\ POEMS BY Now at last she hears The chantings of the myriad morning stars, Of which she caught the echoes, though so far Not faintly, here." LONDON : 1874. LONDON MITCHELL AND HUGHES, PRINTERS, WARDOUR STREET, W. Ul 3/11^ INTRODUCTION. The following Poems, not written for piiblieation, are printed for those friends, to whom it is hoped thev w^ill be welcome, as reflecting so much of the mind and heart of the Authoress. Had she herself revised her writings, much would no doubt have been improved ; but it was felt that others should only repair mistakes or omissions caused by haste. A few^ verbal emendations have therefore been made. With regard to the selection, it is felt that several of the Poems printed cannot rank among the best of the w riter's compositions ; but there are reasons which have rendered their insertion desirable. It is hoped that at least none of the best have been omitted. vi Introduction. It is expected that by the children of the writer especially, these dear Memorials will be greatly valued in future years ; they will ever witness to their mother^s faith in the grand truth that GOD was in CHRIST, reconciling the world unto Himself/^* Had it not been for her great desire in an interval of ease during her last illness, to read to those who were with her, her Hymn on our Lord^s words in Matt, xxviii. 20, Lo ! I am with you alway, even unto the end,^^ the idea of printing her Poems might never have been suggested. CONTENTS. PAGE On a Portrait ......... i Autumn Leaves . . . . . . . . .3 A New Year's Song 5 Prayer during Battle ....... 7 The Country Church ........ 9 To E. F 12 The Spray and the Cloud ....... 16 The Song of Spring ........ 19 The Time to Woo" . . . . . . . .21 The Yarmouth Car i 24 To H. S. S . . .26 The Princess's Bridal 28 On the Death of Havelock •••••• 33 "The Mourner" 35 A Farewell .......... 36 The Neighbour Windmills ....... 38 The Excursion ......... 40 "In Memoriam Malvern" ....... 44 The Song of the Heiuunc; Fishers . . . . '47 Elegiac .......... 49 viii Contents. PAGE A Christmas Carol ........ 50 To A Friend ......... 55 To ANOTHER FrIEND ........ 58 To A Young Lady . . . . . . . • .S9 To H. T 63 *M wonder what I shall do To-morrow" . . .68 To a Young Friend . . . . . . . .7,^ German Harvest Hymn ....... 77 Matt, xxviii. 20 ......... 78 To A Nightingale ........ 81 To Uncle H. T. on his purchase of "Oakleigh" . . 85 A Bridal Reveillee ........ 88 Sir Isambeau. His Bet and what came of it . . .90 POEMS BY C. M. B. (g)n a portrait. Oh ! darling art, that thus canst tune the chords Of loosened memory ! Well hast thou done Thy sacred task. The paper which so late Like lonely fireside shewed a hopeless blank, Now smileth with the face of a dear friend. 'Tis true we may not fold her in our arms, We cannot feel her breath upon our cheek 3 All that is past — gone by 3 we hold but here The embodied memory of her we love. Love ! sayest thou ? Oh, then, she is not dead, But absent on a long and weary voyage j She will return." Not so, we go to her. Each of us sleeping in our bed at night. Or waking, turning each a separate way, Swiftly or slowly bend our steps to her. ''Then is she dead ?" B 2 On a Portrait. Yea ! dead indeed is she To pain, to sorrow, and to ev'ry ill That we the living feel. Dead as the seed Which waiteth but the quickening breath of Spring To live in beauty, gloriously clad. Thus if a sigh escape us, as we gaze Upon the reflex of her earthly form. It is not that we mourn her present fate. Her sleep so long, so calm ; nay, if we weep. We weep her sufferings, while she stayed here Waiting her summons home. There is a Book Which tells us God appointeth all things well ; Now we believe ; but when our lost we meet, We then shall know our Father's tender care. ( 3 ) Down they come, every one. Falling, falling, fallings In country or town, red, yellow, or brown. They come at the wild wind's calling. The chestnut bright, in gold all dight. Sighing, sighing, sighing 3 At the first loud wail of October's gale, Down fluttering, dying, dying. The lion oak, affects to joke. Smiling, smiling, smiling ; Will he laugh again, when he sees the rain His kingly garb defiling ? The lady tree, though mournfully Bending, bending, bending 3 Yields with gentle grace, and pale patient face. Zephyr's return attending. Autumn Leaves, Down, down we come. Each earth-born son, Quaking, quaking, quaking Be we rich, low, high, in the dust we lie Have we faith in the Spirit's waking ? Octoher, 1856. ( 5 ) ^ ^eto gear's Mong. RiNG^ ring, ye joy-inspiring bells, A son to Time is born ; Raise your voices high, in the starlit sky. And hail the New Year's morn. Cease now, ye joyous sounding bells, A deeper tone strikes One ! On the past I'd think, lest I false hopes drink. From song so sweetly sung. Solemnly now, in the stillness of night. Slowly a dismal train 3 Last Year's sins, withered hopes, a sickening sight Pass, and repass again. Mournfully following, phantoms appear. Gazing on me they come 3 Those know I (they pass, each dropping a tear) Deeds which I should have done. 6 A New Years Song. " Spectres reproachful, go, lie in your graves." " Dig us those graves," they cry 5 " Repent, and have faith in the Power that saves. Willingly then we'll hie." Lord ! I acknowledge Thy goodness in all — Blasted hope, punished sin 5 Pardon that sin, give rae faith above all The New Year to begin. Ring again, ring, heart-gladdening bells. Joyfully sound afar ; Hope will I ever, despair will I never. Risen is now my Day Star. January, 1857. ( 7 ) Eraser Uurtng Rattle. Father ! I cry to Thee ! Around me the smoke of the cannon doth roll. The light' ning of battle appalleth my soul. Guider of battles ! I cry to Thee ! Father ! oh guide Thou me ! Father ! oh guide Thou me ! Guide me in battle. Lord, guide me in death 3 Thy goodness immense I'll sing with my last breath. E'en as Thou wilt, O Lord ! guide Thou me, God ! I acknowledge Thee. God ! I acknowledge Thee. As scatters the autumn wind leaves on the ground. So strews battle's thunder the dead all around. Fountain of Love, I acknowledge Thee I Father mine, watch o'er me. Father mine, watch o'er me ; The life Thou hast given I trust in Thine hand ; Thine is it to will that I fall. Lord, or stand. In life or in death, then, oh ! watch o'er me. Father mine, praise I Thee. 8 Prayer during Battle. Father mine, praise I Thee 3 For earth's fleeting treasures this is no vain fight, The highest protection we claim as our right. Then conquer' d, or conquering, praise I Thee, God, I submit to Thee ! God, I submit to Thee ! Yea, e'en when the horrors of death me assail. When slowly life ebbs, and all earthly hopes fail 3 Still, my God, still I submit to Thee, Father, I cry to Thee. From the Germariy hy Korner. ( 9 ) Little church, Httle churchy Resting on a hill j Like to Sion, heavenward raised, Like Sion, peaceful still. What though the path be steep and long, The sun like sin oppress j Or keen the wind as slander's tongue, Still onward. Christian, press. Little church, little church, God's house. His alone 3 How dare the petty strifes of men Within Thy portals come ? I wait in trusting faith the time When in the church above, No angry thoughts can enter in, Nor strife where all is love. Little church, little church, Glad am I to see, Through the yellow waving corn Brethren haste to thee ; lO The Country Church. Methinks that rustling 'mong the sheaves Like angels' wings appears 3 And bids us in our life of toil Hope even mid our fears. Little church, little church, Simple, unadorned ; Like to humble Christian worth, By the haughty scorned ; For though I would my Father's house Were rich as art could frame. The soul's true worship in His courts. This does all genius shame. Little church, little church. Better is the Word Taught in humble faith in God, Than eloquence e'er heard j For though to power of intellect When used for God I bow, I honour those who honour Him, Though triumphing not now. Little church, little church, In God, fare thee well ; May the lessons taught in thee Bless those who learn, who tell. The Country Church. I Dear little church upon the hill. Which shin'st like light afar 5 Oh ! may the light of Jesu's will Be e'er thy guiding star. June iSth, 1857. ( 12 ) mo Six years ago, six years ago, A time how long Passed from the Hves of two still young, Whose hearts now diverse griefs have wrung , Yet tell, oh song ! Of the time six years ago. And first among the memories Which throng my brain. Is the echoing fall of many feet. As haste the scholars tired to greet Rest from pain. In sleep which gives not always ease. Passed are the footsteps ev'ry one. And closed the doors 3 And thou and I remain behind. With melody our hearts to bind ; And then we pause. And gently own our love begun. To E. R A little room across the sea I clearly view, And oh ! were we not happy there ? I hold that scarcely grief or care, Or ill we knew ; As flowed our lives all silently. Two pair of hands which pack one trunk 3 This looks not well ! I hasten home, thou dost remain ! Ended the joy ! begun the pain ! And I must tell Of grief, who so much joy had drunk ! And I ! I can but partly raise The veil, which time Has thinly drawn across the years Of mingled hope, brief joy and fears ; Those years of mine Whose days were years, whose years were days. Thou know'st, I need not say again That I love thee 3 If I've had griefs, it has not been That thou hast failed to step between My griefs and me 3 God only can assuage some pain 14 To E. F. God only ! aye and so has He, And Him I thank ; And shall He not cause grief depart From out thy sorrow-laden heart ? No wound so rank. But cured by heaven's grace may be. Yea ! and if prayer availeth aught. Thou blest shalt be Too gentle art thou, and too good. To be the sport of tempests rude ; While if to me Come storms, they are not all unsought. And now in this thy natal day. For Jesu's sake, I pray God grant thy heart's desire. With faith and hope thy soul inspire. And pleasant make Thy footsteps in the narrow way. I could high castles in the air Raise gorgeous bright This were not well ; but labourers we, Faith, Hope, and Love our tools we see. The Word our light. While God designs the building fair. To E. F, Come noonday glare ! come midnight gloom ! Together we. Through God's great mercy working strong, Hav^e joyful hope of resting long Eternally ; Where weary labourers shall find room. ( I6 ) A LONG, a weary winter's night, Earth, winter's bride, though decked in white. Sad, sad, and cold j I shuddered at the piercing wind. In vain I hoped sweet sleep to find, Mine eyes to fold. While thus, against the window pane, I heard what seemed a gentle rain Beating low j But that I well knew could not be, For clothed was every bush and tree In garb of snow. At last, I thought me, 'twas a spray Of creeper, come a word to say Of summer joy. Sudden I sprang, no cold I knew. But through the window quickly drew That cold's alloy. The Spray and the Cloud. I pressed it to my breast, my lips, It seemed to thrill my finger-tips With magic heat ; And as I kissed and kissed it o'er, I called it hope, and wept no more That joys should fleet. But then," said 1, " though come the sprin I know not that to me twill bring One pleasure more. Hope ofttimes smiles, but to deceive. Go, fickle spray ! I would believe. But find it sore. No star appears, no moon, the sky Is black as death, so let me die, With hope I've done : I cannot pierce the gloom." Just so," A voice replied, and yet you know There is a sun. To heart desponding, faith is nigh. Which shines e'en through the darkest sky i8 The Spray and the Cloud. - At set of sun 3 Hope is not hope of faith unborn, BeHeve, and cry no more forlorn, ' With hope I've done.' " August, 1857. ( 19 ) plije MouQ of Spring. Sing earth, sing sky. Mountain and sea, rejoice ; Bird of song soaring high. Join with thy heav'n-raised voice. Sing brook, sing all, Trees, bend your branches down 3 Own ye all nature's voice. Gems of her leafy crown. Sing lambs, sing all The young of this my reign 5 Quadrupeds, insects small. Join voices in the strain. But more, sing man. For whom all these were made ; Loudly praise God's high plan Of nature grandly laid. The Song of Spring. Sing one, sing all. Glory to God on high. Who from death lifts the pall To life, which ne'er shall die. ( ) Jliltmr to "^^oo." A MAIDEN asked her friends one day, " Which is the time to woo ? Is it Spring or Autumn ? say. Winter sad, or Summer gay Come tell me, all of you." " 'Tis when we sit around the fire. And drink the ruddy wine," Replied the maiden's jocund sire ; " When we have all our hearts' desire. Then is the time to woo." Oh ! father dear, do hold your tongue, I'm sure you do not know ; You may have done when you were young 3 But that is past, your song is sung. So prithee, say not so." The father smiling, turned aside. And called his gentle wife, " Come here, my dear, and say if you Remember the right time to woo. In thinking on your life?" 22 The Time to IFoo' The wife then stood her husband by, His hand pressed in her own ; " Yes, I do know," she did reply. And shall remember till I die, 'Tis when the fields are mown.'