And, mingled with the rising roar, is swelling, From the far hunter's booth, the blood-hound's yelling, The water-falls in various cadence chiming, Salute each other thro' the night's dark womb; The moaning pine-trees to the wild blast bending, Are pictured faintly thro' the chequer'd gloom; The forests, half-way up the mountain climbing, Resound with crash of falling branches; quiver Their aged mossy trunks: the startled doe Leaps from her leafy lair: the swelling river Winds his broad stream majestic, deep, and slow. "IN SUMMER, WHEN ALL NATURE GLOWS." "Nature in every form inspires delight."--COWPER. The glitt'ring tribes of insects gay, Nor less admires his mighty pow'r Or with the yawning earthquake shocks No skeptic he-who bold essays There's the smile o' friends when they come frae far, "BORNE ON LIGHT WINGS OF BUOYANT DOWN.” "Nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna." HORACE. BORNE on light wings of buoyant down, Mounts the hoar thistle-beard aloft; An air scarce felt can bear it on, A touch propel, tho' e'er so soft: Dislodged from youder thistle's head, Upon the passing gale it fled. See! to each object on its way A faithless moment it adheres; But if one breeze upon it play, Breaks its slight bonds and disappears: Its silken sail each zephyr catches, A breath its airy hold detaches. The man who wins thy love awhile, Should never dream it will remain; For one fond word, one courteous smile. Will set thy heart afloat again. But he whose eye the light cau chase, That sports above the trembling vase, Attend its roving sheen, pursue Its rapid movements here and there, And with a firm unwavering view Arrest the fleeting phantom fair, May fix inconstancy-ensure Thy love, thy fickle faith secure! How many have-for many ask The kiss I fondly deem'd my own! And hundreds in succession bask In eye-beams due to me alone: Tho' all, like me, in turn must prove The wandering nature of thy love. Thou saw'st the glow-worm on our way, Last eve, with mellow lustre shine Clad in pellucid flame she lay, And glimmer'd in her amber shrineWould that those eyes of heavenly blue Were half as faithful and as true! And lo! the blush, quick mantling, breaks "THE STARS OF YON BLUE PLACID SKY."—ON SUBLIMITY. "THE STARS OF YON BLUE PLACID SKY." "....supereminet omnes."-VIRGIL. THE stars of yon blue placid sky And beaming from their orbs on high, The eye with wonder gazes there, And could but gaze on sight so fair. But should a comet, brighter still, The sapphirine with gold; More wonder then would one bestow Than millions of a meauer glow. E'en so, sweet maid! thy beauties shine' FRIENDSHIP. "Neque ego nunc de vulgari aut de mediocri, quæ tamen ipsa et delectat et prodest, sed de vera et perfecta loquor [amicitia] qualis eorum, qui pauci nominantur, fuit."-CICERO. O THOU most holy Friendship! whereso'er Thy dwelling be-for in the courts of man But seldom thine all-heavenly voice we hear, Sweet'ning the moments of our narrow span; And seldom thy bright footsteps do we scan Along the weary waste of life unblest, For faithless is its frail and wayward plan, And perfidy is man's eternal guest, With dark suspicion link'd and shameless interest! 'Tis thine, when life has reach'd its final goal, Ere the last sigh that frees the mind be giv'n, To speak sweet solace to the parting soul, And pave the bitter path that leads to heav'n: "Tis thine, whene'er the heart is rack'd and riv'n By the hot shafts of baleful calumny, When the dark spirit to despair is driv'n, To teach its lonely grief to lean on thee, And pour within thine ear the tale of misery. But where art thon, thou comet of an age, That I will deem thee Truth, so lovely is thy might! ON THE DEATH OF MY GRANDMOTHER. "Cui pudor et justitiae soror Incorrupta fides nudaque veritas, Quando ullum invenient parem ?" HORACE. THERE on her bier she sleeps! And far above all worldly pain and woe, 343 How well they smooth'd the rugged path of Death! "AND ASK YE WHY THESE SAD TEARS STREAM ?” "Te somnia nostra reducunt."