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Jfxjfsms Ijtj iht ^^v. !♦ KeHe»
REV. X KEBLE, M.A.
VICAR OF HURSLEY.
^9xfor4 and London :
JAMES PARKER AND CO.
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
A GOOD many of the Poems contained
in this volume have already appeared .in
print in various collections of poetry.
The Ode with which the volume opens was
composed by Mr. Keble as Professor of Poetry,
on the occasion of the Installation of the Duke
of Wellington as Chancellor of the University
of Oxford in the year 1834. It was set to music
by the Professor of Music, Dr. Crotch, and per-
formed in the Theatre in Oxford at the Encaenia
in that year.
The next forty-five poems were contributed
to the Lyra Apostolica^ in which they are dis-
tinguished by the signature 7. To these is added
a translation of an ancient Greek Hymn of the
first or second century, which (as I learn from
the best authority) has accidentally been printed
in several editions of that book with a different
vi PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The three Hymns for Emigrants, for use at
Midnight, Morning, and Evening, were written
at the request of his friend Sir Frederic Rogers,
at that time Emigration Commissioner. They
were printed in the first edition of the " Prayers
for Emigrants," which ' he had compiled, but
were subsequently omitted, perhaps as being
thought not sufficiently simple for the class of
people for whose use the Book of Prayers was
Then follow four poems from the "Child's
Christian Year," and four which have been
printed in the " Salisbury Hymnal."
Mr. Keble offered other contributions to the
'* Salisbury Hymnal" besides these four, several
of which are printed in this volume. They are
mostly translations of ancient Church Hymns.
Among these are some which are, I believe,
wholly translated by himself. These are " Nocte
surgentes *," " Nunc sancte," " Rector potens,"
"Rerum Deus," "Salvete flores," "Cultor Dei
• By an unfortunate oversight, the first line of this translation
is printed ** Watch i4s by night," instead of ** Watch we."
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. Vll
memento," " O Deus, ego amo Te," and " Alle-
luia, dulce carmen." Others are altered, so
largely as to be in fact new translations, from
other versions, particularly those of Dr. Neale,
Mr. Copeland, and the " Hymnal Noted." It
was thought by the compilers of the Hymnal
that the extreme faithfulness of these trans-
lations gave them an air of stiffness, which made
them less fit for congregational singing ; they
were therefore omitted from that publication.
But in a collection of his own poems it seems
well to print some of them, as exhibiting in
a remarkable degree his power of vigorous and
exact translation, in respect of compositions of
which extremely condensed thought, and pro-
found acquaintance with Holy Scripture are
the chief characteristics. Any person who will
compare these versions with those on which
they are confessedly framed, will, I think, not
fail to recognise these qualities in them. Of
a few well-known modern hymns he also offered
variations ; but these it has been thought better
not to print. One, however, I add as a speci-
men : —
Vlll PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
** The Lord magnified Joshua." — Joshua iv. 14.
" Guide us, Thou whose name is Saviour,
Pilgrims in the barren land,
We are weak, and Thou Almighty,
Hold us with Thy strong right-hand.
As in Egypt,
As upon the Red Sea strand.
" Let the cloud and fire supernal
Day and night before us go :
Lead us to the rock and fountain
Whence the living waters flow :
Bread of Heaven,
Feed us, till no want we know.
" When we touch the cold, dark river,
Cleave for us the swelling tide ;
Through the flood, and through the whirlpool
Let Thine Ark our footsteps guide :
Jesu, lead us.
Land us safe on Canaan's side.
" Praise the Father, God of Heaven,
Him who reigns supreme on high ;
Praise the Son, for sinners given,
E'en to suffer and to die ;
Praise the Spirit,
Guiding us so lovingly.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. IX
The original of the above, from the " Book ofPraiscP
" Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah ;
Pagrim through this barren land ;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty ;
Hold me with Thy powerful hand I
Bread of Heaven ! Bread of Heaven !
Feed me now and evermore.
** Open now the crystal Fountain,
Whence the healing streams do flow ;
Let the fiery, cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through ;
Strong Deliverer ! strong Deliverer I
Be Thou still my strength and shield I
" When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside ;
Death of death, and Hell's destruction.
Land me safe on Canaan's side ;
Songs of praises, songs of praises,
I will ever give to Thee."
William Williams y 1774.
Beautiful as it is in the original, it will be
readily seen what a rich and solemn colouring
is thrown over it by the deep Scriptural know-
ledge, and the exact doctrine of the poet.
The remaining poems in the volume are ar-
ranged, as nearly as can be ascertained, in the
X PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
order of the years in which they were composed.
This will account for a considerable mixture of
subjects in them ; but it will also throw no
small light upon the great general consistency
of his character from early youth to mature old
age. For as there was a singular maturity of
sacred thought in his earliest writings, so was
there a sweet freshness — almost what might be
called boyishness — of feeling which lasted on
and is visible in those which were written last.
It is not improbable that he would in his' later
life have withheld some of the earlier poems
from publication, nor that expressions may be
found here and there, breathing a somewhat
different tone from that which he would have
adopted in after years. Such slight varieties,
however, if such there are, are but the true de-
tail of the working of an uniform and consistent
spirit in the course of many years ; and it is
with the view of shewing this, that the exact
dates of the several pieces are added whenever
they can be certainly ascertained.
The poem on the Annunciation is, it will be
seen, in great measure the same as that which
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xi
is printed on the same subject in the " Chris-
tian Year." There is no doubt that it was
written in the first place as here given, and on
the occasion of the death of his own mother
in June, 1823. But in its original form, it came
too close to his own personal and most sacred
feelings to allow him to print it ; so omitting
the concluding stanzas, and substituting others,
he gave it a more general turn, and fitted it for
its place in the " Christian Year." I trust that
It is no improper unveiling of those sacred feel-
wigs to print the poem as originally written,
now that he is gone. Those concluding stanzas
^e not only in themselves eminently beautiful,
^d remarkably expressive of the sweetness and
affection, and of the tenderness of conscience
^hich characterized him in all his life, but they
^Iso reflect a new and true light upon the train
of thought in the earlier part of the poem, and
^^nder intelligible expressions in the first stanza,
^hich, as it stands in the "Christian Year,"
The poem entitled " Mother out of Sight"
^ written for the Lyra Innocentium. but
Xll PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
Withheld from publication at the time, with his
consent but against his wish, at the earnest re-
quest of some of his dearest friends. The reasons
which were sufficient to cause it to be withheld
then do not exist any longer, and inasmuch as
he did not himself disapprove of its being
printed, and that different considerations may
be allowed to enter into the questions of con-
temporary and posthumous publication, I have
thought it not wrong to publish it. It has re-
cently been printed at length in Sir John Cole-
ridge's memoir, and a part of it was quoted
a few years since in the "Month,'* a Roman
Catholic periodical. It belongs to "troublous
days of anguish and rebuke," and if in some
part it seems to indicate any doubt of the posi-
tion of the Church of England as part of the
Catholic Church of Christ, the remainder of it,
and his own most loyal life till death as a Priest
in the Anglican communion, are abundantly
sufficient to shew that that doubt, if it ever ex-
isted at all, was fully and practically satisfied.
Let it be allowed to one — ^who had the honour
of his intimate friendship during the last thirty
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xiii
years of his life, and was in habits of the closest
and most confidential communication with him
during the anxious times referred to — to bear
the clearest and strongest witness to the fact
that in the midst of great and sore distress he
never (not, I verily believe, for a single moment)
entertained the idea of deserting the commu-
nion in which he was baptized, or, with all his
true and filiail yearning for Catholic union, felt
less than extreme repugnance to the unscrip-
tural doctrines and claims of the Church of
Among the earlier poems will be found two
or three copies of love-verses, bearing the date
of 1812, when he was in his twentieth year.
These have been printed partly on account of
their own beauty, and partly as furnishing a real
trait of himself when he was a young man. For
lie had a singularly loving spirit, and to him may
well be .transferred the beautiful words which
in one of the poems of this volume he applies
to Petrarca, for he too
" Chanted his hermit-hymn to Heaven and Love,
Soft and severe : for Piety had framed
XIV PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The melody, and every wilder chord
Was tempered to her solemn undersong.
So Love seemed what he is, — a spirit devout.
Owning God most in His most beauteous work."
Two odes also, written in early life, are in-
serted in their places : the one referring to
the rising of the Portuguese in 1808, the other
to the battles in the Pyrenees in the year
18 1 3. They shew that though the prevailing
character of his poetry is one of gentleness,
yet there was in him a fire of feeling and ex-
pression which might have found noble utter-
ance in more secular and stirring poetry, if
he had not deliberately preferred to "abide
where the holy shadow lay, where Heaven his
lot had cast."
There is, as is inevitable in a volume consist-
ing in great degree of" Remains," a fragmentary
and incomplete character, not only in the col-
lection in general, but also in several of the
pieces contained in it This, however, does not
seem to form a sufficient reason for keeping
such pieces back. Indeed, in this, as in various
other respects, there is much difference between
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XV
the grounds for selecting poetry for publication
during an author's lifetime, and after his death.
While he is alive and can make his own selec-
tion, it is due to the public and to himself that
he should put forward only such pieces as are
finished to the utmost of his power, and express
his thought most exactly in the form in which
he desires it to be seen and understood. But
when he is gone, and the picture of his mind
and genius is to be completed, as nearly as may
b^ from the scattered traits which his posthu-
mous papers furnish, it would be a great sa-
crifice of the truth and genuineness of the por-
trait if pieces were excluded, either because,
ivritten at different periods of his life, they might
shew some difference in expression or sentiment,
or because they were wanting in the last finish
which he would have given to them if he had
printed them himself Some of the most life-
like of these traits are furnished in the present
instance by such fragments, thrown off at a heat,
as it were, and never returned to again, but
full of sparkles of true Christian gold, which it
would be a real loss to lose. The precious
XVI PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
treasure which many Christian hearts feel that
they possess in the "Christian Year," does not
depend upon the completeness or the finish of
the separate poems. It is often, I apprehend,
a stanza, a line, even a single expression which
dwells upon the memory, and leads men to bless
God for the help and comfort which He has
given them in the sweet writings of the Chris-
It is the characteristic of Keble's poetry to
be in a very high degree the reflex of himself.
It is probable that (except perhaps in the In-
stallation Ode, which was required of him in
his office of Professor of Poetry) he never sat
down expressly for the purpose of writing poetry
as such ; but gifted with a mind highly poetical
by nature, and refined by the highest cultiva-
tion, it was a relief to him, as various circum-
stances arose, to express in verse the thoughts
and feelings which those circumstances sug-
gested. His deeply devotional cast of mind>
his great and unfailing reverence for holy things,
his profound knowledge of the Scriptures, and
of the sacred Truth taught in all ages in the
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xvii
Church, gave to these occasional effusions a pre-
vailingly religious character, while his tender
love of home, and whatever belonged to home
mingled with his natural playfulness of mind
and delight in children, threw over everything
he wrote a gracious sweetness which was exactly
characteristic of all his life and conversation.
Time after time some little incident, often of the
very slightest kind, has given occasion to one
of these sweet gushes, if I may so call them, of
verse, in which very deep thought and feeling
found their natural and genuine expression.
Once written, he thought of them no more.
Scraps of this kind are found on the backs of
letters, in leaves of old pocket-books, and in
other such places, where apparently they were
first put down and then forgotten.
If there is one quality, which more than
another may be said to mark his writings, it is
their intense and absolute veracity. Never for
a moment is the very truth sacrificed to effect.
I will venture to say with confidence that there
is not a sentiment to be found elevated or am-
plified beyond what he really felt ; nor, I would
xvili PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
add, even an epithet that goes oeyond his
actual and true thought. What he was in life
and character, that he was, transparently, in
every line he wrote, — entirely, always, reve-
It was his own theory of poetry, — a theory
most beautifully and completely drawn out in
his Preelections, — that poetry when regarded in
its own true and essential being, is the natural
outpouring of a mind labouring inwardly, so
to speak, with lofty and tender thought, and
endeavouring to obtain relief by an expression
which, using images and sentiments gathered
on every side of nature, should be conveyed in
elcxtited language and rhythmical measure.
Of poetry in this high sense, he thought that
jftoJosty is an essential quality: for while the
ttinJ iJ^ ^^ secret agitation craves and finds
^Jcf in verse, that very verse is of the nature
•Iji veil, hiding in part what in part it reveals.
r^gtis the withholding of the full and entire con-
, *^ of the feelings inwardly stirred he held
V as essential to the character of a true
the absolute truthfulness and reality of
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xix
such as, with such reserve, he found relief in
He held that essential poetry in this sense
was to be recognised not only in those whom
the world acknowledges as poets, and who are
blessed with "the accomplishment of verse,"
but in children, in persons uneducated, and in
such as perhaps never made nor read a line of
verse in their lives, but whose acts or words
exhibit the essential requisites of poetry, the
mind labouring with lofty or tender thought,
and the imaginative expression in which that
thought finds its reserved and modest, but suffi-
cient outlet. He illustrated this view in the
case of rustics, by alleging their love of home,
exhibited in all sorts of indirect ways of act
and word, by their reverence of the memory
and memorials of dead friends, and by their
strong sense of superhuman and invisible powers,
of omens, and the like; acknowledging, how-
ever, that " it is to be confessed that there is
in the lowest and rudest people that which
often obscures, and sometimes miserably ex-
tinguishes that silent poetry and light of fancy
XX PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
of which we speak, inasmuch as in their desire
to relieve their agitation of feeling, they are in-
capable of restraining themselves from pouring
out alike what ought and what ought not to
be expressed, and so have no room whatever
left for the sweet discipline of poetry."
In the well-nigh universal presence of this
essential poetry in men's minds, he found the
secret of the delight which so many take in
the perfect works of true poets. For the silent
strings which God has set in the hearts of very
many, if not all, of His people, vibrate inwardly
to the true notes, when they are skilfully struck
by those gifted hands to which God has been
pleased to impart the further gift of utterance
in addition to that of appreciation.
Pursuing this view of poetry, and dividing
poets into the two classes of primary and se-
condary, according as they either write verse
"spontaneously, under a sense of distress, de-
siring to pour out and thereby soothe their feel-
ings of sorrow, or other kinds of emotion, or,
from other motives, construct in verse poetical
sentiments and rhythmical words/* he examines
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XXI
in detail the works of all the great poets of
antiquity, classifying and criticising them with
great skill, and giving to each his own character
and praise, with a power and delicacy at once so
original and so just, as to make his lectures one
of the most charming and valuable volumes of
classical criticism that have ever issued from
It is plain from this slight sketch of his theory
of poetry, that the mere artifice of verse-making,
however perfect, held a very secondary place in
his estimation; and it must be confessed that
with a sweet and melodious flow of natural
verse there is mingled in his writings an occa-
sional inexactness and roughness of expression
and rhythm which he did not care to smoothe.
Indeed, it is said on very good authority that
the poet Wordsworth (for whom Keble always
entertained the highest reverence, as is shewn
by the expressions he uses respecting him in
the dedication to the Oxford Praelections),
having read the '* Christian Year," expressed
his high sense of its beauty, and also of the
occasional imperfections of the verse, in the
XXli PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
following most characteristic terms : " It is very
good," he said ; " so good, that if it were mine,
I would write it all over again."
Still more strikingly is the truthful and mo-
dest verse of the Christian poet contrasted with
the sensational writings which are much in
vogue in the present age. Immodesty of all
kinds was utterly repugnant to his nature, by
which I mean not only such flagrant immodesty
as actually disfigures some of the elaborate
poetry of the day, but also the immodesty
which lays bare to the whole world the inmost
secrets of the heart, and, as it were, dissects
and analyzes them for the purpose of shewing
the profundity of thought, and mastery of lan-
guage of the poet, and which, in so doing, can
hardly fail to exaggerate, and exaggerating to
distort the truth of nature, and to do violence
to the veiled reserve of true poetry.
It may be freely granted that in a merely
artistic point of view Keble's poems may not
rank so high as those of some other writers,
whose claim to the higher characteristics of the
true poet is incalculably inferior to his. And
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION, xxiii
\l IS not impossible that those who take delight
in such stimulating and less wholesome strains,
however artificially perfect, i^iay have lost their
ear and taste for gentler and deeper music. But
It would indicate a strangely low and mistaken
estimate of that which constitutes the real nature
of heavenly poetry, if verse like that of the
"Christian Year,'* which, as it issued from one
deep and holy heart, has found its way to the
hearts of so many thousands, were to be re-
garded as a work of art only, and judged of
according to its outward rules. No doubt that
precious volume might have been brought up
^0 a higher finish in respect of the exterior
qualities of verse. But which of those who love
It dearly and thankfully, — and they are a
countless multitude of the best and truest ser-
vants of God in His Church, — would now
consent to part with even its occasional rough-
i^esses of word and rhythm, recalling as they do,
^^d truthfully representing the exact thought
of the writer, in the very form in which it issued,
pure and genuine, from the sweetest and holiest
^f Kiinds ? When we have our friends still with
^s, We may perhaps prefer the smooth portrait,
xxiv PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
elaborated by the skill of the painter, to the
faithful and less flattering photograph. But
when they are gone, do we regret to recognise
the very marks, the very wrinkles it may be,
which bring our beloved ones before our eyes
with the undeniable and unmistaken exactness
of the truth ?
