Of youthful ardour to eternal chase. In dreamy twilight of the vacant mind, Soothed by the whispering shade; for soothing soft Enjoy'd but still subservient. Active scenes For friends, for country chase each spleen-fed fog That blots the wide creation. Now Heaven conduct thee with a parent's love! THE UNKNOWN GOD. To learned Athens, led by fame, As once the man of Tarsus came, With pity and surprise, Midst idol altars as he stood, O'er sculptured marble, brass, and wood, He roll'd his awful eyes. But one, apart, his notice caught, That seem'd with higher meaning fraught, Graved on the wounded stone; Nor form nor name was there express'd; Deep reverence fill'd the musing breast, Perusing, "To the God unknown." Age after age has roll'd away, And lightnings snatch'd from heaven. And many a shrine in dust is laid, Where kneeling nations homage paid, By rock, or fount, or grove; Ephesian Dian sees no more E'en Salem's hallow'd courts have ceased Yet still, where'er presumptuous man Ah! still that altar stands. ODE TO REMORSE. DREAD offspring of the holy light within, Of all on earth, or all in heaven, Midst Eden's blissful bowers, And amaranthine flowers, Thy birth portentous dimm'd the orient day, The high command presumed to disobey; Then didst thou rear thy snaky crest, And raise thy scorpion lash to tear the guilty breast: And never, since that fatal hour, May man, of woman born, expect t' escape thy power. Thy goading stings the branded Cain Cross th' untrodden desert drove, Ere from his cradling home and native plain Domestic man had learnt to rove. By gloomy shade or lonely flood A father's curse, a brother's blood, The king who sat on Judah's throne, By guilty love to murder wrought, Was taught thy searching power to own, When, sent of Heaven, the seer his royal presence sought. As, wrapt in artful phrase, with sorrow feign'd, And O that look, that soft upbraiding look! And the shrill clarion gave th' appointed sound, And drew a silent shower of bitter tears Down Peter's blushing cheek, late pale with coward fears. Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure sport, And thoughtless Folly keeps her court,Crouching midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen; Slumbering the festal hours away, While Youth disports in that enchanting scene; Till on some fated day Thou with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey, And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelm'd, with wild dismay. Mark that poor wretch with clasped hands! Pale o'er his parent's grave he stands,The grave by his ingratitude prepared ; Ah then, where'er he rests his head, On roses pillow'd or the softest down, Though festal wreaths his temples crown, He well might envy Guatimozin's bed, With burning coals and sulphur spread, And with less agony his torturing hour have shared. For Thou art by to point the keen reproach; Thou draw'st the curtains of his nightly couch, Bring'st back the reverend face with tears bedew'd, That o'er his follies yearn'd; His stubborn breast that failed to move, When in the scorner's chair he sat, and wholesome counsel spurn'd. Lives there a man whose labouring breast Midst savage rocks and cloisters dim and drear, In vain untold his crime to mortal ear, Silence and whisper'd sounds but make thy voice more clear. Lo. where the cowled monk with frantic rage Lifts high the sounding scourge, his bleeding shoulders smites! See o'er the bleeding corse of her he loved, Down his pale cheek no tear will flow, 'Twas phantoms summon'd by thy power Round Richard's couch at midnight hour, That scared the tyrant from unblest repose; With frantic haste, "To horse! to horse!" he cries, While on his crowned brow cold sweat-drops rise And fancied spears his spear oppose; But not the swiftest steed can bear away From thy firm grasp thine agonizing prey, Thou wast the fiend, and thou alone, That stood'st by Beaufort's mitred head, With upright hair and visage ghastly pale: Thy terrors shook his dying bed, Past crimes and blood his sinking heart assail, His hands are clasp'd,-hark to that hollow groan! See how his glazed, dim eye-balls wildly roll, "Tis not dissolving Nature's pains; that pang is of the soul. Where guilty souls are doom'd to dwell, Long eras of uncounted years, And every stain is wash'd in soft repentant tears. Servant of God-but unbeloved-proceed, Against th' unrighteous deed, Till thine accursed mother shall expire, And a new world spring forth from renovating fire O! when the glare of day is fled, And calm, beneath the evening star, Reflection leans her pensive head, And calls the passions to her solemn bar; Reviews the censure rash, the hasty word, The purposed act too long deferr'd, Of time the wasted treasures lent, And fair occasions lost, and golden hours mispent: When anxious Memory numbers o'er Each offer'd prize we failed to seize ; Or friends laid low, whom now no more Our fondest love can serve or please, And thou, dread power! bring'st back, in terrors drest, Penance and fasts his anxious thoughts engage, Th' irrevocable past, to sting the careless breast ; Weary his days and joyless are his nights, O! in that hour be mine to know, While fast the silent sorrows flow, And wisdom cherishes the wholesome pain, No heavier guilt, no deeper stain, Than tears of meek contrition may atone, Shed at the mercy-seat of Heaven's eternal throne. ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. YES, Britain mourns, as with electric touch, In grief spontaneous, and hard hearts are moved, And urge and dry the tear.-Yet one there is He wears the day. Yet is he near in blood, Nor deem him hard of heart; for awful, struck Think then, O think of him, and breathe one prayer, From the full tide of sorrow spare one tear, THE WAKE OF THE KING OF SPAIN. ARRAY'D in robes of regal state, The kings of Spain for nine days after death are placed sitting in robes of state with their attendants around them, and solemnly summoned by the proper officers to their meals and their amusements, as if living. 1 Again the sounding portals shake, In vain the voice of pleasure calls: HYMNS. HYMN I. JEHOVAH reigns: let every nation hear, He rules with wide and absolute command He saw the struggling beams of infant light And brooded o'er the kindling seeds of life: Seasons and months began their long procession, And measured o'er the year in bright succession. The joyful sun sprung up th' ethereal way, Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay; And the pale moon diffused her shadowy light Superior o'er the dusky brow of night; Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning, Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of morning Earth's blooming face with rising flowers he drest, And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breast; Then from the hollow of his hand he pours The circling water round her winding shores, The new-born world in their cool arms embracing And with soft murmurs still her banks caressing. At length she rose complete in finish'd pride, All fair and spotless, like a virgin bride; Fresh with untarnish'd lustre as she stood, Her Maker bless'd his work, and call'd it good The morning stars with joyful acclamation Exulting sang, and hail'd the new creation Yet this fair world, the creature of a day, Though built by God's right hand, must pass away; And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things, The fate of empires, and the pride of kings: Eternal night shall veil their proudest story, And drop the curtain o'er all human glory. The sun himself, with weary clouds opprest, Shall in his silent, dark pavilion rest; His golden urn shall broke and useless lie, Amidst the common ruins of the sky; The stars rush headlong in the wild commotion, And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean But fix'd, O God! for ever stands thy throne; Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame, He dwells within his own unfathom'd essence, Though the sickening flocks should fall, And the herds desert the stall; Should thine alter'd hand restrain The early and the latter rain; Blast each opening bud of joy, And the rising year destroy: Yet to thee my soul should raise Grateful vows, and solemn praise; And, when every blessing's flown, Love thee-for thyself alone. HYMN III. FOR EASTER SUNDAY. AGAIN the Lord of life and light O what a night was that, which wrapt This day be grateful homage paid, Ten thousand differing lips shall join Jesus the friend of human kind, The powers of darkness leagued in vain Not long the toils of hell could keep And now his conquering chariot wheels Ascend the lofty skies; While broke beneath his powerful cross, Death's iron sceptre lies Exalted high at God's right hand, Through him is pardoning love dispensed, And boundless blessings flow. And still for erring, guilty man, To thee, my Saviour and my King, HYMN IV. 'BEHOLD, where breathing love divine, His weeping followers gathering round, From that mild teacher's parting lips "Blest is the man whose softening heart To whom the supplicating eye Whose breast expands with generous warmth And bleeds in pity o'er the wound "He spreads his kind supporting arms His secret bounty largely flows, AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine "Come then, my soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal shield;" Put on the armour from above Of heavenly truth and heavenly love. The terror and the charm repel, And powers of earth, and powers of hell; The Man of Calvary triumph'd here; Why should his faithful followers fear? HYMN VI. PIOUS FRIENDSHIP How blest the sacred tie that binds In union sweet according minds! How swift the heavenly course they run, To each, the soul of each how dear, Their streaming tears together flow Together both they seek the place HYMN VII. "Come unto me all that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” COME, said Jesus' sacred voice, Come and make my paths your choice; I will guide you to your home; Weary pilgrim, hither come! Thou, who houseless, sole, forlorn, Long hast borne the proud world's scorn, Ye, who toss'd on beds of pain, Ye, by fiercer anguish torn, Sinner, come! for here is found HYMN VIII. "The world is not their friend, nor the world's law." Lo where a crowd of pilgrims toil Yon craggy steeps among! Strange their attire, and strange their mien, Their eyes with bitter streaming tears |