And hither turn, with thine own matchless grace^ Thy white-wing'd birds, — — THE PARTHENON. BY MRS. HEMANS. Fair Parthenon ! yet still must fancy weep For thee, thou work of nobler spirits flown, Bright as of old, the sunbeams o'er thee sleep In all their beauty still — and thine is gone » 40 POETRY OF THE SEKTIMENTS. Empires have sunk since thou wert first revered, And varying rites have sanctifie-d thy shrine. The dust is round thee of the race that reared Thy walls ; and thou — their fate must soon be thine ! lint when shall earth again exult to see Visions divine, hke theirs, renewed in ought like thee ? Lone are thy pillows now— each passing gale Sighs o'er them as a spirit's voice, which moaned That lonehness, and told the plaintive tale " Of the bright synod once above them throned. Mourn, graceful ruin ! on thy sacred hill. Thy gods, thy rites, a kindred fate have shared : Yet thou art honoured in each fragment still That wasting years and barbarous hands had spared ; Each hallowed stone, from rapine's fury borne, Shall wake bright dreams of thee in ages yet tmborn. Yes ; in these fragments, though by time defaced. And rude insensate conquerors, yet remains All that may charm the enlightened eye of taste, On shores where still inspiring freedom reigns. As vital fragrance breathes from every part Of the crushed myrtle, or the bruised rose, ADMIRATIOjr 41 E*en thus tiie essential energy of Art There in each wreck imf^erishably glows ! The soul of Athens lives in every line, Pervading brightly still the ruins of her shrine. Mirk— on the storied frieze the graceful train, The holy festival's triumphal throng, In fair procession, to Minerva's fane, With many a sacred symbol, move along. There every shade of bright existence trace, The fire of youth, the dignity of age ; The matron's calm austerity of grace. The ardent warrior, the benignant sage ; The nynxph's hght symmetry, the chiefs proud mien ; Each ray of beauty caught and mingled in the scene. Art, unobtrusive, there ennobles form ; Each pure chaste outline exquisitely flows ; There, e'en the steed, with bold expression warm. Is clothed with majesty, with bein^ glovvs. One mighty mind hath harmonized the whole ; These varied groups the same bright impress bear ; One beam and essence of exalting soul Lives in the grand, the delicate, and fair; And well that pageant of the glorious dead B/ends us with nobler days, and loftier spirits fled* i2 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. O, cor:quering Genius ! that couldst thus retain The subtle graces, fading as they rise, Eternalize expression's fleeting reign, Arrest warm hfe in all its energies, And fix them on the stone — thy glorious lot Might wake ambition's envy, and create Powers half divine : while nations are forgot, A thought, a dream of thine, hath vanquished fate ! And when thy hand first gave its wonders birth. The realms that hail them now, scarce claimed a name on earth. Wert thou some spirit of a purer sphere But once beheld, and never to return ? No — we may hail again thy bright career, Again on earth a kindred fire shall burn ! Though thy least relics, e'en in ruin, bear A stamp of heaven that ne'er hath been re- newed — A light inherent — let not man despair ; Still be hope ardent, patience unsubdued ; For still is nature fair, and thought divine. And art hath won a world in models pure as thine. Gaze on yon forms, corroded and defaced — Yet there the germ of future glory lies ! Their virtual grandeurs could not be erased ; It clothes them still, though veiled froni com* mon eyes. ADMIPtATION. 43 They once were gods and heroes — and beheld As the blest guardians of their native scene ; And hearts of warriors, sages, bards, have swelled With awe that owned their sovereignty of mien. Ages have vanished since those hearts were cold. And still those shattered forms retain their god- Hke mould. Midst their bright kindred, from their marble throne, They have looked down on thousand storms of time. Surviving power, and fame, and freedom flown, They still remained, still tranquilly sublime I Till mortal hands the heaven conclave marred. The Olympian groups have sunk, and are forgot, Not e'en their dust could weeping Athens guard- But these were destined to a nobler lot ! And they have borne, to light another land. The quenchless ray that soon shall gloriously ex pand. Phidias ! supreme in thought ! what hand but thine, In human works thus blending earth andheaven^ 0*er nature's truth hath shed that grace divine, To mortal form immortal grandeur given ? 44 fOETP^Y OF THE SENTIMENTS. What soul but thine infusing all its power, In these last monuments of matchless days, '^ould, from their ruins, bid young Genius tower; And Hope aspire to more exalted praise ? And guide deep Thought to that secluded heigh^t Where excellence is throned in purity of light. A HEALTH. BY EDWARD C. PINCKNSY I FILL this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon ; To whom the better elements And kindly stars have given A form so fair, that, Hke the air, *Tis less of earth than heaven. Her very tone is music's own, Like those of morning birds ; And something more than melody Dwells ever in her words : The coinage of her heart are they, And from her lips each flows. As one may see the burden'd bea Forth issue from the roso. ADMIRAl.Ol?. Affections are as thoughts to her, The measures of her hoiirs ; Her feelings have the fragrancy, The freshness of yc^yng flowers.- And lovely passions, changing oft, So fill her, she appears The image of themselves by turns — The idol of past years ! Of her bright face one glance will trace A picture on the brain, And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain ; But memory, such as mine of her, So very much endears, When death is nigh my latest sigh Will not be life's, but hers. I fiU'd this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon — Her health ! and would on earth there stoodi, Some more of such a frame, That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name. 46 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENUS. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL, AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND. By WORDSWORTH. Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower ! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head ; And these gray rocks, this household lawn ; These trees, a veil just half withdrawn j This fall of water that doth make A murmur near the silent lake ; This little bay, a quiet road That holds in shelter thy abode ; In truth together do ye seem Like something fashioned in a dream ; Such forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep ; Yet, dream and vision as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart : God shield thee to thy latest years ! I neither know thee nor thy peers ; And yet my eyes are filled with tears. With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away : For never saw I mien, or face, Fn which more plainly I could trace ADMIllATlOJ?r. Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here, scattered like a random seed, Remote from men, thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness : Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a mountaineer. A face with gladness overspread ! Sweet looks, by human kindness bred 1 And seemhness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays ; With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life ! So have I, not unmoved in mind, Seen birds of tempest-loving kind. Thus beating up against the wind. What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful ! O happy pleasure I here to dwell Beside thee in some healthy dell ; Adopt your homely ways and dress-*^ A shepherd — thou a shepherdess I But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality : 48 POETRY OF THE' SINTIMENTS, Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea : and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighbourhood. What joy to hear thee and to see ! Thy elder brother I would be. Thy father, any thing to thee ! Now thanks to Heaven ! that of its grac« Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had ; and going hence I bear away my recompense. In spots hke these it is we prize Our memory,*— feel that she hath eyes : Then why should I be loath to stir ? I feel this place was made for her ; To give new pleasure like the past, Continued long as life shall last. Nor am I loath, though pleased at heart. Sweet Highland 'Girl ! from thee to part , For I, methinks, till I grow old. As fair before me shall behold, As I do now, the cabin small. The lake, the bay,- the waterfall ; And thee, {^e spirit of them ali ! ABMIRATIQN- 49 THE CITY OF JERUSALEM. BY JAMES A. HILLIIOrSE. How beautiful is Zion ! — Like a queen Arm'd with a helm, in virgin loveliness Her heaving bosom in a bossy cuirass, She sits aloft, begirt with battlements And bulwarks swelling from the rock, to guard The sacred courts, pavilions, palaces, Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woodf Which tuft her summit, and, like raven tresses, Waved their dark beauty round the tower of David. Resplendent with a thousand golden bucklers, The embrasures of alabaster shine ; Hail'd by the pilgrims of the desert, bound To Judah's mart with orient merchandise. But not, for thou art fair and turret-crown'd, Wet with the choicest dew of heaven, and bless'd With golden fruits, and gales of frankincense, Dwell I beneath thine ample curtains. Here, ^Vhere saints and prophets teach, where the stern law Still speaks in thunder, where chief angels watch, And where the glory hovers, here I war. * i 50 rOETRY or THE SENTIMEHTS, TO A SLEEPING CHILD. BY WILSOH. Art thou a thing of mortal birth, Whose happy home is on our earth I Does human blood with hTe imbue These wandering veins of heavenly blu^ That stray along thy forehead fair, Lost 'mid a gleam of golden hair ? Oh ! can that light and airy breath Steal from a being doomed to death ; Those features to the grave be sent In sleep thus mutely eloquent ; Or, art thou, what tliy form would Be&m^ The phantom of a blessed dream ? A human shape I feel thou art, I feel it at my beating heart, Those tremors both of soul and sense Awoke by infant innocence ! Though dear the forms by fancy wove, We love them with a transient love : Thoughts from the living world intrude Even on her deepest solitude : ADMIRATION. But, lovely child ! thy magic stole At once intD my inmost soul, With feelings as thy beauty fair, And left no other vision there. To me thy parents are unknown ; Glad viTouId they be their child to own ! And well they must have loved before, If since thy birth they loved not more. Thou art a branch of noble stem, And, seeing thee, I figure them. What many a child'ess one would give. If thou in their still home would'st live ! Though in thy face no family Hne Might sweetly say, " This babe is mine!" In time thou would'st become the same As their own child, — all but the name ! How happy must thy parents be Who daily live in sight of thee ! Whose hearts no greater pleasure seek Than see thee smile, and hear thee speak, And feel all natural griefs beguiled By thee, their fond, their duteous child. What joy must in their souls have stirred When thy first broken words were heard Words, that, inspired by Heaven, expressed The transports dancing in thy breast ! And for thy smile ! — thy lip, cheek, brow. Even while I gaze are kindling now. 52 roETRT or the SEimMEKW. I called thee duteous ; am I wrong ? No ! truth T feel is in my song.: Duteous thy heart's: still beatings mov« To God, to Nature, and to Love ! To God !— for thou, a harmless child, Hast kept his temple undefiled : To Nature !— for thy tears and sighs Obey alone her mysteries : ToL ove !— for fiends of hate might oee Thou dwell' St in love and love in ihee I What wonder then, though in thy dreams Thy face with mystic meaning beams 1 Oh ! that ray spirit's eye could see; Whence burst those gleams of ecstasy That light of dreaming soul appears To play from thoughts above thy years. Thou smilest as if thy soul were soaring To Heaven, and Heaven's God adoring! And who can tell what visions high May bless an infant's sleeping ey ' What brighter throne can brightnt T. Join voices all, ye livin from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembhng riirs ; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound,-— Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale, — and thou, majestic main,- ADORATION. 101 A secret world of wonders in thyseif,'— Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice Bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. SoK roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers In mingled clouds to him, whose sun exalts. Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. Yg forests,'bend, ye harvests, wave, to him ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies ; effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day ! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On Nature write with every beam his praise. The thunder rolls : be hushed the prostrate world While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. Bleat out afresh, ye hills ; ye mossy rocks, Retain the sound : the broad responsive low, Ye valleys, raise : for the Great Shepherd reigns And his unsufFering kingdom yet will come. Ye woodlands all awake : a boundless song Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, Sweetest of birds, sweet Philomela, charni The listening shades, and teach the night his praise* Ye, chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, 108 ?OETPvY or THE SENTIMENTS. At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all. Crown the great hymn ! In swarming cities vast, Assembled men, to the deep organ join The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear. At solemn pauses, through the sweUing bass, And, as each mingling flame increases each, In one united ardour reac?i to heaven. Or, if you rather choose the rural shade, And find a fane in every sacred grove, There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of seasons as they roll. For me, when I forget the darUng theme, Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring autumn gleams. Or winter rises in the blackening east, Be my tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song, where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, 'tis naught to me, Since God is ever present, ever felt. In the void waste as in the city full. And where he vital breathes there must be joy. When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers. Will rising wonders sing ; I cannot go ATTORATIflN. 109 Where Universal Love smiles not around, Sustaining all yon orbs and all their suns : From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still. In infinite progression. But I lose Myself in him, in Light Ineffable ! Come then, expressive Silence, muse his praise. ON SEEING WINDSOR CASTLE. BY T. WARTON. From beauteous Windsor's high and storied halls, Where Edward's chiefs start from the glowing walls, To my low cot, from ivory beds of state, Pleased I return, unenvious of the great. So the bee ranges o'er the varied scenes Of corn, of heaths, of fallows, and of greens. Pervades the thicket, soars above the hill, Or murmurs to the meadow's murmuring rill ; Now haunts old hollow' d oaks, deserted cells. Now seeks the low vale-hly's silver bells ; Sips the warm fragrance of the greenhouse bowers, And tastes the myrtle and the citron flowers ; At length returning to the wonted comb, Prefers to all his httls straw-built home. \10 rOErjlY C? THE SENTIMENTS. A MATIN. When the moon petj?0 over the mountain's height And the laJest star has left the sky, And the dews disperse at the gla.ice of Hght, And the earth puts on her robes of joy, And the flowers look out, and the woods are gay With birds and breezes, O ! 'tis meet ro join the universal lay, And nature's chorus to repeat ; To lead the aspiring soul to Him, Whose is the darkness, whose the day— Who kindled first the sunny beam ; Poured forth the wandering milky way ; Filled all heaven's lamps with ether, spread The canopy above — whose hand The valleys and the mountains weighed— Fathomed the ocean — reared the land, And crowded all with life and bliss : See life and bliss around us glowing. Wherever space or being is. The cup of joy is fall and flowing. Yes ! nature is a splendid show, Where an attentive mind may hear Music in all the winds that blow— • And see a silent worshipper ADOHATION. ni In every flower, on every tree, In every vale, on every hill-— Perceive a choir of melody In vi^aving grass or whispering rill ; And catch a soft but solemn sound Of worship from the smallest fly, The cricket chirping on the ground, The trembling leaf that hangs on high. Proud, scornful man ! thy soaring wing Would hurry towards infinity ; And yet the vilest, meanest thing Is too Bubhme, too deep for thee ; In all thy vain imagining Lost in the smallest speck we see. It must be so — for He, even He Who worlds created, formed the worm- He pours the dew, who filled the sea — Breathes from the flower, who rules the storm. Him we may worship — not conceive ; See not and hear not — but adore : Bow in the dust — obey — believe— Utter his name — and know no more. His throne is o'er*the highest star That wanders heaven's blue vaults aloug ; He drives, unseen. His glorious car A million viewless worlds among. A thousand — ay I ten thousand suns Are darkness in His piercing eye ! 