The poems in this volume will be found to
add various traits to the portrait of the beloved
author, as furnished by the books which he pub-
lished in his lifetime. Some of the love-verses
of his youth have already been referred to. The
picture would have been strangely incomplete
if it had contained no recollections of his deep
humbleness* and tenderness of conscience, of
his great charity, of his affectionate and cling-
ing love to his home and family, and of his
merry playfulness, especially with children. A
few trifles of this last -mentioned kind have
■ On the day before his funeral his wife said to one who was
by her bedside, ** There is one thing that I do not think any
one could know but those who were constantly with him — the
depth of his humility and charity. Notwithstanding his very
keen feeling about doctrine, he always made such great allow-
ances for other people. He never spoke a sharp word about
those who differed from him without correcting himself imme-
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XXV
been inserted in their respective places, while
others have been omitted. Among these is
a playful letter from Oxford, addressed to the
Miss Pruens with a copy of Bowdler's Shak-
speare. It is not worth printing at length, but
the following lines are characteristic : —
He 1x^3 been in the dirt, but youll please to take note
^°^ dowdier has lately been brushing his coat ;
oo l^^ jjjg present him to make his best bow,
"^^^ired that youll not have to blush for him now."
■^^^ those who have known and loved the au-
thor -y^jg collection will hardly fail to be highly
inteir^sting. It may not add much to his fame
^^ ^ poet, yet neither will it be found to fall
°^^^ath it. But it will help to present even
"^^^^ fully than the other volumes, the very
trut^i — from boyhood to old age, in his home,
anx^^j^g his friends, in his parish, — of the holy
n^^n whose memory the Church cherishes, and
^^*l surely continue to cherish as one of the
^^st fragrant and precious of her treasures.
^ek 22, 1869.
Ode for the Encaenia at Oxford I
The Three Absolutions 8
Bereavement. — Resignation 13
Burial of the Dead 15
Lighting of Lamps 19
Lights at Vespers 21
Lights in the Upper Chamber 23
The Churchman to his Lamp 25
The Watch by Night 28
Christian Chivalry . . . . . . . .29
To a Thrush Singing in the Middle of a Village, Jan. 1833 32
The African Church . . . . . -35
Let us Depart Hence 39
Athanasian Creed 41
Burial Service 42
Length of the Praj'ers 43
A Remnant 44
The Ruler of the Nations 46
The Avenger 47
The Herald of Woe
United States .
Champions of the Truth
Church and King .
Fire. — Part I. Nadab and Abihu
The Burning at Taberah
Korah, Dathan, and Abiram
Elijah and the Messengers of Ahaziah
Fire. — Part II. The Samaritans spared
The Fall of Babylon
The Gathering of the Church
Hymns for Emigrants
The Innocents' Day
First Sunday after Easter
Tenth Sunday after Trinity
Sixteenth Simday after Trinity
St. John's Day
For the Rogation Days
faster Eve Ii6
Holy Matrimony 119
Transutions of Ancient Church Hymns : —
Sonano refectis artubus 122
Jam lucis orto sidere 124
N'octe surgentes 126
Sector potens 128
'^dmi Deus 129
"^ittio dierum omnium .130
^-^cis Creator optime 132
^ ^vete floras Martyrum . ... 134
^^tor Dei memento . .... 136
**^iHs novae Hierusalem 138
^^Ula Regis 140
^I'lium supemum prodiens 142
*-*^ clara ecce personat 143
^*^e lingua, gloriosi prselium certaminis . 144
■*^eus, ego amo Te 147
*l^luia, duke carmen 149
,, ^I'de natus ex Parentis 151
r|,^^rtas, quae sera tamen respexit inertem,*' 1808 . 154
r|, ^ — , on her Sister's Death 159
^ Girl, who was complaining that she had forgotten
y . her Sister's Birthday 160
^^ suggested by the Remembrance of an early but long-
lost Friend 161
^ Visiting the Ruins of Farleigh Castle, Somersetshire . 162
^ leaving Corpus Christi College, on his Election to
_ a Fellowship of Oriel 164
A Thought on a Fine Morning
To the Nightingale ....
Stanzas addressed to a "Gloomy Thinker"
** Nee me discedere flevit"
A Wet Day at Midsummer
The First Sight of the Sea
Written at Sidmouth ....
To a Cave under High Peak, Sidmouth .
To the Memory of John Leyden, M.D. .
On being requested to write some Verses in
Stanzas on leaving Sidmouth. (Fragment)
" Nunquam Auditurse " .
Sonnet ** concerning the True Poet "
ToJ. T. C, withPetrarca .
Ode on the Victories in the Pyrenees, 1813
O, stay Thee yet, &c
Lines sent with the Lives of Ridley and Cranmer
At Hooker's Tomb . .
On a Monument in Lichfield Cathedral .
Hammond's Grave ....
On the North Road ....
Newton Cliff, near Fledborough
^y an Old Bacnelor very disconsolate at parting with his
Four Wives 222
To the Same 223
The Rook 225
A Thought upon taking Leave of some Friends > . . 228
W)nnn for the Annunciation 230
A Hmt for a Fable '. . 234
M^oonlight, Ulcombe Parsonage 235
'''ragment on his Sister Mary Anne's Death . . . 236
^untspill Tower 237
^e Exe below Tiverton at Sunrise .... 238
A ^ile from Totness on the Tor Road, looking back . 239
'**airford again 240
burning out of the London Road, down to Sapperton . 241
^^y, but these are Breezes . . . . . . 243
^oiv shall the Righteous ? 245
*^cre have been mighty Winds 246
^^ Harmony, &c 247
* "Wo Lamps apart, &c • . . ib.
"^^E. K.,jun 248
^alvem at a Distance 250
"^^y-day Song for the Hursley Children . . • 253
?^ther out of Sight 254
'^en is Communion nearest ? 260
5^^iy is the Sick Man's Room 262
_ ' Mark xvi. 4 261
*-ord, if ever, &c 264
^^ John xiv. I 265
.^^ of nice Touch, &c 266
^^ Clarion calls, &c 268
In Choirs and Places where they Sing, here followeth
the Anthem 269
Jeremiah xxiii. 23 270
Why seek we, sounding high and low . . . .271
St. John V. 16, 17 275
When in hef Hour of still Decay 276
To the Lord of the Manor of Merdon . . . . 278
To his Sister Elizabeth . . . . * .. . . 282
Written in the Album at Cuddesdon Palace . . . 384
Nurse, let me draw, &c. 285
Hymn for Easter-tide 287
For the Opening of the West Window of the Hall of St
Andrew's College, Bradfield. April 5, 1859 . .291
Prayers of Saints 293
For Music 296
Dart and Webber . 298
To a Little Girl 302
To Master Bernard Wilson's Dog 304
0de tot th^ Enxjeenia at 0xtotdj
Written for the Installatioii of His Oraoe Arthur, Duke
of Wellingtony Ohaaoellor of the Universitj. ^
June 11, 1834.
T F, when across the autumnal heaven,
^ The rude winds draw their restless shroud,
One glorious star to sight be given,
Now dim, now clear, an isle in deeps of cloud ;
• Watchmen on their lonely tower,
Shepherds by their mountain hold,
Wistful gazing hour by hour,
Trace it through the tempest's fold ;
Even such, in records dark of care and crime
Each in high Heaven's appointed time,
Bright names of Heroes glow, that gem the days of old.
Ode for the Enccenia at Oxford^
When ours are days of old,
Whom will our children's children name
The Star of our dark time, the man high-soul'd.
At whose undying orb the true and bold
May light their lamps with pure heroic flame ?
Go ask of every gale that blows.
Of every wave that curls the main ; —
Where at burning noon repose
Tigers by some Indian fane ;
Where hoary cliffs of Lusitane,
Like aged men, stand waiting on the shore.
And watch the setting sun, and hear th' Atlantic roar.
Then onward, where th' Iberian mountain gale
O'er many a deep monastic vale,
O'er many a golden river loves to fling
His gatherings from the thymy lap of spring.
an the Installation of the Duke of Wellington, 3
Ask wide waters proudly spann'd,
Towers upheav'd by War's strong hand,
Oaks upon their mountains rent,
Where th* avenging whirlwind went ;
Torrents of Navarre that boil
Choking with abandoned spoil. —
Ask of the shades endear'd of yore
By tread of holy feet,
Monarch, or maiden voVd, or calm-eyed priest,
Ask them by whom released.
They breathe their hermit hymns, awful and sweet,
In saintly stillness, as before ;
But chiefly pause where Heroes' bones are laid
By Learning's haunted home in Salamanca's glade.
There, on the cloister'd youth of Spain,
The trumpet call'd, nor call'd in vain j —
Not Aaron's clarion, tun'd and blest on high,
The dread Ark moving nigh,
Thrill'd in a nobler cause, or pour'd a keener strain.
Ode for the Enccmia at Oxford^
'Mid other cloisters now, and dearer shrines,
The memory rings of that victorious blast,
And years and glories past,
Charm'd to new life, advance in brightening lines.
Restorer of the rightful thrones !
Thee, cottage hearth, thee, palace tower,
Thee, busy mart and studious bower,
Thee, Isis, thine at last, her great Deliverer owns. —
Who knows not how the vulture woke,
Whose " deadly wound was heal'd ? "
One breathless aim — 'tis o'er — one stroke
That felon wing for ever broke.
Oh, laureird, bloody field !
Day of stem joy for heaven and earth !
Wrong'd earth, avenging heaven !
How well might War's ungentle lore
With thee depart for evermore,
And to the weary world th' expected birth
Of calm, bright years be given !
It may not be : lo, wild and free
Swarms out anew the dragon kind ;
an tke Installation oftke Duke of Wellingtofi, 5
Spreads fast and far the kindling war
Against th' Anointed and Enshrined.
But thou, my Mother ! green as erst and pure
Thy willows wave, thy meeting waters glide ;
Untamish'd on thy matron breast endure
The treasured gems, thy youth's delight and pride:
Firm Loyalty, serene and fond,
Wearing untir'd her lofty bond ;
Awful Reverence, bending low
Where'er the heavens their radiance throw :
And Wisdom's mate. Simplicity,
That in the gloom dares trust the guiding arm on
These, of old thy guardians tried,
Daily kneeling at thy side,
And wont by night to fan thy vigil fires —
We feel them hovering now around th' aerial spires.
Our votive la3rs unalter'd swell.
Our angels breathe their willing spell,
Breathe on our incense cloud, and bear
Our welcome high in lucid air,
Telling dark Evil's banded powers
That he who freed the world is ours.
Ode for the Enccenia at Oxford,
Stand still in heaven, fair cloud, a space,
Nor urge too fast thy liquid race
Through fields of day! for while thou lingerest here,
Soft hazy gleams from thee descending.
Present, and past, and future blending,
Renew the vision lov'd, our glorious trial-year.
The sainted monarch lights again our aisles
With his own calm foreboding smiles,
(Not courtly smiles, nor earthly bred,)
Sobering Pleasure's airy wiles,
And taming War's too haughty tread.
Around him wait, a grave, white-robed throng,
The chosen angels of the Church he loves :
Guided by them, in her meek power he moves
On to that brightest crown, prepared for him ere long.
And mailed forms are there.
Such as heroic spirits wear,
Seal'd for high deeds in yon ethereal halls.
on the Installation of the Duke of Wellington. 7
Oh if th' Elysian dream
Were true, and with emerging gleam
Dread warrior shades at fated intervals
Were seen like stars returning,
And ever brighter burning,
Well might our shrines and bowers their Ormond hail,
Friend of his king, reviv'd in thee.
Ere, quite expiring, on the base earth fail
The trodden spark of loyalty.
Ormond, who paced the tottering deck,
Upright amid a nation's wreck.
Who spum'd the boon the traitor gave %
And slumber'd fearless on the wave. —
Warrior ! be such our course and thine !
The eye that never sleeps
With undecaying fires benign
Will guide us o'er the deeps.
• See Clarendon, vi. 1184, Edit Oxf. 1819. "The Lord Lieutenant, about
the middle of December, 1650, embarked himself in a small vessel for France,
after he had refused to receive a pass from Ireton, who offered it ; choosing
rather to trust the seas and winds, in that rough and boisterous season of
the year, than to receive an obligation from the rebels."
Tb« Thte^ Itbsolutkins \
" And there shall in nowise enter into it any thing that de-
fileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh
a lie ; but they which are written in the Lamb's Book of Life. —
Rev. xxi. 27.
Each mom and eve, the Golden Keys *,
Are lifted in the sacred hand,
To shew the sinner on his knees
Where Heaven's bright doors wide open stand.
On the dread Altar duly laid
The Golden Keys their witness bear,
That not in vain the Church hath pray'd.
That He, the Life of souls, is there.
i> I. In the Daily Service; II. In the Communion ; III. In the Visitation
of the Sick.
« This, and the forty-four poems which follow it, are printed in the Lyra
Apostolica^ and distinjsuished by the sismature y.
TTie Three Absolutions.
Full of the past, all shuddering thought,
Man waits his hour with upward eye ^
The Golden Keys in love are brought.
That he may hold by them and die.
But touch them trembling ; for that gold
Proves iron in the unworthy hand,
To close, not ope, the favoured fold,
To bind, not loose, the lost soul's band.
«» Vid. Death-bed Scenes. " The Barton Family." §. 3.
*' He which testifieth these things, saith, Surely
I come quickly." — I^ev. xxii. 20.
Fear not : for He hath sworn :
Faithful and true His name :
The glorious hours are onward borne ;
'Tis lit, th' immortal flame ;
It glows around thee : kneel, and strive, and win
Daily one living ray — ^'twill brighter glow within.
Yet fear : the time is brief;
The Holy One is near ;
And, like a spent and withered leaf
In autumn-twilight drear,
Piaster each hour, on Time's unslackening gale,
The dreaming world drives on, to where all visions
Encouragement t i
Surely the time is short :
Endless the task and art,
To brighten for the ethereal court
A soird earth-drudging heart. —
But He, the dread Proclaimer of that hour,
Is pledged to thee in Love, as to thy foes in Power.
His shoulders bear the Key :
He opens — who can close ?
Closes — and who dare open ? — He
Thy soul's misgiving knows.
If He come quick, the mightier sure will prove
His Spirit in each heart that timely strives to love.
Then haste Thee, Lord ! Come down,
Take Thy great power, and reign !
But frame Thee first a perfect Crown
Of spirits fireed fi-om stain,
Souls mortal once, now matched for evermore
With the immortal gems that formed Thy wreath
1 2 Encouragement,
Who in Thy portal wait,
Free of that glorious throng,
Wondering, review their trial-state,
The life that erst seem'd long ;
Wondering at His deep love, who purged so base
And earthly mould so soon for tli' undefiled place.
** Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and
ashes." — ^^^ xlii. 6.
And dare I say, " Welcome to me
The pang that proves Thee near ?"
O words, too oft on bended knee
Breathed to th* Unerring Ear.
While the cold spirit silently
Pines at the scourge severe.
Nay, try once more — thine eyelids close
For prayer intense and meek :
When the warm light gleams through and shews
Him near who helps the weak.
Unmurmuring then thy heart's repose
In dust and ashes seek.
14 Bereavement, — Resignation.
But when the self-abhorring thrill
Is past, as pass it must,
When tasks of life thy spirit fill,
Risen firom thy tears and dust,
Then be the self-renouncing will
The seal of thy calm trust.
Burial xxf thje ^jead*
I THOUGHT to meet no more, so dreary seem'd
Death's interposing veil, and thou so pure,
Thy place in Paradise
Beyond where I could soar ;
^ Friend of this worthless heart ! but happier thoughts
Spring like unbidden violets from the sod.
Where patiently thou tak*st
Thy sweet and sure repose.
The shadows fell more soothing : the soft air
Is full of cheering whispers like thine own ;
While Memory, by thy grave^
Lives o'er thy funeral day ;
The deep knell dying down, the mourners pause.
Waiting their Saviour's welcome at the gate. —
Siu-e with the words of Heaven
Thy spirit met us there.
i6 Burial of the Dead.
And sought with us along th' accustom'd way
The hallow'd porch, and entering in, beheld
The pageant of sad joy,
So dear to Faith and Hope. V'
O ! hadst thou brought a strain from Paradise
To cheer us, happy soul, thou hadst not touched
The sacred springs of grief
More tenderly and true,
Than those deep-warbled anthems, high and low
Low as the grave, high as th' Eternal Throne,
Guiding through light and gloom
Our mourning fancies wild.
Till gently, like soft golden clouds at eve
Around the western twilight, all subside
Into a placid faith.
That even with beaming eye
Counts thy sad honours, coffin, bier, and pall ;
So many relics of a frail love lost.
So many tokens dear
Of endless love begun.
Burial of the Dead. 1 7
Ml ! it is no dream : th' Apostles' trump
^^ixres earnest of th* Archangers ; — calmly now
Our hearts yet beating high
To that victorious lay.
^lost like a warrior's to the martial dirge
^^ a. tme comrade, in the grave we trust
Our treasure for awhile :
And if a tear steal down,
^^ Human anguish o*er the shaded brow
^^-ss shuddering, when the handful of pure eartli
Touches the coffin-lid ;
If at oiu: brother's name,
^nce and again the thought, " for ever gone,"
^onae o'er us like a cloud; yet, gentle spright,
Thou tumest not away,
Thou know'st us calm at heart
^'^e look, and we have seen our last of thee,
^ill we too sleep and our long sleep be o*er.
O cleanse us, ere we view
That countenance pure again,
1 8 Burial of the Dead.
Thou, who canst change the heart, and raise the
As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour,
Be ready when we meet,
With Thy dear pardoning words.