-OVID. AND ask ye why these sad tears stream? I had a dream-a lovely dream, Of her that in the grave is sleeping. I saw her as 'twas yesterday, The bloom upon her cheek still glowing; And round her play'd a golden ray, And on her brows were gay flowers blowing. With angel-hand she swept a lyre, A garland red with roses bound it; Its strings were wreath'd with lambent fire, And amaranth was woven round it. I saw her mid the realms of light, Mid thousand thousand angels beaming. I strove to reach her, when, behold, Those fairy forms of bliss Elysian, And all that rich scene wrapt in gold Faded in air-a lovely vision! And I awoke, but oh! to me That waking hour was doubly weary; And yet I could not envy thee, Although so blest, and I so dreary. ON SUBLIMITY. "The sublime always dwells on great objects and terrible." BURKE O TELL me not of vales in tenderest green, What time gray eve is fading into night; Give me to wander at midnight alone, Were graven, but long since are worn away By constant feet of ages day by day. Then, as Imagination aids, I hear Wild heavenly voices sounding from the choir, And more than mortal music meets mine ear, Whose long, long notes among the tombs expire, With solemn rustling of cherubic wings, Round those vast columns which the roof upbear; While sad and undistinguishable things Do flit athwart the moonlit windows there; And my blood curdles at the chilling sound Of lone, unearthly steps, that pace the hallow'd ground! I love the starry spangled heav'n, resembling I love your voice, ye echoing winds, that sweep Thro' the wide womb of midnight, when the veil Of darkness rests upon the mighty deep, The laboring vessel, and the shatter'd sailSave when the forked bolts of lightning leap On flashing pinions, and the mariner pale Raises his eyes to heav'n. Oh! who would sleep What time the rushing of the angry gale Is loud upon the waters?-Hail, all hail! Tempest and clouds and night and thunder's rending peal! All hail, Sublimity! thou lofty one, For thou dost walk upon the blast, and gird Thy majesty with terrors, and thy throne Is on the whirlwind, and thy voice is heard In thunders and in shakings: thy delight Is in the secret wood, the blasted heath, The ruin'd fortress, and the dizzy height, The grave, the ghastly charnel-house of death, In vaults, in cloisters, and in gloomy piles, Long corridors and towers and solitary aisles! Thy joy is in obscurity, and plain Is naught with thee; and on thy steps attend Shadows but half distinguish'd; the thin train Of hovering spirits round thy pathway bend, With their low tremulous voice and airy tread,* What time the tomb above them yawns and gapes: For thou dost hold communion with the dead Phantoms and phantasies and grisly shapes; And shades and headless spectres of St. Mark,+ Seen by a lurid light, formless and still and dark! What joy to view the varied rainbow smile Where all around the melancholy islet The billows sparkle with their hues of light! While, as the restless surges roar and rave, The arrowy stream descends with awful sound, Wheeling and whirling with each breathless wave,s Immense, sublime, magnificent, profound! * According to Burke, a low, tremulous, intermitted sound is conducive to the sublime. It is a received opinion, that on St. Mark's Eve all the persons who are to die in the following year make their appearances without their heads in the churches of their respective parishes. See Dr. Langhorne's Notes to Collins. This island, on both sides of which the waters rush with astonishing swiftness, is 900 or 800 feet long, and its lower edge is just at the perpendicular edge of the fall. § "Undis Phlegethon perlustrat anhelis."-CLAUDIAN. When Moses on the mountain's brow Had met th' Eternal face to face, While anxious Israel stood below, Wond'ring and trembling at its base; His visage, as he downward trod, They could not brook it, and they bow'd. The mere reflection of the blaze That lighten'd round creation's Lord, Was too puissant for their gaze; And he that caught it was adored. Then how ineffably august, How passing wond'rous must He be, Whose presence lent to earthly dust Such permanence of brilliancy! Throned in sequester'd sanctity, And with transcendent glories crown'd; With all His works beneath His eye, And suns and systems burning round, How shall I hymn Him? How aspire THE REIGN OF LOVE. While man exults o'er present joy, While female charms attract the mind, In moulds of beauty cast; While man is warm, or woman kindThe reign of love shall last. ""TIS THE VOICE OF THE DEAD.” "Non omnis moriar."-HORACE. "TIs the voice of the dead From the depth of their glooms: Hark! they call me away To the world of the tombs! I come, lo! I come To your lonely abodes, For my dust is the earth's But this soul is my God's! Thine is not the triumph, Tho' I yield thee my breath: Thy sceptre shall wave O'er a fragment of clay, But my spirit, thou tyrant, I fear not, I feel not The pang that destroys, In the bliss of that thought That the blest shall rejoice: For why should I shrink? One moment shall sever Tho' I sink, I shall rise; 'Tis a seraph who sings: Farewell!