* Then slowly turned the faithful pair. And left the laughing crew 3 Brave gallant youths, and maidens fair. Each after other to declare The proper time to woo. And one said, " Spring, for then you know • The little birds wed too 3 'Tis then I feel that I must go And choose a wife, for weal or woe 3 So Spring's the time to woo." And some said, Summer, for the shade The drooping branches lend 3" And " Autumn," whispered low a maid. For then it was that some one said. Three weeks with her he'd spend. The Time to IVoo. 23 And one cried, " Winter/' as he thought Upon the mistletoe. And cheerful dance, and proud escort On journey homeward, long or shorty Across the path of snow. But lastly spoke a youth who stood The questioner beside j " I hold that every time is good. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter rude. When near my chosen bride." The laughing party strolled away. Remained only two, — The last named youth, the querist gay, Nor asked the maiden from that day, " Which is the time to woo ?" Scptemicr ^th, 1857. ( 24 ) Oh ! my song shall be of the Yarmouth cat- So long, so narrow, and low. With the wheels inside, that it may ride In safety through each row. And my song shall be of the Yarmouth men As they stand in the Yarmouth cars, With an easy grace they go the pace. And steer like veteran tars. But how shall I sing of the Yarmouth horse ? With its gallop, canter, and trot. All at one time, in a manner prime. With a spirit fiery hot. For it must, indeed, have a spirit large. Its body is certainly small, And what it does own is chiefly bone, With scarcely a tail at all. Tke Yarmouth Car. 25 No matter, no matter, it spins along. Like pig all the better without ; Though its driver grim would deem it sin To utter a wakening shout. He stands at the farther end from his steed, Gives no sign of grief or of joy 5 We do suppose his preference shews He agrees with the donkey boy. But still in our hearts we think that we see Some slight sign of lordly pride j As he drives in awe to a sheltering door The stranger whom woe betide. The stranger whom woe betide should he fail To seek quickly a hiding place From sudden rush, and consequent crush. Which would leave him in evil case. So hail ! to the car and its driver bold ; All hail ! to its quadruped j Oh, tell me not, of the Roman hot. And the pace his courser sped. Lowestoft^ Sept. 22nd, 1857. ( 26 ) mo Oh love, that art so eloquent of eye, So speaking in the pressure of a hand. That canst with such deep music clothe a sigh, Why fail'st thou when the tongue thou would' st command ? Uttering, trembling broken low. Words that as a stream should flow. Is't that the tongue itself, too well aware How oft deceit and guile thence glibly spring, To obey the call of truth doth scarcely dare ? And love is fain to pause on drooping wing, Seeking o'er and o'er again Words wherewith to soothe his paiii^ If so, the more my timid numbers halt. The surer doth my heart to thee incline , Yea, deem my tongue, and hand, and brain in fault. Rather than that my heart speaks not to thine. In a measure sweeping strong, Stopped by naught, aye flowing on. To H. S. S. Some hold, 'tis better wisdom to forget Such day the soul the body entered in Of our own selves or of dear friends, nor let Our grateful hearts in thanks to Heaven sing. Because perchance the future may Weep that we rejoice to-day. But I, I turn from such a narrow creed That would to me so rich a boon deny 3 Forbid the outstretched hands that heartfelt plead To God, that He will stand my loved one by, Yea, more beauteous far to me Past joys, than dull vacuity. And 'tis a joy to wish thee good and great. To pray God grant thy inmost heart's desire 3 Prosper thee now, and when thy day be late, Gather their children's children round their sire. Lastly, the higher joys I wish for thee Are known of God, hid in eternity. ( 28 ) f^Eije princess's ^riUal Sound steals on silence scarcely heard. Night's mantle black glad light hath stirred. And morn begins to break. Life's eyelids tremble, open wide, The curtains now are drawn aside. The city is awake. The city is awake, the hum Of man is heard, the day is come. Blithely the bride to greet j The city now sends up its voice Of many notes, and cries, "Rejoice," And hastes the bride to meet. " Who is this bride so young and fair. Why are we eager thus to share One glance, one tearful smile ?" " The eldest daughter of our Queen Is she ) she leaves our shores, I ween Our homage knows no guile !" The Princesses Bridal. Ring out ! ye marriage bells, ring out Shout now ! ye loyal Britons, shout ! The Princess cometh by 3 Her royal Mother at her side 3 Well may the surging human tide Roll forth a deep-toned cry. Now gaze within the chapel bright. With beauty glistening in the light Of gold and silk array 5 But be not dazzled, find a prayer For him who stands expectant there On this his bridal day. Sound hideth, none can find her, ah ! Her voice is sweetly heard afar, Now closer greets the ear. The trumpets cease, in bridal sheen A dream of beauty now is seen. The Princess draweth near. Her Father aids her trembling way j Gently he guides her, well he may. He guides her never more. Modest as a flower of the vale. And as a lily purely pale. She gains the chapel-door. 30 The Princess's Bridal, A murmur passeth all around, And then is heard a rustling sound Like to a summer wave Bending in homage to the moon, Who fair advancing spreadeth soon Her charms the scene to lave. The scene to lave in mellow light. Like such I deem the beauteous sight Our brimming eyes now view. Who would not weep to see so fair. So young a maiden trembling dare Pronounce the words, "I do." Behind her walk her lovely train Of high-born damsels twain-by-twain. Her friends from birth till now, Thou'rt human. Princess, it must be That thou wilt yearn those friends to see. When diadems deck thy brow. But now the bride saluteth low Her Queen and Mother, and a glow Crimsons her eyelids sweet. She flutters like a timid bird — The clanking of a sword is heard ; The bridegroom's at her feet ! The Princess's Bridal. He takes her hand, and seems to say, Behold in me thy shield, thy stay. Oh, banish every fear." The Princess hfts her head once more, And now a hushed and solemn awe Stealeth the altar near. 