When first our infant brows their lustre won; XLVII. CONCLUSION. WHY sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled, Coil within coil, at noon-tide? For the WORD Yields, if with unpresumptuous faith explored, Power at whose touch the sluggard shall unfold His drowsy rings. Look forth!—that Stream behold, 5 THAT STREAM upon whose bosom we have passed Floating at ease while nations have effaced Nations, and Death has gathered to his fold Long lines of mighty Kings-look forth, my Soul! (Nor in this vision be thou slow to trust) 10 EVENING VOLUNTARIES. I. CALM is the fragrant air, and loth to lose dews. Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; Look up a second time, and, one by one, light, 5 And wonder how they could elude the sight! Flits and reflits along the close arcade; 16 20 With burring note, which Industry and Sloth Might both be pleased with, for it suits them both. A stream is heard-I see it not, but know 25 By its soft music whence the waters flow: Wheels and the tread of hoofs are heard no more; One boat there was, but it will touch the shore With the next dipping of its slackened oar ; Faint sound, that, for the gayest of the gay, 30 Might give to serious thought a moment's sway, As a last token of man's toilsome day! 1832. II. ON A HIGH PART OF THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND. Easter Sunday, April 7. THE AUTHOR'S SIXTY-THIRD BIRTH-DAY. THE Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire, Flung back from distant climes a streaming fire, Whose blaze is now subdued to tender gleams, Prelude of night's approach with soothing dreams. Look round;-of all the clouds not one is moving; 5 "Tis the still hour of thinking, feeling, loving. Silent, and stedfast as the vaulted sky, The boundless plain of waters seems to lie: Comes that low sound from breezes rustling o'er The grass-crowned headland that conceals the shore? No; 'tis the earth-voice of the mighty sea, Whispering how meek and gentle he can be! ΙΟ Thou Power supreme! who, arming to rebuke Offenders, dost put off the gracious look, And clothe thyself with terrors like the flood Of Ocean roused into his fiercest mood, Whatever discipline thy Will ordain 16 20 For the brief course that must for me remain; Glad, through a perfect love, a faith sincere 1833. 25 III. (BY THE SEA-SIDE.) THE sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest, And the wild storm hath somewhere found a nest; 5 Air slumbers-wave with wave no longer strives, blast, Threatened by angry breakers as they passed; 9 14 20 As on a bed of death? Some lodge in peace, 25 30 The gulfy coast of Norway iron-bound; 66 35 heaven!" 1833. IV. Nor in the lucid intervals of life That come but as a curse to party-strife; Not in the breathing-times of that poor slave 5 |