112 POETRY OP TE.2 SEN^riMENTS. Thy life runs on — and while it runs, Vainly to know him dost thou try : That is a bliss for realms on high, When thou shalt breathe diviner air, And drink of heaven's felicity; For knowledge knows no boundary there O ! if joy be here thy doom Give it anchorage above ; If thy path be dark with gloom Steal a ray from heavenly love, Source of joy I — my friend ! — my father ! In thy presence let me be, — Here the flower of virtue gather, Blooming for eternity. 0 — ABEL'S SACRIFICIAL ADDRESS. BY BRYON. Oh, God ! Who made us, and who breathed the breath of life Within our nostrils, who hath blessed us, And spared, despite our father's sin, to make His children all lost, as they might have been, Had not thy justice been so tempered with The mercy which is thy delight, as to Accord a pardon like a paradise, Compared with our great crimes: — Sole Lord of light ! ADORATIOir. n Of good, and glory, and eternity; Without whom all were evil, and with whom Nothing can err, except to some good end Of thine omnipotent benevolence- Inscrutable, but still to be fuKilled— Accept from out thy humble first of ahepherd'a First of the tirst-born flocks — an offering. In itself nothing — as what offering can be Aught unto thee ? — but yet accept it for The thanksgiving of Him who spreads it in The face of thy heaven, bowing his own Even to the dust, of which he is, in honour Of Thee, and of Thy name, for evermore ! — » — HYMN OF THE DAUGHTERS OF JERUSALEM; BY MILMAN. King of Kings ! and Lord of Lords ! Thus we more our sad steps timing To our cymbals' faintest chiming, Where thy house its rest accords. Chased and wounded birds are we ; Through the dark air fled to thee ; To the shadow of thy wing. Lord of Lords ! and King of Kings ! U 114 POETRY OF lHi2 SENTIMENTS. Behold, oh Lord ! the Heathen tread The branches of thy fruitful vine, That its luxurious branches spread O'er all the hills of Palestine. And now the wild boar comes to waste Even us, the greenest boughs and last, That drinking of thy choicest dew. On Zion's hill in beauty grew. No ! by the marvels of ihine hand, Thou still wilt save thy chosen land ! By all thine ancient mercies shown By all our father's foes o'erthroWn ; By the Egyptian car-borne host. Scattered on the Read Sea coast ; By that wide and bloodless slaughter Underneath the drowning water. Like us in utter helplessness, In their last and worst distress — On the sand and sea- weed lying, Israel poured her doleful sighing ; While before the deep sea flowed, And behind fierce Egypt rode — ■ To their fathers' God they prayed. To the Lord of Hosts for aid. On the margin of the flood With lifted rod the Prophet stood ; And the summoned east wind blew, And aside it sternly threw The gathered waves, that took their stand, Like crystal rocks, on either hand. ADOEATION. Or walls of sea-green marble piled Round some irregular city wild. Then the light of morning lay On the wonder-paved way, Where the treasures of the deep In their caves of coral sleep. The profound abysses, where Was never sound from upper air, Rang with Israel's chanted words, King of Kings ! and Lord of Lords I Then with bow and banner glancing. On exulting Egypt came, With her chosen horsemen prancing. And her cars on wheels of flame, In a rich and boastful ring All around her furious king. But the Lord from out his cloud. The Lord looked down upon the proud § And the host drove heavily Down the deep bosom of the sea. With a quick and sudden swell Frone the liquid ramparts fell ; Over horse, and over car, Over every man of war. Over Pharaoh's crown of gold, The loud thundering billows rolled. As the level waters spread Down they sunk, they sunk like etd, Down without a cry or groan. And the morning sun that shone lis POirTKY THE SENTIMENTlfe On myriads of bright- armed men^ Its meridian radiance then Cast on a wide sea, heaving, as of yore^ Agains, a silent, solitary shore. Then did Israel's maidens sing, Then did Israel's timbrels ring, To him, the King of Kings ! that in the sea», The Lord of Lords I had triumphed gloriously. And our timbrels' flashing chords, King of Kings I and Lord of Lords I Shall they not attuned be Once again to victory ? 1*0 ! a glorious triumph now Lo ! against thy people come A mightier Pharaoh ! wilt not thou Craze the chariot wheels of Rome t Will not Uke the Red Sea wave Thy stern anger overthrow ? And from worse than bondage save. From sadder thaii Egyptian wo, Those whose silver cymbals glance,, Those who lead the suppliant dance. Thy race, the only race that sings ** Lord of Lords ! and King of Kings I'* 0 In this wide world the fondest and the best Ar® the most tried, most troubled, %nd distre«s'«i 1 HYMN OF NATURE. BY PEABODY. tai vje earth's extended plain I The dark green fields contented lie ; The mountains rise like holy towers, Where man might commune with the sky i The tall cliff challenges the storm That lowers upon the vale below, Where shaded fountains send their streams. With joyous music in their flow. God of the dark and heavy deep! The vv^aves lie sleeping on the sands, Till the fierce trumpet of the storm Hath summoned up their foreign bands ; Then the white sails are dashed like foam, Or hung, trembling, o'er the seas, Till, calmed by thee, the sinking gale Serenely breathes, Depart in peace. 'God of the forest's solemn shade ! The grandeur of the lonely tree. That wrestles singly with the gale, Lifts up admiring eyes to thee ; But more majestic far they stand, Wh-en, side by side, their ranks they form. To weave on high their plumes of green, And fight their battles with the storm. 118 POETRY OF THE SEiJ?TIMEJ)fT» God of the light and viewless air ! When summer breezes sweetly flow> Or, gathering in then* angry might, The fierce and wintry tempests blow ; All — from the evening's plaintive sigh, That hardly lifts the .drooping flower, To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry— Breathe forth the language of thy poweR God of the fair and open sky ! How gloriously above us springs The tented dome of heavenly blue, Suspended on the rainbow's rings J Each brilliant star that sparkles througbj Each gilded cloud, that wanders fre^ In evening's purple radiance, gives The beauty of its praise to thee. God of the rolling orbs above ! Thy name is written cleanly bright In the warm day's unvarying blaze, Or evening's golden shower of light. For every fire that fronts the sun, And every spark that walks alone Around the utmost verge of heaven. Were kindled at thy burning throne. God of the world ! the hour must come. And nature's self to dust return; ABOBATIOIT. 119 Her cnimbling altars must decay ; Her incense fires shall cease to burn; But still her grand and . lovely scenes Have made man's w-"mest praises flow ; For hearts grow holier s ihey trace The beauty of the world below. OH, THOU! BEFORE WHOSE RADIANT SHRINE. BY MRS. HEMANS. Oh, Thou ! before whose radiant shrine Entranced, adoring seraphs bend ; Eternal source of light divine ! Wilt Thou thy hallowed ear incline And mortal prayer attend ? Yes, Father ! yes, benignant Power ! Around Thee beams fair mercy's purest ray ; No awful terrors round Thee lower. Save when, in judgment's dreaded hour, Thou bidst creation tremble and obey ! Then, robed in darkness and in clouds, That solemn veil thy glory shrouds ; Chaos and night thy dark pavilion form ; Thy spirit on the whirlwind rides, Impels the unresisting tides, Glares in the lightning, rushes in the storm! 120 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTi. But Thou wilt meet the suppliant eye, And TItou wilt mark the lowly sigh ; And Thou the holy tear wilt see Which penitence devo^f's to Thee ; That sigh thy breezes vaft to heaven, That holy tear is gratelul incense given ; Low, humble, sad, to Thee I bend ; Oh ! listen from, thy blest abode ! And though celestial hymns ascend, Oh ! deign a mortal's prayer attend. My Father and my God ! Teach me if hope, if joy, be mine, To bless Thy bounteous hand divine ; And still, with trembling homage, raise The grateful paean of exalted praise ! When deep affliction wounds the soul, Still let me own thy mild control ; Teach me, submissive and resigned, To calm the tempest of the mind; To lift the meek, adoring eye. Suppress the tear and hush the sigh ; Gaze on one bright, unclouded star. And hail " the day-spring" from afar,— Bid angel-faith dispel surrounding gloom, And soar, on cherub wing, beyond the tomb* A© ORATION. 121 THE PRAYER OF NATURE. BY MRS. HEMANS. Father of Light ! gi-eat God of Heaven ' Hearest thou the accents of despair ? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer ? Father of light, on thee I call ! Thou seest my soul is dark within ; Thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall, Avert from me the death of sin. No shrine I seek to sects unknown ; Oh point to me the path of truth ! Thy dread omnipotence I own ; Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth. Let bigots rear a gloomy fane, Let superstition hail the pile, Let priests, to spread their sable reign, With tales of mystic rites beguile. Shall man confine his Maker's sway To Gothic domes of mouldering stone? Thy temple is the face of day ; Earth, ocean, heaven, thy boundless throne. Shall man condemn his race to hell Unless they bend in pompous form ; Tell us that all, for one who fell, Must perish in the minghng storm ? 122 lOETRY OF THE SENTmENTSv Shall each pretend to reach the skies, Yet doom his brother to expire, Whose soul a different hope supplies. Or doctrines less severe inspire ? Bhall these, by creeds they can't expoun-) Prepare a fancied bliss or wo ? Shall reptiles, gro%'eUing on the ground, Their great Creator's purpose knowV Shall those, who live for self alone, Whose years float on in daily crime — Shall they by Faith for guilt aton?. And live beyond the bounds of time f Father ! no prophet's laws I seek-^ Thy laws in Nature's works appear :- I own myself corrupt and weak. Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear ! Thou, who canst guide the wandering star Through trackless realms of ether's spacf Who calmst the elemental war. Whose hand from pole to pole I trace ; Thou, who in wisdom placed me here. Who, when thou wilt, can take me hence Ah ! whilst I tread this earthly sphere. Extend to me the wide defence. To thee, my God, to thee I call, Whatever weal or wo betide. By thy command I rise or fall, In thy protection I confide. If, when this dust to dust restored. My soul shall float on airy wing, ADORATIOJT. 123 Mow sliall thy glorious name adored Inspire her feeble voice to sing i But, if this fleeting spirit share With clay the grave's (Sternal bed, While life yet throbs I raise my prayer, Though doomed no more to quit the dead. To thee I breathe my humble strain, Grateful for all thy mercies past. And hope, my God, to thee again This erring life may fly at last. MOilJSriNG HYMN. BY CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. Let there be light The Eternal spoka And from the abyss where darkness rode ^'he earliest dawn of nature broke, And light around creation flow'd. The glad earth smiled to see the day. The first-born day, come blushing in ; The young day smiled to shed its ray Upon a world untouch' d by sin. ** Let there be light !" O'er heaven and earth, The GoD who first the day-beam pour'd, (Jtter'd again his fiat forth. And shed the gospel's light abroad, iS€ roKTftr op thk SBBrrrMEWTs, And, like the dawn, its cheering rays On rich and poor were meant to fall ; Inspiring their Redeemer's praise, In lowly cot and lordly hall. Then come, when in the orient first Flushes the signal-light for prayer ; Come with the earliest beams that burst From God's bright throne of glory there^ Come kneel to him who through the nigh^ Hath watch' d above thy sleeping soul, To Him whose mercies, like his light, Ave aked abroad from pok to pols. OONTEMT- Cc pten ti B snt walks 'S5m nxmj glAde, and feels an i award bliss Spring o'er his mind, 1 1 •ond the power of kings €munt MY MINDE TO ME A KINGDOME IS. FROM Percy's reliques. My minde to me a kingdome is ; Such perfect joy therein I finde As farre exceeds all earthly blissC; That God or Nature hath assign ie: Though much I want, that most would Iiav«^ Yet still my mind forbids to crave. Content I live, this is my stay ; I seek no more than may suffice ; I presse to beare no haughtie sway ; Look what I lack my mind supplies. Loe ! thus I triumph like a king, Content with that my mind doth bring. I see how plentie surfets oft, And hastie clymbers soonest fall : I see that such as sit aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all : These get with toile, and keep with feares Such cares my mind could never beare. (127) 128 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. No princely pomp, nor welthie store, No force to winne the victorie, No wylie wit to salve a sore, No shape to winne a lover's eye ; To none of these I yeeld as thrall, For why my mind despiseth all. Some have too much, yet still they crave, I little have, yet seek no more: They are but poore, tho' much they havs' And I am rich with little store : They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; They lacke, I lend ; they pine, I live. I laugh not at another's losse, I grudge not at another's gaine ; No worldly wave my mind can tosse, I brooke that is another's bane : I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend ; I lothe not life, nor dread mine end. I joy not in no earthly blisse ; I weigh not Cresus' welth a stra'W For care, 1 care not what it is ; I feare not fortune's fatall law : My mind is such as may not move For beautie bright or force of love. I wish but what I have at will ; I wander not to seeke for mor© ^ 30NTENT. 129 I like the plain, 1 clime no hill ; In greatest storms I sitte on shore, And laugh at them that toile in vaino To get what must be lost againe. I kisse not where I wish to kill ; I feigne not love where most I hat©, I break no sleep to winne my will ; I wayte not at the mightie's gate ; 1 scorn no poore, I feare no rich ; I feel no want, nor have too much. The court, ne cart, I like, ne loath ; Extreames are counted worst of all : The golden meane betwixt them both Doth surest sit, and fears no fall: This is my choyce, for why^ I finde No welth is like a quiet minde. My welth is health, and perfect ease ; My conscience clere my chiefe defences I never seek by brybes to please, Nor by desert to give offence : Thus do I live, thus will I die ; Would all did so as well as I ! 9h Contentment gives a crown, Where fortune hath deny'd it. T Thomas Ford, 130 ?OETRY OF THE SENTEIENTS. THE QUIET MIND. Br JOHN CLARE. Thou&h low my lot, my wish is won^ My hopes are few and staid ; All I thought life would do, is done^ The last request is made : If I have foes, no foes Y fear ; To fate I live resign'd : I have a friend I value here — And that's a quiet mind. I wish not it was mine to wear Flushed honour's sunny crown r I wish not T was fortune's heir, She frowns, and let her frown : I have no taste for pomp and strife. Which others love to find : I only wish the bliss of life — A pure and quiet mind. The trumpet's tautit m battle field, The great man's pedigree- - What peace can all iheir honours yield. And what are they to me ? Though praise and pomp, to irie ihe sirife Rave Uke a mighty wind What are they to the calm of life— • A still and quiet mind ? I mourn not that my lot is low, I wish no higher state ; I sigh not that fate made me so, Nor tease her to be great : I am content, for well I see, What ali at least shall find, That lifers worst lot the best shall b®-* And that's a quiet mind. I see the great pass heedless by, And pride above me tower ; It costs me not a single sigh For either wealth or power : They are but men, and I'm a man Of quite as great a kind, Proud too, that life gives all she can A calm and quiet mind. J never mock'd at beauty's shrine, To stain her lips with lies ; No knighthood's fame, or luck was mine. To win love's richest prize : And yet I found in russet weed, What all will wish to find. True love, and comfort's prize indeed A glad and quiet mind. 132 POETRY OF Tli£ SE^'TIMENTS. And come what will of care or wo, As some must come to all, I'll wish not that they were not so, Nor mourn that they befall : If tears for sorrows start at will, They're comforts in their kind, And I am blest, if with me still— - Remains a quiet mind. When friends depart, as part they must, And love's true joys decay. That leave us hke the summer's dust The whirlwind puffs away ; While life's allotted time I brave, Though left the last behind, A prop and friend I still shall have. If I've a quiet mind. p. — O may I with myself agree, And never covet what I see ; Content me with an humble shade, My passions tam'd, my wishes laid; For while our wishes wildly roll, We banish quiet from the soul ; 'Tis then the busy beat the air. And misers gather wealth and care. CONTENT. SUMMER IN THE HEART BY EPES SARGENT. Tee cold blast at the casement beats, The window-panes are white, The snow whirls through the empty street?