'Tis o'er, the maiden is a wife, Her husband's, his alone, through life, Oh joy ! oh weary pain ! Which is the fate that now awaits The Princess, at those palace gates Across the deep deep main ? Oh better. Prince, that thou wert dead, Better thou wert a peasant bred, Than fail in thy high trust. A pure young heart is all thine own. Though large thy realm, make that thy throne, Or perish else it must. Oh think — but no, our words we stay. It were to shame thy bridal day To deem thee less than great. We cannot think thou could' st deceive. No, like thy bride, we will believe, Like her, we trust and wait. 32 The Princess's Bridal. See her now on her Mother's breast Weeping her childhood 3 let her rest. Be patient, she is thine. Now take her, lead her proudly out. Hark to the rolling British shout. Loud as the sonorous brine. The people shout, the people cry, God bless you both, and keep you nigh The shadow of His might 3" And Princess, evermore we pray. That bright to thee may be the day That leaveth us in night. January zz^th, 1858. ( 33 ) (^n tfje ;]©eat!) of ^giabelocfe. Passed is the hero, passed to his reward. Now has the soldier gained his rest 5 The faithful servant reckoneth with his Lord, With many tears we cry, So best." " So best," we cry, though hard it is to bear. That thus should end the noble tale 5 Hard the dear prospect from our hearts to tear. Of loudly shouting, Victor, hail !" What though no mortal shout may reach those ears. The angels' voices are not dumb 3 What though our welcoming be turned to tears. The King of kings from Heaven cries, Come !" Not mortal fight alone our hero fought. Also he fought the fight of God j The thanks of nations were not all he sought. Such could not pierce 'neath India's sod. D .34 On the Death of Havelock, Then sleep thy long sleep, conqueror, in the grave, Stained by the foulest acts of crime 3 And bright with deeds of men and women brave. Deeds to remember to all time. January^ 1858. ( 35 ) " Iplfje Mourner/' (Foe Music.) I ALWAYS knew I was not meet To walk through Hfe beside Her angel steps j I could not deem It true she was my bride. Her very flowers seem to turn From my regard away j Yet never bloomed they half so fair As on this woful day. Ah^ cruel flowers, can it be Her loving heart so late Hath throbbed among you, yet you feel No pity for my fate ? Ah, see ! the lily drops a tear. The drooping fuchsias sigh 5 The nightingale hath called his mate. But — there is no reply. ( 36 ) Farewell, Farewell, God bless you, every one. Keep in your hearts, I pray you, till I come. Mine own familiar room ^ Oh ! throw unto no passing guest the key. But let me ever there a welcome see. Return I late or soon. Think of me absent, as yet ever nigh ; Fancy my laugh with yours, and hear me sigh When you have cause for woe j Say to each other, Charlotte would be mad To hear that song," or, Charlotte would be glad If she this news could know." And oh ! forget, forget each angry word. Which any of you from my lips have heard ; I ne'er give wilful pain. Forget my faults, remember but my love. View me through wings of the all peaceful Dove ; I may not come again ! A Farewell. And yet T hope I may ! Once more, Farewell ! Hand hath not power to write, nor tongue to tell The magic of that word ; Within its two short syllables, despair Is sometimes hid 5 and often love is there Which ear hath never heard. Farewell, Farewell, God bless you, every one. Keep in your hearts, I pray you, till I come. Mine own familiar room 3 Oh ! throw unto no passing guest the key, But let me ever there a welcome see. Return I late or soon. Julyy 1858. ( 38 ) Not far apart two windmills stood, Industrious mills were they j Their giant arms untiringly Went round the livelong day. They caught the air, Which, rough or fair. Essayed to pass them by 5 Then with a blow They let it go. Breathing a heavy sigh. Now you must know, these windmills twain, Were obstinately bent 3 If one turned right, the other left With contumacy went. The corn they ground As round and round Their arms whirled far and wide 3 But I ne'er did see These mills agree. Which stood thus side by side. The Neighbour JVindwilk. 39 Sometimes the wind would favour one. Then swift his sails would fly 3 The other envying, slowly turned With many a groan and sigh. But swift or slow. He would not go The way his neighbour mov^d 5 And thus you see He doggedly His independence proved. I think I cannot well forget These contumacious mills, So often do T see in life Neighbours whose stubborn wills Compel them aye. To go the way Directly opposite^ Each to other ; Thus they smother Their better doings quite. They turn away, and turning, groan At so much folly, not their own. Lynuy SeptemheVy 1858, ( 40 ) It was upon a Summer s day, A day of grand July 5 All glowing blushed the earth beneath The glances of the sky. When out the ancient town of Lynn, To Huns'ton on the Sea, We rode on idleness intent, An idle company. The swiftly rolling fleecy clouds Their changeful shadows threw Upon the landscape, decking it With many a lovely hue. The little voices of the air Sang to our inner soul. Wooing the tangled discord there. Within their sweet control. The Excursion. 