Note. — This poem was intended for the " Burial of the Dead " in the firtt
MS. of the Christian Year, but was stfterwards changed for ** Who says, the
wan autumnal sun?" which had been intended for the Sixteenth Sunday
Liglits in tlie Temple.
** Arvi Aaron shall bum thereon sweet incense every morning :
Mrhen he dresseth the lamps he shall bum incense upon it. And
-when Aaron lighteth the lamps at even, he shall bum incense
upon it ; a perpetual incense before the Lord, throughout your
generations." — Exod. xxx. 7, 8.
Now the stars are lit in heaven,
We must light our lamps on earth :
Every star a signal given
From the God of our new birth :
Every lamp an answer faint,
Like the prayer of mortal Saint.
Mark the hour and turn this way,
Sons of Israel, far and near !
Wearied with the world's dim day,
Turn to Him whose eyes are here.
Open, watching day and night.
Beaming unapproached light !
2 o Lighting of Lamps.
With sfweet oil-drops in His hour
Feed the branch of many lights,
Token of protecting power,
Pledged to faithful Israelites,
Emblem of the anointed Home,
When the glory deigns to come.
Watchers of the sacred flame.
Sons of Aaron ! serve in fear, —
Deadly is th* avenger's aim,
Should th' unhallowed enter here ;
Keen His fires, should recreants dare
Breathe the pure and fragrant air.
There is One will bless your toil —
He who comes in Heaven's attire.
Mom by morn, with holy oil ;
Eve by eve, with holy fire !
Pray ! — your prayer will be allowed,
Mingling with His incense cloud !
lights at l^^sp^fs.
* * Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the Light
of tlie world : he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness,
but shall have the light of life."— ^/. >/4« viii. 12.
Full many an eve, and many a morn,
The holy Lamps have blazed and died ;
The floor by knees of sinners worn,
The mystic altar's golden horn.
Age after age have witness borne
To faith that on a lingering Saviour cried.
" At evening time there shall be light" —
'Twas said of old — ^'tis wrought to-day :
Now, with the stoled priest in sight, ! '
The perfumed embers quivering bright^
Ere yet the ceiling's spangled height
The glory catch of the new-kindled ray !
5 Lights at Vespers,
A voice not loud, but thrilling clear,
On hearts prepared falls benign : —
" I am the world's true Light : who hear
And follow Me, no darkness fear,
Nor waning eve, nor changing year ;
The Light of Life is theirs : pure Light of Life
t^ights in the l^ipper Chamber.
'* And there were many lights in the upper chamber, wher^
they were gathered together." — Acts xx. 8.
He spake : He died and rose again —
And now His Spirit lights
The hallowed fires o'er land and main,
And every heart invites.
They glow : but not in gems and gold
With cedar arched o'er ;
But in far nooks obscure and cold,
On many a cabin floor :
When the true soldiers steal an hour
To break the bread of Life,
And drink the draught of love and power.
And plan the holy strife.
24 Lights in the Upper Chamber.
Ye humble Tapers, fearless bum —
Ere in the mom ye fade,
Ye shall behold a soul return,
Even from the last dim shade :
That all may know what love untold
Attends the chosen race,
Whom apostolic arms enfold.
Who cling to that embrace.
And wheresoe'er a cottage light
Is trimmed for evening prayer.
Faith may recall that wondrous night-
Who raised the dead, is there.
Tlw ^hutchm^n to bis l»amp^
Light in the Closet.
Come, twinkle in my lonely room,
Companion true in hours of gloom ;
Come, light me on a little space,
The heavenly vision to retrace.
By Saints and Angels loved so well, —
My Mother's glories ere she fell.
There was a time, my friendly Lamp,
When, far and wide, in Jesus' camp,
Oft as the foe dark inroads made.
They watch d and fasted, wept and prayed ;
But now, they feast and slumber on,
And say, " Why pine o'er evil done ?"
26 TTie Churchman to his Lamp,
Then hours of Prayer, in welcome round,
Far-sever'd hearts together bound :
Seven times a-day, on bended knee^
They to their Saviour cried ; and we —
One hour we find in seven long days,
Before our God to sit and gaze/
Then, lowly Lamp, a ray like thine
Waked half the world to hymns divine j
Now it is much if here and there
One dreamer, by the genial glare,
Trace the dim Past, and slowly climb
The steep of Faith's triumphant prime.
Yet by His grace, whose breathing gives
life to the faintest spark that lives,
I trim thee, precious Lamp, once more,
Our fathers' armoury to explore,
And sort and number wistfully
A few bright weapons, bathed on high.
The Churchman to his Lamp, 2 7
And may thy guidance ever tend
Where gentle thoughts with courage blend ;
Thy pure and steady gleaming rest
On pages with the Cross imprest ;
Till, touch'd with lightning of calm zeal,
Our fathers* very heart we feeL
The Watch hij Higfht.
"And Uriah said unto David, The ark, and Israel, and
Judah, abide in tents ; and my lord Joab, and the servants of
my lord, are encamped in the open fields ; shall I then go into
mine house, to eat and to drmk ? .... As thou livest, and as
thy soul liveth, I will not do this thing." — 2 Sam, xi. 1 1.
The Ark of God is in the field,
Like clouds around the alien armies sweep ;
Each by his spear, beneath his shield.
In cold and dew the anointed warriors sleep.
And can it be thou liest awake,
Sworn watchman, tossing on thy couch of down ?
And doth thy recreant heart not ache
To hear the sentries round the leaguer'd town ?
Oh dream no more of quiet life ;
Care finds the careless out : more wise to vow
Thine heart entire to Faith's pure strife ;
So peace will come, thou know'st not when or how — ^
** Silence, unworthy ! how should tones like thine
Blend with the warnings of the good and true ?
God hath no need of waverers round His shrine :
What hath th' unclean with Heaven's high cause
to do ?"
Thus in the deep of many a shrinking heart
The murmurings swell and heave of sad remorse,
And dull the soul, that else would keenly dart
fearless along her heaven-illumin*d course,
^ut, wayward doubter, lift one glance on high ;
Wiat banner streams along thy destin'd way ?
^l^e pardoning Cross, — His Cross who deign'd to die
^o cleanse th* impure for His own bright array.
^^^h thee in His dear blood, and trembling wear
^*^ holy Sign, and take thy station there.
30 Christian Chivalry,
Wash thee, and watch thine annour ; as of old
The champions vow'd of Truth and Purity,
Ere the bright mantle might their limbs enfold,
Or spear of theirs in knightly combat vie,
Three summer nights outwatch'd the stars on high,
And found the time too short for busy dreams,
Pageants of airy prowess dawning nigh.
And fame far hovering with immortal beams.
And more than prowess theirs, and more than fame ;
No dream, but an abiding consciousness
Of an approving God, a righteous aim.
An arm outstretched to guide them and to bless :
Firm as steel bows for Angels' warfare bent
They went abroad, not knowing where they went
For why ? the sacred Pentecostal eve
Had bathed them with its own inspiring dew,
And gleams more bright than summer sunsets leave
Lingering well-nigh to meet the mom's fresh hue,
Christian Chivalry, 31
Dwelt on each heart ; as erst in memory true,
The Spirit's chosen heralds o*er all lands
Bore the bright tongues of fire. Thus, firm and
Now, in our fallen time, might faithful bands
Move on th' eternal way, the goal in sight.
Nor to the left hand swerve for gale or shower,
Nor pleasure win them, wavering to the right :
Alone with Heaven they were that awful hour.
When their oath seal'd them to the war of Faith ;
Alone they will be in the hour of death.
To a Thrush Singling; in the MiAdU
of a mUnge^ $zn. l$$Z.
Sweet bird ! up earliest in the mom,
Up earliest in the year,
Far in the quiet mist are borne
Thy matins soft and clear.
As linnet soft, and clear as lark,
Well hast thou ta'en thy part,
Where many an ear thy notes may reach,
And here and there a heart
The first snow-wreaths are scarcely gone,
(They stayed but half a day)
The berries bright hang lingering on ;
Yet thou hast leam'd thy lay.
To a Thrush Singing^ &*c. 33
One gleam, one gale of western air
Has hardly brush'd thy wing ;
Yet thou hast given thy welcome fair,
Good-morrow to the spring I
Perhaps within thy carol's sound
Some wakeful mourner lies,
Dim roaming days and years around,
That ne'er again may rise.
He thanks thee with a tearful eye,
For thou hast wing'd his spright
Back to some hour when hopes were nigh
And dearest friends in sight ;
That simple, fearless note ot thine
Has pierced the cloud of care,
And lit awhile the gleam divine
That bless'd his infant prayer ;
Ere he had known, his faith to blight,
The scomer's withering smile ;
While hearts, he deem'd, beat true and right,
Here in our Christian Isle.
34 ^oa Thfush Singings &»c.
That sunny, morning glimpse is gone.
That morning note is still ;
The dun dark day comes lowering on,
The spoilers roam at will ;
Yet calmly rise, and boldly strive ;
The sweet bird's early song.
Ere evening fall shall oft revive.
And cheer thee all day long.
Are we not sworn to serve our King ?
He sworn with us to be ?
The birds that chant before the spring,
Are truer far than we.
The ^tticdiXx Bhutch.
""The gifts and calling of God are without repentance."
I^om, xi. 29.
The lions prowl around, thy grave to guard,
And Moslem prayers profane
At mom and eve come sounding : yet unscared
The Holy Shades remain ;—
Cyprian, thy chief of watchmen, wise and bold,
Trusting the lore of his own loyal heart,
And Cyprian's Master, as in age high-soul'd.
Yet choosing as in youth the better part
There, too, unwearied Austin, thy keen gaze
On Atlas* steep, a thousand years and more,
Dwells, waiting for the first rekindling rays.
When Truth upon the solitary shore
For the falFn West may light his beacon as of yore.
** The night is far spent, the day is at hand." — /^om. xiii. 12.
Voice of the wise of old !
Go breathe thy thrilling whispers now
In cells where learned eyes late vigils hold,
And teach proud Science where to vail her brow.
Voice of the meekest man !
Now while the Church for combat arms,
Calmly do thou confirm her awful ban,
Thy words to her be conquering, soothing charms.
Voice of the fearless Saint !
Ring like a trump, where gentle hearts
Beat high for truth, but, doubting, cower and faint : —
Tell them, the hour is come, and they must take
The One Way.
•* That we should earnestly contend for the faith that was once
[for all] delivered unto the saints." — Si. Jude 3.
One only Way to life :
One Faith, delivered once for all ;
One holy Band, endow'd with Heaven's high call ;
One earnest, endless strife ; —
This is the. Church th' Eternal framed of old.
Smooth open ways, good store ;
A Creed for every clime and age,
By Mammon's touch new moulded o'er and o'er ;
No cross, no war to wage ;
This is the Church our earth-dimm'd eyes behold.
But ways must have an end,
Creeds undergo the trial-flame,
Nor with th' impure the Saints for ever blend,
Heaven's glory with our shame : —
Think on that hour, and choose 'twixt soft and bold.
h6t US JJjepart ^enxje ^
Is there no sound about our Altars heard
Of ghding forms that long have watched in vain
For slumbering discipline to break her chain,
And aim the bolt by Theodosius fear'd ?
*' Let us depart ;" — these English souls are searVl,
Who, for one grasp of perishable gold,
Would brave the curse by holy men of old
Laid on the robbers of the shrines they rear'd ;
• yirrafiaivMnev ivTtv9«v. Among the portents which took place before the
taking of Jerusalem by the Romans, the following is mentioned by Josephus :
" During the festival which is called Pentecost, the priests, by night, having
come into the inner temple to perform their services, as was their custom, re-
ported that they perceived, first a motion, a noise, and then they heard as it
were a great crowd, saying, 'Let us depart hence.'" Vide Bishop Newton
on the Prophecies, vol. ii. Dissert. z8.
40 Ld us Depart Hence.
Who shout for joy to see the ruffian band
Come to reform, where ne'er they came to pray,
E'en where, unbidden. Seraphs never trod.
Let us depart, and leave the apostate land
To meet the rising whirlwind as she may.
Without her guardian Angels and her God.
** Seek we some realm where virgin souls may pray
In faith untarnished by the sophist's scorn,
And duly raise on each diviner mom
The Psalm that gathers in one glorious lay
All chants that e'er from heaven to earth found way .
Majestic march ! as meet to guide and time
Man's wandering path in life's ungenial clime.
As Aaron's trump for the dread Ark's array.
Creed of the Saints, and Anthem of the Blest,
And calm-breathed warning of the kindliest love
That ever heaved a wakeful mother's breast,
(True love is bold, and gravely dares reprove,)
Who knows but myriads owe their endless rest
To thy recalling, tempted else to rove ?
And they who grudge the Omnipotent His praise
What wonder if they grudge the dead his hope ?
The irreverent, restless eye finds room and scope,
E'en by the grave, to wrangle, pry, and gaze.
Heaven in its mercy hides, but man displays ;
Heaven throws a gleam, where they would darken
A shade, where they, forgetting worm and pall.
Sing triumph ; they excite, but Heaven allays.
Alas, for England's mourners, if denied
The soothing tones of Hope, though faint and low,
Or swoln up high with partial tearless pride !
Better in silence hide their dead, and go,
Than sing a hopeless dirge, or coldly chide
The faith that owns release firom earthly woe.
h^ngth at thje ftatjets.
** But Faith is cold, and wilful men are strong,
And the blithe world, with bells and harness proud,
Rides tinkling by, so musical and loud,
It drowns the Eternal Word, the Angelic Song ;
And one by one the weary, listless throng
Steals out of church, and leaves the choir unseen
Of winged guards to weep, where prayer had been.
That souls immortal find that hour too long.
Most fatal token of a falling age !
Wit ever busy, Learning ever new,
Unsleeping Fancy, Eloquence untir'd ; —
Prayer only dull ! The Saints' and Martyrs' page
A tedious scroll ; the scom'd and faithful few
Left to bewail such beauty undesired."
Sons of our Mother ! such the indignant strain
Might haply strike, this hour, a pastor's ear,
Purged to discern, for once, the aerial train
Of heavenly sentinels yet lingering here ;
And what if, blending with the chant austere,
A soft inviting note attune the close ?
" We go ; — but faithful hearts will find us near.
Who cling beside their Mother in her woes.
Who love the Rites that erst their fathers lov'd,
Nor tire of David's Hymn, and Jesus* Prayer : —
Their quiet Altars, wheresoever remov'd,
Shall clear with incense sweet the unholy air ;
In persecution safe, in scorn approved.
Angels, and He who rules them, will be there."
" Thou tallest away to the Chaldeans." — Jer. xxxvii. 13.
They say, " The man is false, and falls away :"
Yet sighs my soul in secret for their pride ;
Teaxs are mine hourly food, and night and day
I plead for them, and may not be denied.
They say, " His words unnerve the warrior's hand,
And dim the statesman's eye, and disunite
The friends of Israel :" yet, in every land,
My words, to Faith, are Peace, and Hope, and
They say, " The frenzied one is fain to see
Glooms of his own ; and gathering storms afar ; —
But dungeons deep, and fetters strong have we."
Alas ! Heaven's lightning would ye chain and bar ?
Ye scomers of th' Eternal ! wait one hour ;
In His seer's weakness ye shall see His power.
The MuUt oi the Catkins.
** I have set thee this day over the nations, and over the
kingdoms." — Jgr. i. lo.
" The Lord hath set me o'er the kings of earth,
To fasten and uproot, to build and mar ;
Not by mine own fond will : else never war
Had still'd in Anathoth the voice of mirth,
Nor from my native tribe swept bower and hearth :
Ne'er had the light of Judah's royal star
Faird in mid heaven, nor trampling steed and car
Ceas'd from the courts that saw Josiah's birth.
'Tis not in me to give or take away.
But He who guides the thunder-peals on high,
He tunes my voice, the tones of His deep sway
Faintly to echo in the nether sky.
Therefore I bid earth's glories set or shine,
And it is so ; my words are sacraments divine."
** This man is worthy to die : for he hath prophesied against
this city." — Jer, xxvi. 1 1.
" No joy of mine to invite the thunder down,
No pride, th' uprising whiriwind to survey,
How gradual from the north, with hideous frown
It veers in silence round the horizon grey,
And one by one sweeps the bright isles away,
Where fondly gaz'd the men of worldly peace,
Dreaming fair weather would outlast their day.
Now the big storm-drops fall, their dream must
They know it well, and fain their ire would wreak
On the dread arm that wields the bolt ; but He
Is out of reach, therefore on me they turn ; —
On me, that am but voice, fading and weak,
A withered leaf inscribed with Heaven's decree,
And blown where haply some in fear may learn."
The ^etal4 ct Woe.
** I said, I will not make mention of him .... But his word
was in mine heart as a burning fire." — Jer, xx. 9.
" Sad privilege is mine, to shew
What hour, which way, the bitter streams will flow.
Oft have I said, ' enough — ^no more
To uncharm'd ears th' unearthly strain I pour ! *
But the dread word its way would win,
E'en as a burning fire my bones within.
And I was forced to tell aloud
My tale of warning to the reckless proud."
Awful warning ! yet in love
Breathed on each believing ear,
How Heaven in wrath would seeui to move
The landmarks of a thousand year,
And from the tablets of th' eternal sky
The covenant oath erase of God Most High.
That hour, full timely was the leaf unrolFd,
Which to the man belov'd the years of bondage told,
And till his people's chain should be outworn,
Assigned him for his lot times past and times unborn.
