Words for the thoughtless, vain, and gay,
Words echoed from the sable bier-

"A spirit from the world hath fled,

A soul from earth departed;
While mourners weep above the dead,
Despairing-broken-hearted!
Through the vast fields of viewless time
That conscious soul hath gone;
To answer for each earthly crime,
At God's eternal throne.

"There at his mighty bar it stands,
A trembling, guilty thing,
To answer all his Judge demands,
Or his dread praises sing!
Dust to its kindred dust returns!
Earth to its mother earth!
Still'd are its passions and its cares,
And hush'd its voice of mirth..

"Then learn from this how weak and vain
Is every earthly gift;
How in one instant all may fade,
And leave thee thus bereft!

When thy fond heart is filled with joy,
With gay and mirthful feeling,
Bethink thee, that the form of death
Beside thee may be stealing;
That ere another hour has past,
That rosy smile may fade,
And the light form that glides so fast,
In the cold tomb be laid.

"That the young heart within that clay,
To God's dread bar shall pass away,
And the dim future, dark to thee,
Shall bear it on its tideless sea,
To light or darkness, joy or woe,
Just as thy life hath pass'd below."
1834.

VERSES WRITTEN WHEN TWELVE YEARS OF AGE.

LINES ON RECEIVING A BLANK-BOOK FROM MY MOTHER.

THOUGH the new year has open'd in sickness and fear,
Though its dawning has witness'd the sigh and the tear,
Though the load on my heart and the weight on my brain,
And the sadness around me cause sorrow and pain,
Each feeling of woe from my bosom is driven
While I view the sweet volume affection has given,
And gazing delighted on binding and leaf,
I forget every thought which is tinctured with grief.

Though it needed no gift from my mother to prove The depth of that current of long-cherish'd love, Which hath flow'd on unceasing, unaltering still, Through sorrows unable its bright waves to chill, Yet 'tis strangely delightful, 'tis sweet to possess Some mementos to cherish and gaze on like this, Some gift which long hence may impart to the mind Fresh hues of the image there sweetly enshrined: Which, when every gay feeling is clouded with night, May burst on the soul like an angel of light, And presenting unalter'd the visions of love, Which had slumber'd awhile the more sweetly to soothe May illumine the darkness with radiance sublime, But more bright from repose, and unclouded by time. Oh, think not, my mother, I ever shall part From a token thus soothing, and sweet to my heart; That the dear little volume thus coming from thee, Shall e'er be less valued, less cherish'd by me. When the fathomless future its page shall unfold, When time o'er this head now so youthful has roll'd, And left me like others, gray, wither'd and old, Then, then shall this gift of the merry new year, From the loved one whose spirit no longer is here, Impart a sweet sadness, and draw the warm tear. ''T will bring to remembrance my own lovely home, And each feeling, each hope, which is now in its bloom, As a fair little talisman bound up with joy 'T will be clasp'd to my bosom its fond hopes to buoy, And the love now within it must cease there to dwell, When I bid this dear volume a lasting farewell.

1835.

TO FANCY.

FLY on, aerial Fancy! fly

Back, back through many an age,
To scenes which long have glided by,
Untold on history's page.

Oh, stretch thy heavenward wings, and soar
Through clouds mysterious and sublime,
To scenes which earth shall view no more,
Far down the dark abyss of time.

Lit by thy pure, celestial torch,
Earth, heaven, and sca have softly glow'd,
Nought in created space which ne'er
To thine enchanting sway hath bow'd.
Worlds framed and beautified by thee,
Have glow'd with every rainbow hue,
And o'er each meaner thing thy form
Hath shed a radiance as it flew.

All potent Fancy! deign to bend
One glance upon thy suppliant here!
Thy glowing car in kindness send,
And bear me to thy beauteous sphere.

Believe me, thou hast ever been
The cherish'd monarch of my heart!
There's not one thought, one hope, one scene,
In which thy vagaries have no part.

Then deign to look with pitying eye
Upon thy votary's bended form;
Disperse each cloud from yonder sky,
And clasp me in thy guardian arm.

1835.

INVOCATION TO SPRING.

