« PreviousContinue »
Even now, when the fever of youth is gone by,
And I glow with more temperate fire, Delighted I dwell on thy soul-beaming eye ; And, heaving perhaps still too ardent a sigh,
Survey thee with chasten’d desire.
Oh! come then and give me, dear Maiden, thy charms;
For life is, alas ! on the wing : Our summer, ere long, will be filed; in these arms Let me shield thee, my Fair One, from winter's alarms :
Oh! listen to love while 'tis spring.
F. R. S.
A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
The Shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable shed, Where the Virgin Mother lay:
And now they check'd their eager tread, For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung, A Mother's song the Virgin Mother sung!
They told her how a glorious Light,
Strearning from an heavenly Throng, Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a Mother's song, Blest Angels heralded the Saviour's birth, Glory to God on high and PEACE ON EARTH!
She listen'd to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed; And while she cry'd, The Babe is mine !
The milk rush'd faster to her breast : Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; PEACE, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born!
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate;
Oh why should this thy soul elate?
And is not WAR a youthful King,
A stately Hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring,
Him Earth's majestic Monarchs hail Their Friend, their Playmate ! and his bold bright eye Compels the Maiden's love-confessing sigh.
“ Tell this in some more courtly scene,
“ To Maids and Youths in robes of state ! “ I am a Woman, poor and mean,
“ And therefore is my soul elate. • War is a ruffian Thief with gore defil'd, " That from the aged Father tears his Child.
“A murderous Thief, by fiends ador’d,
“ He kills the Sire, and starves the Son; “ The Husband kills, and from her board
“ Steals all his Widow's toil had won ; « Plunders God's world of Beauty, rends away “ All safety from the night, all comfort from the day!
“ Then wisely is my soul elate,
“ That strife should vanish, battle cease :
and of a low estate, “ The Mother of the Prince of Peace ! Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: “Peace, PEACE ON EARTH! the Prince of Peace is born",