41 The wind fair plenty's mantle waved In graceful folds of light 3 The trees tossed up their arms for joy At such a beauteous sight. But when^ ah ! when, we caught the sheen Of ocean's diamond eyes 5 I trow our hearts could scarcely hold The wealth of such surprise. Thou glorious sea ! O who could be Wretched beside thy shore ? Earth's stains thou lavest, and its cries Thou dullest with thy roar. And he, our sailor boy, whom we Have trusted to thine arms 3 How he proclaimed with prideful glee. Thy catalogue of charms. And how did we, we sisters three. Refuse to be content. Until to fetch the man and horse. That sailor brother went. The Excursion. To fetch the man and horse to draw Our tiring room to sea 5 For whose appearance, well I wot, We stayed impatiently. Now, sister Frances, say, O say. If man and horse do come ?" For answer, she but shook her head 3 Suspense had made her dumb. At length she cried, Both up and down, A man and horse do move 3 But whether they advance or no. That time alone will prove." The laughter at this sally scarce Was ended, ere we found Ourselves within our tiring room. Rough jolting o'er the ground. Then all at once a sudden stop, A horrible revulsion ! And O, within our little world What terrible convulsion ! The Excursion. But leaving little world behind, And all its little troubles 3 Soon were we floating on the sea, Three happy earthly bubbles. ( 44 ) To you, dear Trio, who so late have been My kind companions, generously full Of all those gracious courtesies of love, Whose presence beautifieth humblest gift. Whose absence cheapeneth costliest offering 5 To you, I tune my harp's responsive chord, Praying you hold me guilty but in this. That of my poverty of utterance I do ungrateful seem, and not for lack Of very earnest wish to render thanks. Then sing my harp, sing softly, Sing of the peaceful days Just passed, ah ! passed how swiftly. Yet do I stand and gaze 3 I gaze upon the brightness Time dare not try to dim ; In vain he clouds the landscape Which love hath painted in. In Memoriam Malvern.^^ A moment Time may triumph. The next. Love's pencil rare Hath traced again the outline, Conspicuously fair. I see each scene enchanting, Mine eager eye hath scanned 5 I taste again each pleasure Your loving forethought planned. I still inhale the breezes On Malvern's topmost hills ; I hear the constant music Of her low-voiced rills. The sheep still snatch beside me In timid haste the grass 3 The fern and foxgloves nodding, Salute me as I pass. Jane drops her modest curtsey. And, Will we please to ride ?" Her humble steeds stand saddled, And watch what may betide. 46 ' In Mernoriam Malvern^ Jane's graiidam's cot we visit, And tread the garden neat. Where careful toil scarce grants us A spot to place our feet. I hear again the thrush's Note of parental woe 5 I see the friendly succour With gentle footsteps go. My heart, my heart still beateth^ Responsive to the touch Of sympathy's kind hnger, 1 recognized as such. In fine, each word and action, Each pleasurable scene. Are photographed and coloured By Love's celestial beam. Now cease, my harp, yet firstly Raise high a grateful strain j Then whisper, gently whisper. For parting must be pain. June, 1859. ( 47 ) O MERRILY rides the herring boat Before a steady gale j And merrily doth the fisher float Upon the herrings' trail ! Yoho, mates ! yoho ! The anchor heave, let go The spreading sail. And on the trail Of the herrings, ride, yoho ! Longingly, longingly look we down Into our harvest field j Hard do we toil that the morn may crown Our hopes with a plenteous yield. Ahoy ! mates, ahoy ! For life is sweet. And bread and meat Are here for all, ahoy ! After the fishing, what joy to greet Our little ones on the shore. With food in hand our wives to meet At the welcome cottage-door. The Song of the Herring Fishers. And so, mates, yoho ! The anchor heave, let go The spreading sail. And on the trail Of the herrings, ride, yoho ! ( 49 ) Weep, weep, O Autumn boughs. Shorn of your fairest leaves 3 But Winter cometh certainly. When every leaf upon the tree Will follow after these. A voice will come to all 5 The voice that all must know 5 With whispered sigh, or tempest note. And each spent leaf will earthward float, And claim its pall of snow. Hide, hide thy face, O Sun 3 Remind us of the day. When misty light and chequered shade Before the Eternal Sun shall fade. And clouds shall roll away. I know a tree whose boughs Drop blossoms one by one, But still the sap of life doth rise. And presently above the skies. The eternal fruit doth come. January^ i860. E ( 50 ) Ho ! Christians of whate'er estate. Of every race and clime Come now with me, and sing the lay Of holy Christmas time. Sing all with voices weak or strong, The silver-winged dove Shall perfect bear each accent through The atmosphere of love. Shall perfect bear each note unto The great All-Father's throne. Where cherubim and seraphim Proclaim Him God alone. O Christian brothers, sisters, say Can we partake their song ? Can we truth-speaking, swell the hymn Of the seraphic throng ? A Christmas Carol, Does God, the great I AM, indeed Sit crowned the rightful King, Within the temple of each heart. Of every pulse the spring ? Ah ! one and all must kneel us down. And kneeling, praying, fight. Till every enemy of Christ Hath fled before His might. Then firm or trembling, strong or weak. If faith but tune the key. Assuredly we all shall make Most heavenly minstrelsy. Upon the plains of Bethlehem, In spirit now we seem 5 See ! stealing on our watching eyes The first celestial beam. On every side the rustling wings Of angels us surround ; And hark ! like singing rivulets. Their voices utter sound. A Christmas Carol, Like singing rivulets of life, Eternal life/' they sing, " Is come to all," and one proclaims A Saviour, Christ the King. And " Glory in the highest. Peace On earth, to man Good-will," They cry ; then vanishing, they leave The holy landscape still. Now with the tranced shepherds down. With trembling hastening feet 3 Let us the holy manger seek And there our Saviour greet. And with the Eastern sages let Us there our offerings pour. Before the feet of Him who reigns Our King for evermore. The rich man, .let him freely give His wealth to those who need For this we know, that Christ hath said. To Him is done the