^' It is a dreary night ! Sit down, old friend ! the wine-cups wait ; Fill to o'erflowing ! fill ! Though winter howleih at the gate, In our hearts 'tis summer still ! For we full marfy summer joys And greenwood sports have shared, When, free and ever-roving boys, The rocks, the streams we dared ! And, as I look upon thy face- Back, back o'er years of ill, My heart flies to that happy place. Where it is summer still ! Yes, though, like sere leaves on the groundi Our early hopes are strown, And cherished flowers lie dead around, And singing birds are flown,-— The verdure is not faded quite. Not mute all tones that thrill ; For, seeing, hearing thee to-night, In my heart 'tis summer stiU I 134 POETRY OF THE SEN IlMExVTS. Fill ap ! the olden times come back I With light and life once more We scan the future's sunny track, From youth's enchanted shore! The lost return. Through fields cf b-CMsa We wander at our will ; Gone is the winter's angry gloom — In our heart 'tis summer still ! « AMBITION. BY RICHARD LOVELACE. liow uncertain is the state Of that greatness we adore ; When ambitiously we soar, And have ta'en the glorious height, *Tis but ruin gilded o'er, To enslave us to our fate ; Whose false delight is easier got than kept,-* Content ne'er on its gaudy pillow slept. Then how fondly do we try, With such superstitious care, To build fabrics in the air; Or seek safety in that sky, Where no stars but meteors are That portend a ruin nigh : And having reach'd the object of our aim. We Gfxd it but a pyramid of flame. CONTENT CONTENTMENT. BY L. SIGOURNEY. Fhink^st thou the steed that restless roves O'er rocks and mountains, fields and groves, With wild, unbridled bound, Finds fresher pasture than the bee, On thymy bank or vernal tree. Intent to store her industry Within her waxen round f Think'st thou the fountain forced to turn Through marble vase or sculptured urn, Affords a sweeter draught Than that which, in its native sphere. Perennial, undisturb'd and clear, Flows, the lone traveller's thirst to cheer, And wake his grateful thought ? Think'st thou the man whose mansions hold The worldhng's pomp and miser's gold, Obtains a richer prize Than he whoj in his cot at rest. Finds heavenly peace, a willing guest, And bears the promise in his breast Of treasure in the skies ? 136 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. HAPPINESS OF THE SHEPHE::ID'L LIFE. BY GILES AND PHINEAS FLETCHER. Thrice, oh, thrice happy, shepherd's hfe and state! When courts are happiness, unhappy pawns ! His cottage low and safely humble gate Shut out proud Fortune, with her scorns and fawns : No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep : Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep ; Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep. No Serian worms he knows, that with their threail ©raw out their silken Hves : nor silken pride : His lambs' warm fleece well fits his little need. Not in that proud Sidonian tincture dyed : No empty hopes no courtly fears him fright: Nor begging wants his middle fortune bite : But sweet content exiles both misery and spite. Instead of music, and base flattering tongues, Which wait to first salute my lord's uprise ; The cheerful lark wakes him with early songs, And birds' sweet whisthng notes unlock his eyes j In country plays is all the strife he uses ; Or sing, or dance unto the rural Muses ; And but in music's sports all diflference refuses His certain hfe, that nc er can deceive him, CONTEiNT. Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content: The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him With coolest shades, till noon-tide rage is spent : His life is neither loss'd in hoist' rous seas Of troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease ; Pleased, and full blest he lives, when he his God please. . His bed of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps. While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; His little son into his bosom creeps, The lively picture of his father's face : Never his humble house nor state torment him ; Less he could like, if less his God had sent him ; And when he dies, green turfs, with grassy tomb, content him. 9 — . THE RICHEST JEWELL. There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, No chemic art can counterfeit ; It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The homely whistle to sweet music's strain; Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent, That much in little—all in nought — Content. 138 POETRY OF THE SENTIMEXTfl, HALBERT. BY SHERIDAN KNOTTLilS. Sir, you do me wrong ; i boast no virtue when I claim content With that which you have left me ; — would not change My naked turret, in its mountain hold, Reached by the path along whose rugged steeps Discord and envy climb not, for the fields Rich Inverary in its scornful groves Embosoms ; and to me the mouldering walls Of its small chapel wear the glory yet Of consecration which they took from prayers Of the first teachers, through a thousand storms Have drenched and shaken them. Forgive me, sir : I have a patrimony which disdains Envy of yours. — « Most miserable Is the desire that*s glorious : blessed be those. How mean soe'er, that have their honest will-s, Which seasons comfort. Shdkespeau CONTENT. 139 UURAL CONTENT. BY THOMSON. Oh knew he but his happiness, of men The happiest he who far from pubhc rage, Deep in the vale, with a choice few retired, D rinks the pure pleasures of the rural life 1 What though the dome be wanting, whose pr md gate, B»ach morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd C)f flatterers false, and in their turn abused? file intercourse ! What though the glittering robe, ( If every hue reflected light can give, Or floating loose, or stiff" with mazy gold, I'he pride and gaze of fools, oppress him not ? What though, from utmost land and sea purveyed For him each rarer tributary Ufe Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps With luxury and death ? What though his bowl Flames not with costly juice, nor sunk in beds, Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night, Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state ? V/hat though he knows not those fantastic joys That still amuse the wanton, still deceive — A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain— • Their hallow moments undelighted all ? Slure peace is his ; a solid life, estranged 140 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS, To disappointment and fallacious hope : Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich, In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Sp-ing When heaven descends in showers, or bends the bough When summer reddens, andwhen Autumn beams, Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies Concealed, and fattens with the richest gap ; These are not wanting ; nor the milky drove, Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; Nor bleating mountains ; nor the chide of streams, And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade. Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay ; Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. Here too dwells simple Truth ; plaiili Innocence ; Unsullied Beauty ; sound unbroken Youth, Patient of labour, with a little pleased ; Heahh ever blooming ; unambitious Toil ; Calm contemplation, and poetic Ease. — « — - He fairly looking into hfe's account ; Saw frowns and favours were of like amount ; And viewirkg all — his perils, prospects, purse, He said, ** content— 'tis well it is no worse." CONTENT. 141 " USES OF ADVERiSlTY." BY SHAKESPEAR. New my co-mates, and brothers in exile. Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these wooda More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites an4 blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery ; these are counsellors That fe&lingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity, — Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous. Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. ^— He that commends me to mine own content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get. Sheakespear, 143 POETRY OP IHE SENTIMENTS, REFLECTIONS ON HAVING LEFT A PLACE OF RETIREMENT* BY COLERIDGE. Low was our pretty cot ! our tallest rose Peeped at the chamber-window. We could heal At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The sea's faint murmur. In the open air Our mrytles blossomed ; and across the porch Thick jasmins twined : the little landscape round Was green and woody, and refreshed the eye. It was a spot, which you might aptly oall The Valley of Seclusion ! On-ce T saw (Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quietness) A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, Bristowa's citizen : methought, it calmed His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse With wiser feehngs : for he paused, and looked With a pleased sadness, and gazed all around, Then eyed our cottage, and gazed round again, And sighed, and said, it was a blessed place. And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear Long listening to the viewless sky-lark's note (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen Gleaming on sunny wing,) "And such," I saidj *' The inobtrusive song of happiness — CONTENT. 143 Unearthly minstrelsy ! then only heard When tne soul seeks to hear ; when all is hushed And the heart listens !" But the time, when firs* From that low dell steep up the stony mount I climbed with perilous toil and reached the top, 0 what a goodly scene ! here the bleak mount, The bare bleak mountain speckled thin with sheep; Grey clouds, that shadowing spot the sunny fields And rfver, now with bushy rocks o'erbrowed. Now winding bright and full, with naked banks;. And seats, and lawns, the abbey, and the wood, And cots, and hamlets, and faint city-spire : The channel there, the islands and white sails. Dim coasts, and cloud-Uke hills, and shoreless ocean — It seemed like Omnipresence ! God, methought, Had built him there a temple : the whole world Seemed imaged in its vast circumference. No wish profaned my overwhelmed heart. Blest hour ! it was a luxury — to be ! Ah, quiet dell ! dear cot ! and mount sublime, 1 was constrained to quit you. Was it right. While my unnumbered orethren toiled and bled, That I should dream away the entrusted hours On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart With feelings all too delicate for use ? Sweet is the tear that from some Howard's eye Drops on the cheek of one he lifts from earth : And ho, that works me good with unmoved faco, 144 POETRY OFiTHE SENTIMENTS. Does it but half: he chills me while he aids, My benefactor, not my brother man I Yet even this, this cold beneficence Seizes my praise ; when I reflect on those, The sluggard Pity's vision- weaving tribe ! Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretcned. Nursing in some delicious solitude Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies ! I therefore go, and join head, heart, and hand, Active and firm, to fight the bloodless fight Of science, freedom, and the truth in Christ. Yet oft when after honourable toil Rests the tired mind, and waking loves to dreamj. My spirit shall revisit thee, dear cot ! Thy jasmin and thy window-peeping rose, And myrtles fearless of the mild sea air. And I shall sigh fond wishes — sweet abode ! Ah— ^had none greater ! and that all had such ! — ^ — The mind's content Sweetens all suff' rings of th' afilicted sense, Those that are bred in labour think it sport. Above the soft delight which wanton appetite Begets for others, whom indulgent fortune Prefers in her degrees, though equal nature Made all alike. GIVE ME A COTTAGE ON SOME CAMBRIAN WILD. BY KIRKE WHITE. G.IVE me a cottage on some Cambrian wild, Where, lar from cities, I may spend my days And, by the beauties of the scene beguiled, May pity man's pursuits, and shun his ways. While on the rock I mark the browsing goat, List to the mountain torrent's distant noise, Or the hoarse bittern's solitary note, I shall not want the world's delusive joys ; But with my httle scrip, my book, my lyre, Shall think my lot complete, nor covet more. And when, with tim-e, shall wane the vital fire, I'll raise my pillar on the desert shore, And lay me down to rest where the wild wave Shall make sw-eet music o'er my lonely grave. « Unfit for greatness, I her stvares defy. And look on riches with untainted eye. To others let the glitt'ring baubles fall, Content shall place us far above them all. Churchm^ K 346 POETKY OF THE SENTIMEWTf. A MINGLED SENTIMENT, BY SCOTT. When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone, Something, my friend, we yet may gain, There is a pleasure in this pain : It soothes the love of lonely rest. Deep in each gentler heart impressed. *Tis silent amid worldly toils, , And stifled soon by mental broils ; But, in a bosom thus prepared, Its still small voice is often heard, Whispering, a mingled sentiment, ^Twixt resignation and content. Oft in my mind such thoughts awake. By lone St. Mary's silent lake ; Thou know'st it well, — nor fen, nor sedg®.. Pollute the pure lake's crystal edge ; Abrupt and sheer, the mountains sink At once upon the level brink ; And just a trace of silver sand Marks where the water meets the land. Far in the mirror, bright and blue, Each hills huge outline you may view ; Shaggy with heath, but lonely bare. Nor tree, nor bush, noi brake is there, CONTENT. 147 Save where, of land, yon slender line Bears thwart the lake the scattered piao. Yet even this nakedness has power, And aids the feeling of the hour : Nor thicket, dell, nor copse you spy, Where living thing concealed might lie ; Nor pcint, retiring, hides a dell. Where swaim, or woodman lone, might dwell. There's nothing left to fancy's guess, You see that all is loneliness ; And silence aids — though these steep hills Send to the lake a thousand rills ; In summer tide, so soft they weep, The sound but lulls the ear asleep ; Your horse's hoof- tread sounds too rude. So stilly is the solitude. Nought living meets the eye or ear But well I ween the dead are near ; For'though, in feudal strife, a foe Hath laid Our Lady's chapel low, Yet still, beneath the hallowed soil, The peasant rests him from his toil. And dying bids his bones be laid. Where erst his simple fathers prayed. If age had tamed the passions' strife, And fate had cut my ties to Hfe, Here, have I thought, 'twere sweet to dweH And rear again the chaplain's cell. Like that same peaceful hermitage. Where Milto-i long»'d to spend his age. 148 POETRY OF THE SENTIM1,.^TS. 'Twere sweet to mark the setting day, On Bourliope's lonely top decay ; And, as it faint and feeble died, On the broad lake, and mountain's side. To say, Thus pleasures fade away ; Youth, talents, beauty, thus decay, And leave us dark, forlorn, and grey Then gaze on Dryhope's ruined tower. And think on Yarrow's faded Flowers And when that mountain-sound I heard, Which bids us be for storm prepared. The distant rustling of his wings. As up his force the Tempest brings, 'Twere sweet, ere yet his terrors rave, To sit upon the Wizard's grave ; That Wizard Priest's, whose bones are thrust From company of holy dust ; On which no sun-beam ever shines — (So superstition's creed divines,) Thence view the lake, with sullen roar. Heave her broad billows to the shore ; And mark the wild swans mount the gale, Spread wide through mist their snowy sail, And ever stoop again to lave Their bosoms on the surging wave : Then, when against the driving hai! No longer might my plaid avail. Back to my lonely home retire. And light my lamp, and trim my fire ; CONTENT. 'There ponder o'er some mystic lay, Till the wild tale had all its sway, And in the bittern's distant shriek, 1 heard unearthly voices speak, And thought the Wizard Priest was come, To claim again his ancient home ! And bade my busy fancy range, To frame him fitting shape and strange, Till from the task my brow I cleared, And smile to think that I had feared. But chief, 'twere sweet to think such life, (Though but escape from fortune's strife,) Something most matchless, good, and wise, A great and grateful sacrifice ; And deem each hour, to musing given, A step upon the road to heaven. — ■♦— Contentment, parent of delight. So much a stranger to our sight, Say, goddess, in what happy place. Mortals behold thy blooming face; Thy gracious auspices impart. And for thy temple choose my heart. They whom thou deignest to inspire, Thy science learn, to bound desire ; By happy alchymy of mind. They turn to pleasure all they find. t50 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. CONTENT IS HAPPINESS. BY HAVARD. What art thou, Happiness, so sought liy all. So greatly envied, yet so seldoni found? Of what strange nature is thy composition, When gold and grandeur sue to thee In vain ? The prince who leads embattled thousands forth, And with a nod commands the universe, Knows not the language to make thee obey , Though he with armies strews the hostile plain, And hews out avenues of death, he still Loses his way to thee, because content Appears not on the road, to light them to thee.— Content and happiness are then the same ; And they are seldom found, but in the bed Where unmolested innocence resides. — » Cellars and granaries in vain we fill With all the bounteous summer's store, If the mind thirst and hunger still : Tl^ poor rich man's emphatically poor. Sliaves to the things we too much prize, We masters grow of all that we despise. Cowley, CONTENT. 151 RETIREMENT. BY BEATTIE. When in the crimson cloud of even The lingering light decays, And Hesper on the front of heaven His glittering gem displays ; Deep in the silent vale, unseen, Beside a lulling stream, A pensive youth, of placid mien, Indulged this tender theme : ** Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled High o'er the ghmraering dale ; Ye woods, along, whose windings wild Murmurs the solemn gale : Where Melancholy strays forlorn, And Wo retires to weep. What time the wan Moon's yellow horn Gleams on the western deep : To you, ye waste, whose artless charnif Ne'er drew ambition's eye, 'Scaped a tumultuous world's alarms, To your retreats I fly. Deep in your most sequestered bower Let me at last recline, Where Sohtude, mild, modest power, Leans on her ivied shrine. l^il POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. " How shall I woo thee, matchless fair! Thy heavenly smile how win ! Thy smile, that smooths the brow of Care And stills the storm within. O wilt thou to thy favourite grove Thine ardent votary bring, And bless his hours, and bid them move Serene, on silent wing ? ** Oft let Remembrance soothe his mind With dreams of former days, When in the lap of Peace reclined, He framed his infant lay ; When Fancy roved at large, nor Care Nor cold Distrust alarmed. Nor envy with malignant glare Plis simple youth hath harmed. **Twas then, O Solitude! to thee His early vows were paid. From heart sincere, and warm and free, Devoted to the shade. Ah, why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam. Remote from all congenial joy ?