** O ye remnant of Judah, go ye not into Egypt."- Jer, xlii. 19.
" O SWEETLY timed, as e'er was gentle hand
Of mother pressed on weeping infant's brow,
Is every sign that to His fallen land
Th' Almighty sends by prophet mourners now.
The glory from the ark is gone,—
The mystic cuirass gleams no more.
In answer from the Holy One, —
Low lies the temple, wondrous store
Of mercies seaPd with blood each eve and mom ;
Yet Heaven hath tokens for faith's eye forlorn.
" Heaven by my mouth was fain to stay
The pride that, in our evil day,
Would fain have struggled in Chaldea's chain :
Nay kiss the rod : th' Avenger needs must reign
50 The Comforter.
And now, though every shrine is still.
Speaks out by me the unchanging Will ;
* Seek not to Egypt ; there the curse will come ;
But, till the woe be past, round Canaan roam,
And meekly 'bide your hour beside your ruin'd
** I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear, but now
mine eye seeth Thee." — Jod xlii. 5.
TwAS on the day ' when England's Church of yore
Haird the New Year — a day to angels known,
Since holy Gabriel to meek Mary bore
The presence-token of th* Incarnate Son —
Up a low vale a Shepherd strayed alone ;
Slow was his step and lowly bent his eye,
Save when at times a thought of tasks undone
His waken'd wincing memory stung too nigh :
Then startled into speed, else wandering wearily.
'' The above was written March 25, 1833, whilst the Irish Church Bill
was in progress.
A Shepherd he, but not of lambs and ewes,
But of that flock redeemed with precious Blood ;
Thoughtless too oft, now deeply seen to muse
O'er the cold lea and by the rushing flood.
And where the pathway skirts the leafless
And the heap'd snow, in mockery of the spring,
Lies mantling primrose flower and cowslip bud,
And scared birds forget to build and sing.
So rudely the cold North has brush'd each tender
These Easter snows, of evil do they bode ?
Of Faith's fair blossoms withering ere their
And of a glorious Church that early glow'd
Bright as yon crown of stars in cold clear
That never sets, pride of our arctic clime*
Now deeply plunged where tempests drive and
Wavering and flickering, while rude gusts of
Rush here and there across th' ethereal deep,
And scarce one golden isle her station seems to keep ?
Nay, — 'tis our human eyes, our airs of earth,
That waver ; yet on high th* unquenched stars
Blaze as they blazed, and in their might go forth :
The Spouse of Heaven nor crime nor rapine mars.
But the Most High permits these earthly jars,
That souls yet hearing only, may awake
And see Him near, and feel and own the bars
Twixt them and Him. O be Thou near, to make
The worldly dream dissolve, the seared conscience
But chiefly theirs, who at Thine Altar serve,
And for the souls elect Thy life-blood pour ;
O grief and shame, when aged pastors swerve
To the base world or wild schismatic lore.
Alas, too lightly, by Thine open door.
They had been listening ; not within the shrine
Kneeling in Christian calmness to adore.
Else had they held untired by Thee and Thine :
Nor gain nor fancy then had lured them from Thy
Lord of a world in years, a Church decayed.
If from Thy whirlwind answering, as of old
Thou with the vile wilt plead, till we have laid
Our hand upon our mouth, and truly told
Our tale of contrite faith — (O not too bold
The prayer) — then welcome whirlwind, anger, woe,
Welcome the flash that wakes the slumbering fold
Th' Almighty Pastor^s arm and eye to know.
And turn their dreamy talk to holy Fear's stem glow.
•• Because that Tyrus hath said against Jerusalem, Aha, she
is broken that was the gates of the people : she is turned unto
me : I shall be replenished, now she is laid waste : There-
fore thus saith the Lord God; Behold, I am against thee,
O Tyrus.^*—£zek. xxvi. 2, 3.
Tyre oi \}cit farther ^ West ! be thou too warned
Whose eagle wings thine own green world o'er-
Touching two oceans : wherefore hast thou scom'd
Thy fathers* God, O proud and full of bread ?
Why lies the Cross unhonour'd on thy ground,
While in mid air thy stars and arrows flaunt ?
That sheaf of darts, will it not fall unbound,
Except, disrobed of thy vain earthly vaunt,
Thou bring it to be bless'd where Saints and Angels
( 1*his expression refers to the poem which immediately preceded it in the
Lyra Apostolica^ beginning "Tyre of the West." It was signed fi, and is
reprinted in Dr. Newman's poems.
56 United States,
The holy seed, by Heaven's peculiar grace,
Is rooted here and there in thy dark woods ;
But many a rank weed round it grows apace,
And Mammon builds beside thy mighty floods.
Overtopping Nature, braving Nature's God.
O while thou yet hast room, fair fruitful land,
Ere war and want have stain'd thy virgin sod,
Mark thee a place on high, a glorious stand.
Whence Truth her sign may make o'er forest, lake,
Eastward, this hour, perchance thou tum'st thine ear,
Listening if haply with the surging sea.
Blend sounds of Ruin from a land once dear
To thee and Heaven. O trying hour for thee !
Tyre mock'd when Salem fell : where now is Tyre ?
Heaven was against her. Nations thick as waves
Burst o'er her walls, to ocean doom'd and fire :
And now the tideless water idly laves
Her towers, and lone sands heap her crowned mer-
Champions ot thje Ttutb*
** Who will go for us ? Then said I, Here am I ;
send me." — Isa. vi. 8.
Dull thunders moan around the Temple Rock,
And deep in hollow caves, far underneath.
The lonely watchman feels the sullen shock,
His footsteps timing as the low winds breathe ;
Haxk ! from the Shrine is ask'd. What stedfast heart
Dares in the storm go forth ? Who takes th' Al-
mighty's part ?
And with a bold gleam flushed, full many a brow
Is rais'd to say, " Behold me. Lord, and send."
But ere the words be breathed, some broken vow
Remembered, ties the tongue ; and sadly blend
With Faith's pure incense, clouds of conscience dim,
And faltering tones of guilt mar the Confessor's hymn.
If waiting by the time-crown'd halls,
Which nurtured us for Christ in youth,
We love to watch on the grey walls
The lingering gleam of Evangelic Truth ;
If to the spoilers of the soul,
Proudly we shew our banner'd scroll.
And bid them our old war-cry hear,
" God is my Light *» : whom need I fear !*'
How bleak, that hour, across our purpose high.
Sweeps the chill damping shade of thoughtless years
gone by !
How count we then lost eve and mom,
The bell unwelcom*d, prayer unsaid.
And holy hours and days outworn
In youth's wild race. Sin's lesson newly read !
'• " Dominus illuminatio mea " is the motto of the University of Oxford.
The Creed, 59
Then deem we, " ill could Angels brook
That lore that on our lips we took,
On lips profane celestial lore :"
And hardly dare we keep the door.
Though sentries sworn : the memory thrills so
How with unready hearts at first we ventured in.
But sadder strains, and direr bodings dark,
Come haunting round th' Almighty's captive ark.
By proud Philistian hosts beset,
With axe and dagger newly whet
To hew the holy gold away,
And seize their portion as they may.
Fain would we fix th' unswerving foot, and bare
The strong right arm, to share
The glorious holy war ; but how undo
The knot our father tied ? Are we not spoilers too ?
How for God's Altar may that arm be bold,
Where cleaves the rust of sacrilege of old ?
Oh, would my country once believe,
But once her contrite bosom heave.
And but in wish or vow restore
But one fair shrine despoiFd of yore !
How would the windows of th' approving sky
Shower down the dews on high 1
Arm'd Levites then, within the Temple dome,
Might we the foe await, nor yet profane God's home.
Vain disappointing dream 1 but oh ! not vain,
If haply on the wakening heart remain
The vow of pure self-sacrifice,
The conscience yearning to devise
How God may have His treasure lost,
And we not serve Him without cost.
To such methought I heard an Angel say,
" Offer not all to-day.
While spoilers keep the shrine : yet offer all.
Treasurer of God's high cause : half priestly is thy
^hntch and King*
Nor wants there Seraph warnings, mom and eve,
And oft as to the holiest Shrine we bear
Our pure, unbloody gifts, what time our prayer
In Heaven's sure ward all Christian kings would
Why should that prayer be faltering? Wherefore heave
With sadness loyal hearts, when hallow'd air
That solemn suffrage hears ? Alas ! our care
Is not for storms without, but stains that cleave
Ingrain'd in memory, wandering thoughts profane ;
Or worse, proud thoughts of our instructress meek,
The duteous Church, Heaven-prompted to that
Thus, when high mercy for our King we seek,
Back on our wincing hearts our prayers are blown
By our own sins, worst foes to England's throne.
And with our own, the off'ences of our land
Too well agree to build our burthen high,
Christ's charter blurr'd with coarse, usurping hand,
Church and King, (^2^
And gaird with yoke of feudal tyranny
The shoulders where the keys of David lie.
Angel of England 1 who might thee withstand ?
Who for the spoil'd and trampled Church deny
Thy suit in Heaven's high courts, might one true
Of holy brethren, breathing English air,
Be found, their Cross in thine array to bear.
And for their Mother cast earth's dreams away ?
Till then, all gaily as our pennons glance.
And at the trumpet's call the brave heart dance,
In fear and grief for Church and King we pray.
(From Bagley, at 8 a.m.)
The flood is round thee, but thy towers as yet
Are safe, and clear as by a summer's sea
Pierce the calm morning mist, serene and free,
To point in silence heavenward. There are met
Thy foster-children ; — there in order set
Their nursing fathers, sworn to Heaven and thee
(An oath renewed this hour on bended knee,)
Ne'er to betray their Mother nor forget. —
1^0 ! on the top of each aerial spire
What seems a star by day, so high and bright,
It quivers from afar in golden light •
But 'tis a form of earth, though touch'd with fire
Celestial, rais'd in other days to tell
How, when they tired of prayer, Apostles fell.
** The Lord thy God is a consuming fire." — Deut, iv. 24.
Nadab and Abilin.
" Away, or e'er the Lord break forth !
The pure ethereal air
Cannot abide the spark of earth,
'Twill lighten and not spare."
" Nay, but we know our call divine,
We feel our hearts sincere ;
What boots it where we light our shrine.
If bright it blaze and clear ?"
God of the unconsuming fire,
On Horeb seen of old.
Stay, Jealous One, Thy burning ire ... .
It may not be controlled 1
The Lord breaks out, the unworthy die ;
Lo ! on the cedar floor
The robed and mitred corses lie —
Be silent and adore.
Yet sure a holy seed were they,
Pure hands had o'er them past.
Cuirass and crown, their bright array.
In Heaven's high mould were cast.
Th' atoning blood had drench'd them o'er,
The mystic balm had seal'd ;
And may the blood atone no more,
No charm the anointing yield ?
Silence, ye brethren of the dead,
Ye Father's tears, be still ;
But choose them out a lonely bed,
Beside the mountain rill ;
Then bear them as they lie, their brows
Scath'd with the avenging fire,
And wearing (sign of broken vows)
The blest, the dread attire.
Fire. 6 7
Nor leave unwept their desert grave,
But mourn their pride and thine,
Oft as rebellious thought shall crave
To question words divine.
ThB Suwing at Yaherab*
The fire of Heaven breaks forth,
When haughty Reason pries too near.
Weighing th' eternal mandate's worth
In philosophic scales of earth,
Selecting these for scorn, and those for holy fear.
Nor bums it only then :
The poor that are not poor in heart, —
Who say, " The bread of Christian men,
We loathe it, o'er and o'er again," — -
The murmurers in the camp, must feel the blazing dart
Far from the Lord's tent-door.
And therefore bold to sin, are they :
" What should we know of Faith's high lore ?"
Oh ! plead not so — there's wrath in store.
And tempered to our crimes the lightnings find
yUxtnhf Nathan, and Jlhiram^
Dathan and Abiram.
** How long endure this priestly scorn,
Ye sons of Israel's eldest bom ?
Shall two, the meanest of their tribe.
To the Lord's host the way prescribe,
And feed our wildering phantasy
With every soothing dream and lie
Their craft can coin ? We see our woe,
Lost Egypt's plenty well we know :
But where the milk and honey ? — where
The promised fields and vineyards fair ?
Lo ! wise of heart and keen of sight
Are these — ^ye cannot blind them quite —
Not as our sires are we : we fear not open light. "
70 Korah^ Dathariy and Abiram.
And we too, Levite* though we be.
We love the song of Hberty.
Did we not hear the Mountain Voice
Proclaim the Lord's impartial choice ?
The camp is holy, great and small,
Levites and Danites, one and all ;
Our God His home in all will make. —
What if no priestly finger strake
Or blood or oil o'er robe or brow,
Will He not hear His people's vow ?
Lord of all Earth, will He no sign
Grant but to Aaron's haughty line ?
Our censers are as yours : we dare you to the
Thus spake the proud at prime of mom ;
Where was their place at eve ? Ye know
Rocks of the wild in sunder torn,
And altars scath'd with fires of woe !
Earth heard and sank, and they were gone ;
Only their dismal parting groan
The shuddering ear long time will haunt.
Korahy Dathan^ and Abiram, 71
Thus rebels fare : but ye profane,
Who dared th* anointing Power disdain
For freedom's rude unpriestly vaunt,
Dire is the fame for you in store :
Your molten censers evermore
Th* atoning altar must inlay ;
Memorial to the kneeling quires
That Mercy's God hath judgment fires
For high-voiced Korahs in their day.
Elijah and tb^ MBBBBXiQBtB ot
Oh ! surely Scoraer is his name,
Who to the Church will errands bring
From a proud world or impious king,
And, without fear or shame,
In mockery own them " Men of God,"
O'er whom he gaily shakes the miscreant spoiler's
But if we be God's own indeed.
Then is there fire in heaven, be sure.
And bolts deep-wounding, without cure.
For the blasphemer's seed ; —
Wing'd are they all, and aim'd on high.
Against the hour when Christ shall hear His mar-
Elijah and the Messengers of Ahaziah, 73
Oh ! tell me not of royal hosts ; —
One hermit, strong in fast and prayer,
Shall gird his sackcloth on, and scare
Whatever the vain earth boasts ;
And thunder-stricken chiefs return
To tell their Lord how dire the Church's light-
'* Our God is a consuming fire.** — JItdr. xii. 29.
The Samaritans spared.
And dare ye deem God's ire must cease
In Christ's new realm of peace ?
'Tis true, beside the scorner's gate
The Lord long-suffering deign'd to wait,
Nor on the guilty town
Caird the stem fires of old Elijah down :
A victim, not a judge, He came,
With His own blood to slake th* avenging flame
Now, by those hands so rudely rent
The bow of Heaven is bent ;
And ever and anon His darts
Find out e*en here the faithless hearts.
Now gliding silently,
Now rushing loud, and blazing broad and high,
A shower or e'er that final storm
'Leave earth a molten ocean without form.
True Love, all gentle though she be,
Hath eyes, the wrath to see :
Nor may she fail in faith to pray
For hastening of Redemption's day,
Though with the triumph come
Forebodings of the dread unchanging doom :-
Though with the Saints' pure lambent light
Fires of more lurid hue mysteriously unite.
Dread glimpses, e'en in gospel times, have been ;
Nor was the holy Household mute,
Nor did she not th* Avenger's march salute
With somewhat of exulting mien, —
Angel harps ! of you full well
That measure stem
The Church might learn
When th' apostate Caesar fell ; —
Proud champion he, and wise beyond the rest.
His shafts not at the Church, but at her Ix>rd addrest
What will He do, the Anointed One on high.
Now that hell-powers and powers of Rome
Are banded to reverse His foemen's doom.
And mar His Sovereign Majesty?
Seers in Paradise enshrin'd I
Your glories now
Must quail and bow
To th' high-reaching force of mind —
Vainly o'er Salem rolls your dooming tone :
Her sons have heard, this hour, a mightier trumpet
The foes of Christ are gathering, sworn to build
Where he had sworn to waste and mar ;
Plummet and line, arms of old Babel's war,
Are ready round Moriah's field. —
But the clouds that lightning breathe
Were ready too,
And, bursting through.
Billows firom the wrath beneath.
For Christ and for His Seers so keenly wrought.
They half subdued to faith the proud man's dying
The Fall of Babulon.
But louder yet the heavens shall ring,
And brighter gleam each Seraph's wing,
When, doom'd of old by every Prophet's lyre.
Theme of the Saints' appealing cry.
While underneath the shrine they lie,
Proud Babel in her hour sinks in her sea of fire.
AVhile worldlings from afar bemoan
The shattered Antichristian throne.
The golden idol bruis'd to summer dust —
" Where are her gems ? — ^her spices, where ?
Tower, dome, and arch, so proud and fair —
Confusion is their name — the name of all earth's
The while for joy and victory
Seers and Apostles sing on high.
The Fall of Babylon, 79
Chief the bright pair who rest in Roman earth :
Fairn Babel well their lays may earn,
Whose triumph is when souls return,
Who o'er relenting pride take part in angels' mirth.
Thus evermore the Saints' avenging God
With His dread fires hath scath'd th' unholy ground ;
Nor wants there, waiting round th' uplifted rod.
Watchers in heaven and earth, aye faithful found.-
God's armies, open-eyed His aim attend,
Wondering how oft these warning notes will peal.
Ere the great trump be blown, the Judge descend :
Man only wears cold look and heart of steeL
Age after age, where Antichrist hath reign'd
Some flame-tipt arrow of th* Almighty falls.