deed. A Christmas Carol. The poor man, let him give the aid His wilHng arm may yield ; The strong man, let him give his strength. The weaker one to shield. Let none whom we have power to cheer Be sighing now in vain. Wishing that they might realize The universal gain. The glorious birthright of the world. Proclaimed as at this time 5 The birthday of eternity To every age and clime. But chiefly let us lay aside All selfish weight of woe ; And thus a cheerful countenance A cheerful heart may shew. We all have griefs, some less, some more 5 We all have one great joy ; One theme of praise, one well of hope. One bliss without alloy. A Christmas Carol. So let us from our heart of hearts The holy anthem pour With Glory, Glory to the Lord, One God for evermore. ( ,1^ ) O WELL-BELOVED ! my heart is like a stream Ice-bound 3 its fervent pulses throb unknown Beneath the silent mask^ which winter draws Over the wealth of water and of earth. The ice doth melt, the sun in heaven smiles Upon the softened bosom of the stream. Which answers smile for smile, and sings her song. And tells the whole of the great joy she feels. But ah ! to me the spring appeareth not 3 Not yet, nor ever while the mists of life. Chilled by the frost winds of mortality. Upon the lips congeal, and stiifen speech. O glorious day ! when the Eternal Sun Shall melt the frozen barriers of the soul, And liquid language thence shall richly flow In satisfying streams. Then, ev'ry tongue With Heaven's own eloquence shall say, I love. To a Friend. But now, yea even now, O happy truth ! The utterance of the melody of thought, Howe'er imperfectly the notes be touched. Tuned to the measure of a heartfelt prayer. Can call a perfect echo back from Heaven, Then I to prayer will turn, as to a guide. To lead me to the goal of my desires 3 That goal thy happiness. Beloved, may peace Which passeth understanding fill thy soul. And colour every circumstance of life With Heaven's colouring 3 till those dear eyes. Which now see dimly through the glass of time. Shall open on eternity's fair scene. I have another note — a note of praise, Which I shall dare essay. I hold it right. Nay, more than right, imperative to lift The hands to Him Who made them, and proclaim. Great God ! I thank Thee I am sentient clay j Spirit of Life ! I thank Thee that I am A living soul 3 Father, I praise Thy name, That Thou hast called me to be Thy child." To a Friend, 57 This were a fitting theme for ev'ry day 3 But more, much more, when loving friends press round With gratulations on our natal day. On what ? Sublimity of awful joy, Our natal day ! Mysterious fact ! The breath of the Eternal toucheth dust. And Adam stands erect, a living soul 3 He falling from his high estate, ere yet His first-born is, transmits perforce his death. And his immortal soul through every age. Yea, we praise God we are. In part we die. Yet that part lives again, ay, lives, but how ? The flesh triumphant and the spirit fallen. Both miserable ? or the Spirit pure. Stooping to raise the flesh from peaceful sleep. Re-entering, spreadeth wings and reacheth Heaven ? Praise God ! praise God we are, for Christ is our's, And death is swallowed up in victory I And I praise God, dear Minnie, who hath made Thee an immortal soul as on this day. March ist, i860. ( ^8 ) Jplo anotfjer Could memory, the memory of those Young as thyself to earth, yet passed to Heaven, Raise now for thee a song, 'twere very sweet. Uniting joy and sorrow in one strain. Soft with the tones of Christian sympathy. Dear were the task to add to memory's notes Another theme, the melody of prayer. Not feeble, but full voiced, the prayer of faith Inspired by that most high and most sincere Esteem in which I joy to hold thy name. Let then dear memory speak (I can but touch Lightly the key) and (if thou wilt) believe No wish of friendship, now unwished for thee. Or blessing from a Christian sister's prayer. Varying only with thy varied wants. According with our Father's perfect will. Make then of thy large charity these strings By me unskilfully essayed, breathe sweet E'en heavenly music, then accept the lay. Returning answer with a greeting smile. ( 69 ) I SAW a rosebud blushing fair within The mossy armour of its early days 3 The blossom growing, passed beyond its shield^ And up to Heaven turned its trustful gaze. I saw a brooklet leaping from its bed^ Babbling a careless melody of glee ; I watched a deep broad river silent flow. Bearing, sure paced, its burden to the sea. O dear one ! thou the opening blossom art. The armour of thy childhood serves not now To perfect shield thy perfect womanhood. To keep the blinding storm tears from thy brow. The dear supports which did so jealously Thine infant life surround, whose fingers stayed The rude winds, softening them that when they reached Thy tender cheek, they there a soft kiss laid. 6o To a Young Lady, Aye ! though those hands, which, pointing heavenward. Guiding the glance of thy unclosing eye. By God's good grace are still about thee, yet As aids, not armour, keep they loving nigh. Nay, nothing o'er thee now, save what ? God's sky. And God's innumerable angels there ; Ready with stores from Heaven's armoury. To obey the faintest breath of faith-winged prayer. As opes the rose's eyelid to the Sun Ever more widely, so thy soul shall see That light still clearer, which shall upward draw The sacred breath of immortality. And see'st thou not the widening banks of Time ? O some-time little brook, now noble stream ! Dost thou not feel the deepening bed of care ? Knowst thou the life thou livest is no dream ? The little babbling brook did echo back The partial sounds its little ear could hold 3 And when the sunshine kissed its laughing eyes, It answered with a sparkling shower of gold. To a Young Lady, 61 And when a cloud o'erspread the summer sky ; Though but a httle part the brook could see. It was enough to shadow all its face, And make the ample tears drop heavily. Ah ! yes, all true the brooklet's joys and griefs. Although it could not tell why they should be j But thou, oh river, thou art learning now. And thou shalt know, when thou dost gain the sea. Flow on ! flow on ! the wider is thy course. The broader is