•— O take the wanderer home. Thy shades, thy silence now be mme Thy charms my only theme ; CONTENT. My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine Waves o'er the gloomy stream ; Whence the scared owl on pinions gray Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose. "0, while to thee the woodland pours Its wildly warbling song, And balmy from the bank of flowers The zephyr breathes along ; Let no rude sound invade from far, No vagrant foot be nigh, No ray from Grandeur's gilded car Flash on the startled eye. *' But if some pilgrim through the glade Thy hallowed bowers explore, O guard from harm his hoary head, And listen to his lore ; For he of joys divine shall tell, That wean from earthly wo. And triumph o'er the mighty spell That chains his heart below. " For me no more the path invites Ambition loves to tread : Ho more I climb those toilsome heignts. By guileful Hope misled ; 154 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more To Mirth's enlivening strain ; For present pleasure soon is o'er, And all the past is vain.*' • RURAL CONTENT. BY HAMMOND. Let others boast their heaps of shining gold, And view their fields, with waving plenty crowned, Whom neighbouring foes in constant terror hold, And trumpets break their slumbers, never sound. While calmly poor I trifle life away, Enjoy sweet leisure by my cheerful fire. No wanton hope my quiet shall betray, But cheaply blest, I'll scorn each vain desire. With timely care I'll sow my little field, And plant my orchard with its master's hand. Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield. Or range my sheaves along the sunny land. If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam, I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb, Under my arm I'll bring the wanderer home, And not a Httle chido its thoughtless dam. CONTENT. 15S What joy to hear the tempest how in vain, And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast Or lulled to slumber by the beating rain, Secure and happy, sink at last to rest. Or if the sun in flaming Leo ride, By shady rivers indolently stray, And with my Delia, walking side by side. Hear how they murmur as they glide away. What joy to wind along the cool retreat, To stop and gaze on Delia as I go ! To Tningle sweet discourse with kisses sweet, And teach my lovely scholar all I know ! Thus pleased at heart, and not with fancy's dreasi In silent happiness I rest unknown ; Content with what I am, not what I seem, I live for Delia and myself alone. « OF MYSELF. BY COWLEY. This only grant me, that my means may liii Too low for envy, for contempt loo high. Some honour I would have, Not from great deeds, but good alone ; The unknown are better than ill known- Rumour can ope the grave. 156 POETRY 0? TRE SEKTIMENT3. Acquaintance I would have, but when*t depend"^ Not on the number, but the choice, of friends. Books should, not business, entertain the light, And sleep as undisturbed as dejath, the night. My house a cottage more Than palace j and should fitting be For all my use, no luxury. My garden painted o'er With Nature's hand, not Art's ; and pleasures yield Horace might envy in his Sabine field. Thus would I double my life's fading space ; For he, that runs it well, twice runs his race. And in this true delight. These unbought sports, this happy state, I would not fear, nor wish, my fate ; But boldly say each night, To-morrow let my sun his beams display, Or in clouds hide them ; I have lived to-day. — ^ Cease then, nor order imperfection name : Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. Know thy own point ; this kind, this due degree Of bhndness, weakness, heav'n bestows on thee. Submit — in this or any other sphere. Secure to be as bless'd as tfcou canst bear. CONTEUr. 157 INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE AT AINSLEY HALL, tSf WARWICKSHIRE. BY WARTON. Beneath this stony roof reclined, I soothe, to peace my pensive mind ; And while, to shade my icwiy cave, Embowering elms their umbrage wave ; And while the maple dish is mine, The beechen cup, unstained with wine ; I scorn the gay licentious crowd. Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. Within my limits lone and still The blackbird pipes in artle;s trill ; Fast by my couch, congenial guest. The wren has wove her mossy nest ; From busy scenes, and brighter skies, To lurk with innocence, she flies ; Here hopes in safe repose to dwell, Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell. At morn I take my customed round, To mark how buds yon shrubby mound, And every opening primrose count. That trimly paints my blooming mount; Or o er the sculptures, quaint and rude, That grace my gloomy schtUdc, 158 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. I teach in winding wreaths to stray Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. At eve within yon studious nook, I ope my brass-embossed book Pourtrayed with many a holy deed Of martyrs, crowned with heavenly meeds Then as my taper waxes dim, Chaunt, ere I sleep my measured hymn 5 And at the close, the gleams behold Of parting wings bedropt with gold. While such pure joys my bliss create, Who but would smile at guilty state ? Who but would wish his holy lot In calm Oblivion's humble grot? Who but would cast his pomp away, To take my staff, and amice gray ; And to the world's tumultuous stage Prefer the blameless hermitage ? — — » — THE FIRE-SIDE. BY COTTON". Deak Cloe, while the busy crowd. The vain and wealthy, and the proud. In folly's maze advance ; Though singularity and pride Be called our choice, we'll step aside, Nor join the giddy dance. CCTVTE>rT. From tlie gay world we'll oft retire To our own family and fire, Where love our hours employs ; No noisy neig^hbour enters here, No intermeddling stranger near, To spoil our heartfelt joys. If solid happiness we prize, "Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam ; The v/orld hath nothing to bestow, From our own selves our bliss must flow, And that dear hut, our home. Of rest was Noah's dove bereft. When with impatient wings she left That safe retreat, the ark ; Giving her vain excursions o'er. The disappointed bird once more Explored the sacred bark. Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powera. We, who improve his golden hours. By sweet experience know That marriage, rightly understood, Gives to the tender and the good A paradise below. Our babes shall richest comfort bring, If tutored right, they'll prove a spring Whence pleasures ever rise » 160 FOETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. We'll form their minds with studious care. To all that's manly, good, and fair, And train them for the skies. While they our wisest hours engage, They'll joy our youth, support our age. And' crown our hoary hairs ; They'll grow in virtue every day, And thus our fondest loves repay, And recompense our cares. No borrowed joys ! they're all our owsi, While to the world we live unknown., Or by the world forgot : Monarchs ! we envy not your state, We look with pity on the great, And bless our humble lot. Our portion is not largo indeed ; But then, how little do we need, For Nature's calls are few ! In this the art of living lies. To want no more than may suffice. And make that little do. We'll therefore relish with content Whate'er kind Providence has sent, Nor aim beyond our power ; For, if our stock be very small, *Tis prudence to enjoy it all, Nor lose the present hour. CONTENT. To be resigned when ills betide, Patient when favours are denied, And pleased with favours given j Dear Cloe, this is wisdom's part, This is that incense of the heart, Whose fragrance smells to heavea We'll ask no long-protracted treat, Since winter-life is seldom sweet ; But when our feast is o'er, Grateful from table we'll arise, Nor grudge our son, with envious eyes, The relics of our store. Thus hand in hand thraugh life we'll go| In the checkered paths of joy and wo With cautious steps we'll tread ; Quit its vain scenes without a tear. Without a trouble or a fear, And mingle with the dead. While conscience, like a faithful friend Shall through the gloomy vale attend And cheer our dying breath ; Shall, when all other comforts ceas©, Like a kind angel whisper peace. And smooth the bed of death* L !62 POETRY OP THE SEI^TIMENTS, A FAREWELL TO THE VANITIES OF THE WORLD. BY WOTTEN. Fakewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles Farewell, ye honoured rags, ye glorious bubbles FaPie's but a hollow echo ; gold pure clay ; Honour the darling but of one short day. Beauty, the eye's idol, but a damasked skin ; State but a golden prison to live in, And torture Iree-born minds ! Embroidered trains, Merely but pageants for proud swelling veins ; And blood allied to greatness, is alone Inherited, not purchased nor our own, Fame, honour, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth. Are but the fading blossoms of the earth. I would be great, but that the sun doth still Level his rays against the rising hill : I would be high, but see the proudest oak Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke : I would be rich, but see men, too unkind. Dig in the bowels of the richest mine : I would be wise, but that I often see The fox suspected, while the ass goes free: I would be fair, but see the fair and proud, Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cluud: CONTENl. 163 I would be poor, but know the hamble grass Still trampled on by each unworlhy ass : Rich hated : wise suspected : scorned if poor : Great feared: fair tempted: high still envied more: I have wished all ; but now, I wish for neither Great, high, rich, wise nor fair ; poor I'll be rather. Welcome pure thoughts, welcome ye silent groves, These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves : Now the winged people of the sky shall sing My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring : A prayer-book now shall be my looking-glass, In which I will adore sweet virtue's face. Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace-cares, No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears Then here I'll sit, and sigh my hot love's folly, And learn t' affect a holy melancholy ; And if Contentment be a stranger then, I'll ne'er look for it but in Heaven again. — — o — ~— I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born. And range with humble livers in content. Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. Shakegpear K4 rOElAY OF TB3 SENTIMEJfl3» SONNET.. BY DRUMMOND. Thrice happy he who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world, doth live his owf^ Though solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that etern.al love: Oh, haw more sweet is birds harmonious moane, Or the hoarse sobbings of the widowed dove, Than those smooth whisperings near a prince'sr throne, Which good make doubtful!, dothe evil! approve ? Oh, how more sweet is zephyre*s wholesam© breath, And sighs embalmed, which new-bom Sowers unfold, Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath ! How sweet are streames to poyson drank in gold I The world is full of horrors, troubles, slights ; ] Woods' harmlesse shades have only toe de- lights. Much will always wanting be To him who much desires. Thrice happy he To whom the wise indulgency of heaven, * With sparing hand, but just enough has given Cowley* NTENT. «. BACHELOR'S RETREAT. 'BY CfREEN. CcKT^jfTSCSNT, parent of delight. So much a stranger to our siglit, Say, goddess, in what happy place Mortals behold thy bloommg face ; Thy gracious auspices impart, And for thy temple choose my heart. They whom ihou deignest to inspire.. Thy science iearn to bound desire ; By happy alchemy of mind They turn to pleasure all they find, They both disdain in outward mien The grave and solemn garb of splet.u, And meretricious arts of dress, T»^ Without an opiate they repose ; And, cohered by your shield, defy The whizzing shafts, that round them % i iNor meddling with the gods' affairs, Concern themselves with distant cares ; But place their bliss in mental rest, And feast upon the good possessed. Forced by soft violence of prayer, The blithsome goddess soothes my care;- 166 l-OETHY OF THE SENTIMEimH. I feel the deity inspire, And thus she models my desire. Two hundred pounds half yearly paid^ Annuity securely made, A farm some twenty miles from town,. Small, tight, salubrious, and my own ; Two maids, that never saw the town, A serving man, not quite a clown ; A boy to help to tread the mow, And drive, while t'other holds the plough g A chief, of temper formed to please, Fit to converse, and keep the keys ; And b<^tter to preserve the peace, Commissioned by the name of niece? With understandings of a size To think their master very wise. May Heaven (it's all I wish for) send One genial room to treat a friend, Were decent cupboard, little plate. Display benevolence, not state. And may my humble dwelling stand Upon some chosen spot of land: A pond before full to the brim, Where cows may cool, and geese may swims Behind, a green like velvet neat, Soft to the eye, and to the feet ; Where odorous plants in evening fair Breathe all around embrosial air j From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground. Fenced by a slope with bushes creivmd. CONTENT. 167 Fit dwelling for the feathered throng;, Who pay *heir quit-rents with a song ; With opening views of hill and dale, Which sense and fancy loo regale, Where the half-cirque, which vision bounds. Like amphitheatre surrounds ; And woods impervious to the breeze, Thick phalanx of embodied trees, From hills through plains in dusk array Extended far, repel the day. Here stillness, height, and solemn shade Invite, and contemplation aid : Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate The dark decrees and will of Fate, And dreams beneath the spreading beech Inspire, and docile fancy teach ; While soft as breezy breath of wind Impulses rustle through the mind. Here Dryads, scorning Phoebus* ray, While Pan melodious pipes away. In measured motion frisk about. Till old Silenus puts them out. There see the clover, pea, and bean, Vie in variety of green ; Fresh pastures speckled o'er with sheep, Brown fields their fallow sabbaths keep, Plump Ceres golden tresses wear, And poppy top-knots deck her hair, And silver streams through meadows stray, And Naiads on the margin play, 168 POETRY OP THE SENTIMENTS. And lesser nymphs on side of hills From plaything urns pour down the rills. Thus sheltered, free from care and atnSs, May I enjoy a calm through life ; See faction, safe in low degree, As men at land see storm at sea^ And laugh at miserable elves Not kind, so much as to themselves, Cursed with such souls of base alloy, As can possess, but not enjoy ; Debarred the pleasure to impart By avarice, sphincter of the heart. Who wealth, hard-earned by guilty caresj Bequeath untouched to thankless heirSi May I, with look ungloomed by guile, And wearing Virtue's li>ary-smile, , Prone the distressed to relieve. And little trespasses forgive, With income not in fortune's power And skill to make a busy hour, With trips to town life toaniuse, To purchase books, and hear the newis, To see old friends, brush off the clowttj And quicken taste at coming down. Unhurt by sickness' blasting rage, And slowly mellowing in iage, When Fate extends its gathering griper Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe. Quit a worn being without pain. Perhaps to blossom soon again. CONTENT. 1^9 SONNET. *Y CHARLES LAMB. n».tahix^tai now dainty sweet it were, reclined Beitjatli the vast out-spreading branches high Of some old wood, in careless sort to lie, Nor of the busier scenes we left behind Aught envying. And, 0 Anna ! mild-eyed maid Beloved I I were well content to play With thy free tresses all a summer's day, Losing the time beneath the greenwood shade Or we might sit and tell some tender tale Of faithful vows repaid by cruel scorn, A tale of true love, ic« house ; fn the terrific face of armed law • Vea, on the scaffold, if it needa mnnt I never will forsake thee. FRIENDSHIP. 209 WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS TOGETHER. BY HON. MRS. NORTOj^T. We have been friends to2fe{her> In sunshine and in shade ; Since first beneath the chesnut trees In infancy we play'd. But coldness dwells within thy heart, A cloud is on thy brow ; We have been friends together — Shall a light word part us now ? We have been gay together ; We have laugh'd at little jests ; For the fount of hope was gushing Warm and joyous in our breasts. But laughter now hath lied thy lip And sullen glooms thy brow • We have been gay together — Shall a light word part us now ? We have been sad together, We have wept with bitter tears, O'er the grass-grown graves, where sIutnbe'^'iEl The hopes of early years. The voices which are silent there Would bid thee clear thy brow , We have been sad together — Oh ! what sha part us now ? 