To watching thee, tending thy bright flock over
The fields of Heaven? Thy light misleadeth not,
Though eyes which image Heaven oft lure to Hell:-
Thy smile betrayeth not-though sweet as that
Which wins and damns. Mother, and maid of
light!
That, like a God, redeems the world to Heaven-
Making us one with thee, and with the sun,
And with the stars in glory-lovely moon!
I am immortal as thyself; and we
Shall look upon each other yet, in Heaven,
Often-but never, never more on earth.
Am I to die so soon? This death!--the thought
Comes on my heart as through a burning glass.
I cannot bend mine eyes to earth, but thence
It riseth, spectre-like, to mock-nor towards
The west, where sunset is, whose long bright pomp
Makes men in love with change-but there it lowers
Eve's last, still lingering, darkening, cloud; and on
The escutcheon of the morn, it is there-it is there!
But fears will come upon the bravest mind,
Like the white moon upon the crimson west.
I have attractions for all miseries:
And every course of thought, within my heart,
Leaves a new layer of woe.
It will all be one, hereafter.
[sions.
My bosom, like the grave, holds all quenched pas-
It is not that I have not found what I sought-
But, that the world—tush! I shall see it die.
I hate, and shall outlive the hypocrite.
Stealthily, slowly, like the polar sun,
Who peeps by fits above the air-walled world-
The heavenly fief, he knows and feels his own,
My heart o'erlooks the Paradise of life
Which it hath lost, in cold, reluctant joy.
I live and see all beauteous things about me,
But feel no nature prompting from within
To meet and profit by them. I am like
That fabled forest of the Appennine, [showers,
Which leafless lives; whereto the spring's bright
Summer's heat breathless, autumn's fruitful juice,
Nothing avail;-nor winter's killing cold.
Yet have I done, said, thought, in time now past,
What, rather than remember, I would die,
Or do again. It is the thinking on't,
And the repentance, maddens. I have thought
Upon such things so long and grievously,
My lips have grown like to a cliff-chafed sea,
Pale with a tidal passion; and my soul,
Once high and bright and self-sustained as Heaven,
Unsettled now for life or death, feels like
The gray gull balanced on her bowlike wings,
Between two black waves seeking where to dive.
Long we live thinking nothing of our fate,
For in the morn of life we mark it not-
It falls behind; but as our day goes down
We catch it lengthening with a giant's stride,
And ushering us unto the feet of night.
Dark thoughts, like spots upon the sun, revolve
In troops for days together round my soul,
Disfiguring and dimming. Death! oh death!
The past, the present, and the future, like
The dog three-headed, by the gates of woe
Sitting, seem ready to devour me each.
I dare not look on them. I dare not think.
The very best deeds I have ever done
Seem worthy reprobation, have to be
Repented of. But have I done aught good?
Oh that my soul were calmer! Grant me, God!
Thy peace; that added, I can smile and die.
Thy Spirit only is reality:
All things beside are folly, falsehood, shame.
FESTUS alone. I feel as if I could devour the days
Till the time came when I shall gain mine end;
God shall have made me ruler, and all worlds
Signed the sublime recognizance. Till then,—
Even as a boat lies rocking on the beach,
Waiting the one white wave to float it free,
Wait I the great event;-too great it seems.
Yet, Lord! Thou knowest that the power I seek
Is but for others' good and Thine own glory,
And the desire for it inspired by Thee.
So use me as I use it. Thou hast passed
Thy word that such I shall enjoy, and then
My mission is accomplished in this world.
I go unto another, where all souls
Begin again, or take up life from where
Death broke it at. I cannot think there will be
Like disproportion there between our powers
And will, as here; if not, I shall be happy.
I feel no bounds. I cannot think but thought
On thought springs up, illimitably, round,
As a great forest sows itself; but here
There is nor ground nor light enough to live.
Could I, I would be every where at once,
Like the sea, for I feel as if I could
Spread out my spirit o'er the endless world,
And act at all points :-I am bound to one.
I must be here and there and everywhere,
Or I am nowhere. Sense, flesh, feeling, fail
Before the feet of the imperious mind,
To which they are but as the dust she treads,
Windlike treads o'er, uplifts and leaves behind. How mind will act with body glorified
And spiritualized, and senses fined,
And pointed brilliantwise, we know not. Here Even, it may be wrong in us to deem
The senses degradations, otherwise
Than as fine steps, whereby the Queenly soul
Comes down from her bright throne to view the mass She hath dominion over, and the things
Of her inheritance; and reascends,
With an indignant fiery purity,
Not to be touched, her seat. The visible world,
Whereby God maketh Nature known to us,
Is not derogatory to Himself
As the pure Spirit Infinite.
Is but, perhaps, a sense of God's, by which
He may explain His nature, and receive
Fit pleasure. But the hour is hard at hand,
When Time's gray wing shall winnow all away,
The atoms of the earth, the stars of Heaven;
When the created and Creator mind
Shall know each other, worlds and bodies both
Put off for aye; man and his Maker meet
Where all, who through the universe do well,
Embrace their heart's desire; what things they will
And whom remember; live, too, where they list;
And with the beings they love best, and God,
Inherit and inhabit boundless bliss.
Hear me, all-favouring God! my latest prayer;
Thou unto whom all nations of the world
Lift up their hearts, like grass-blades to the sun; Thou who hast all things and hast need of nought; Thou who hast given me Earth and all it holds, Give me, from out Thy garner stored with good, Some sign, Lord! while I live in proof to earth
My prayers are with Thee; that they rend the clouds, And, rising through the sightless dark of space, Reach to Thy central throne. Oh! let me feel, What was my constant dream in my young years, And is in all my better moments now,—
My hope, my faith, my nature's sum and end, Oneness with Thee and Heaven. Lord! make me My soul already is in unison
With the triumphant. Ah! I surely hear
The voices of the spirits of the saints,
And witnesses to the Redeeming Truth;
Not, as of old, in scanty scattered strains,
Breathed from the caves of earth and cells of cities,-
Nor as the voice of martyr choked with fire-
But in one solemn Heaven-pervading hymn
Of happiness impregnable, as when
From the bright walls of the Son's city they
Looked on the war of Hell, host upon host,
Foiled by God's single sword before their gates
Of perfect pearl ;-nearer and nearer now!
This is the sign, O God! which Thou hast given,
And I will praise Thee through Eternity.
THE SAINTS from Heaven.
Call all who love Thee, Lord, to Thee!
Thou knowest how they long
To leave these broken lays, and aid
In Heaven's unceasing song;
How they long, Lord, to go to Thee,
And hail Thee with their eyes,-
Thee in Thy blessedness, and all
The nations of the skies;
All who have loved Thee and done well,
Of every age, creed, clime,
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