Snatches of music taken up and dropped,
Like those self-solacing, those under notes
Trilled by the redbreast, when autumnal leaves
Are thin upon the bough. Mine, only mine,
The pleasure was, and no one heard the praise,
Checked, in the moment of its issue, checked
And reprehended, by a fancied blush
From the pure qualities that called it forth.
Thus Virtue lives debarred from Virtue's meed ; Thus, Lady, is retiredness a veil,
That, while it only spreads a softening charm
O'er features looked at by discerning eyes,
Hides half their beauty from the common gaze;
And thus, even on the exposed and breezy hill
Of lofty station, female goodness walks,
When side by side with lunar gentleness,
As in a cloister. Yet the grateful Poor
(Such the immunities of low estate,
Plain Nature's enviable privilege,
Her sacred recompense for my wants)
Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out
All that they think and feel, with tears of joy,
And benedictions not unheard in heaven:
And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free
To follow truth, is eloquent as they.
Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines A just memorial; and thine eyes consent To read that they, who mark thy course, behold
A life declining with the golden light
Of summer, in the season of sere leaves;
See cheerfulness undamped by stealing Time;
See studied kindness flow with easy stream,
Illustrated with inborn courtesy ;
And an habitual disregard of self
Balanced by vigilance for others' weal.
And shall the Verse not tell of lighter gifts
With these ennobling attributes conjoined
And blended, in peculiar harmony,
By youth's surviving spirit? What agile grace!
A nymph-like liberty, in nymph-like form,
Beheld with wonder; whether floor or path
Thou tread; or sweep, borne on the managed
steed,
Fleet as the shadows, over down or field,
Driven by strong winds at play among the clouds.
Yet one word more, one farewell word,
Which came, but it has passed into a prayer, —
That, as thy sun in brightness is declining,
So at an hour yet distant for their sakes
Whose tender love, here faltering on the way
Of a diviner love, will be forgiven, -
So may it set in peace, to rise again
For everlasting glory won by faith.
AMONG the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touched, and public way
And crowded street resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by ONE whose very name bespeaks
Favor divine, exalting human love;
Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria's coast,
Known unto few, but prized as far as known,
A single Act endears to high and low
Through the whole land; to Manhood, moved
Of the world's freezing cares; to generous Youth;
To Infancy, that lisps her praise; to Age
Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a tear
Of tremulous admiration. Such true faine
Awaits her now; but, verily, good deeds
Do no imperishable record find,
Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live
A theme for angels, when they celebrate
The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth
Has witnessed. O that winds and waves could
Of things which their united power called forth
From the pure depths of her humanity!
A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call,
Firm and unflinching as the Lighthouse reared On the Island-rock, her lonely dwelling-place; Or like the invincible Rock itself, that braves, Age after age, the hostile elements,
As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell.
All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused,
When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air, Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf,
Beating on one of those disastrous isles,
Half of a Vessel, half,
Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there
Had for the common safety striven in vain,
Or thither thronged for refuge.. With quick glance
Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern,
Clinging about the remnant of this Ship,
Creatures how precious in the Maiden's sight!
For whom, belike, the old Man grieves still more Than for their fellow-sufferers ingulfed
Where every parting agony is hushed,
And hope and fear mix not in further strife. "But courage, Father! let us out to sea,
A few may yet be saved." The Daughter's words,
Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith,
Dispel the Father's doubts: nor do they lack
The noble-minded Mother's helping hand
To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered
And inwardly sustained by silent prayer,
Together they put forth, Father and Child!
Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go, Rivals in effort; and, alike intent
Here to elude and there surmount, they watch The billows lengthening, mutually crossed And shattered, and regathering their might; As if the tumult by the Almighty's will
Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged, That woman's fortitude so tried, so proved —
May brighten more and more!
They stem the current of that perilous gorge, Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart,
Though danger, as the Wreck is neared, becomes
More imminent. Not unseen do they approach:
And rapture, with varieties of fear
Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames
Of those who, in that dauntless energy,
Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturbed
Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives
That of the pair, tossed on the waves to bring
Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, life-
One is a Woman, a poor earthly sister,
Or, be the Visitant other than she seems,
A guardian Spirit sent from pitying Heaven,
In woman's shape. But why prolong the tale,
Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts
Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced
And difficulty mastered, with resolve
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