0 210 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. OLD FRIENDS. BY HON. MRS. NOIITOK". How are they waned and faded from our hearts. The old companions of our early days ! Of all the many loved, which name imparts Regret when blamed, or rapture at its praise f What are their several fates, by Heaven decreed; They of the jocund heart, and careless brow ? Alas ! we scarcely know and scarcely heed, Where, in this world of signy, they wander now. See, how with cold faint smile and courtly nod, They pass, whom wealth and revelry divide — Who walked together to the house of God, Read from one book, and rested side by side ; No look of recognition lights the eye Which laughingly hath met that fellow face ; With careless hands they greet and wander by, Who parted once with tears and long embrace. Oh, childhood ! blessed time of hope and love, When all we knew was Nature's simple law, How Kiay we yearn again that time to prove. When we looked round, and loved what'er we saw Noio dark suspicion wakes, and love departs. And cold distrust its well-feigned smile displays ; And they are waned and faded from our hearts, The old compaiions of our early days! FRIENDSHIP. til EARLY FRIENDS. BY pollob:. Many sounds were sweet, Most ravishing and pleasant to the ear ; But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend,*-* Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm. Some I remember, and will ne'er forget. My early friends, friends of my evil day ; Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too; Friends given by God, in mercy and in love. My counsellors, my comforters, and guides; My joy in grief my second grief in joy j Companions of my young desires ; in doubt My oracles ; my wings in high pursuit. Oh, I remember, and will ne'er forget Our meeting-spots, our chosen sacred hours ; Our burning words, that uttered all the soul ; Our faces beaming wfth unearthly love ; Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope Exulting, heart embracing heart entire. As birds of social feather, helping each His fellow's flight, we soared into the skies, And cast the clouds beneath our feet, and earth With all her tardy leaden-footed cares, And talked the epeech, and ate the food of heayen. lir POETRY OF TIJ£ SE^^TIMEI^^S. TO A FRIEND, ON h:s proposing to domesticate with TEZ AUTHOR. BY COLERIDGE. A MOUNT, not wearisome, and bare, and steep. But a green mountain various.y up-piled, Where o'er the jutting rocks soft mosses creep, Oi coloured lichens with slow oozing weep ; Where cypress and the darker yew start wild ; And, 'mid the summer torrent's gentle dash, Dance brightened the red clusters of the ash; Beneath whose boughs,by stillest sounds beguiled, Calm Pensiveness might muse herself to sleep ^ Till, haply started by some fleecy dam, That, rustling on the bushy cliff above. With melancholy bleat of anxious love, Made meek inquiry for her j^andering lamb : Such a green mountain 'twere most sweet to climb. E'en while the bosom ached with loneliness — How heavenly sweet, if some dear friend should bless Th* advent'rous toil, and up the path sublime Now lead, now follow ; the glad landscape roundi Wide and more wide, increasing without bound! O, then 'twere loveliest sympaiky, to mark The berries of the half up-rooted ash FRIENDS Jlir. 213 Dripping and bright ; and list the torrent's dash — Beneath the cypress or ihe yew more dark. Seated at ease, on some srnooih mossy rock ; In social silence now, and now t' unlock The treasured heart ; arm linked in friendly arm^ Save if the one, his muse's witching charm Muttering brow-bent, at unwatched distance lag; Till, high o'er head, his beck'ning friend appears And from the forehead of the topmost crag Shouts eagerly : for haply there uprears That shadowing pine its old romantic limbs, Which latest shall detain th' enamoured sight Seen from below, when eve the valley dims, Tinged yellow with the rich departing light j And haply, basined in some unsunned cleft, A beauteous spring, the rock's collected tears, Sleeps sheltered there, scarce wrinkled by the gale ! Together thus, the world's vain turmoil left. Stretched on the crag, and shadowed by the pine And bending o'er the clear delicious fount, Ah, dearest Charles ! ir were a lot divine To cheat our noons in moralizing mood, While west winds fanned our temples toil-bo- dewed : Then dcwnwards slope, oft pausing, from the mount, To some low mansion m some woody dale, Where, smiling with blue eye, Domestic Bliss Gives this the husbau I's, that tne brother's kiss ! 214 ICEfRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Thus rudely versed in allegoric lore, The hill of knowledge I essayed to trace ; That verdurous hill with many a resting place, And many a stream, whose warbling waters pool To glad and fertilize the subject plains ; That hill with secret springs, and nooks iintrod, And many a fancy -blest and holy sod Where Inspiration, his diviner strains Low murmuring, lay ; and starting frorii the focks Stiff evergreens, whose spread foliage mocks Want's barren soil, and the bleak frosts of age, And mad oppression's thunder-clasping rage ! O meek retiring Spirit! we will climb. Cheering and cheered, this lovely hill sublime ; And from the stirring world uplifted high, (Whose noises faintly wafted on the wind To quiet musings shall attune the mind, And oft the melancholy theme supply,) There, while the prospect through the gazing eve Pours all its healthful greenness on the soul, We'll laugh at wealth, and learn to laugh at fame, Gur hopes, our knowledge, and our joys the same. As neighboring fountains image, each the whole. — 0 Give hiiri all kindness : I had rather have Such men ray friends, than enemies. Shdkefpeate, PR'iENDSHlP. 2i3 LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. BY WILLIAM LEGGETT The birds, whjn winter shades the sky, Fly o'er the seas away, Where laughing isles in sunshine lie, And Fummer breezes play ; And thus the friends that flutter near, While fortune's sun is warm, Are started if a cloud appear, And fly before the storm. But when from winter's howling plains Each other warbler's past. The little snow-bird still remains^ And chirrups midst the blast. Love, like that bird, when friendship's throng With fortune's sun depart, Still lingers with its cheerful song. And nestles on the heart. • Unequal fortune Made him my debtor for some coun(3sie?^ Which bind the good more /irmly. 3!$ POETRY OF 7. IE SENTIMENTS. LIFERS SUNNY SPOTS. BY JOANNA BAILLIE. I WILL collect some rare, some cheerful friends, And we shall spend together glorious hours, That gods might envy. Little time so spent Doth far outvalue all our life beside. This is indeed our life, our waking life, The rest dull breathing sleep. — Thus, it is true, from the sad years of life We sometimes do short hours, yea minutes strikfl^ Keen, blissful, bright, never to be forgotten; Which, through the dreary gloom of time o*ep« past, S^hine like fair sunny spots on a wild waste. But few they are, as few the heaven-fired soula Whose magic power creates them. — « VALUE OF FRIENDSHIP. BY SOUTHERN. Friendship is power and riches all to me ; Friendship's another element of life : Water and fire not of more general use, To the support and comfort of the world. Than friendship to the being of my joy ; I would do everythmg to serve a friend. FKlENDSniP. L'AMITIE EST L'AMOUR SANS hUB AILES. BY BYRON. Why should my anxious breast repine. Because my youth is fled ? Days of deh'ght may still be mine ; Affection is not dead. In tracing back the years of youth, One firm record, one lasting truth Celestial consolation brings ; Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat. Where first my heart responsive beat,™— ** Friendship is Love without his wings!'* Through few, bat deeply chequered years, What moments have been mine ! Now half obscured by clouds of ter.rs, Now bright in rays divine ; Howe'er my future doom be cast, My soul, enraptured with the past, To one idea fondly clings ; Friendship ! that thought is all thine own, Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone— " Friendship is Love without his winsfo!'^ Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave Their branches on the galei 218 POETRY OF THE SENTIMZNTS. Unheeded heaves a simple grave, Which tells the common tale ; Round this unconscious school-boys stray, Till the dull knell of childish play From yonder studious mansion rings ; But here whene'er my footsteps move, My silent tears too plainly prove, "Friendship is Love without his wings Oh Love ! before thy glowing shrine My early vows were paid ; My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thii:^ But these are now decayed ; For thine are pinions like the wind, No trace of thee remains behind, Except, alas ! thy jealous stings. Away, away ! delusive power. Thou shalt not haunt my coming hour Unless, indeed, without thy wings. Seat of my youth ! thy distant spire Recalls each scene of joy ; My bosom glows with former fire, — In mind again a boy. Thy grove of elmes, thy verdant hill, Thy every part delights mo still, — Each flower a double fragrance flings ; Again, as once, in converse gay. Each dear associate seems to say, "Friendship is Love without his wings!" FRIENDSHIP. 219 My Lycus ! \yherefore dost th&u weep? Thy falling tears res'rain ; AfFeciion for a time may sleep, But, oh, *twiil wake again. Think, think, my friend, when next we meet, Our Jong- wished interview, how sweet ! From this my hope of rapture springs ; While youthful hearts .hus fondly swell, Absence, my friend, can only tell, " Friendship is Love without his winp-s! In one, and one alone deceived, Did I my error mourn ? No — from oppressive bonds relieved, I left the wretch to scorn. I turned to those my childhood knew. With feelings warm, with bosoms true. Twined with my heart's according stringss And till those vital chords shall break. For none but these my breast shall wake Friendship, the power deprived of wings 1 Ye few, my soul, my life is yours. My memory and ray hope ; Vour worth a lasting love ensures, Unfettered in its scope ; From smooth deceit and terror sprung With aspect fair and honeyed tongue, Let Adulation wait on kings; 220 POETRY OF liiE SENTIMENTS, With joy elate, by snares beset, We,— we, my friends, can ne'er forget, ** Friendship is Love without his wing^ Fictions and dreams inspire the bard Who rolls the epic song ; Friendship and Truth be my reward^ To me no bays belong ; If laurelled Fame but dwells with lies, Me the enchantress ever flies. Whose heart and not whose fancy sings; Simple and younor, I dare not feign ; Mine be the rude yet heariful strain, " Friendship is Love without his wir^s !" In storms. Time draweth wrinkles in a fair Face, but addeth fresh colours to a fast Friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor mis'ry Nor place, nor destiny, can alter or Diminish. O friendship ! of all things the Most rare, and therefore most rare, because mo« Excellent; whose com forrs in misery Are always sweet, and whose counsels in Prosperity are ever fortunate. Vain love ! that only coming near to ftiendship In name, Mould seem to be the same or better To nature. FRIENDSHIP. 231 A REMINISCENCE OF EATLLY FRIENDSHIP. BY BLAIR. Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul; Swcet'ner of life, an 1 solder of society, I owe thee much. Thou hast deserved from n*3. Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. Oft have I proved the labours of thy love, And the warm efforts of thy gentle heart, Anxious to please. Oh ! when my friend and I. In some thick wood have wandered heedless oil; Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down Upon the sloping cowslip-covered bank. Where the pure hmpid stream has slid along In grateful errors through the underwood Sweet murmuring : metliought the shrill- tongued thrush Mended his song of love ; the sooty blackbird Mellowed his pipe, and softened every note : The eglantine smelled sweeter, and the rose Assumed a dye more deep ; whilst every flower Vied with its fellow plant in luxury Of dress. Oh ! then the longest summer's day Seemed too, too much in haste ! still the full heart Had not imparted half ; 'twas happiness Too exquisite to .ast. Of joys departed, Not to return, how painful the remembrance ! 123 POETRY OF THE S^NTIMEKIS. THE DYING GIAOUB. BY BYRON. In earlier days, and calmer hours, When heart with heart delights to blen^ Where bloom my native valley's bower© I had — Ah ! have I now ? — a friend I To him this ring I charge thee send, Memorial of a youthful vow ; I would remind him of mine end : Though souls absorbed like mine allow Brief thought to distant friendship's claim Yet dear to him my blighted name. 'Tis strange — he prophesied my doom, And I have smiled — I then could sraile-^ When Prudence would his voice assume, And warn — I recked not what— the wWlt And now remembrance whispers o'er Those accents scarcely marked before. Say — that his bodings came to pass, And he will start to hear their truth. And wish his words had not been sooth : Tell him, unheeding as I was. Through many a bitter scene Of all our golden youth had been, In pain, my faltering tongue had tried To bless his memory ere I died ; miENDSHIP. But Heaven in wrath would turn away, If Guilt should for the guiltless pray. I do not ask him not to blame, Too gentle he to wound my name ; And what have I to do with fame ? I do not ask him not to mourn, Such cold request might sound hke scorn} And what than friendship's manly tear' May better grace a brothers ^er ? And bear this ring, his own of old, And tell him — what thou dost behold ! The withered frame, the ruined mind. The wrack by passion left behind, A shrivelled scroll, a scattered leaf. Seared by the Autumn blast of grief! — ^ I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you deny'd me: Was that done Lke Cassius ? Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so t When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. To lock such rascal coi]jTters from his frienda, Be ready, gods, with al, your thunderbolts. Dash him to pieces ! Shakespeart, POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. TO MRS. AGNES BAILLIE. BY JOANNA BAILLIE. Dear Agnes, gleamed with joy and dashed witH tears O'er us have glided almost fifty years, Since we on Bothwell's bonny braes were seen, By those whose eyes long closed in death have been, Two tiny imps, who scarcely stooped to gather The slender hare-bell or the purple heather; No taller than the fox- gloves spiky stem, That dew of morning studs with silvery gem. Then every butterfly that crossed our view With joyful shout was greeted as it flew, And moth and lady-bird and beetle bright In sheeny gold were each a wondrous sight. Then as we paddled barefoot, side by side^ Among the sunny shallows of the Clyde, Minnows or spotted par with twinkling fin, Swimming in mazy rings the pool within, A thrill of gladness througli our bosoms sent, Seen in the power of early wonderment. A long perspective in my mind appears. Looking behind me to that line of yeara. And yet through every stage I still can trace Thv visioned form, from r.hildhood's mornlnir grace FRIENDSHIP. 2^ To woman's early bloom, changing how Boon ! To the expressive glow of woman's noon ; And now to what thou art, in comely age, Active and ardent. Let what will engage Thy present moment, whether hopeful seeds In garden-plat thou sow, or noxious weeda From the fair flower remove, or ancient lore, In chronicle or legend rare explore, Or on the parlour nearth witn kitten play, Stroking its tabby sid-'^s, or take thy way To gain with hasty st jps some cottage door, On helpful errand to the neigbbouring poor Active and ardent — to my fancy's eye Thou still art young in spite of time gone b/' Though oft of patience brief and temper keezj . Well may it please me in Hfe's latter scene, To think what now thou art and long to me been. 'Twas thou who woo'd'st me first to look Upon the page of printed book, That thing by me abhoiT'd, and with address Didst win me from my thoughtless idleness, When all too old become with bootless haste In fitful sports the precious time to waste. Thy love of tale and story was the stroke At which my dormant fancy first awoke. And ghosts and v/itches in my busy brain Arose in sombre show, a motley train. This new-found path attempting, prDiid was It Lurki ig approval on thy face to spy, P S25 i'OET/k CF TKE SENTIMENTS. Or hear thee ss.y, as grew thy roused attention, " What ! is this story all thine own invention '^I'hen as advancing through this mortal span, Our intercourse with the mix'd world began, Thy fairer face and sprightlier courtesy (A truth that from my youthful vanity Lay not concealed) did for the sisters twain, Where'er we went, the greater favour gain ; While, but for thee, vex'd with its tossing tide, I from the busy world had shrunk aside ; And now in later years, with better grace. Thou help'st me still to hold a welcome place With those whom nearer neigbourhood have me.da The friendly cheerers of our evening shade. With thee my humours, whether grave or gay, Or gracious or untoward, have their way. Silent if dull, oh, precious privilege ! I sit by thee ; or, if called from the page Of some huge, ponderous tome which, but thyselli None e'er had taken from its dusty shelf, Thou read me curious passages to speed The winter night, I take but httle heed, And thankless say, " I cannot listen now,'* 'Tis no offence ; albeit much do I owe To these, thy nightly offerings of affection, Drawn from thy ready talent for selection ; For still it seemed in thee a natural gift. The lettered grain from letter'd chaff to sift By daily use and circumstance endear'd. Things are of value now that once appear'd FRIENDSHIP. 