Imperial cities lie in heaps profan'd,
Fire blazes round apostate council-halls.
Divim Wrath, 8i
And if the world sin on, yet here and there
Some proud soul cowers, some scorner learns to
Some slumberer rouses at the beacon glare,
And trims his waning lamp, and waits for day.
** At evening, being the first day of the week, the doors were
shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews." —
St. John XX. 19.
" Are the gates sure ? — is every bolt made fast ?
No dangerous whisper wandering through —
Dare we breathe calm, and unalarm'd forecast
Our calls to suffer or to do ?"
O ye of little faith ! twelve hours ago,
He whom ye mourn, by power unbound
The bonds ye fear ; nor sealed stone below
Barred Him, nor mailed guards around.
The Lord is risen indeed ! His own have seen,
They who denied, have seen His face.
Weeping and spared. Shall loyal hearts not lean
Upon His outstretched arm of grace ?
Commune Pontificum, ^^^^
Shine in your orbs, ye stars of God's new heaven,
Or gathered or apart, shine clear !
Far, far beneath the opposing mists are driven.
The Invisible is waiting near.
''Jesus came and stood in the midst, and saith unto them,
Peace be unto you. And when He had so said. He shewed
them His hands and His side. Then were the disciples glad
when they saw the Lord." — 5/. John xx. 19, 20.
Is He not near ? — look up and see :
Peace on His lips, and in His hands and side
The wounds of love. He stays the trembling knee,
Nerves the frail arm, His ark to guide.
Is He not near ? O trust His seal
Baptismal, yet uncancell'd on thy brow ;
Trust the kind love His holy months reveal.
Oft as His altar hears thy deep heart-searching vow.
And trust the calm, the joy benign,
That o'er the obedient breathes in life's still hour,
When Sunday lights with summer airs combine,
And shadows blend from cloud and bower.
And trust the wrath of Jesus' foes ;
They feel Him near, and hate His mark on you ;
O take their word, ye whom He lov'd and chose !
Be joyful in your King ; the rebels own you true.
** Then said Jesus unto them again, Peace be unto you : as
My Father hath sent Me, so send I you." — Sf. John xx. 21.
And shrink ye still ? — He nearer draws,
And to His mission and His cause
AVelcomes His own with words of grace and might
" Peace be to you ! " — their peace, who stand
In sentry with God's sword in hand.
The peace of Christ's lov'd champions warring in
" Peace be to you ! "— their peace, who feel
E'en as the Son the Father's seal,
So they the Son's ; each in his several sphere
Gliding on fearless angel wing,
One heart in all, one hope, one King,
Each an Apostle true, a crown'd and robed seer.
Sent as the Father sent the Son,
'Tis not for you to ^swerve nor shun
Or power or peril ; ye must go before :
If caught in the fierce bloody shower,
Think on your Lord's overwhelming hour ;
Are ye not priests to Him who the world's forfeit
Throned in His Church till He return,
Why should ye fear to judge and spurn *
This evil world, chained at His feet and yours ?
Why with dejected faltering air
Your rod of more than empire bear ?
Your brows are royal yet; God's unction aye en-
i Vide Rev. ii. 26-28, which is also addressed to a Christian Bishop.
'* And having said this, He breathed on them, and saith unto
them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost." — S^, John xx. 22.
By your Lord's creative breath,
Breathing hope, and scorn of death ;
Love untired, on pardon leaning,
Joy, all mercies sweetly gleaning ;
Zeal, the bolts of Heaven to dart,
Fragrant purity of heart ; —
By the voice ineffable.
Wakening your mazed thoughts with an Almighty
By His word, and by His hour
When the promise came with power, —
By His Holy Spirit's token.
By His saintly chain unbroken.
Lengthening, while the world lasts on,
From His cross unto His throne, —
Guardians of His virgin spouse !
Know that His might is yours, whose breathing
seal'd your vows.
" Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them ;
and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained." — St. John
Behold your armoury : — sword and lightning shaft,
Cuird from the stores of God*s all-judging ire,
And in your wielding left ! The words, that waft
Power to your voice absolving, point with fire
Your awful curse. O grief! should Heaven's dread
Have stayed, for you, the mercy-dews of old
Vouchsafed, when pastors' arms in deep desire
Were spread on high to bless the kneeling fold !
If censure sleep, will absolution hold ?
Will the great King affirm their acts of grace.
Who careless leave to cankering rust and mould
The flaming sword that should the unworthy chase
From His pure Eden ? O beware ! lest vain
Their sentence to remits who never dare retain.
Hail ! gladdening Light, of His pure glory poured
Who is th' immortal Father, heavenly, blest.
Holiest of Holies — ^Jesus Christ our Lord !
Now we are come to the Sun's hour of rest,
The lights of evening round us shine.
We hymn the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit divine !
Worthiest art Thou at all times to be sung
With undefiled tongue,
Son of our God, Giver of Life, alone !
Therefore, in all the world, Thy glories. Lord, they
k Hymn of the Xst or 2nd Century : preserved by St. Basil.— [ Vid. Routh .
Beliqu, Sacr., iii. p. 299.]
^Sii IXof^v ayiws 80^179 a^avarov Tla.rfi6^f
Ovpaviov, ayiov, fiaieapo?,
i\96vTt^ eirt tov ^Aiov 8v<riv,
vfivovfiev naWpa, koX Yibv, Koi Ayiov Uvevfia 8eov,
a^tof el iv ircuri icaipoi? vixvtiar9ai, (JMovati ocUm
Ym StoVf ^wTjv o 2i2ov9*
6ih h KovfiAi ve 6o$d^n, '
The ^atheringf oi the Bhutch,
** He which hath begun a good work in you, will perform
it until the day of Jesus Christ." — Philipp, i. 6.
Wherefore shrink, and say, " 'Tis vain ;
In their hour hell-powers must reign ;
Vainly, vainly would we force
Fatal error's torrent course ;
Earth is mighty, we are frail.
Faith is gone, and hope must fail."
Yet along the Church's sky
Stars are scattered, pure and high ;
Yet her wasted gardens bear
Autumn violets, sweet and rare —
Relics of a spring-time clear,
Earnest of a bright new year.
Israel yet hath thousands seaVd,
Who to Baal never kneeVd ;
The Gathering of the Church, 93
Seize the banner, spread its fold !
Seize it with no faltering hold !
Spread its foldings high and fair,
Let all see the Cross is there !
What if to the trumpet's sound
Voices few come answering round ?
Scarce a votary swell the burst,
When the anthem peals at first ?
God hath sown, and He will reap ;
Growth is slow when roots are deep ;
He will aid the work begun,
For the love of His dear Son ;
He will breathe in their true breath,
Who, serene in prayer and faith.
Would our dying embers fan
Bright as when their glow began.
^ijmns for Emigfrants \
** And He was in the hinder part of the ship asleep
on a pillow."— 5/. Mark iv. 38.
Lord, lift my heart to Thee at morn.
For Thou art very near ;
Thy voice upon the waves is borne,
Thee in the winds I hear.
The winds and waves that chime all night
When I am dreaming laid
A tune so soothing in its might,
I scarce can be afraid.
And yet 'tis awful music, fraught
With memories scorn' d at home ;
And whispereth many a boding thought
Of trial-years to come.
^ Printed in the first edition of "Prayers for Emigrants," published by
Gro3nibridge for the Emigration Office.
Hymns for Emigrants, 95
O, Love unseen, we know Thee nigh,
When Ocean rageth most.
Thou bidd'st us come to Thee, and cry
"Lord, save us, we are lost !"
Thou seem'st to sleep that we may pray,
Full deeply dost Thou hide ;
Forgotten through the calm clear day,
Nor own'd at even-tide.
But when the darksome gales begin.
The rude waves urge their race,
Man, startled from his sloth and sin,
Seeks out Thine hiding-place.
Well if we pray till Thou awake !
One word, one breath of Thee
Soft silence in the heart will make,
Calm peace upon the sea.
Lord of our homes, and of our graves !
If ever while we lay
Beneath Thy stars, amid Thy waves,
Our souls have leam'd to pray.
96 Hymns for Etnigratits,
Revive that prayer, morn, night, and noon
In city, mine, or dale ;
Else will the sounds of earth too soon
O'er the dread Voice prevail.
Help us to sing Thine ocean-song
Each in his home on shore,
The note Thou gav'st do Thou prolong
Through life, and evermore.
** He walked on the water to go to Jesus." — St, Matt xi>
Slowly the gleaming stars retire,
The eastern heaven is all on fire ;
The waves have felt the unrisen sun.
Their matin service is begun.
Lord of the boundless sky and sea,
In loving fear we kneel to Thee,
Fain would we grasp the strong right hand.
Reached to Thine own by sea and land, —
Hymns for Emigrants, 97
le hand that did Thy Saint uphold,
^•^^"^en love had made him overbold ;
^^Hiat time at twilight dawn he stood
[alf-sinking in the boisterous flood ;
e cried to Thee, and Thou didst save,
we, Thine ocean-wanderers, crave
re the bright flush of mom be o'er,
*TTiy blessing, Lord, for one day more.
Still onward, as to Southern skies
We spread our sail, new stars arise ;
New lights upon the glancing tide.
Fresh hues where pearl and coral hide.
What are they all, but tokens true
Of grace for ever fresh and new :
True tokens of Thine awful love
Around us. Father, and above ?
And we would daily, nightly, draw
Nearer to Thee in love and awe ;
Till in Love's home we pause at last,
Our anchor in the deep Heaven cast
98 Hymns far Emigrants,
The while across the changeful sea
Feeling our way, we cling to Thee,
Unchanging Lord ! and Thou dost mark
For each his station in Thine ark.
Still overhead the saving Sign
Streams, and we know that we are Thine.
What course soe'er the vessel take,
The signal of our King we make.
It hallows air and wave : and lo !
The heavens a glorious answer shew.
High and more high through southern skies
We see the unmoving Cross arise.
The Cross on board, — what need we more ?
The Cross to welcome us ashore ;
What need we more, if hearts be true.
Our voyage safe, our port in view ?
If hearts be true : but O, dear Lord,
Which of us all may say the word ?
Thy Spirit breathe this day ! or we
Shall lose, ere night, ourselves and Thee.
Hymmfor Emigrants, 99
•* When thou passest through the waters, I will be
with thee." — Isaiah xliii. 2,
The twilight hour is sweet at home,
When sounds from brook and woodland come,
Or old familiar bells, that bring
The memories grave of many a spring.
At such soft times the genial air
Is fragrant with unbidden prayer.
And souls devout their longings pour
By Christmas hearth, or Whitsun bower.
And now upon the twilight sea
How may we choose but kneel to Thee,
While airs of Thine own breathing steal
O'er the hot calm, worn hearts to heal ?
1 oo Hymns for Emigrants,
Now sails are moist with unseen dews,
Aerial lines of all bright hues
Lie on the level West afar,
And here and there one silent star.
O Lord, our Peace ! and may we dare
With voices marred by sin and care,
To break the stillness, and upraise
The song of our unworthy praise ?
Yea, as of old Thy Saints at eve
A blessing did of Thee receive,
"When o*er the waves they took their way,
Thou to the mountain. Lord, to pray ;
So may we trust that our frail bark.
Bearing aloft Thine awful mark.
Ere she began her ocean-race
Had portion in that word of grace.
For why ? Thine everlasting Creed
Is ours, to say in time of need ;
We waft the Name from coast to coast.
Father, and Son, and Holy Ghost
Hymns for Emigrants » loi
Ours too Thy prayer, according well
With Ocean's many voiced swell,
Which close to every ear begins,
Its way beyond all hearing wins.
The surging prow, the flashing wake
Music at hand unwearying make ;
Waves upon waves repeat the song.
And through unbounded space prolong.
We say the Prayer our Saviour taught.
As household words with homely thought ;
But angels bear it on and on
In all its meaning, to the Throne.
The frailest bark that ploughs the main,
The simplest child may raise the strain ;
Heaven, earth, air, seas, will hear the call
" Our Father " harmonizing all.
But, O, that to Thy Prayer and Creed
Thine high Commands we joined indeed.
Written in heart, on hand engraven ; —
Three seals in one of grace and Heaven !
102 Hymns for Emigrants,
All we have been, forgive, O Lord,
Keep Thou to-night our watch and ward
Safe may we slumber on the sea,
Thou at the helm, our hearts with Thee !
Th6 Inniwuents' Ifaij".
*'In Ramah was there a voice heard, lamentation and
weeping, and great mourning." — St, Matt, ii. i8.
Bethlehem, above all cities blest !
Th' Incarnate Saviour's earthly rest,
Where in His manger safe He lay,
By angels guarded night and day.
Bethlehem, of cities most forlorn,
Where in the dust sad mothers mourn,
Nor see the heavenly glory shed
On each pale infant's martyr'd head.
■* This and the three next poems are printed in the "Child's Chris-
I04 T^ Innocmti Day,
Tis ever thus : who Christ would win,
Must in the school of woe begin ;
And still the nearest to His grace,
Know least of their own glorious place.
'* Ol such is the kingdom of God." — SL Luke xviiL 1 6.
First §un4aij aft«r Easter.
"And there are three that bear witness in earth — the Spirit,
and the Water, and the Blood ; and these three agree in one."
I ^9/. yohn V. 8.
Our God in glory sits on high :
Man may not see and live :
Yet witness of Himself on earth
For ever does He give.
His Spirit dwells in all good hearts ;
All precious fruits of love,
Thoughts, words, and works, made holy, bear
His witness from above.
The Baptism waters have not ceas'd
To spread His Name, since first
From the Redeemer's wounded Side
The holy fountain burst
IE sndfiK jioe.
!lf r mr snL mr T-in ic
Jnr Tfe. 3I3C rinrTi g-rnog ^
Trba: '^t ^ - 'wi ■ ^ G^ Inc^ inms£ tagesbes; >t not mam put
Tenth Stmdaij after Trinitij.
•* Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hast
perfected praise. " — St, Matt. xxi. i6.
Lo ! from the Eastern hills the Lord
Descends in lowly state ;
Let us go out with one accord,
And where He passes, wait
Prepare, with willing hearts and true,
Glad hymn and garland gay :
joy ! if He should look on you,
And with His kind voice say, —
** I hear thee, and it is My will,
By thee to perfect praise ;
1 have a place for thee to fill.
Have mark'd thy times and ways ;
" I, in the music of the blest.
To thee a part assign.
Only do thou sing out thy best, —
I call thee, be thou Mine."
To8 Tenth Sunday after Trinify.
Thine heart would beat full high, I knov/
If Jesus, on His way,
Had tum'd aside to greet thee so.
Thy very soul would pray.
But mark Him well one moment more,
Behold, the Saviour weeps ;
He weeps while heaven and earth adore
Through all eternal deeps.
Why weeps He ? for His people's sin.
And for thy follies all :
For each bad dream thine heart within,
Those tears the bitterer fall
*' Teach me Thy way, O Lord, and I will walk in Thy truth ;
() knit my heart unto Thee, that I may fear Thy Name." —
Ps, Ixxxvi. II.
Sixteenth $undaij aft^r Trinittj.
'* And you hath He quickened, who were dead in trespasses
and sins." — Eph, ii. i.
When Christ to village comes or town,
With priests that on Him wait,
The Church her living dead lays down
Before Him in the gate.
For whoso know His will, and yet
Have stolen, sworn, or lied.
In His dread book their sin is set.
That hour, to Him, they died.
What if thou be but young in years,
A boy, or simple maid.
Yet in His sight thy soul appears
A corse for burial laid.
no Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity.
Thy sins, from His own holy place
Are bearing thee away,
But H e may touch the bier, His grace
May bid thee rise and pray.
The Church, thy mother, weeps for thee,
Her tearful prayer perchance
May win the word of pardon. He
May break the deadly trance.
Only do thou sit up and speak
Soon as thou hear'st His call.
Him honour with confession meek,
He will forgive thee all.
" Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, aiid
Christ shall give thee light." — Ejph. v. 14.
$t. $ohn*s Ifaij".
** He then, lying on Jesus' breast.'* — St John xiii. 25.
•* And I, John, saw these things and heard them." — Rev. xxii. 8.
Word supreme, before creation
Bom of God eternally,
Who didst will for our salvation,
To be bom on earth, and die ;
Well Thy saints have kept their station,
Watching till Thine hour drew nigh.
Now 'tis come, and faith espies Thee ;
Like an eaglet in the morn,
One in stedfast worship eyes Thee,
Thy belov'd. Thy latest bom :
In Thy glory He descries Thee
Reigning from the tree of scorn.
This, and the three next poems, are from the Salisbury Hymnal.
112 St Johris Day,
He upon Thy bosom lying
Thy true tokens leam*d by heart ;
And Thy dearest pledge in dying
Lord, Thou didst to him impart. —
Shew'dst him how, all grace supplying,
Blood and water from Thee start.
He first, hoping and believing,
Did beside the grave adore ;
Latest he, the warfare leaving,
Landed on the eternal shore ;
And his witness we receiving
Own Thee Lord for evermore.
Much he ask'd in loving wonder.
On Thy bosom leaning. Lord !
In that secret place of thunder.
Answer kind didst Thou accord,
Wisdom for Thy Church to ponder
Till the day of dread award.
St, John's Day, 1 1 3
Lo ! Heaven's doors lift up, revealing
How Thy judgments earthward move ;
Scrolls unfolded, trumpets pealing,
Wine-cups from the wrath above,
Yet o'er all a soft Voice stealing —
" Little children, trust and love !"
