OH what a wreck! how changed in mien and speech!
Yet-though dread Powers, that work in mystery, spin
Entanglings for the brain; though shadows stretch
O'er the chilled heart-reflect; far, far within,
Hers is a holy Being, freed from sin.
She is not what she seems, a forlorn wretch;
But delegated Spirits comfort fetch
To Her from heights that Reason may not win.
Like Children, She is privileged to hold
Divine communion; both do live and move,
Whate'er to shallow Faith their ways unfold,
Inly illumined by Heaven's pitying love;
Love pitying innocence not long to last,
In them-in Her our sins and sorrows past.
FROM the Pier's head, musing-and with increase
Of wonder, long I watched this sea-side Town,
Under the white cliff's battlemented crown,
Hushed to a depth of more than Sabbath peace.
How strange, methought, this orderly release
From social noise-quiet elsewhere unknown!
A Spirit whispered, "Doth not Ocean drown
Trivial in solemn sounds? Let wonder cease.
His overpowering murmurs have set free
Thy sense from pressure of life's common din;
As the dread voice that speaks from out the sea
Of God's eternal Word, the voice of Time
Deadens-the shocks of tumult, shrieks of crime,
The shouts of folly, and the groans of sin."
COMPOSED ON MAY-MORNING, 1838.
IF with old love of you, dear Hills! I share
New love of many a rival image brought
From far, forgive the wanderings of my thought:
Nor art thou wronged, sweet May! when I
Thy present birth-morn with thy last, so fair,
So rich to me in favours. For my lot
Then was, within the famed Egerian Grot
To sit and muse, fanned by its dewy air
Mingling with thy soft breath! That morning, too,
Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming
Amid the sunny, shadowy, Colyseum;
Heard them, unchecked by aught of saddening hue, For victories there won by flower-crowned Spring, Chant in full choir their innocent TE DEUM.
COMPOSED ON THE SAME MORNING.
LIFE with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun,
Yet Nature seems to them a heavenly guide.
Does joy approach? they meet the coming tide;
And sullenness avoid, as now they shun
Pale twilight's lingering glooms,—and in the sun
Couch near their dams, with quiet satisfied;
Or gambol-each with his shadow at his side
Varying its shape wherever he may run.
As they from turf yet hoar with sleepy dew
All turn, and court the shining and the green,
Where herbs look up, and opening flowers are seen ;
Why to God's goodness cannot We be true,
And so, His gifts and promises between,
Feed to the last on pleasures ever new?
HARK! 'tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest,
By twilight premature of cloud and rain;
Nor does that roaring wind deaden his strain
Who carols thinking of his Love and nest,
And seems, as more incited, still more blest.
Thanks-thou hast snapped a fire-side Prisoner's chain,
Exulting Warbler! eased a fretted brain,
And in a moment charmed my cares to rest.
Yes, I will forth, bold Bird! and front the blast,
That we may sing together, if thou wilt,
So loud, so clear, my Partner through life's day,
Mute in her nest love-chosen, if not love-built
Like thine, shall gladden, as in seasons past,
Thrilled by loose snatches of the social Lay.
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