227 Of no account, r^nd without notice past. Which o'er dull life a simple cheering cast; To hear thy morning steps the stairs descending. Thy voice with other sounds domestic blending ; After each stated nightly absence met, To see thee by the morning table set, Pouring from smoky spout the amber stream Which sends from saucered cup its fragrant steam : To see thee cheerly on the thr<,'shoId stand, On summer morn, with trowel in thy hand, For garden work prepared ; in winter's gloom, From thy cool noon-day walk to see thee come, in furry garment iapp'd, with spatler'd feet. And by the fire resume thy wonted seat ; Ay, even o'er things like these, soothed age has thrown A sober charm they did not always own. As winter hoar-frost makes minutest spray Of bush or hedge -weed sparkle to the day In magnitude and beauty, which bereaved Of such investment, eye bad ne'er perceived. The change of good and evil to abide. As partners link'd, long have we side by side Our earthly journey held, and who can say How near the end of our appointed way ? By nature's course not distant :— sad and reft Will she remain, — the lonely pilgrim left, if thou art taken first, who can to me Like sister, friend, ant home companion be I 228 Or who, of wonted daily kindness shoru, Shall feel such loss, or mourn as I shall mourn * And if I should be fated first to leave This earthly hous8, though gentle friends msr» grieve, And he above them all, so truly proved A riend and brother, long and justly loved, There is no living wight, of woman born. Who then shall mourn for me as thou wilt moura Thou ardent, liberal spirit ! quickly feeling The touch of sympathy, and kindly dealing With sorrow and distress, for ever sharing The unbearded mite, nor for to-morrow caring Accept, dear Agnes, on thy natal day, An unadorned bu4 not a careless 5ay, Nor think this tribute to thy virtues paid From tardy love prf>ceeds, though long delay'd. Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd. The latest spoken stfll are deem'd the best : Few are the measured rhymes I now may writ® These a.ae, p^^rbaps, the kst I shall indite- « — - The dearest friend to me, the krndest marr. The best condition' d and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies ; and one in whom The anc.eiit Roman honour more appears, Than airy that draws breath in Italy. 229 RECOLLECTIONS OF FRIExN-D SHIPS. MARI^fO '"ALIERO. BY BYRON. A -.L these men were my friends ; I loved them, they Requited honourably my regards ; We served and fought ; we smiled and wept in con* cert ; We revelM or we sorrowM side by side ; We made alliances of blood and marriage ; We grew in years and honours fairly, — till Their own desire, not my ambition, made Them choose me for their prince, and then farewell ! Farewell all social memory i all thoughts In common! and sweet bonds which link old friendships. When the survivors of long years and actions, Which now belong to history, soothe the day3 Which yet remain by treasuring each other, And never meet, but each beholds the'^mirror Of half a century on his brother's brow, And sees a hundred beings, now on earth Flit round them whispering of the days gone by. And seeming not all dead, us long as two Of the brave, joyous, reckless, glorious band, Which once were one and many, still retain h bieatb to sigh for them, a tongue to speak 230 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Of deeds that else were silent, save on mar'/)le— Oime I Oime ! — and must I do this deed ? I blame you not— you act in your vocation ; They smote you, and oppressed you, and despised you; So have they me: but you ne'er spake with them; You never broke their bread, nor shared their sait j You never had their wine-cup at your lips ; You grew not up with them, nor laugh*d, nor wept, Nor held a revel in their company ; Ne'er smiled to see them smile, nor claim' d theiy smile In social interchange with yours, nor trusted Nor wore them in your heart of hearts, as I have 4 These hairs of mine are gray, and so are theirs, 'riie elders of the council : I remember When all our locks were like the raven's wing, As we went forth to take our prey around The isles wrung from the false Mahometan ; And can I see them dabbled o'er with blood f Each slab to them will seem my suicide. — « That friendship's raised on sand, Which every sudden gust of discontent. Or flowing of our passions, can change As if ne'er had been. Massingef^ FRIENDSHIP. 2^1 I GO, SWEET FRIENDS I BY MRS HEMANS. X GO; sweet friends i yet think of me ^Vlien spring's young voice awakes theflowera^' Far we have wander'd far and free In those bright hours, the violet's hours. I go, but when you pause to hear. From distant hills, the sabbath-bell On summer-winds float silvery clear, Think on me then — I loved it well ! Forget me not around your hearth, When cheerly smiles the ruddy blaze, For dear hath been its evening mirth To me, sweet friends, in other days. And oh ! when music's voice is heard To melt in strains of parting woe. When hearts to love and grief are stirr'd. Think of me then I — I go, I go ! e Thou art the man in whom my soul delights, In whom, next Heaven, I trust. MotffSt S32 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Is all the counsel that we two have shared, The sister's vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us — 0, and is all forgot ? All school-day's friendship, childhood innocence f We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion. Both warbling of one song, both in one key; As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted. But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : So^ with two seeming bodies, but one heart. Slidkspeare, As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave r So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away : leave their false vows with him, Like empty* purses pick'd ; and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air. With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty. Walks, like contempt, alone. Shalispeare* Bwoct IS the icent of vernal shower, 'She bee's collected treasures sweety Street tnusic'i melting fall, hut sweeter 1!!^ stiU mall voice of G ititado. A POET'S GRATITUDE. BY SOUTHEY. Once more I see thee, Skiddaw I once agam Behold thee in thy majesty serene, Where, like the bulwark of this favour'd plain Alone thou standest, monarch of the scene— Thou glorious mountain, on whose ample breast The sunbeams love to play, the vapours lo-ve test if the conscious air had caught the sound I'he vengeance of the honest multitude Should fall upon the traitorous head, or brand For life-long infamy the lying lips. Now if a voice be raised in his behalf, *Tis noted for a wonder, and the man Who utters the strange speech shall be admired For such excess of Christian charity. Thy Christian charity hath not been lost Father, I feel its virtue : — it hath been Balm to my heart :— -with words and grateful tears, All that is left me now for gratitude,— I thank thee, and beseech thee in thy prayers That thou wilt still remember Roderick's nam9' 242 POETRy CF THE SENTIMEIITa BUILD UP A COLUMN TO BOLIVAR . BY BARRY CORNWALL. Build up a column to Bolivar ! Build it under a tropic star ! Build it high as his mounting fame ! Crown its head with his noble name ! Let the letters tell, like a light afar, ** This is the column of Bolivar!^* Soldier in war, in peace a man, Did he not all that a hero can ? Wasting his life for his country's care, Laying it down with a patriot prayer, Shedding his blood like the summer rain, Loving the land, though he loved in vaini Man is a creature, good or ill, Little or great, at his own strong will ; And he grew good, and wise, and great, Albeit he fought with a tyrant fate. And shower'd his golden gifts on men. Who paid him in basest wrongs again ! Raise the column to Bolivar ! Firm in peace, and fierce in war ! Shout forth his noble, noble n&me ! Shout till his enemies die, in shame ! Shout till Columbia's woods awaken Like seas by a mighty tempest shak«n^ GRATITUDE. 243 Till pily, and praise, and great disdam» Sound like an Indian hurricane ! Shout, as ye shout in conquering war, While ye build the column to Bolivar! ♦ A MONARCH'S GRATITUDE.— SA R. DANAPALUS. BY BYRON. Stay a moment, my good Salamenes, hly brother, my best subject, better prince Than I am king. You should have been the monarch, And I — I know not what, and care not ; but Think not I am insensible to all Thine honest wisdom, and thy rough, yet kind. Though oft reproving, sufferance of my follies. Sf I have spared these men against thy counsel., That is, their lives — it is not that I doubt The advice was sound ; but let them live : we will not Cavil about their lives — so let them mend them. Their banishment will leave me still souad sleeps Which their death had not left me. S41 POETRY OF THE SENTmEKTS. TO CHARLES LLOYD. AN UNEXPECTED VISITEH BY CHARLES LAMB Alone, obscure, without a friend A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks my Lloyd the stranger out 1 What offering can the stranger bring. Of social scenes, home-bred delights. That him in ought compensate may For Storvey's pleasant winter nights, For loves and friendships far away ? In brief oblivion to forego Friends, such as thine, so justly dear, And be awhile with me content To stay, a kindly loiterer, here For this a gleam of random joy Hath flush'd my unaccustomed cheek | And with an o'ercharged, bursting heart, I feel the thanks I cannot speak. Oh ! sweet are all the Muses' lays, And sweet the charm of matin bird ; 'Twas long since these estranged ears ^ The sweeter voice of friend had heard. The voice hath spoke : the pleasant sounflia In memory's ear in after time Shall live, to sometimes rouse a tear. ir.ATITUDE. And sometimes prompt an honest rhymec For, when the transient charm is fie-d, And when the little week is o'er, To cheerless, friendless, solitude. When I return as heretofore, Long, long, within my aching heart The grateful sense shall cherish' d be ; FU think less meanly of myself. That Lloyd will sometimes think on me. — » €ONRADE'S REFUSAL TO ASSASIN* ATE SEYD. BY BYRON. GuLNARE — Gulnare — I never felt till now My abject fortune, witherM fame so low: Seyd is my enemy : hath swept my band From earth with ruthless but with open hand, And. therefore came I, in my bark of war, To smite the smiter with the scimitar ; Such, is my weapon — not the secret knife ; Who spares a woman's seeks not slumber*s life. Thine saved I gladly, lady, not for this— • Let me not deem that mercy shown amiss. Now fare thee well — more peace be with thf breast ! Night wears apace — my last of earthly rest . 246 POETRY OF THE SEWTIMENm GULNARE AND CONRADE, BY BYRON, She gazed i i wonder, " Can he calmly sleei>^ While other eyes his fall or ravage weep ! And mine in restlessness are wandering here-— What sudden spell hath made this man so dear! True— 'tis to him my life, and more, I owe, And me and mine he spared from worse than woe I 'Tis late to think — but soft — ^his slumber breaks^ How heavily he sighs t — he starts — awakes !" He raised his head — and dazzled with the Itghft, His eye seemed dubious if it saw aright ; He moved his hand — the grating of bis chain Too harshly told him that he lived again. ** What is that form ? if not a shape of air, Methinks my jailor's face shows wondrous fair " Pirate ! thou know'st me not — but I am one, Grateful for deeds thou hast too rarely done ; Look on m« — and remember her, thy hand Snatch' d from the flames, and thy more fearfuJ band. I come through darkness — and I scarce know why- Yet not to hurt — I would not see thee die. Corsair ! thy doom is named — ^b»t I have powev To soothe tlie Pacha in his weaker hour. GEATITCDE 247 Thee I would spsL'e — nay more — would save thee new, But this — time-^hope — nor even thy strength allow ; But all I can, I will : at least, delay The sentence that remits thee scarce a day. More now were ruin — ^ven thyself were loath The vain attempt should bring but doom on both/ — # I find a pious gratitude disperse Within my soul ; and every thought of him Ingenders a warm sigh within me, which. Like curls of holy incense, overtake Each other in my bosom, and enlarge With their embrace his sweet remembrance. Shirley, What can I pay thee for this noble usage. But grateful praise ? so heav'n itself is paid I Howe, When gratitude overflows the swelling heart, And breathes in free and uncorrupted praise For benefits received : propitious heaven Takes such acknowledgment as fragrant incense And doubles all its blessings. Z4B rOETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. AN OLD SERVANT'S GRATITUDE, BY SHAKSPEARE. I HAVE five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I saved under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse. When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown ; Take that : and he that doth the ravens feed Yea, providently caters for the sparrow. Be comfort to my age I here is the gold ; All this I give you : Let me be your servant ; Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors to my blood ; Nor did not with unbashful 'forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities- Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty,— From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many then* fortunes seek, But at fourscore, it is too late a week ; Yet fortune cannot recompense me better. Than to die well, and not my master's debtor* S%iott''s A ssLCied tie — ^the faw of kingB, The ncble mind'i distinguishing perfccimn, That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her. And imitates her actions where a ?.e is not : £k n BOt to tie sported with. HONOUR ITS OWN REWARD BY HEBER. Swell, swell the shrill trumpet, dear sounding afar, Dur sabres flash splendour ardKd, For freedom has summon' d her s<>os to the w^*"^ Nor Britain has shrunk from the sound. Let plunder's vile thirs&he invaders inC^imf', Let slaves for their wages be bold, Shall valour the harvest of avarice claim I Shall Britons be barter'd for gold? No ! fiee be our aid, independent our might Proud honour our guerdon alone ; Unhired be the hand that we raise in the fighv The sword that we brandish our own. Still all that we love to our thoughts sliall succeed^ Their image each labour shall cheer, For them we will conquer — for thern we will bleed Ard our pay be a smil 3 or a tear I 252 POETRY OP THE SENT1M.'ut the taint of blood is every where. 1 saw a peasant sit at his door, When his weekly toil in the fields was o'er; He sat on the bench his grandsires made, He sat in his father's walnut shade. 'Twas the golden hour of an April morn; Lightly the lark sprang from the corn ; The blossoming trees shone purely white, Quiver'd the young leaves in the light. The sabbath bells, with a holy glee, Were rmging o'er woodland, heath, and lea; 'Twas a season whose living inllue4ice ran Through air, tl rough earth, and the heai' of maa S 274 POETRY OF THE SENTlitlEWTS. No feeble joy was that peasant's lot, As his children gamboll'd before his cat, And archly mimick'd the toils and cares Which coming life shall make truly theirs. Bu> their mother, with breakfast call, anon Came forth, and their merry masque was gone • 'Twas a beautiful sight, as, meekly still, They sat in their joy on the cottage sill. The sire look'd on them, — he look'd to the skies ; — I saw how his heart spake in his eyes ; Lightly he rose, and lightly he trod, To pour out his soul in the house of God. And is that the man, thou vaunting knave! Thou hast dared to compare with the weepmg slave ? Away ! find one slave in the world to cope With him, in his heart, his home and hope ! He is not on thy lands of sin and pain — Sear'd, scarrM with the lash, cramp'd with the chain : In thy burning clime where the heart is cold, And man, like the beast, is b:)ught and sold ! He is not in the East, in lis gorgeous halls, Where the servile crow a lefore him falls. LIBERT f. 37$ Till the bow-siring comes, in an hour of wrath, And he vanishes from the tyrant s path. But, O, thou slanderer false and vile ! Dare but to cross that garden-stile ; Dare but to touch that lowly thatch Dare but to force that peasant's latch ; — And thy craven soul shall wildly quake At the thunder-peal the deed shall wake ; For myriad tongues of fire shall sound, As if every stone cried from the ground. The indignant thrill like flame shall spread, Till the isle itself rock 'neath thy tread : And a voice from people, peer, and throne, Ring in thine ears — " Atone ! atone For Freedom here is common guest, In princely* hall, and peasant's nest; The palace is fill'd with her living light, And she watches the hamlet day and night. Then the land for me ! the land for me ' Where every living soul is free ! Where winter may come, where storms may ravc^ But the tyrant dare not bring his slave I t76 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. LIBERTr. BY GEORGE HILL. There is a spirit working in the world, Like to a silent subterranean fire ; yet, ever and anon, some monarch hurl'd Aghast and pale, attests its fearful ire. The dungeon' d nations now once more respiia The keen and stirring air of Liberty. The struggling giant wakes, and feels he's free. By Delphi's fountain-cave, that ancient choir Resume their song ; the Greek astonish' d hears, And the old altar of his worship rears. Sound on, fair sisters ! sound your boldest lyre,*^ Peal your old harmonies as from the spheres. Unto strange gods too long we've bent the knee, The trembling mind, too long and patiently. »— • LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. BY MOORE. From life without freedom, say, who would no', fly I For one day of freedom, oh I who would not die t Hark '—hark I 'tis the trumpet ! the call of the brave, The death-song of tyrants, the dirge of the slai«. LIBERIY. 