Thee, the Almighty King eternal,
Father of the eternal Word ;
Thee, the Father's Word supernal.
Thee, of both, the breath adored ;
Heaven and earth, and realms infernal
Own, One glorious God and Lord. Amen.
//ursley, April 19, 1856.
Fot ihe Eogation Baijs,
**Thou visitest the earth and blessest it, Thou makest it
very plenteous."— /*j. Ixv. 9.
Lord in Thy Name Thy servants plead^
And Thou hast sworn to hear ;
Thine is the harvest, Thine the seed,
The fresh and fading year :
Our hope, when Autumn winds blew wild,
We trusted. Lord, with Thee ;
And still, now Spring has on us smiled.
We wait on Thy decree.
The former and the latter rain.
The summer sun and air.
The green ear, and the golden grain.
All Thine, are ours by prayer.
For the Rogation Days, 1 1 5
Thine too by right, and ours by grace,
The wondrous growth unseen.
The hopes that soothe, the fears that brace,
The love that shines serene.
So grant the precious things brought forth
By sun and moon below,
That Thee in Thy new heaven and earth
We never may forego.
Malvern^ Aug, 4, 1856.
'* He went and preached unto the spirits in prison.
I Pet, ilL 19.
Father and Lord of our whole life,
As Thine our burden and our strife,
As Inline it was to die and rise,
So Thine the grave and Paradise.
Lord of the eternal Sabbath-day,
Lo, at Thy tomb for rest we pray :
Here, rest from our own work ; and there,
The perfect rest with Thee to share.
True God, true Flesh of Mary made.
In a true grave for sinners laid,
With Thee this mortal frame we trust ;
O guard and glorify our dust !
Easter Eve. 1 1 7
Soul of the Lord, so freely breathed,
And to the Father's hands bequeathed,
Draw us with heart's desire to Thee,
When we among the dead are free.
Dread Preacher, who to fathers old
Didst wonders in the gloom unfold ;
Thy perfect creed O may we learn
In Eden, waiting Thy return.
They saw Thy day, and heard Thy voice.
And in Thy glory did rejoice ;
And Thou didst break their prison-bars,
And lead them high above the stars.
" Captivity led captive" then
Was simg by angels and by men :
Grant us the same to sing by faith,
Both now, and at the hour of death.
Our souls and bodies, Lord, receive
To Thine own blessed Easter Eve :
All our belov'd in mercy keep,
As one by one they fall asleep.
ii8 Easter Eve.
To Thee, who, dead, again dost live.
All glory. Lord, Thy people give,
With the dread Father, as is meet,
And the eternal Paraclete. Amen.
UanJttJmOy At^ 14, 1856.
To be snng at tne Oommencement of the Senice.
** A threefold cord is not quickly broken." — Eccles. iv. 12.
The voice that breathed o*er Eden,
That earliest wedding-day,
The primal marriage blessing.
It hath not passed away.
Still in the pure espousal
Of Christian man and maid,
The holy Three are with us.
The threefold grace is said.
For dower of blessed children,
For love and faith's sweet sake,
For high mysterious union.
Which nought on earth may break.
120 Holy Matrimony,
Be present, awful Father,
To give away this bride,
As Eve Thou gav'st to Adam
Out of his own pierced side ;
Be present, Son of Mary,
To join their loving hands,
As Thou didst bind two natures
In Thine eternal bands :
Be present, Holiest Spirit,
To bless them as they kneel,
As Thou for Christ, the Bridegroom,
The heavenly Spouse dost seal.
O spread Thy pure wing o'er them.
Let no ill power find place.
When onward to Thine altar,
The hallowed path they trace.
Holy Matrimony. 121
To cast their crowns before Thee
In perfect sacrifice,
Till to the home of gladness
With Christ's own Bride they rise. Amen.
July 12, 1857.
Translations of ^nci&nt Shtitch
"SOMNO EEFEOTIS AETUBUS."
(For an early Morning Service.)
Sleep has refreshed our limbs : we spring
Out of our beds, as men in fear :
Look on us, Father, while we sing ;
We pray Thee, be Thou very near.
Be Thou the first in every tongue ;
Thine be each heart's first loving glow,
That all its doings, all day long,
O, Holy One, from Thee may flow.
I^et darkness to the glory yield,
And gloom unto the star of day ;
So may night's ill be purged and heai'd
By gift of Thy celestial ray.
Translations of Ancient Church Hymns, 123
So may night's harm (this too we ask
In humble prayer) be hewn away :
So praise may be our endless task,
E'en as we hymn Thee, Lord, to-day.
'<JAM LUOIS OSTO SIDEBE."
The Star of day hath risen, and we
Must pray our God on bended knee
From all our doings, all this day,
To chase and keep ill powers away.
The tongue to tune, and bridle in
From Discord's harsh, unpitying din :
With soothing hand to screen the sight
From eager gleams of vain delight.
Pure be the secrets of the heart,
Unruly will, stand thou apart.
The proud flesh bruise we, and control
By meat and drink in measured dole.
That when the day departs, and we
In course again the dim night see.
By self-denial clean, we may
His glory sing to whom we pray.
i^ranslaiions of Andent Church Hymns. 125
To God the Father glory be,
And glory, Only Son, to Thee j
With the most holy Paraclete,
Now, and for ever, as is meet
Watch us by night, with one accord uprising,
Psalms in due course our meditation always,
Hymns strong and sweet in all their might and
Sing we, adoring.
So to Love's King our melodies combining.
We may find grace with all the saints to enter
Love's palace hall, the blessed life among them
There to inherit.
Such be our boon from Thee, Thou blessed Godhead !
Father, and Son, and Holy Ghost co-equal,
Grant it alike, as through the world Thy glory
E EN now vouchsafe, Good Spirit, One
Both with the Father and the Son,
Into our hearts Thyself to pour,
A treasure heaped and running o'er.
Eye, soul, tongue, mind, with all your might
In tones of perfect praise unite !
Celestial Love, break out and blaze.
Touch all around with living rays !
Father of Love, this boon confer,
And Thou, co-equal only Son,
And Holy Ghost the Comforter,
For ever reigning, Three in One.
Strong Ruler, God whose Word is truth.
Who ordering all things and their change,
With brightness dost the mom array,
And with Thy fires the noontide hour,
Quench Thou the flame, where'er is strife.
Take all our harmfiil heat away ;
Health to our mortal bodies give,
And to our souls true peace of heart.
Grant it, O Father of all Love,
And Thou, co-equal only Son,
Who reignest through all ages with
The Holy Ghost the Comforter. Amen.
O God, th' enduring might of things,
Abiding in Thyself unmoved,
Who measurest out each time and tide
By changing lights from day to day ;
Lord, grant it clear at eventide
That life may never fade, nor fall.
But everlasting brightness dawn
At once — true meed of holy death.
Grant it, O Father of all Love,
And Thou, co-equal only Son,
Who reignest through all ages with
The Holy Ghost the Comforter. Amen.
"FBIHO DIEBUH OHNIUH."
(For Sunday Morning®.)
This glorious mom, Time's eldest born,
Wherein was framed the world we see,
And from the grave, our souls to save,
The Framer rose in victory ;
From soul and eye let slumber fly ;
Rise, one and all, with duteous speed ;
And seek by night His kindly light
As of that ancient ^ Seer we read.
Pray we in fear, so He may hear.
And His right hand reach out in love ^
And, cleans'd from all earth's stain recalL
His wanderers to their home above.
So, whosoe'er in chant and prayer
These stillest, holiest hours employ
Of His own day, on them He may
Rain blessings from His own rich joy.
® Altered from the Rev. W. Copeland's version. p Isaiah x
^ctnslaHons of Ancient Church Hymns, 131
^^er of Light, serene and bright,
"^Ow with o'erflowing hearts we pray,
•^^^tich Thou the fire of foul desire
-^ach harmful deed drive far away.
^^st wandering sense, or dark offence
Corrupt this fallen, mortal frame,
"^^d kindling lust make our frail dust
Meet fuel for Hell's fiercer flame.
^lierefore we flee, good Lord, to Thee ;
throughly purge our deep disgrace ;
3n mercy give, that we may live.
True treasures from the eternal place.
So we the same whom carnal shame
Made exiles, now new-cleansed and bright,
Fen waiting here in prostrate fear
Our glory-hymn may learn aright.
Father of Love, this prayer approve,
And Thou, co-equal only Son,
And Spirit blest, of both confest,
For ever reigning, Three in One.
"LU0I8 OEEATOE OPTIME."
(For Sunday Evening'.)
Thou, Light's Creator, first and best,
By whom new days in light are drest,
The young world making glad and bright
By gleaming of that earliest light :
Whose wisdom joined in meet array
The mom and eve, and named them Day :
Night glideth on in dim, dark air, —
Regard Thy people's tearful prayer !
Lest sin-bound souls with Thee at strife,
Prove outcasts from the gift of Hfe ;
While thinking but of earth and time
They weave them still new chains of crime.
O may we knock at Heaven's dread door,
And win the wreath that fades no more I
Shun harms without, clear hearts with-
Of all their worst, their haunting sin.
«» Altered from the " Hymnal Noted."
Translatians of Ancient Church Hymns, 133
Father, do Thou this boon accord,
Through Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord !
Whawith the Holy Ghost, and Thee,
Dost live and reign eternally.
" 8AL7ETE FL0EE8 MAETYEUM.^'
Hail, Martyr-flowers, who gleaming forth.
Just on the edge of your brief day.
By Christ's keen foe were swept from earth,
As rosebuds by the whirlwind's sway !
The first-fruits unto Christ are ye.
His lambs new-slain, a tender sort,
E'en by the shrine in childlike glee
Ye with your palms and garlands sport.
Ah ! what avails so dire a doom ?
Wliat boots the stain on Herod's soul ?
The One of many 'scapes the tomb,
The Christ is gone, unharm'd and whole.
Far from their streaming blood who shared
His birth-hour, He at rest is laid :
The Virgin-bom that steel hath spared
Which many a matron childless made.
Translations of Ancient Church Hymns, 135
So did one child of yore elude
The wild laws of the wicked king,
With likeness of the Christ endued,
Ordain'd His people home to bring.
« OULTOE DEI MEMENTO."
Servant of God, remember
The drops thy brow bedewing
From holy font, and laver,
The unction thee renewing.
See, that on brow and bosom,
When gentle sleep is calling,
The Cross abide to seal thee,
Upon thy chaste bed falling.
No gloom the Cross endureth,
All crime the Cross repelleth.
By that strong sign devoted
The soul unwavering dwelleth.
Begone, ye wandering portents,
Ye dreams so base and dreary ;
Begone, unclean Deceiver,
Of cheating never weary.
Tyanslations of Ancient Church Hymns. 137
O foul, O crooked Serpent,
A thousand mazes trying,
And winding frauds, to trouble
The hearts on Heaven relying.
Depart, — the Christ is present !
The Christ is present, — vanish !
The Sign that well thou knowest
Thee and thy crew shall banish.
What if awhile the body
Sink wearily reclining?
Faith wakes, in very slumber
The truth of Christ divining.
Praise to the Eternal Father,
To Christ, true King of Heaven,
And to the Blessed Spirit
Now, and for aye be given !
"OHOBUS HOTiB EXEBUSALEHV
The choir of new Jerasalem
A new sweet song must choose and frame.
Her Paschal feast (O glad employ !)
So honouring with all sober joy.
See Christ the unconquered Lion rise !
The Dragon crush'd beneath Him lies.
His living voice thrills through the gloom,
The dead awakening from the tomb.
Insatiate Hell to light once more
Hath given the prey devoured of yore.
And captives freed in due array
Are following Jesus on the way.
He triumphs now in glorious Hght
By His great power, as meet and right,
The heavenly and the earthly kind
In one sole City He doth bind.
Altered from the " Hymnal Noted."
Translations of Ancient Church Hymns, 139
He is our King, His soldiers we,
Our lowly chanted prayer must be
That He may station each and all
In His own glorious palace-hall.
Through ages that no limit know
Father Supreme, to Thee we owe
Glory and honour, with the Son
And Holy Spirit, Three in One.
The banners of the King appear^
The mystery of the Cross shines dear,
Whereby upon the Tree of shame
In flesh He hangs who flesh did frame.
With palms outstretched our Victim view
His very Heart nail'd through and through,
Vouchsafing, for Redemption's price,
Here to be slain in sacrifice.
And here too, wound on wound, we see
By dint of that dire lance, how He
To cleanse us caused His side to run
With Blood and Water all in one.
Fulfiird " is now what David sings,
(True verse that through the wide world rings, ^
Among the nations all," saith he.
The Lord hath reigned from the Tree."
' Ps. xcvi. zo. There was an ancient, but corrupt reading of this vers^^
" Tell it out among the heathen, that the Lord reigneth from the Tree."
Translations of Ancient Church Hymns 141
O stately Tree, so bright and fair,
Who dost the King's own purple wear,
Whose stem He chose and fitly firamed
That holiest Form to touch unblamed !
O blessed, on whose arms sustained
The Ransom hung for all ordained !
His Body there in balance lay,
And spoil'd Hell-powers of all their prey.
Hail, Altar ! awful Victim, hail !
Whose glorious pains did so prevail ;
Whose Life bore Death, and did restore
By dying. Life for evermore.
Thee, Lord most highest, Three in One
With praise let every spirit own.
Whom by the mystery of the Tree
Thou sav'st, their Guide Eternal be !
"VEBBUH SUPEBNUM FBODIEnS."
Dread Word, who from the Father hast
Thy goings forth of old, now bom,
When waning Time is well-nigh past.
Sole succour to a world outworn.
Enlighten now all bosoms, Lord,
Consume them with Thy love, we pray,
That heard at last, the Royal Word
Earth's dreamy lights may chase away.
And when Thou com'st a Judge, one day,
The heart's dim records to unrol.
Dark deeds with anguish to repay
And with a crown the righteous soul.
We may not, for our several sin.
Each in his chain of darkness lie.
But with the blest in glory win
A virgin wreath eternally.
"VOX OLARA EOOE PEE80NAT."
Give ear, — the Voice rings keen and trae
The world's dim comers through and through
Ye dreams and shadows, speed your flight,
Lo ! Christ from heaven is darting light !
Now let each slumbering soul arise
That yet impure and wounded lies ;
Now a new Star its light doth give,
And where it beams no ill may live.
The Lamb from heaven is on His way,
Our debt of His free love to pay.
may we all with tears most meet,
And loving voice that mercy greet !
So when anew the Light doth rise,
A horror girding earth and skies.
Not as our sin Thy scourge may prove.
O shield us with Thy pitying love !
" FAHGE LINaUA, GLOBIOSI FSSLIITM
Sing, my tongue, of glorious warfare,
Sing the last, the dread affray !
O'er the Cross, high Victory's token,
Sound the glad triumphant lay.
How the Sacrifice enduring.
Earth's Redeemer won the day.
He with our first father mourning
For his crime and broken faith,
Who of that ill fruit partaking
In a moment died the death, —
Mark'd e'en then a Tree to ransom
All the first tree's woe and scathe.
Such the work for our salvation
In its order fix'd and due ;
Art, the Traitor's art to baffle
And his wiles of changeful hue ;
Thence to draw the balm and healing
Whence the foe the poison drew.
* Altered from Dr. Neale's version.
Tyanslations of Ancient Church Hymns. 145
Wherefore in His season's fitness,
When the sacred years were spent,
Came the Son, the world's Creator,
From the Father's palace sent,
From the Virgin's womb proceeding,
Flesh most pure and innocent
Hear His cries, an Infant hidden
Where the narrow manger stands ;
See the Mother Maid His members
Wrapping in rude lowly bands :
See the cradle-garments swathing
God's own feeble feet and hands !
Now, the thirty years accomplish'd,
(All the time to flesh assign'd,)
With good will, for therefore came He,
To His Agony resigned.
On the Cross our Lamb is lifted.
There the Sacrifice they bind.
Gall and vinegar, and spittle.
Reed and nails and lance, and lo !
Now the tender Form is pierced,
Now the Blood and Water flow !
146 TransloHans of Ancient Church Hymns.
Earth and stars, and sky, and ocekn
Well that cleansing river know.
Faithful Cross ! above all other.
One and only noble Tree !
None in foliage, none in blossom.
None in fruit Thy peer may be.
Sweetest wood, and sweetest iron,
Sweetest weight is hung on Thee *" !
To the Trinity be glory
Everlasting, as is meet,
Equal to the Father, equal
To the Son and Paraclete ;
Trinal Unity, whose praises
All created things repeat.
« This stanza is Uken altogether from Dr. Neale's version.
"0 DEUS, EGO AMO TE."
Fain would we love Thee, Lord ; for Thou
Didst love us first, and lo !
In willing chains to follow Thee
Our freedom we forego.
I^t memory nought to us recall,
But of Thy love and praise ;
Nor understanding brood on aught
But Thee, and Thy dread ways.
No will but what we leam'd as Thine,
(Thou knowest, Lord !) have we :
Whatever by Thy gift is ours.
By our gift Thine shall be.
All was of Thee : receive Thou all,
Teach what with all to do :
Rule, as Thou knowest and will'st : we know
Thou art a Lover true.
r^;^ T'TBtsiatiams: of Amaad Ckmrck Synms.
liovesIiaDe endoviB; so
S&aH we nr tncDL kyte Tbee.
