Reflections at a Pleasant Country Seat, &c.

142

POEMS BY OSANDER.

*

A VISION.

BY a streamlet, whose course, from a fountain, was gliding,

I cast me adown in the shade of a willow:

There, pensive, I thought on the cares, while reclining,

Of lifes chequer'd scene, so resembling the billow.

Soon sleep, pleasant sleep, o'er my senses had shed,
The dew which he culls from the poppy's profusion :
No more I perceived the shade o'er my head,
No longer the streamlet soft murmuring confusion.

But, mentally waking, my vision was brighten'd:
I saw, or I thought that I saw, a sweet scene ;
The light in the west by some glory was heighten'd,

Than th' day more delightful, than morn more serene :

B

Slow gliding to view, in the loveliest beauty,

A form, sweet as Heav'nly visions, appear'd;
Than cherub more smiling, than seraph more lovely,
She seem'd by the finger of Deity rear'd.

"Pensive mortal," she said (and she pointed above,) "Seest thou not yonder beaming mansions of day ! "They are fitted by mercy, assisted by love, "And the wild where you wander is only th' way."

So saying she gave me a glimpse of their glory, Then vanish'd-as, happy, from dreaming I woke.

Ah why shall we murmur, the years are too many!

Go on in the way our Redeemer has trod :
A journey of trial, 'tis filled with plenty,

If we'll trust in our maker, preserver, our GOD.

Soon, our pilgrimage o'er, the prospect appearing,

Will be happiness, glory, and fulness of joy.

Where praises may rise unmolested by fearing,

Halleluiahs, forever unmix'd with alloy.

A FRAGMENT.

FROM out the pregnant stores of the fierce North, Where, mid confusion dire and dangers terrible,

Storms lie, and tempests nestle into being,

See- -it blackens!

Clouds roll in dark magnificence,

And Gothick grandeur mounts

-As if some spirit, from the nether dell

Of Chaos, having torn the volving fragments,
Scatter'd them mid air,

And these, now by contending winds condens'd,

Mounder'd along the astonish'd vault of Heav'n!

But 'tis the ruler of the hosts on high:

Some trivial exercise of power divine,

For purposes-to him best known-but wise,

For wisdom is the daughter of Divinity.

TO YONDER BEAUTEOUS LITTLE BIRD

THAT SINGS SO PLEASINGLY.*

PRETTY little warbling note,

Do not cease, so soon, to float

Beauteous plumage, color'd high,
Where do you essay to fly ?

Dont, oh dont you take alarm,
I'll not even think you harm:

-Perhaps within some distant grove,

You've left the one you constant love.
-Ah then, floating, glide along,
Only close your parting song.
Is she near you in the nest,
Hushing still your young to rest?
Oh then stay, I will not harm you,
Fear nor danger sha'nt alarm you :
-Does she call you? fare you well-

Only close the parting swell.

* This was the title given the piece at the time it was written and is, therefore, still retained.