« FöregåendeFortsätt »
To know Delight but by her parting smile,
Cease every joy to glimmer on my mind, But leave-oh! leave the light of Hope behind What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel-visits, few, and far between! Her musing mood shall every pang appease, And charm-when pleasures lose the power to please!
Eternal hope! when yonder spheres sublime
THE ROSE OF THE WILDERNESS. At the silence of twilight's contemplative hour,
I have mus'd in a sorrowful mood, On the wind-shaken weeds that embosom the bower,
Where the home of my forefathers stood. . All ruined and wild is their roofless abode,
And lonely the dark raven's sheltering tree; And travelled by few is the grass-cover'd road, Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode
To his hills that encircle the sea.
Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk,
By the dial stone aged and green,
To mark where a garden had been.
All wild in the silence of Nature, it drew,
Where the flower of my forefathers grew.
Sweet bud of the wilderness ! emblem of all
That remains in this desolate heart! The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall;
But patience shall never depart! Though the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright,
In the days of delusion by fancy combin'd, With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight, Abandon my soul like a dream of the night,
And leave but a desert behind.
Be hush'd, my dark spirit! for wisdom condemns
When the faint and the feeble deplore;
A thousand wild waves on the shore!
May thy front be unaltered, thy courage elate; Yea! even the name I have worshipped in vain Shall awake not the sigh of remembrance again,
To bear is to conquer our fate,
THE LAST MAN.
The Sun himself must die,
Adown the gulf of time!
As Adam saw her prime!
The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The Earth with age was wan
Around that lonely man!
Some had expired in fight--the brands · Still rusted in their bony hands;
In plague and famine some!
To shores where all was dumb!
Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm pass'd by, Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun, Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
'Tis Mercy bids thee go. For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow.
What though beneath thee man put forth
His pomp, his pride, his skill;
The vassals of his will;-
For all those trophied arts
Entail'd on human hearts.
Go, let oblivion's curtain fall.
Upon the stage of men,
Life's tragedy again.
Of pain anew to writhe;
Like grass beneath the scythe. * Ev'n I am weary in yon skies
To watch thy fading fire;
Behold not me expire.
To see thou shalt not boast.
This spirit shall return to Him
That gave its heavenly spark;
When thou thyself art dark !
By Him recall’d to breath,
And took the sting from Death!
Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up
On Nature's awful waste,
Of grief that man shall taste-
On Earth's sepulchral clod,
THE RAINBOW. The evening was glorious, and light through the trees Play'd in sunshine, the rain-drops, the birds, and the breeze, The landscape, outstretching, in loveliness lay On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. For the bright queen of spring, as she pass'd down the vale, Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale; And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, And fresh in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers. The skies, like a banner in sunset unrollid, O'er the west threw their splendor of azure and gold; But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increas'd, "Till its margin of black touch'd the zenith and east. We gaz'd on these scenes, while around us they glow'd, When a vision of beauty appeared on the cloud; 'Twas not like the sun, as at mid-day we view, Nor 'the moon, that rolls lightly through star-light and blue, Like a spirit it came in the van of a storm, And the eye and the heart hailed its beautiful form; For it look'd not severe, like an angel of wrath, But its garments of brightness illumed its dark path. In the hues of its grandeur sublimely it stood, O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood; And river, field, village, and woodland grew bright, As conscious they felt and afforded delight.
'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in His hand,
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.