277 Our country lies breeding — haste, haste to her aid ; One arm that defends is worth hosts that i-nvade. In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains— The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains. On, on to the combat ! the heroes that bleed For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. And oh, even if Freedom from this world be driven. Despair not — at least we shall find her in heaven. . — « LIBERTY TREFERRED BEFORE PATRIOTISM. BY COWPER. Thee I account still happy, and the chief Among the nations, seeing thou art free ; , My native nook of earth ! Thy cHme is rude, Replete with vapours, and disposes much All hearts to sadness, and none more than min« : Thy unadulterate manners are less soft And plausible than social life requires, And thou hast need of discipline and art. To give thee what politer France receives From nature's bounty — that humane address And sweetness, without which no pleasure is In converse, either starved by cold reseive, Or flush' d with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl 278 *OETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Yet being free, I love thee : for the sake Of that one feature, can be well content, Disgraced as thou hast been, poor as thou art, To seek no sublunary rest beside. But, once enslaved, farewell ! I could endure Chains no where patiently ; and chains at home, Where I am free by birthright, not at all. Then what were left of roughness in the grain Of British natures, wanting its excuse That it belongs to freemen, would disgust And shock me. I should then with doubled pain Feel all the rigour of thy fickle clime ; And, if I must bewail the blessing lost, For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bleu, I would at least bewail it under skies Milder, among a people less austere : In scenes, which, having never known me free, Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. _ — ^_ THE FREE. BY ELIZA cook:. The wild streams leap with headlong sweep In their curbless course o'er the mountain steep; All fresh and strong they foam along, Waking the rocks with their cataract song, My eye bears a glance like the beam on a lanoe. LIBERTY. 279 While I watch the waters dash and dance; I burn with glee, for I love to see The path of any thing that's free. The sky-lark springs with dew on his wings, And up in the arch of heaven he sings Trill-la, trill-la — oh, sweeter far Than the notes that come through a golden bar. The joyous bay of a hound at play, The caw of a rook on its homeward way, Oh ! these shall be the music for me. For I love the voices of the free. The deer starts by with his antlers high. Proudly tossing his head to the sky ; The barb runs the plain unbroke by the rein, With steaming nostrils and flying mane ; The clouds are stirr'd by the eaglet bird, As the flap of its swooping pinion is heard, Oh ! these shall be the creatures for me, For my soul was formed to love the free. The mariner brave, in his bark on the wave. May laugh at the walls round a kingly slave; And the one whose lot is the dosert spot Has no dread of an envious foe in his cot. The thrall and state at the palace gate Are what iny spirit has learn' d to hate . Oh ! the hills shall be a home for me, Tcr I'd leive a throne for the hut of the free. 280 rOETRY OF THE SENHMENTS. HIGHLAND LIBERTY DEFENDED BY SCOTT. Saxon, from yonder mountain high, I mark'd tliee send delighted eye, Far to the south and east, where lay, Extended in succession gay, Deep waving fields and pastures green. With gentle slopes and groves between These fwtile plains, that soften' d vale, Were once the birthright of the Gael ; The stranger came with iron hand, And from our fathers reft the land. Where dwell we now ! See, rudely swell Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. Ask we the savage hill we tread. For fatten'd steer or household bread ; Ask we for flocks these shingles dry, And well the mountain might reply,— " To you, as to your sires of yore, Belong the target and claymore ! I give you shelter in my breast, Your own good blades must win the re3t,'*'«» Pent in this fortress of the North, Think'st thou we will not sally forth, To spoil the spoiler as we may. And from the robber rend the prey ! Ay, by my soul ! while on yon plaia The Saxon rears one shock of grain; While, of ten thousand herds, there strays But one along yon river's maze, — The Gael, of plain and river heir. Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share. 4 'Tis vain — my tongue cann.>t impart My almost drunkenness of heart. When first this liberated eye Surveyed earth, ocean, sun and sky, As if my spirit pierced them through. And all their inmost wonders knewt One word alone can point to thee That more than feeling — I was free ! E'en for thy presence ceased to pine : The world — nay — heaven itself was mine I Byron* * There is a world where souls are free, Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss If death that world's bright opening be, O wKd would live a slave in this ! Moore* 282 POKTRY OF THE SESTIMENTS. LIBERTY. BY MOIR, I marVd her childhood on the breezy hill, Her bright locks floating to the morning sky j Joyous she laugh' d as the wild winds sped by. The vision changed. As angel, calm and still She sat, God's book before her, 'Tis his will." She said, and rose, His armour I should try ;* And forth she fared. Where'er she went her eye Kindled desire high duties to fulfil. The vision changed. 'Mid battle's slaughter'd' ranks She raised awhile the bleeding warrior's head. The foeman struck again. ** I give thee thanks," She cried ; Thy victim's with the glorious dead, The body's worti:r*^«5s if the soul be free."— * Who art thou ncrj. She answered, "Liberty.*^ — • Leave pomps to those who need ''em — Adorn but man with freedom. And proud he braves The gaudiest slaves, That crawl, where monarchs lead em. Moore^ MERCY. 4"5»8 rjuality of Mercy n not sfraincd , £J droppeth as the gentle rain from heavflO Cpon this place beneath ; it is twice blessed It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes Tis mightiest in the mightiest j — It becomei The throned monarch better than his crown: Bis sceptre shows the force of temporal powapj The ittribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear o*" kings S But Mercy is above this sceptered sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, U i* an attribute of God himself (233) ODE TO MERCy. STROPHE. BY COLLINS. O Thdu! who sittest a smiling bride By Valour's arm'd and awful side, (^entlest of sky-born forms, and best adored: Who oft, with songs, divine to hear, Wean'st from his fatal grasp the spear, i^ind hidest in wreaths of flowers his bloodless sword ! Thou who, amidst the deathful field, By god-like chiefs alone beheld, Oft with thy bosom bare art found. Pleading for him, the youth who sinks to ground: See, Mercy, see ! with pure and loaded hands, Before thy shrine my country's Genius stands. And decks thy altar still though pierced with manj a wound ! ANTISTROPHE. When he whom e'en our joys provoke The fiend of Nature, join'd his yoke, .285) 286 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. And rush'd in wrath to make our isle his preyi Thy form, from out thy sweet abode, O'ertook him on his blasted road, And stopp'd his wheels, and look'd Ms rage away I see recoil his sable steeds, That bore him swift to savage deeds, Thy tender melting eyes they own ; O maid ! for all thy love to Britain shown, Where Justice bars her iron tower, To thee we build a roseate bower. Thou, thou shalt rule our queen, and share out monarch's throne. HENRY VI. ON HIS LENITY. BY SHAKSPEARE. My meed hath got tne fame, I have not stopp'd my ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ; My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds. My mildness hath allay' d their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water- flowing tears: I have not been desirous of their wealth. Nor much oppress' d them with great subsidies, Nor forward to revenge, 'though they much errr POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. 287 KINGLY CLEMENCY. tV BYRON. PlsAse yoli to hear me, Satraps I A-nd chiefly thou, my priest, because I doubt thoe More than the soldier, and would doubt thee all Wert thou not half a warrior : let us part In peace — I'll not say pardon — which must be Earn'd by the guilty : this I'll not pronounce ye, Although upon this breath of mine depends Your own ; and, deadlier for ye, on my fear. But fear not — for that I am soft, and fearful— And so Hve or., Were I the thing some think me Your heads would novy be dripping the last drops Of their attainted gore from the high gates Of this our palace, into the dry dust, Their only portion of the coveted kingdom They would be crown'd to reign o'er — let that pass-. As I have said, I will not deem ye guilty, Nor doom ye guiltless. Albeit better men Than ye or I stand ready to arraign you : And should I leave your fate to sterner judges, And proofs of all kinds, I might sacrifice 1 wo men, who, whatsoe'er they now are, were Once honest. Ye are free, sirs. Your swords and persons are at liberty To use them as ye will — but frcm this hour I have no call for either. 2S8 MERCY. TITUS' ADDRESS TO THE JEWS. BY MILMAN. Men of Jerusalem ! whose hardy zeal And valiant patience in a cause less desperate Might force the foe to reverence and admire ; To you thus speaks again the Queen of Earth, All-conqu'ring Rome ! whose kingdom is where'ej' The sunshine beams on Uving men ; beneath The shadow of whose throne the world reposes, And glories in being subjected to her, Even as 'tis subject to the immortal gods — To you, whose mad and mutinous revolt Hath harrovv'd all your rich and pleasant land With fiery rapine ; sunk your lofty cities To desolate heaps of monumental ashes ; Yet with that patience, which becomes the mighty, The endurance of the lion, that disdains The foe whose conquest brings no glory with it, Rome doth command you to lay down your arms. And bow the high front of your proud rebellion. Even to the common level of obedience That holds the rest of human kind. So doing, Ye cancel all the dark and guilty past: Silent Oblivion waits to wipe away The record of your madness and your crimes; And in the stead of bloody Vengeance, claiming Her penal due of torture, chains anol death, Comes reconcihng Mercy. 289 HUBERT AND ARTHUR. By SHAKSPEARE. Huhert. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy which lies dead : Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [Aside. Arthur. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale to-day : In sooth, I would you were a little sick : That I might sit all night, and watch with you : I warrant, I love you more than you do me. Huh. His words do take possession of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur {Showing a paper) How now, foolish rheum ! Turning dispiteous torture out of door ! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears* Arth. — Only you do lack That mercy which fire, and iron, extends, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. Hub. Well, see to live ; I will not touch thiisa eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owes : Yet I am sworn and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. Arlk. O, now you look like Hubert! aa this while YoM. were disguised. T 1^90 POETRY OP TR £ SENTIMENTS. Hub, Peace : no more. Adieu : Your uncle must not know but you arc dead : I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, That Hubert, for the wealth oi all the world, Will not offend thee. — CLEMENCY SUPERIOR TO REVENGE, BY SHAKSPEARE. Frospero. Sat, my spirit. How fares the king and his followers ? Ariel. Confined together In the same fashion as you gave in charge ; Just as you left them, sir ; all prisoners In the lime-grove iwhich weather-fends your cell They cannot budge, till your release. The kmg, His brothef, and yours, abide all three distracted ; And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow, and dismay ; but chiefly Him you termM> sir, "The good old lord, Gonzalo ;'* His tears run down his beard, like winter drops From eayes of reeds your charm so strongly works them 291 That if you now beheld them, yjur affections Would become tender^ Frosp. Dost thou think so, spirit ? Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human, Frosp. And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions ? and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art f Though with their high wrongs I am struck to tha quick, Yet, with my nobler reason, *gainst my fury, Do I take part ; the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being peniten*, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ; My eharms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves. Spider ! thou need'st not run in fear about To shun my curious eyes : I won't humanely crush thy bowels out— Lest thou should' St eat the flies ; KoT will I roast thee with a damn'd delight Thy Strange instinctive fortitude to see, For there is one who might One day roasf me. Soutkef,^ 892 POETRY OP THE SENTIKEUm A SOLPIER'S PARDOK. BY JOANNA BAILLIE. Basil. I KNOW thee well, I know thou feareil not death ; On scaffold or in field, with dauntless breast, Thou wilt engage him : and if thy proud soul, In sullen obstinacy scorns all grace, E'en be it so. But if with manly gratitude. Thou truly canst receive a brave man's pardon, Thou hast it freely. Frederick. It must not be. I've been thin® enemy — I've been unjust to thee-- Bas, I know thou hast ; But thou art brave, and I forgive thee all. ' JF'rec?. My lord ! my general! O, I cannot speak ! I cannot live and be the wretch I am ? Bas, But thou canst live and be ah honest man, From error tiirn'd, — canst live and be my friend. Raising Fred, from the ground. Forbear, forbear ! see where our friends advancea They must not think thee suing for a pardoa ; I'hat would disgrace us both. FATRIGTOM S£a.TS, through all siges of revolving nme. Unchanging man, in every varying clime, Deems his own land of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside , 3Eia home the spot of earth supremely blest— ^ 'imvw^ syreeter coot than all the rest. JjJalnotism- PATRIOTISM AND FREEDOM. BY JOANNA BAILLIE Insensible to high heroic deeds, Is there a spirit clothed in mortal weeds, Who at the patriot's moving storv, Devoted to his country's good. Devoted to his country's glory, Shedding for freemen's rights his geneious blood-< Listenethnot with deep heaved, high, Quivering nerve, and glistening eye. Feeling within a spark of heavenly flame, That with the hero's wortli may humble kindred claim ? If such there be, still let him plod On the dull foggy pajjis of care, Nor raise his eyes from the dank sod To view creation fair : What boots to him the wondrous works of Ood ? His soul with brutal things hath ta'en its earthljr lair. (295) 296 rOETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Oh ! who so base as not to feel The pride of freedom once enjoy'd. Though hostile gold or hostile steel Have long that bliss destroy'd ? The meanest drudge will sometimes vaunt Of independent aires who bore Names known to fame in days of yore, Spite of the smiling stranger's taunt ; But recent freedom lost — what heart Can bear the humbling thought — the quickening mad'ning smart ? « — TO ENGLAND. BY COWPER. England, with all thy faults, I love thee still— My country ! and, while yet a nook is left, Where EngUsh minds and manners may be found. Shall be constrain' d to love thee. Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed With dripping rains, or wilher'd by a frost, T would not exchange thy sullen skies, And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines : nor for Ausonia's groves Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers. PATRIOTISM. 297 HOFER* BY H. T. TUCKERMAIT, I WILL not kneel to yield my life i Behold me firmly stand, As oft I've stood in deadly strife For my dear father-land ; The cause for which I long have bleda I cherish to the last, — God's blessing be upon it shed When my vain life is past ! On Nature's rarnparts I was born, And o'er them walk'd elate, My retinue the hues of dawn. The mists my robe of state ; I will not shame my mountain -birh, Slaves only crouch to die, Erect I'll take my leave of earth. With clear and dauntless eye. » " At the place of execution he said « he stood before Him who craatej toim ; and standing he would yield up his spirit to Him.' A coin which had been issued during his administration, he delivered to the corporal, with the charge to bear witness, that in his last hour, he felt himself bound by evexy lie of cxjnstancy to his poor father-land. Then he t *ied ' fir* t"» €98 POETRy OF THE SENTIMENTS. Thoughts of the eagle's lofty home, Of stars that ever shine, The torrent's crested arch of foam, The darkly waving pine, The dizzy crag, eternal snow, Echoes that wildly roll — With valor make my bosom glow, And wing my parting soul. This coin will make my country's teanSj Fresh cast in Freedom's mould, *Tis dearer to my brave compeers Than all your despot's gold ; O, let it bear the last farewell Of one free mountaineer. And bid the Tyrol peasants swell Their songs of martial cheer I I've met ye on a fairer field. And seen ye tamely bow, Think not with suppliant knee I'll yield To craven vengeance now ; Cut short my few and toilsome days, Set loose a tyrant's thrai!, ri' die with unaverted gaze. And conquer as I fail. FATKIOTISM; % THE GREEN HILLS OF MY FATHUR- LAND. BY LAURA M. THURSTON. The green hills of my father-land In dreams still greet my view ; see once more the wave-girt strand, The ocean-depth of blue : The sky, the glorious sky, outspread Above their calm repose : The river, o'er its rocky bed Still singing as it flows ; The stillness of the Sabbath hours, When men go up to pray ; The sun-light resting on the flowers, The birds that sing among the bowers, Through all the summer-day. Land of my birth ! mine early love ! Once more thine airs I breathe I I see thy proud hills tower above, Thy green vales sleep beneath ; Thy groves, thy rocks, thy murmuring lUhk All rise before mine eyes, The dawn of morning on thy hills. Thy gorgeous sunset skies. POETRY I F THE SENTIMENTS. Thy forests, from whose deep recess A thousand stKeams have birth Gladdening the lonely wilderness, And filling the green silentness With melody and mirth. I wonder if my home would seem As lonely as of yore I wonder if the mountain stream Goes singing by the door ! And if the flowers still bloom as fair, And if the woodbines climb, As when I used to train them there. In the dear olden time ! I wonder if the birds still sing Upon the garden tree, As sweetly as in that sweet spring Whose golden memories gently bring? So many dreams to me ! I know that there hath been a change, A change o'er hall and hearth ! Faces and footsteps new and strange, About my place of birth ! The heavens above are still as bright As in the days gone by. But vanished is the beacon light That cheer'd my morning sky ! And hill, and vale, and wooded glen, And rock and murmuring stream, PATKIOTISSff. That wore such glorious beauty then, Would seem, should I return again, The record of a dream ! I mourn not for my childhood's hours, Since, in the far-off west, 'Neath sunnier skies, in greener bowery My heart hath found its rest. I mourn not for the hills and streams That chain'd my steps so long. Yet still I see them in my dreams, And hail them in my song ; And often by the hearth-fire's blaze, When winter eves shall come, We'll sit and talk of other days, And sing the well-remember'd lays Of my green-mountain home. — ~# Give m.e the death of those Who for their country die ; And O be mine like thsir repose, When cold and low they lie I Their loveliest mother earth Enshrines the fallen brave ; In her sweet lap who gave them birth. They find their tranquil grave. Montgomery $02 PCETRT OF THE SENTIMENTS, DOUGLAS TO THE POPULACE OP STIRLING. BY SCOTT. Hear, gentle friends ! ere yet, for me, Ye break the bands of fealty. My life, my honour, and my cause, I tender free to Scotland's laws. Are these so weak as must require The aid of your misguided ire ? Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of public w^eal so low, That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those cords of love I should unbind. Which knit my country and my kind ? Oh no ! believe, in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour. To know those spears our foes should dread, For me in kindred gore are red ; To know, in fruitless brawl begun. For me, that mother wsdls hei son ; For me that widow's mate expires. For me, that orphans weep their sires. That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause. O let your patience ward such ill. And keep your right to love me still. lATSIOTISM. 903 OUR COUNTRir* BY W. G. PABODIE. Our country !■— 'tis a glorious land ! With broad arms stretch' d from shor-e to i^horey The proud Pacific chafes her strand, She hears the dark Atlantic roar j And, nurtured on her ample breast, How many a goodly prospect lies In Nature's wildest grandeur drest, Enamell'd with her loveliest dyes. Rich prairies, deck'd with flowers of gold^ Like sunht oceans roll afar ; Broad lakes her azure heavens behold. Reflecting clear each trembhng star, And mighty rivers, mountain-born. Go sweeping onward dark and deep, Through forests where the bounding fawn Beneath their sheltering branches leap. And, cradled mid her clustering hills. Sweet vales in dreamlike beauty hide, Where love the air with music fills ; And calm content and peace abide ; 304 POETRY OP THE SENTIMENTS. For plenty here her fulness pours In rich profusion o'er the land, And sent to seize her generous stores, There prowls no tyrant's hireling band. Great God ! we thank thee for this home— This bounteous birthland of the free ; Where wanderers from afar may come, And breathe the air of liberty ! — Still may her flowers untrampled spring. Her harvests wave, lier cities rise ; And yet, till Time shall fold his wing, Remain Earth's loveHest paradise ! — A YOUNG PATRIOT BY SOUTHET. "How then," exclaim'd the boy, "shall I dis- charge The burthen of this happiness, — ^how ease My overflowing soul ! — Oh, gracious God, Shall I behold my mother's face again,— My father's hall,— my native hills and vales, And hear the voices of their streams again,— And free as I was born amid those scenes Beloved, maintain my country's freedom there,--' Or failing in a sacred enterprise. Die as becomes a Spaniard t" ^ATKIOTISM NEW ENGLAND. BY J. G. WHITTIER. LiUD of thtj forest and the rock — Of dark blue lake and mighty river — Of mountains rear'd aloft to mock The storm's career, the lightning's shock— My own green land for ever ! Ijand of the beautiful and brave — The freeman's home — the martyr's grave— 1?he nursery of giant men, Whose deeds have hnk'd with every glen, And every hill, and every stream, The romance of some warrior-dream ! Oh ! never may a son of thine, Where'er his wandering steps incline, Forget the sky which bent above His childhood like a dream of love — The stream beneath the green hill flowing— The broad-arm'd trees above it growing- — The clear breeze through the foliage blowing / Or hear, unmoved, the taunt of scorn Breathed o'er the brave New England born; Or mark the stranger's jaguar band Disturb the ashes of thy dead— The buried glory of a land Whose soil with noble blood is red, U 806 POETRY OP THE SENTIMENTS, And sanctified in every part, — Nor feel resentment, like a brand. Unsheathing from his fiery heart ! Oh ! greener hills may catch the sun Beneath the glorious heaven of France; And streams rejoicing as they run, Like life beneath the day-beam's glance^ May wander where the orange-bough With golden fruit is bending low: And there may bend a brighter sky O'er green and classic Italy— And pillar'd fane and ancient grave Bear record of another lime, And over shaft and architrave The green luxuriant ivy climb ; And far toward the rising sun The palm may shake its leaves on high, Where flowers are opening, one by ono. Like stars upon the twilight sky, And breezes soft as sighs of love Above the broad banana stray, And through the Brahmin's sacred grove A thousand bright-hued pinions play ! Yet unto thee, New England, still Thy wandering sons shall stretch their arnifl: And thy rude chart of rock and hill Seem dearer ihan the land of palms ; Thy massy oak and mountain pine More welcome than the banyan's shade ; TtATRIOllSM. And every free, blue stream of thine Seem richer than the golden bed Of oriental waves, which glow And sparklo with the wealth below ! — t — . THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND, BY SCOTT. Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn*d. As home his footsteps he hath turn'd. From wandering on a foreign strand ! If such there breathe, go, mark him well . For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he spriinjf, Unwept, urihonour'd, and unsung. O Caledonia ! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child * «^ POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Land of brown heath and shaggy wood. Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires I what mortal hand Can e'er unt4e the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand ? Still, as I view each well-known scene, Think what is now, and what hath been. Seems as, to me, of all bereft. Sole friends thy woods and streams^ were lefl , And thus I love them better stii^, Even in extremity of ill. By Yarrow's stream still let me stray,. Though none should guide my feeble way ' Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break, Although it chill my withered cheek ; Still lay my head by Teviot Stone, Though there, forgotten and alone. The Bard may draw his parting groan. « No common '^joject to your sight displays, But what with pleasure heaven itself surveys, A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little senate laws. What bosom beats not in his country's cause I Who sees him act, but envies every deed ? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed ? Pops* OTFKRSTmOM. fiesft-diillfrg Soperstition ! thou canst gtaze titj'i eye with her own froeea tear; Superstition. ODE TO SUPERSTITION. BY ROGERS. I. 1. Hence, to the realms of Nighr, dire Demon, hence I Thy chain of adamant can bind That little world, the human mind. And sink its noblest powers to impotence. Wake the lion's loudest roar, Clot his shaggy mane with gore, With flashing fury bid his eye-balls shme ; Meek is his savage sullen soul to thine ! Thy touch, thy deadening touch has steel'd the breast, Whence through her April-shower, soft Pity smiled ; Has closed the heart each godlike virtue blessM, To all the silent pleadings of his child. At thy command he plants the dagger deep, At thy command exults, though Nature bids him weep ! (311) 312 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. I. 3. When, with a frown that froze the peopled ear^ki Thou dartedst thy huge head from high. Night waved her banners o'er the sky, And, brooding, gave her shapeless, shadows birth. Rocking on the billowy air, Ha ! what withering phantoms glare As blows the blast with many a sudden swell, At each dead pause what shrill-toned voices yell, The sheeted spectre, rising from the tomb. Points to the murderer's slab, and shudders by ; In every grove is felt a heavier gloom, ^ That veils its genius from the vulgar eye : The spirit of the waters rides the storm. And, thro' the mist, reveals the terrors of his form I. 3. O'er solid seas, where Winter reigns. And holds each mountain-wave in chains^ The fur-clad savage, ere he guides his dee** By glistering star-light through the snC k Breathes softly in her wondering ear Each potent spell thou bad'st him kwiZ,^ By thee inspired, on India's sands, Full in the sun the Brahmin stands; And, while the panting tigress hies To quench her fever in the ctream, His spirit laughs in agonies, Smit by the scorching of the ncci^tide feS:^^ Mark who ;nount3 the sacred pyr©, SUrEHSTITIuN. SiS Blooming in her bridal vest : She hurls the torch ! she fans the fire ! To die is to be blest : She clasps her lord to part no more, And, sighing, sinks ! but sinks to soar. O'ershadowing Scotia's desert coast, The Sisters sail in dusky state, And, wrapt in clouds, in tempest tost, Weave the airy web of Fate ; While the lone shepherd, near the shipless main, Sees o'er her hills advance the long- drawn funeral train. II. 1. Thou spakest, and lo ! a new creation glowM. Each unknown mass of living stone Was clad in horrors not its own. And at its base the trembling nations bow'd. Giant Error, darkly grand, Grasp'd the globe with iron hand. Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height. The statue, waking with immortal powers, Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the spheres ; The indignant pyramid sublimely towers, And braves the efforts of a host of years. Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind; And bright- eyed Paintmg stamps the image of tha miad S14 *OETRY OF THE SENTIMENT*, II. 2. Round the rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rifi$ ] A timbrel'd anthem swells the gale, And bids the God of Thunders hail ; With lowings loud the captive God replies. Clouds of incense woo thy smile, Scaly monarch of the Nile ! But ah ! what myriads claim the bended knee ! Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea. Proud land ! what eye can trace thy mystic lore Lock'd up in characters as dark as night ? What eye those long, long labyrinths dare explore, To which the parted soul oft wings her flight ; Again to visit her cold cell of clay, Charm'd with perennial sweets, and smiling af decay ? II. 3. On yon hoar summit, mildly bright With purple ether's liquid light, High o'er the world, the white-robed Magi gaze On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire ; Start at each blue, portentous blaze, Each flame that flits with adverse spire. But say, what sounds my ear invade From Delphi's venerable shade? The temple rocks, the laurel waves ! «* The God ! the God !" the Sibyl cries. Her figure swells ! she foams, she raves ! Her figure swells to more thnn mortal size . SUFEKSTITIOjy. 811 Streams of rapture roll along, Silver notes ascend the skies : Wake, Echo, wake and catch the song, O , catch it, ere it dies ! The Sibyl speaks, the dream is o'er ; The holy harpings charm no more. in. vain she checks the God's control ; His madding spirit fills her frame, And moulds the features of her soul, Breathing a prophetic flame. The cavern frowns ; its hundred mouths unclose I And, in the thunder's voice, the fate of empire flows ! III. 1. Mona, thy Druid-rites awake the dead ! Rites thy brown oaks would never dare Even whisper to the idle air ; Rites that have chain' d old Ocean on his bed. Shiver'd by thy piercing glance, Pointless falls the hero's lance. Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly, And blasts the laureate wreath of victory. Hark, the bard's soul inspires the vocal string! At every pause dread Silence hovers o'er : While murky Night sails round on raven- wing, Deepening the tempest's howl, the torrent's roar ; Chased by the morn from Snowdon's awful brow, si 6 POETRY OF THE SENTIMENTS. Where late she sate and scowl'd on the black wave below. III. 2. Lo, steei-clad War his gorgeous standard rears I The red-cross squadrons madly rage, And move through infancy and age ; Then kiss the sacred dust and melt in tears. Veiling from the eye of day, Penance dreams her life away ; In cloisterM solitude she sits and sighs, While from each shrine still, small responses rise. Hear with what heart-felt beat the midnight bell Swings its long summons thro' the hollow pile ! The weak, wan votarist leaves her twilight cell, To walk with taper dim, the winding aisle ; With choral chantings vainly to aspire Beyond this nether sphere, on Rapture's wing of fire. III. 3. Lord of each pang the nerves can feel. Hence with the rack and reeking wheel. Faith lifts the soul above this little ball I While gleams of glory open round. And circling choirs of angels call, Canst thou, with all thy terrors crown'd, Hope to obscure that latent spark, Destined to shine when suns are dark I Thy triumphs csise ! throagh every Iand« SUPERSTITION. 317 Hark! Truth proclaims, thy triumphs cease S Her heavenly form, with glowing hand, Benignly points to piety and peace. Flush'd with youth, her looks imparl Each fine feeling as it flows ; Her voice the echo of a heart Pure as the mountain-snows : Celestial transports round her play. And softly, sweetly die away. She smiles ! and where is now the cloud That blacken'd o'er thy baleful reign Grim darkness furls his leaden shroud, Shrinking from her glance in vain. Her touch unlocks the day-spring from above, A.nd lo ! it visits man with beams of light and love. — ^ — BERTHA'S BELIEF IN THE POWERS OF DARKNESS. Br MRS. MACLEAN. The wind is rising, and a yellow haze, Like a volcano's smoke, makes heaven less darkr To be more fearful. I can now discern Our ancient avenue of cedar trees, — How black they look, and wiih what heavy strength SIS POETRY OF THE SENTMJfiiCTS. The giant branches move ! — the weary air Like a deep breath comes from them. — Ah, how dark ! It is the first cloud that has touch'd the n;ioon : Her loveliness has conquer' d, — oh, not yetl-— One huge cloud, and another. I could deem The evil powers did war on high to night. ' And are there such that o'er humanity Hold influence, — the terrible, the wild, - Inscrutable as fear, — the ministers To our unholy passions ! These are they Who dazzle with unrighteous wealth, and make Our sleep temptation ; they whp fill its dreams With passionate strife and guilt, until the mind Is grown familiar with the sight of blood. I do believe in them : — by those strange crimes Man's natural heart would shrink from,--by the fear That comes with midnight, — by that awful face, Which, though they say it was a fantasy, i lr\K>w I saw, — I do believe in them. SOPERSTmON. 319 BRIAN^S PROPHECY, BY SCOTT. Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, For man endow' d with mortal life, Whose shroud of sentient clay can still Feel feverish pang and fainting chill, Whose eye can stare in stony trance, Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lanc^^ •Tis hard for such to view, unfurl'd, The curtain of the future world. Yet, witness every quaking limb, My sunken pulse, mine eye-balls dim, My soul with harrowing anguish torn, This for my cliieftain have I borne ! — The shapes that sought my fearful couchp A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; No mortal man, save he, who, brea Between the living and the dead, Is gifted beyond nature's law. Had e'er survived to say he saw. At length the fateful answer came, In characters of living flame ! Not spoke in word, nor blazed in soroil, But borne and branded on my soul ; Which spills the foremost foeman's life. That parts' conquers in the stlife. 920 POETRY or THE SENTIMENTS. MIDNIGHT IMAGININGS. BY JOANNA EAILLIE. It wears, methinks, upon the midnight hour. It is a dark and fearful night : the moon Is wrapp'd in sable clouds : the chill blast soundi Like dismal lamentations. Ay, who knows What voices mix with the dark midnight winds ! Nay, as I pass'd that yawning cavern's mouth, A whispering sound, unearthly, reach' d my ear, And o'er my head a chilly coldness crept. Are there not wicked fiends and damned sprites, Whom yawning charnels, and th' unfathomM depths Of secret darkness, at this fearful hour, Do upwards send, to watch, unseen, around The murderer's death-bed, at his fatal term, Ready to hail with dire and horrid welcome. Their future mate ? — I do believe there are.