Gbre r&c^ and Tboa g^st an : for why?
"ALLELUIA, DULOE OABHEN/'
Alleluia, sweetest Anthem,
Voice of joy that may not die ;
Alleluia, voice delightsome
E'en to blessed choirs on high ;
Sung by holy ones abiding
In God's home eternally.
Alleluia, — O, blest mother,
Salem, crown'd above and free, —
Alleluia is thy watchword.
So thine own shall joy with thee :
But as yet by BabeFs waters.
Mourning exiles still are we.
Alleluia we deserve not
Here to chant for evermore ;
Alleluia for our trespass
We must for a while give o'er ;
For a Lenten time approaches
Bidding us our sins deplore.
150 Translations of Ancient Church Hymns.
Wherefore in our h)mMis we pray Thee,
Blessed, Holy Trinity !
Grant us all to keep Thine Easter
In our home beyond the sky ;
There to Thee our Alleluia
Singing everlastingly. Amen.
"OOBDE NATUS EX PABEKTISV'
Born of God the Father's bosom,
Ere the worlds to light had come,
Alpha sumamed and Omega,
He alone the source and sum
Of all things that are or have been,
Or hereafter shall find room,
Ever, and for evermore.
This is He whom Heaven-taught minstrels
H)mMied of yore with one accord ;
Pledged to man in faithful pages
Of the Prophets' sure strong word.
As foreshewn, His Star is gleaming ;—
Now let all things praise the Lord
Ever, and for evermore.
« Altered from the " Hymnal Noted."
1 52 Translations of Ancient Church Hymns.
O that pure and blessed dawning,
When the unspotted. Mother bright
By the Holy Ghost made fruitful,
Our salvation brought to light,
And the Babe, the world's Redeemer,
Shewed His sacred face in sight
Ever, and for evermore.
Let Heaven's height sing Psalms adoring,
Psalms let all the angels sing,
Powers and Virtues wheresoever
Praise with Psalms our God and King ;
None of all the tongues be silent,
Mightily all voices sing.
Ever, and for evermore.
Thee let aged men and youthful,
Boys in choral brotherhood.
Mothers, virgins, simple maidens,
One adoring multitude,
Hymn aloud in tones harmonious.
Of devoutest, purest mood,
Ever, and for evermore.
Translations of Ancient Church Hymns, 153
Christ, to Thee with God the Father,
And the Holy Spirit, be
Praise unwearied, high thanksgiving,
Song, and perfect melody.
Honour, virtue, might victorious.
And to reign eternally
Ever, and for evermore.
O Sun of Lusitane, axe those thy rajrs
Of glory set for evermore, that erst
On rising Lisboa pour*d so bright a blaze,
And gilded Tajo*s stream, and proudly burst
From foul eclipse, what time Braganza first
Upraised the banner of his ^ prostrate reign,
And cried, " To arms, thou race in fireedom nursP"
Arouse thee as of yore ! be fi*ee again I
Art thou for ever set, O Sun of Lusitane?"
Heaven wills not so : lo ! from long death-E
Waked by the storm of war, by murder's yell,
Upstarts the Angel of the Western steep,
And shaking off the loathsome dews that fell
y This seems to refer to the war of Portuguese uidependence, 1640
when the domination of Spain was cast off, and Joana de Bragangs
scendant of the old royal family, was placed on the throne of Portuga'
LibertaSy quce sera famm^ &'c. 155
r^itx Slavery's poison-tree, whose blighting spell
^^^ xiumb'd so long his darkened sense, — behold !
climbs once more his mountain citadel,
^**^ hovering amid hero-saints of old,
^^"Hds the trump that bursts the slumbers of the
^ at the fury of that blast I mark
^■■' thousand swords flash upward to the sky :
^^Xds, that inglonous rust no more shall cark,
'^k glancing in the light of Liberty.
^^^ infants lisp their fathers' battle cry,
mothers quit the cradle-side to hear,
'^^^ from the cell of spotless Piety
*^c spouse of Heaven, that shrank if man came
^Ves forth with downcast look, but not in maiden
*Tis not the blush of maiden shame that dyes,
Nor fear that blanches her unveiled cheek ;
But she hath heard her weeping country's cries,
Heard how the spoiler made Heaven's altars reek
156 Libertas^ qu(B sera tamen^ d^»^.
With innocent blood, and drown'd the infants*
In fiendish laughter. She hath heard the tale,
And her sick heart hath sunk as it would break
For human kind : so shrinks she, sad and pale,
Till fouler wrongs are told, and sterner longings swell
Longings of sacred vengeance,— for the fair.
The chaste, the pious, dragged to insult dire.
Dragged by the uplifted arm, or streaming hair.
Then left in shame and horror to expire.
The altars saw, and shuddered ; and the fire
Of holy lamps, that lighted saints to prayer,
And witnessed throbs erewhile of pure desire.
Trembling sank down, and cast a pale cold glare
Like miner's torch half-quench'd in some sepulcl
For glory couldst thou dare the monstrous deep
For empire couldst thou stretch thy eagle winj
Where ocean's echoes lay in lifeless sleep.
Save when they caught the storm's wild murmurim.
Libertas, qua sera tammy &*€. 157
^^'^^lidst thou be brave for gold ? and shall no stings
* Ixoly vengeance thrill thee ? shall no arm
Tbared for blood, now while each valley rings
thy oppressors' shout ? shall baneful charm
e thee, Lusitane ? shall shape of toil or harm ?
mightier spells the priests of Freedom try,
power to rouse from their entombed rest
^ mailed forms of chiefs, whom Victory
th lulled to sleep upon their country's breast,
w starting at her well-remember'd 'hest,
ithin yon circle, lo ! they take their stand,
heroes girt for war, holy and blest,
ence towards the West and North they wave
^ to their banner call the free of heart and hand.
^I'is done : for not unmark'd by Albion pass'd
^^Tiat voice, that gleam : her giant arm is rais'd,
^Ter sail is spread. And hark ! Castile as fast
^Ichoes the shout, and lifts her .shield- emblazed
158 Lihertas^ qua sera tamen, &*c.
With deeds of high emprize. O ever praised,
Yet ever wept ! Thy banner is imfUrrd,
Thy waken'd Eagle on the sun hath gazed.
So on they fere in £uth, till they have hurl'd
Their triple bolt on guilt, defenders of a world.
O THOU, whose dim and tearful gaze
Dwells on the shade of blessings gone !
Whose fancy some lost form surveys,
Half-deeming it once more thine own ;
O check that shuddering sob, control
That lip all quivering with despair ;
The thrillings of the startled soul
That wakes and finds no lov'd one there.
'Tis hard, in life's first wearying stage,
From guiding, soothing souls to part ;
To part, unchiird by grief or age.
Sister from sister, heart from heart !
Yet though no more she share, her love
Thy way of woe still guides and cheers ;
And firom her cup of bliss above
One drop she mingles with thy tears.
Ta a ^itlf wba was xixtrnplaming tl
she bad forgxttten h^t $istjer's
Grieve not though Mary's birthday pass'd
Without one joyous rhyme ;
When days are bright, and hours fly fast,
Who measures bliss by time ?
When grief has dimmed our darkling way.
Such lonely gleams are dear :
But who can mark one happy day,
If happy through the year?
Such sweet forgetfulness be thine !
So ever live and love !
No need of gift, or votive line,
The fond, glad heart to prove.
3 sug:g6st^d b^ tJw Eenwmbrance
an jearli^ but Jang-last Fmnd*
^^XEssED gem, of saintly, spotless kind,
^^^ pure for earthly casket long to hide !
^^u sparkiest now with the true light, supplied
^^^Ui heaven's eternal fountain, where enshrined
^"^-^^ hides Himself in brightness. Too refined
^^ iiiortal gaze, thou shin'st without a stain.
^^ ixiayst thou, when my spirit springs amain
^^ard heaven, though faintly, strike the eye of
^d draw thought upward, as with polar gleam,
^ shed a holy glow o*er prayer, and hope, and
011 insitiiig the Mmns ot FarUigh
Thou, who in Farieigh's ivied bower,
Sitt'st musing on lemember'd power,
To wiKHn reflection's eye recalls
The glories of h^ roofless halls ;
Reminded by the fitful breeze
Of long-foigotten minstrelsies ;
By shrubs that crown the turret's height,
Of the red flag that stream'd so bright
When warriors laid them here to rest.
And bowed to dames the blood-dyed
And Cromwell sheath'd his undred swor
To share the feast with Hungerford : —
Though mournful, o'er thy musing heart
The gleam of faded glories dart.
Give not that rising sigh its way.
Nor grieve that pride should so decay.
On visiting Farieigh Castle, Somersetshire, 163
High blazed the hall in regal state,
But want hung shivering on the gate.
Unclad, untill'd the desert scene
Nor glowed in gold, nor smiled with green.
Who battles shared might feasts attend ;
The spoiler was his chieftain's friend ;
While pined, unwelcome and forgot,
The tenant of the peaceful cot
For him nor jasmine bloom'd beneath.
Nor woodbine clomb with upward wreath.
To meet the slanting thatch, where played
From darksome elms the waving shade.
Nor portal brown, nor rustic seat
Gave air and shade for noon's retreat :
Nor flower-entangled casement peep'd
Through bowers in tears of morning steep'd ;
No comfort smooth'd his lowly bed,
No Houlton liv'd to bless his shed.
Aug, 24, i8ia
0n UumxxQ ^otptxs Bhnsd ^xillege, on
his Election to a FjeUowsMp of Brieil.
How soft, how silent has the stream of time
Borne me unheeding on, since first I dream'd
Of poetry and glory in thy shade.
Scene of my earliest harpings ? There, if oft,
(As through thy courts I took my nighdy round,
Where thy embatded line of shadow hid
The moon's white glimmerings) on my charm'd ear
Have swell'd of thy triumphant minstrelsy '
Some few faint notes ; if one exulting chord
Of my touch'd heart has thriU'd in unison,
Shall I not cling unto thee ? shall I cast
No strained glance on my adopted home,
Departing ? Seat of calm delight, farewell !
Home of my muse, and of my friends ! I ne'er
* Sir John T. Coleridge, at that time a Scholar of CCC, had won the
Prize for Latin Verses, on " Pyramides iEgyptiacac," in the year 1810.
On leaving Corpus Christi College, 165
Shall see thee but with such a gush of soul
As flows from him who welcomes some dear face
Lost in his childhood. Yet not lost to me
Art thou : for still my heart exults to own thee,
And memory still, and friendship make thee mine.
June 2%^ 181 1.
They say I am no faithful swain.
Because I do not fold my arms.
And gaze and sigh, and gaze again,
And curse my fair one*s fatal charms.
I cannot weep, I cannot sigh.
My fair one's heart laughs in her eye.
I cannot creep like weary wight,
My fair one's step is free and light
When fix'd in memory's mirror dwells
Some dear-lov'd form to fleet no more,
Transform'd as by Arabian spells.
We catch the likeness we adore.
Then ah ! who would not love most true ?
Who would not be in love with you ?
§0 might he learn the bliss of heart
Which waits on those who bliss impart,
llj^t learn through smiles and tears to shine
iJbe Angels, and like Caroline.
Thaugjht (xn a fine M(xming,
^* s mercy is in the pure beam of Spring :
• gale of morning is His blessed breath,
-^ring created things, tliat as they drink
tViese low founts of intermitting joy
-ir souls may bless Him, and with quicken'd thirst
'^t for the river of life, and light of heaven,
sun-bright gleams, and ye unfolding depths
sizure space, what are ye but a pledge
^<^ precious foretaste of that cloudless day,
^ddening at intervals the good man's heart
^h earnest of infinitude ? The while
- On his rugged path moves cheerily,
^ard joys that mock the measuring eye of hope,
yon abyss ethereal mocks our gaze.
March 8, i8i2.
All hail, thou messenger of spring and love,
Instinct with music, and with blissful thought 1
What spell unknown from genial southern grove,
From purer gales, and skies without a blot,
Does round thy charmed beak and pinions move,
Mellowing our rude air to receive thy note ?
Art thou indeed a thing of soulless frame ?
And heaves that bosom with no minstrel flame ?
0, no ! for sure those thrilling tones had mind,
That trembled from beneath the evening star,
lift whose dear light thou sittest as enshrined
While woods and waves do rustle from afar,
tel to thy varied descant the low wind
H^V<Ms fitful answer, which no sound may mar
tt%BKSt or meaner bird : they silent all
^ftkdM by that sweet chain in willing thrall.
To the Nightingale, 169
Thy song has language : to each heart of man
It sounds in unison : but who are they
Who best thy mystic melodies may scan ?
The Poet musing at the close of day :
He who with heavy heart and visage wan
In thought of vanished bliss does sadly stray :
The lover when his true love is not by,
And the rapt ear of Heaven-taught infancy.
Full greedily the joyous infant drinks
Those wildly quivering notes thou fling'st on high;
Shuddering in griefs dear joy, the mourner shrinks
From what he loves, thy sadder melody ;
And in thy long low strain the lover thinks
He hears the echo of his lonely sigh :
And be thy song of joyaunce or of woe,
Still o*er his inmost heart the Poet feels it flow.
May II, 1812.
Yes, I will stamp her image on my soul.
Though all unworthy such high portraiture
Tablet so vile, — for ever to endure.
Nor, though by fits across my spirit roll
Dim clouds of anguish, shall my heart give way.
For not in weak and infant-like distress
Behoves it the fair moonlight to survey
Because we cannot grasp it : rather bless
The dear mild ray that on the throbbing heart
Falls soft as seraph's glance of kindliest power,
And doth its melting loveliness impart
To all it looks upon. In happy hour
So may I frame my soul to think on thee,
Whom never but from far these worthless eyes
Stanzjas addressed ta a^^ iS-loomij
Ah ! cease my friend, that mournful lay !
Arouse thee from thy gloomy dream !
The clouds that dimmed thy morning's ray
Shew but more bright thy noon-day gleam.
Foremost in glory's sun-bright steep,
Foremost in duty's mild career,
No drop for thee thy friends shall weep.
But proud affection's burning tear.
And when, thy giant course gone by,
On clouds of bliss thy sun shall fall.
How joyous then shall Memory's eye
View sorrows borne at Virtue's call !
* I am afraid these were written in answer to some stanzas entitled
"Gloomy Thoughts," by me. J. T. C.
172 Stanzas addressed to a " Gloomy Thinker ^\
Then shalt thou know the bliss of blessing,
Thou, whom no selfish joy could move ;
In peace thy stedfast soul possessing,
Rich in good deeds, and good men's love.
Juttff 1 81 2.
My spirit lingers round that blessed space,
Which prisons her fair form. Still on mine ear
Like dying notes of angels' minstrelsy
Her lips* last music dwells. Yet not to me
O. not to me was pour'd the parting glance,
Enrapturing anguish : not to me the hand
Held out in kindness, whose remembered touch
Might soothe the absent heart And it is well.
Why should she think on me? she holds her course
A happy star in heaven, by gales of bliss
Luird to repose on the soft-bosom*d clouds,
Or bathing in the pure blue deep of light.
In grossness I, and mists of earthly sense,
Creep on my way benighted : half afraid
To lift my eyes to brightness : or perchance
If wayward fate so wills, a moment raised
To float an unsubstantial meteor-light,
Bom of this nether air, and there to die.
June 15, 1812.
^ Wet Baij at Midsttmmjet*
How mournfully the lingering rain-drops sound,
As one by one they rustle on the leaves,
To him who inly groans in sad suspense
Watching some pale lov'd face ! The summer ev^ '
Is dimm*d by showers, and murky hues o'ercast
The comfortable glow that wont to cheer
This musing hour. E'en such a mist has hung
O'er thee, my sister, when-so thou hast look'd
From thy sad couch o'er lawns and turfy glades,
\Miere erst, the lightest in the rural throng,
Blithesome you roved, in blessing all most blest.
And as e'en now beneath yon dusky arch
Bursts unexpected light, so Faith's fond eye
Looks on to days of health, when smilingly
We shall recount these long anxieties.
And bliss be dearer for remember'd woe.
Tb^ First Sight xif thie $en\
(Probably written in the Isle of Wight.)
** For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to facer
o^v I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am
^*^Own.''— I Cor. xui. 12.
"Visions of vastness and of beauty ! long
Too long have I neglected ye : content
I^or to have sooth'd my soul to rest among
^our evening lullaby of breeze and wave,
While the low sun retiring glow'd from far
Xike pillar'd gold upon a marble plain ;
Nor yet wild waked from that deceitful sleep,
When the storm waved his giant scourge, and rode
Upon the rising billow, have I sate
Listening with fearful joy, and pulse that throbbed
In unison with every bursting wave.
Yet the strong passion slept within my soul
Like an unwaken'd sense : e'en as the blind
^ Thif poem was first printed in ** Days and Seasons."
176 The Rni Sagkt cf ^ Sea.
Ifljngles in one dear dream all softest sounds,
AH smoothest sorfia^^s, and calls it light.
Such lovely, formless visions late were mine,
Dear to remembrance yet : but fex mOTe dear
The present glories of this world of waves.
So through a glass seen darkly, mortals deem
Of things eternal : but even now is the hour
AMien gales from heaven shall blow, and the
Rising in glory o'er the unknown expanse.
Shall pour at once upon the imbodied soul
Floods of such blessedness, as mortal sense
Might not endure, nor spirit pent in flesh
Imagine dimly. Be my race so run,
In holy faith, and righteous diligence.