BEND down from thy chariot, oh beautiful Spring, Unfold like a standard thy radiant wing, And beauty and joy in thy rosy path bring! We long for thy coming, sweet goddess of love, We watch for thy smile in the pure sky above, And we sigh for the hour when the wood birds shall sing, And nature shall welcome thee, beautiful Spring! How the lone heart will bound as thy presence draws near, As if borne from this world to some lovelier sphere! How the fond soul to meet thee in raptures shall rise, When thy first blush has tinted the earth and the skies. Oh, send thy soft breath on the icy-bound stream, 'T will vanish, 't will melt, like the forms in a dream, Released from its chains, like a child in its glee, 'T will flow in its beauty, all sparkling and free. It will spring on in joy, like a bird on the wing, And hail thee with music, oh beautiful Spring! But tread with thy foot on the snow-cover'd plain, And verdure and beauty shall smile in thy train. Only whisper one word with thy seraph-like voice, And nature to hear the sweet sound shall rejoice! Oh, Spring! lovely goddess! what form can compare With thine so resplendent, so glowing, so fair ? What sunbeam so bright as thy own smiling eye, At whose glance the dark spirits of winter do fly? A garland of roses is twined round thy brow, Thy cheek like the pale blush of evening doth glow; A mantle of green o'er thy soft form is spread, And the zephyr's light wing gently plays round thy head. Oh, could I but mount on the eagle's dark wing, And rest ever beside thee, Spring, beautiful Spring! Methinks, I behold thee! I hear thy soft voice! And in fulness of heart I rejoice! I rejoice!

1835.

But the cold wind is moaning, the drear snow doth fall,
And naught but the shrieking blast echoes my call.
Oh, heed the frail offering an infant can bring!

Oh, grant my petition, Spring, beautiful Spring!

FROM THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM.

1835.

WHERE from thy presence shall I flee?
Where seek a hiding-place from thee?
If the pure breath of heaven I share,
Lo! I shall find thy spirit there!
If wandering to the depths of hell,
I trust in secresy to dwell,
Behold! in all thy power and might,
Thou, Lord, shalt pierce the veil of night.
If on the radiant wings of morn
To unknown lands I'm gently borne;
There, even there thy hand shall lead
Thy voice support my sinking head.
If to my inmost soul I say,
Darkness and night shall shroud my way,
That darkness shall dissolve in light,
And day usurp the throne of night.
No power can dim thy searching eye,
Or bid thy guardian spirit fly.
Thou knowest well each infant thought,
Which passion, pride, or sin has taught;
And doubts and fears, but half express'd,
To thee, Almighty, stand confess'd.
Plain as the waves of yonder sea,
Man's subtlest thoughts are known to thee.
From the small insect tribe, which plays
Within the sun's enlivening rays,
To the broad ocean waves, which rise
In heaving billows to the skies.
Or great or small, each work of thine,
It whispers of a hand divine.
Each breeze which fans the twilight hour,
Speeds onward, guided by thy power;
Each wind which wildly sweeps abroad,
Is teeming with the voice of God.

STANZAS.

THE power of mind, the force of genius,
Oh, what human heart can tell,
Or the deep and stirring thoughts,
Which in the poet's bosom dwell!

The high and holy dreams of heaven,
Which raise the soul above
This world of care, this sphere of sin,
To realms of light and love.

Oh who can tell its energy?
The spirit's power and might,
When genius, with sublimest force,
Appoints its upward flight,-

And lifts the struggling soul above
The prison-house of clay,
To roam amid the fancied realms
Of glory and of day!
And breathes immortal vigour
To sustain it through this life,
The index of a higher world,
With power and beauty rife.

Oh, how sublime the very thought,
That this frail form of mine
Contains a spirit destined soon
In purer worlds to shine.

To unfold its infant energies,
In an immortal clime,
And far more glorious become
Each passing hour of time.

That it contains the heavenly germ
Of future being now,
Created there to beautify,
Where clearer waters flow.

And there expand the glowing bud,
'Mid worlds of light and love,
Through the bright realms of ether,
In glory still to rove.

LETTER TO A POETICAL CORRESPONDENT,

WRITTEN DURING MY ILLNESS, IN ANSWER TO ONE IN WHICH SHE DE-
SCRIBES PEGASUS AS BLIND, HALT, AND LAME, AND ENDEAVOURS TO
CHEER ME WITH THE PROSPECT OF SPEEDY RECOVERY.

Now, my dear Cousin Maggy, behold me again,
Relieved in a measure from sickness and pain;
With a well-sharpen'd phiz, and a cap on my head,
Just bidding farewell to the irksome sick bed,
And endeavouring to tune my enfeebled young lyre
To a theme which was wont its wild notes to inspire.