-for I go On the speed of his wings! TIME: AN ODE. I SEE the chariot, where, Throughout the purple air, The forelock'd monarch rides: Arm'd like some antique vehicle for war, Cleaving the clouds of ages that float by, The great, the lowly, and the brave Bow down before the rushing force Of thine unconquerable course; Thy wheels are noiseless as the grave, Yet fleet as Heaven's red bolt they hurry on, They pass above us, and are gone! Clear is the track which thou hast past; Strew'd with the wrecks of frail renown, Robe, sceptre, banner, wreath, and crown, The pathway that before thee lies, An undistinguishable waste, Invisible to human eyes, Which fain would scan the various shapes whica glide In dusky cavalcade, Imperfectly descried, Through that intense, impenetrable shade. Four gray steeds thy chariot draw; In th' obdurate, tameless jaw Their rusted iron bits they sternly champ; Of their light-bounding, windy feet, Throughout the long extent of ether driv'n, Thy voice, thou mighty Charioteer! Throughout the gloom of night and heat of day. Fast behind thee follows Death, Thro' the ranks of wan and weeping, That yield their miserable breath, On with his pallid courser proudly sweeping. Arm'd is he in full mail,* Bright breastplate and high crest, Nor is the trenchant falchion wanting: So fiercely does he ride the gale, On Time's dark car, before him, rest The dew-drops of his charger's panting, *I am indebted for the idea of Death's armor to that famous chorus in "Caractacus" beginning with "Hark heard ye not that footstep dread ?" 346 GOD'S DENUNCIATIONS AGAINST PHARAOH-HOPHRA, OR APRIES. On, on they go along the boundless skies, Beneath the terrible control Of those vast arméd orbs, which roll "Live ye!" to these he crieth; "live! To ye eternity I give Ye, upon whose blessed birth The noblest star of heaven hath shone; Live, when the ponderous pyramids of earth Are crumbling in oblivion ! Live, when, wrapt in sullen shade, The golden hosts of heaven shall fade; Live, when imperial Time and Death himself shall GOD'S DENUNCIATIONS AGAINST PHA- THOU beast of the flood, who hast said in thy soul, Arm, arm from the east, Babylonia's son! Arm, arm in thy glory-the Lord is thy guide. Thou shalt come like a storm when the moonlight is dim, And the lake's gloomy bosom is full to the brim; Who, hymn'd by archangelic tongues, In majesty and might, The subject of ten thousand songs, Benignly great, serenely dread, Before the blaze of Deity The deathless legions bend, They laud that God, who has no peers, Who has endured for countless years, Who spoke, and fish, fowl, beast, in pairs, Then let us join our feeble praise THE BATTLE-FIELD. THE heat and the chaos of contest are o'er, Those lips cannot breathe thro' the trumpet again! Thou shalt come like the flash in the darkness of For the globes of destruction have shatter'd their night, might, When the wolves of the forest shall howl for af- The swift and the burning-and wrapt them in night: fright. Woe, woe to thee, Tanis!t thy babes shall be thrown Woe, woe to thee, Memphis !t the war-cry is near, And the child shall be toss'd on the murderer's spear; For fiercely he comes in the day of his ire, Like lightning, electric and sudden they came; They took but their life, and they left them their fame! I heard, oh! I heard, when, with barbarous bray, Farewell to ye, chieftains; to one and to all, With wheels like a whirlwind, and chariots of fire! Ye cannot awake from your desolate sleep "ALL JOYOUS IN THE REALMS OF DAY." "Hominum divomque pater."-VIRGIL. Before the Eternal King: "Pliny's reproach to the Egyptians, for their vain and foolish pride with regard to the inundations of the Nile, points out one of their most distinguishing characteristics, and recalls to my mind a fine passage of Ezekiel, where God thus speaks to Pharaoh, one of their kings: Behold, I am against thee, Pharaoh king of Egypt, the THE THUNDER-STORM. "Non imitabile fulmen."-VIRGIL. THE storm is brooding!-I would see it pass, great dragon that lieth in the midst of his rivers, that hath said, Creation's trembling objects quake around; My river is mine own, and I have made it for myself."-ROLLIN, vol. i., p. 216. † The Scriptural appellations are "Zoan" and "Noph." In silent awe the subject-nations hear |