thy span of Heaven's light The deeper grows thy path, the richer freight Canst thou bear onward in thy fuller might. Aye, many treasures float upon thy life. Look that thou bear them safely to the sea ! If wrecks bestrew thy course, see they be Time's, Not riches destined for Eternity. I know how earnestly thou dost desire To gather, and to safely bear away To everlasting havens the rich stores, Which Heaven's bounty sends thee, day by day. 62 To a Young Lady, I know the rocks, the storms which thou must meet. The frequent stirrings of the pulse of sin 3 But all are vain to fatally disturb That breast, the all cleansing stream has entered in. Bloom, blushing rose ! flow on, thou noble stream ! The hand that made thee shall transport thee, where No flower fades, and where the glassy sea. Reflecting God, lies free from breath of care. March 6th, i860. ( 63 ) mo 'M* Bright Spring, the fruit of Winter's patient pain, Beginneth now to send her heralds forth. And as a skilful artist here and there Doth harbinger upon the canvass pale The gorgeous masterpiece his mind conceives 3 So Spring upon the faintly tinted cheek Of nature, now with fuller brush doth add Dear indications of the beauteous whole. Which Summer, when he cometh in his prime. With full-voiced song all radiant in his joy, With golden sunshine crowns. But these are hopes Of future joys. Still ever and anon Sounds in our ears the shipwrecked's dreadful cry — For Winter, like a giant fiercely strong, Doth battle to the last, and drives along Both trembling blossom and the reeling ship Laden with gold, the fruit of many toils And gems, and wealth untold in human lives. See that poor child, holding his scantry dress To H. T, Against the wind — What is it he would screen ? Mark how his Httle sister anxiously Scanneth his face — but 'tis not her he shields. Although he loves her well. Look closer yet. Ah ! even so, a drooping little flower. Almost, if not quite dead. The oft-told tale, Continually new, the God-sown love, The holy instinct of affinity 'Twixt purity and youth. Dear children, stand Between the rough wind and your flower, and pray To Him who made and loveth it and you. That it may live, or dying that it may Leave its pure image painted on your hearts. That through this world, you passing with the love Of spotless holiness beyond the grave, May in the deathless land with childlike trust And confidence look upward to that face Which shineth only on the pure in heart. The fancy of the children with their flower Seemeth in some sort a just simile Of a most real circumstance which holds At this time full possession of my mind. To H. r. 65 The flower droops — so drooped he we love. Sick nigh to death. I scarcely bear to think How nigh 3 or to recall in words the dread Which held suspended Hope, and almost closed The portals of these loving hearts to Faith 5 So wildly beat the storm ! The cherished one Might not by human aid be sheltered safe ! Not by the power of skill, not by the warmth Of love exhaustless as eternity. All this was lavished, and yet hope declined : But then Our Father " heard His children cry. And knew the cry for that of humble faith Submissive to His will. That will was life ! Scarcely to be believed in, trembling, pale. Slowly and almost imperceptibly Advancing, like the growth of bud and leaf Upon the tree we watch with careful eye. We note the progress every day attained : We cannot doubt the evidence of sight. Yet as a whole we are not satisfied 3 And how we dread a bitter wind may come And wither — wither at a single touch The fruit of very many hours of care. F To H. T. But oh ! the accents now of Faith and Hope Once more united join in cheerful song. Hath not the Winter gone ? Aye, verily, See, on the very tree we so have watched. Fearlessly build the little choristers. And we take heart, and quite believe 'tis Spring. So he, for whom so many anxious prayers Have trembled up to Heaven — he whose life Dear, very dear to all who know his worth. Is to his nearest far too dear to speak. And far too sacred to be clothed in words 3 He (we believe) will live — live happier e'en Than he has lived before. For he has learnt How well we love him, he has learnt how sweet Is coming back to life and those we love ; How precious is that life, which fear to lose Made him feel all too short to spend in praise To God for the great blessings it had brought ; And last he learnt (I dare to hazard this. Thinking it must be so) — he learnt to prize Above all other knowledge this great truth. That when the world, and all the wealth of love To H. T. 67 And joy that world contains, for him seemed past. One blissful certainty was his, that all, All of that love and joy which comes from Heaven, Nourished on earth through sunshine, cloud, or storm. Can never die 5 and though the stroke of death. Bitterly keen, may sever for awhile The silver cord — when every pulse at length Shall through the fiery trial of death be passed. The whole shall be united in the land Where Winter's sorrows being all unknown, There is no need of Spring 3 but Summer fair Hath full dominion, and our hopes and fears Being no more, so prayer is laid aside. And all the business of our life is praise ! Springy 1 86 1. ( 68 ) WEITTEN IN MEMOEY OF WILLIAM EVERARD, ESQ., OF KING's LYNN, NORFOLK. To-morrow! aye, to-morrow ! what hand may lift the veil Which hides to-morrow from to-day ? What tongue may tell its tale ? Our griefs may, with the setting sun, for ever sink to rest Our joys may^, when the morning smiles, for ever quit our breast. He, the Alpha and Omega," the great " I AM " alone, To Whom the past, the present, and the future all are known 3 He only hath the prescience, for He only hath the right To see at once the truths revealed, by inches to our sight. Oh ! wonderful the workings of the Spirit in each breast 3 Now rousing with a thunder voice, now whispering, Be at rest 3" Convincing us of sinfulness, then pointing to the Cross, The haven for our shipwrecked hopes, great gain for little loss. I wonder what I shall do To-morrow ^ 69 We cannot^ as we dare not, attempt to comprehend The fitting of each circumstance, to one designed end^ In the Hves of those around us 3 nor