Making the morn, so bright and clear,
To thrill like joy's own atmosphere !—
A bird-song from each holly flows,
The bee hums loudly in the rose,
And like a soaring dew-drop seems
The butterfly to shed its gleams
Of hue and lustre, in wild play
Of rapture round its winged way.—
Creation, like a human soul,
Feels gladness through each fibre roll!
And, mark ye, where yon churchyard shows The tombs' and turfs' sepulchral rows, And sunbeams o'er the graves advance, To touch them with as bright a glance As once around each living head The beauty of their joyance spread!— A crowd of village forms attends; There lip with lip loud welcome blends; And homeward by a rose-strewn track The gay-eyed young are wending back, To drink around a festive board
Such health as loving hearts afford.
But whence the joy?-behold yon room,
And there, in hymeneal bloom,
In robes like clouds of fleecy mould,
When round the moon their grace is roll'd,
Divine in youth's divinest hour,
With beauty for her matchless dower,—
The bride, the daughter, and the queen,
Whose virtues crowd our vision'd scene!
Poet and painter,—each may bring,
Fresh from the spirit's fountain-spring,
Full many a truth and many a tone
That Nature shall confess her own:-
But there, in that bright room, are met
Feelings which ne'er were mirror'd yet,
Save by the features, when they start
To life from out the living heart!—
The old, the tried, whose years retain
The light of early friendship's reign,
From childhood holding firm and deep
The faith unworldly bosoms keep;
A sire, upon whose honour'd head
A silv'ry grace of time is spread,
Beholding, like a priest of joy,
The smiles which every face employ,
Though mellow'd is the meeker smile
That slumbers in his own the while,-
Again unite:-and she is there,
Whose heart becomes one voiceless prayer,
That life may round a daughter pour
Exhaustless mercy's heavenly store!
And thou! 'mid all, the bridal star,
Thy bosom is one tender war,
'Tween fond regret for faded hours,
And love, whose fulness overpowers !—
Deep tears within thy heart arise,
Though scarcely yet they dim thine eyes,
Lest shades of grief should haply fall
Upon thy wedding carnival,
And eyes parental catch from thee
A tear thy soul would shake to see !
But, when the sad adieus are sigh'd,
Thy spirit to its core is tried,
As garden, ground, and village mead,
From the wing'd chariot fast recede:-
One look!--so long it seems to cling
Around the spot of life's dead spring!
One rapid glance at paths of yore,
Where roam'd the days which breathe no more!-
And nature, wrung beyond control,
In tears will then unchain thy soul!
And let them fall! for tears like thine
Might hang on eyelids when divine;
And Love in their excess can see
How soft a woman's soul can be!
ABRAM JOURNEYING WITH HIS SON
ISAAC TO MOUNT MORIAH.
ERE the rich morning on the mountains flung
A robe of beauty,-in that primest hour
When birds are darting from the dewy ground,
And Nature, soft as sleeping life, begins
To waken, and the spell of day to wear ;-
Unseen, the patriarch and his cherish'd boy
Uprose, the sacrificial wood prepared,
And then, companion'd by his household youths,
They onward journey'd with the laden ass.—
Through piny glens and green acacia vales
The pilgrims wound their unreluctant way.
Oft as he went, upon his child adored
The sire of future nations look'd, and thought;
And felt the father in his bosom rise,
As bound and bloody on the altar stretch'd,
He vision'd him!—the long-hoped, destin'd son,
Who fond and dutiful had ever been,
And guiltless of a parent's tear !—But faith
Triumphant in the power of Mercy proved.-
Twice had the sun around the pilgrims drawn
His evening veil, when o'er a distant mount,
Upon Moriah's steep and rocky clime,
A vision of the Lord reposed, and shone,-
A cloudy signal, shaped for Abram's eye
Alone to see, and there his altar raise;
The patriarch bow'd, and o'er the mountain path
Both child and parent took their solemn way,
But each was silent, for they thought of Heaven.—
So on they went, till at the mount ordain'd
Arriving, with enamour'd gaze they saw
The hills of glory capp'd with sunset hues,
And willow'd plains; and drank the balmy air,
And cool'd their foreheads in the breeze, that fell
Light as the tremor of an angel's wing;
So still the hour, so calm the scene, that God
Himself seem'd waiting there to welcome man
APPROACH OF DEATH.
To die! this gorgeous world of life and love Forsake, and fleet beyond the bounds of thought; To feel the death-dews creeping o'er each limb, Our life-stream curdle, and the heart grow cold; To be the flesh-worm's feast,-to mould away, And blend our being with embracing dust;
All this, together with imagin'd wails
Of friends, whose tearful eyes attend our bier,
Calls a chill horror round the name of death,
That daunts the good, and makes the bad despair.
AN INFANT STANDING ON THE SEA
BESIDE the deep, emboss'd with beauteous waves,
An infant stands, and views the living awe
Of its immensity, with lips apart
Like a cleft rose hung radiant in the sun,—
Hush'd into sweetest wonder. How divine
The innocence of Childhood!
With
eyes
whose blueness is a summer heaven,
And cheeks where cherubim might print a kiss,
And forehead fair as moonlit snow,―thy form
Might be encradled in the rosy clouds
Of eve, that dream around their dying sun,-
So gentle and so glowing thou appear'st.
And heavenly is it for maternal eyes
In their fond light to mark thee growing, day
By day, with a warm atmosphere of love
Around thee circled with unceasing spell,
While, like a ray from her own spirit shed,
Thy mind shines forth in words of sweeter sound
Than all the music of thy manhood brings.-
'Tis now the poetry of life to thee !
With fancies fresh and innocent as flowers,
And manner sportive as the free-wing'd air,
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