dare we think we know Their growth in heavenly graces^ while yet they dwell below. Yet something of this knowledge we happily attain^ While travelling on to Canaan^ o'er life's else dreary plain 5 For where the dew of Heaven falls, there flowers must upspring, And he who knows a lay of Heaven, must Heaven's music sing. Some of those happy ones with lips touched with celestial fire. Foretaste th' ecstatic joys they'll sing, when in the hea- venly choir 3 While some with very wells of song, and melody of praise. Must wait for golden harps ere they their anthems can upraise. But as some rivers noiseless are, so is there silent song, Cheering, refreshing, blessing, all the path of life along 5 And as flowers are the silent poems on nature's varied page. So deeds of love are psalms which sound from childhood up to age. 7o ''I wonder what I shall do To-morrow.'' These^ like the fundamental theme of melody, live on. When every variation from our memory is gone ; And those who have no voice to sing on earth, may find above Their deeds accepted as most sweet and welcome notes of love. So we believe that He who framed the question, What shall I To-morrow do ?" did on the morrow catch the dear reply. Welcome, thou faithful servant, from the ranks of those whose days Are passed in never-ending songs, of thankfulness and praise ! And I cannot but conceive, that a prescient thought might dwell Beneath the question. Perhaps a note of warning ? Who may tell ? This I believe. Unselfish souls full often spread their wings, Knowing they go, yet caring not to speak of breaking strings. Of life's affections severed, and of all those tender ties, Which ever dear, did never seem so precious in their eyes 3 I wonder what I shall do To-morrow.'' "ji But they, they cannot bear to see the weeping forms they leave 3 But communing in heart with God, look upward and believe. There is a time to speak, a time when silent thoughts are best 3 Some grasp with shouts the joys of Heaven, some calmly seek its rest 3 But this we know, all those who sleep in Jesus, serve in death. The wisdom which has used their lives will use their latest breath. No matter to the child of God, if swift as lightning's gleam. Or speedier than the speedy thoughts which follow in a dream 3 The messenger descends to bear his spirit to account 3 He ever holds the dear receipt which cancels the amount. The cross of Christ, the staff which guides, his passage o'er the stream 3 The key which opes the golden gates in awful beauty seen 3 The blood of Christ, the only plea for finding entrance there 3 The garment whitened in the blood, the only robe to wear. 72 ''I wonder what I shall do To-morrow ^ To-morrow must be ever to our eyes a sealed book ; Guessings and wonder ings all the fruit of every searching look 5 God dealeth aye in mysteries^ or faith were but a name 5 Ourselves without the motive power^ which gives our efforts aim. And yet however thick the clouds veiling our future lives^ The mists which hide the truths of God are pierced by him who strives 3 Strives earnestly in humble faith with diligence and lights The mists disperse, the vision breaks in glory on our sight. Then knowing this, how gladly we can all things calmly leave To Him, the Good, the Only Wise, in Whom we do believe Then bring to-morrow what it may, no fear can us beguile Of the dear hope, in Earth or Heaven, to meet our Father's smile. April ^rdf 186 1. ( 73 ) Floating down the stream^ Fanny, Down life's rapid stream 3 The banks on either side, Fanny, Fading as a dream. The river widening, widening. And deepening in its bed; And clouds, however light ones. Floating overhead. God grant they be but shadows, And mists through which the sun. Type of God's all-goodness. With tempered light may come. And if the sun go down, Fanny, As go it will at night 3 Live thou in faith and hope and love. And watch for morning light. For sure I am that nothing Beyond a little while. Can cloud God's gracious favour. And dim our Father's smile 3 To a Young Friend, Save only sin unwept for, Temptations unsubdued. Lack of a saving faith in Christ, A spirit world-imbued. Thy bark is gaily speeding Before a prosperous wind j The sunshine daily kisses The track it leaves behind. Friends, counsellors are round thee. And loving hands to guide Thy vessel round each dangerous point. To stem each swiftest tide. But time goes on, and billows No earthly power can front. May rise, and single-handed. Thou' It have to bear the brunt And farther, as the river Shall widen to the sea. Huge rocks may rise aggressive. And thou must pass them free. For yonder is the ocean. And farther, out of sight. The everlasting harbour. Lit with eternal light 5 To a Young Friend, Though the harbour bar be awful. That bar whose name is death. One gasp — and then in peace we draw A never-dying breath. For we have brought our jewel Safe home unto our King, And to its polished surface No spot of earth can cling ^ In fiery trial sharpened. By stormy waves uptorn. The King of kings accepts it. His diadem to adorn. Oh ! Fanny ! were this little earth The centre of our life I could wish thee endless sunshine. No sorrow and no strife j But Heaven and Hell are giant facts. We do not dare despise. And if we fight, 'tis ours to win A sure and certain prize. So, Fanny, I will wish thee God's ever-present care 3 The sense of His omnipotence. His Presence everywhere ; To a Young Friend. A heart to praise in sunshine. To trust through blinding rain, To see in every earthly loss A Heaven-enduring gain. And this, because I love thee. Because I do not hold It good to offer compliments In place of sterling gold. I deem, however feebly We speak, or guide the pen. That Truth should herald every word Before our God and men. ( 77 ) German ^^arirest K.2^«- We speed the plough, we scatter the seed Over the gaping land ; But the growth and the increase ever rests In the care of the Highest Hand. He drops the rain. He distils the dew. By Him shine sun and moon 5 Yes ! streaming down from the source of good. Our God, comes every boon. Yes ! from God the Lord, from our God, Doth every blessing spring ; Se we may plough and we may sow. Bet we thank Him, and hope in Him. ( 78 )