That purged from earthly film and fear my soul
May catch her first glimpse of Eternity,
Mists gradual roll away, and the calm waves
Still smile and brighten as I draw more near.
Aug, 5, 1812.
Written at $idmxittth.
IVhy art thou sad, my soul, when all around
Such loveliness salutes thee ? fragrant airs,
Bowers of unfading green, soft murmuring brooks,
Gay sunny slopes that wear their vernal hues,
Mocking the breath of winter ; gorgeous cliffs.
And Ocean's awful pageantry ; — and more
And dearer far, soft smiles, and radiant eyes.
Thou wert not wont with dim and tearfiil gaze
To look on these ; — then wherefore art thou sad ?
Thou art not here : far distant many a mile
Thou lingerest, nor beneath a genial sky ;
Hovering unseen around th' untimely couch
Of her, thy best beloved : and thou dost grieve
Because thou art not of that happy choir
That holds sweet evening converse at her side ;
Because thou sharest not that pledge of peace
17 S Written at Sidmoutk
A fedliei's nightly orison ; because
Hearts knit to thine as its own vital flakes
Partake not of thy wonderings, and thy joys.
I stifle not thy si^^ Tis meet that thou should'st
>ijt. 1, 1S13.
Ta a 6auje undet ^igb fe^% $idmauth.
I LOVE thee well, thou solitary Cave,
Though thee no legend, or of war or love,
Or mermaid issuing from her coral grove
Ennoble : nought beside the fretful wave
That round thy portal arch doth idly rave,
Has waked thine echoes ; nor in lonely age
Has seaman sought thee for his hermitage,
That ocean's voice might lull him to his grave.
I love thee for his sake who brought me here,
Companion of my wildered walk, and bore
A part in all those visions dim and dear
In which my tranced spirit loves to soar.
When gales sigh soft, and rills are murmuring near,
And evenly the distant billows roar.
Ta the Mextiixt^ ot John he^dm % M.t
O, MOURNFUL on OUT cais the wild harp died
When the bard sang farewell to Teviotside ;
And gentle hearts, while thou wert far away,
Own'd sad misgivings for thy plaintive lay.
Ah, too prophetic 1 in the flush of years
Sweet minstrel, far from thine Aurelia's tears,
Thy glorious task hath bowed thee to the tomb.
Most mournful, yet most blessed was thy doom !
Most blessed was thy doom, the rural Muse
Dropped on thy cradled head her blandest dews,
And melting hues of moonlight loveliness,
And fairy forms thy childish e)me would bless.
Thou, too, hadst leam'd to love ; and not in vain,
If right I guess, was pour*d thy soothing strain.
" Dr. John Leyden, who assisted Sir Walter Scott in procuring materials
and illustrations for the '* IMinstrelsy of the Scottish Border," died as Pro-
fessor of the Native Dialects in the Bengal College, Calcutta, in the year
1811. He was engaged in translating the Holy Scriptures at the time ot
his death into seven languages into which they had not then been translated-
A small volume of his poems was published in 1821, which contained soiif
very beautiful pieces, now, it is to be feared, entirely forgotten ; one esr
pecially, an Address to an Indian Gold Coin.
To the Memory of John Leyden^ M,D, i8i
To each fond note that down the valley sigh'd
Some chord within thy fair one's heart rephed ;
Breathless she listened for the song of love,
Nor miss'd the nightingale from Teviot's grove.
Most blessed was thy doom : to thy bold glance
Flew wide the gorgeous portals of Romance ;
From living gems that deck her mystic cell
Thine eye caught lustre, and the sacred speU
Of high chivalric song upon thy spirit fell.
O, sweeter than the music of the grove,
The border clarion, or the lute of love.
Those angel-notes that on thy dying ear
Fell soft, recaDing all thy soul held dear,
All bright remembrances of deeds well done,
Of Mercy's work for half mankind begun.
All the calm joys of hearts in virtue sure,
All holy longings, all affections pure.
With thy free soul in bliss for ever to endure.
Feb. 5, 1813.
0n tueingf tje^twstjed ta twite sam^
Iferses in a Fmnd^s Gammon-
Nay, ask not for a lay of mine,
Too fitful is my spirit's gleam ;
With wavering and unsteady shine
It mocks me like a lover's dream.
And O, my heart is all too weak,
And all too faltering is my tongue ;
I cannot gain, I dare not seek
The ennobling meed of sacred song.
For lofty look, and open brow,
Heart fearless in its glorious aim.
That shrinks not from the slanderer's blow
Shrinks not firom aught save wise men.
«• Written by himself in my book. J. T. C.
Nay^ ask not for a lay of mine, 183
^se, and the self-possessing mind
*That views unmoved, though not in scorn,
earth-bom aims of lowlier kind,
AA^ith the true bard should all be bom.
^t I, — if e'er from dewy eye
Or summer sun my soul catch fire, —
00 soon the lights of minstrelsy
Quench'd in some gale of care expire.
^or upward to its native heaven
Ascends the altar-flame ; but wild
^y some capricious passion driven
Leaves all forlom Hope's dreaming child.
March 15, 1813.
A Ballad founded on a tradition still preservi
at Saloombe Begis, Devon.
" O, HEARD ye not the night- wind's roar
How in his rage he swept the cove ?
C), father, hie thee to the shore,
My heart is shuddering for my love."
" Cease, daughter, cease thine idle fears,
Far off in port he safely sleeps ;
And now, behold, thy sighs and tears
Have rous'd thy child ; — ^poor babe, he we^P*
*' Sing, daughter, sing thy lullaby,
But when the babe is soothed to rest
Lend thy light step and eagle eye
To aid me in my fearful quest.
Robin Lee. 185
will hie me to the coast,
ly some foundered bark lies there,
e poor seaman, tempest tost,
my son's sake demands my care ! "
sten'd as his footsteps part,
\ listened with a stifled sigh ;
to her child with heavy heart
e turn'd and sang her lullaby.
hush thee, poor baby, I like not thy moan,
^^^\i need'st not weep, though thy father be gone J
**^^ wild winds have borne thy father afar,
^^ :tide o'er the waves, and to join the war.
^5 it dwells on my heart how he smiled and
^'hen he tore him away from his love-lorn bride ;
fitter the smile, and boding the sigh,
And the parting kiss was agony.
** He said, * My love, O think on me
M^en thou singest thy darling's lullaby ;'
And all too well have I kept his 'hest.
For my sighs oft waken thee on my breast.
1 86 jRobin Lee,
" But see, how my lovely one smiles in sleep !
O, mayst thou never wake to weep !
O, when will such joy as now thou'rt dreaming,
Upon this darkened heart be gleaming?"
Soft was the mother's parting kiss,
But mingled with a bitter tear ;
So softly sweet his dream of bliss,
So bitter sad her dream of fear.
All as she traced old Robin Lee
Along that wild and winding dell,
Responsive to the fitful sea,
Her bursting bosom rose and fell.
But when she reached the lonely strand,
For aye that bosom ceas'd to beat :
Her sire all speechless wrung her hand,
Her husband's corse lay at her feet !
Soft was her infant's sleep the while,
He dream'd his wonted dream of bliss.
But when he tum'd with waking smile
He met no more a mother's kiss.
JRoMn Lee, 187
Seest thou yon grey and woe-worn form
Slow wandering by the wintry sea,
Watching with haggard smile the storm ?
That aged man is Robin Lee.
And that lorn boy, whose eager eye
Wanders so wild from wave to wave,
Sings a sad soothing lullaby
Each evening o'er his parents' grave.
April 10^ 1813.
Stan2jas an \mmng Sidmauth*
Ye lingering hours speed on ! with infant haste
My heart springs homeward, springs to meet the
Which but in one dear spot it ne'er can taste,
Joy's surest pledge, the dear domestic kiss.
Yet ere I leave thee, vale of many flowers,
My lowly harp would whisper one farewell ;
Though glad to go, I linger in thy bowers,
And half could wish thou wert my native dell.
For oft from rustling copse, or fountain's flow,
Thine echoes soft have thrill'd mine heart along,
Lulling each wayward care and dream of woe,
And the wild wave made solemn undersong.
Ol^ has the conscious freedom swelPd my breast,
As on thy downs I drank the rushing gale.
Or mark'd, far stretching in the dark blue West,
I'lve buoyant glories of the sun-bright sail.
Stanzas on leaving Sidmouth, 189
1 but my spirit sear'd by sorrow's brand
'an taste no more the bitter sweets of love,
le fairy queen of that enchanted land
iad heard my harpings in the moonlight grove.
•bidden is that dearest thrill to me,
3ut I can feel and bless the kindly gale,
at in thy bowers of ease and rural glee
[Cheers the forlorn, and bids the stranger hail.
April 17, 1813.
How can I leave thee all unsung.
While my heart owns thy dear control ;
And Heaven and Love have o'er thee flun^
The softest moonlight of the soul ?
O, I have long'd for thee to call
Soft echo from the West Wind's hall,
Some notes as blithely wild to seek,
As the wild music of thy voice.
As the wild roses that rejoice
In thine eyes' sunshine on thy glowing ch^^^^
For not the breath of mortal praise
Thine artless beauty dares profane ;
For thee wild Nature wakes her lays,
And thy soul feels the blessed strain.
The song that breaks the grove's repose,
The shower-drop rustling on the rose,
The brooklet's morning melody, —
To these with soft and solemn tone
Thy spirit stirs in unison,
Owning the music of its native sky.
" Nunquam AuditunB^ 191
And when in some fair golden hour
Thy heaxt-stxings shall give back the sigh
Of Love's wild harp, no earthly bower
Shall lend such hues as bloom to die ;
But earnest of the eternal spring
Their amarant wreaths shall angels bring,
And preluding the choir of heaven
Soft Eden gales shall sweep the lyre,
And star-like points of guiltless fire
n God's own altar-flame to gem thy brow be given
It is my pride that I can deem
Though faintly, of that being's worth,
AVho to th' All-gracious Mind shall seem
Meet help for thee in heaven and earth.
Long as before life's gale I drive
Shall holiest hope within me live.
Thee fair, thee blessed while I view,
And when the port of endless rest
Receives me, may my soul be blest
With everlasting, endless gaze on you.
ipnl 13, 1813.
Whom blesseth most the gentle dew of heaven?
Whose heart is sweetest thrill'd by Nature's song?
Who in still musings moonlight bowers among
Drinks purest light from the soft star of Even ?
Is it not he who knows whence each is given ?
Who, not unweeting of that Ocean source
Whence springs each stream of glory, where in
This lower world first compass'd, all are driven,
Sees upon each fair thing the stamp and seal
Of Him who made it ; hears and owns His voice
Linking all harmonies ? but most his heart
The impulse of its master-key doth feel,
And in the consciousness of Heaven rejoice,
When woman duly plays her angel-part.
Au£: 8, 1813.
* Written at the end of an essay on the Lake Poets, which conclude
with mentioning their beautiful exhibition of female character.
These are the workings of a spirit pure,
And high and zealous ; one of those elect
Whom the All-wise hath beckon'd from the crowd
Of meaner souls, to set their thrones on high
Among the sons of men. Do thou, my friend,
My Coleridge ! spirit zealous, pure, and high !
Accept them, not misdeeming of their worth,
Because the worldly and the sensual slight
Their precious fragrance, all too fine for nerves
Gross and unpurged as theirs. But thou hast
Among the gardens of true Poesy,
And every nectar-dew that drops at eve.
And every balmy steam that mom exhales.
Hath steep'd thy soul in gladness. Thou wilt love
The laureird bard, whether his burning wire,
Touch'd by the sun-beam of reviving Rome,
Ring out, as Memnon*s erst, and rouse the sons
Of his own Italy to arms and song :
194 loj. T. C with Petrarca.
Or chant his hermit hymn to Heaven and
Soft, yet severe : for Piety had framed
The melody, and every wilder chord
Was tempered to her solemn undersong.
So Love seem'd what he is, — a spirit devout,
Owning God most in His most beauteous work.
Such shalt thou feel, and such for thee be felt, *
My Coleridge 1 at the appointed hour, if Heaven ^
Loathe not my daily suit ; — ^for I have tried
And known thee. I have proved thee true and kinJ^ ^
Wise for the simple, for the wavering firm ;
And much it grieves me that in Life's dark maze -
So soon our paths shall sever.
Fare thee well !
And as along the lowly vale I wind.
Scale thou untired, yet sometimes making sign
That thou rememberest me, the mountain's heighr-KI
And be thy glory as thy virtue ! yet.
Yet once again, insatiable of good
For thee and thine, my tide of gratitude
Must flow towards Heaven, for I am nought beloip
O, Thou All-merciful ! Be these my friends
Beneath Thy wing for ever I Visit them
ToJ.T, C, with Fetrarca, 195
^^itli daily blessings, nightly dreams of bliss !
^^ Memory still their comforter, be Hope
cir constant guide ; and wise and good men's
Lair stay on earth. Be Thou their rest in
-^ept 14, 1813.
Tell me, ye maidens fair and wise,
Who joy in Nature's loveliness.
What forms, what hues in earth or skies
Doth Beauty most delight to bless ?
Comes she on Autumn's sounding wing.
Or on the frolic breath of Spring ?
Dwells she beneath that banner bright
That o'er the car of Morning streams.
Or trembling in the wan moonlight
When faint the rose of Evening gleams ?
Kindles her eye with Hope's full blaze.
Or melts in Memory's lingering gaze ?
If right I guess, our hearts beguiling.
By turns she pours her fairy glance.
Now in Regret all sadly smiling,
Now fix'd in Faith's prophetic trance :
Still luring us to heaven, our home.
By bliss gone by, or bliss to come.
Oc/, 12, 1813.
0de an th^ mciams in th^
What mountain-echoes roll
Across the roughening main ?
Is it the torrent's voice that shakes my soul ?
Is it the wolf wild howling o'er the slain ?
That torrent in its stormy might
Hath swept a thousand flags away,
That blithely danced in glory's light
Mocking the sun of yesterday.
Long o'er Biscaya's lonely wold
That war-wolfs howl, at midnight hour
Hath scared the watchers of the fold ;
Now walks he forth at noon in vengeance to devour.
1 98 Ode on the Victories in the Pyrenees^ 18 13.
In justice walks he forth :
Before his red eye's glare
They shrink, the wasters of the smiling earth,
They bow themselves, they sicken with despair.
Dash*d from their foul unholy grasp
The silver-winged Eagle lies,
Each tyrant draws one wildering gasp.
Curses his anguish once, and dies.
Then from Cantabria*s cloudy height
Freedom in thunder spake to Spain,
Her pealing voice dispersed the night
Of mist that long had hover'd o'er her mountain
Doth yet one lingering war-note dwell
In arched grot or bowery dell,
Of that triumphant clarion blast
O'er rock, and copse, and torrent cast
From RoncevaPs immortal fight ;
That told how many a prowest knight,
Hurl'd headlong from his seat of pride.
Beneath thy grasp, Iberia, died ?
Ode on the Victories in the Pyrenees ^ 1813. 199
Wake, Echo, from thy sleep of years !
Pour, long and loud, that solemn melody !
Let it arise like chanted orison
Toward heaven-gate. The holy work is done,
Britain hath wiped Iberia's tears
And Ronceval beheld the Christians' victory 1
Jtdy 30, 1813.
0^ staij Tb«« u^t, S^c.
O, STAY thee yet> bright image, stay,
Fleet not so fast from this sad heart ;
Cheer yet awhile my weary way,
Nor e'en with parting life depart.
Let Memory paint thee as she will.
Whether all blithe in childhood's smile,
Or with that look so meek and still
That wayward care so well could guile ;
Or languishing like lily pale,
That waits but till the sunlight cease.
Then hides her in her dewy veil.
And bows her head, and sleeps in peace.
Most angel-like ! I trust in Heaven
That yet some impress faint of thee
May to this wearied heart be given,
All sad and earth-worn though it be.
O, stay TTieeyety 6f*c. 201
Who wears so bright a gem within,
How should his heart from God remove ?
How can he change for toys of sin
The earnest of a seraph's love ?
For well I guess, — and oft my soul
Holds tearful triumph in the dream, —
That when Religion's soft control
Lights me with pure and placid beam ;
When I do good and think aright,
At peace with man, resigned to God,
Thou look'st on me with eyes of light.
Tasting new joy in Joy's abode.
But in my dark and evil hour
When wan despair mine eyelids seals.
When worldly passions round me lower.
And all the man corruption feels,
Thou tum'st not then thine eyes below,
Or clouds of glory beam between,
Lest earthly pangs of fear or woe
Upon an angel's brow be seen.
'.oz 0<i stay Thee ydy ^*c.
By one alone, — thy sister saint, —
Thou watchest e'en in grief and ill ;
Though on her couch of woe she faint,
Thine eye of joy is on her still.
For well thou know'st her every tear
Becomes a deathless gem in heaven ;
To every pang well suffered here
A suffering Saviour's love is given.
June i6, 1814,
The day of his sister Sarah^s death.
When I behold yon arch magnificent
Spanning the gorgeous West, the autumnal bed
Where the great Sun now hides his weary head,
With here and there a purple isle, that rent
From that huge cloud, their solid continent,
Seems floating in a sea of golden light,
A fire is kindled in my musing sprite.
And Fancy whispers, such the glories lent
To this our mortal life : most glowing fair
But built on clouds, and melting while we gaze.
Yet since those shadowy lights sure witness bear
Of One not seen, the Undying Sun and Source
Of good and fair, who wisely them surveys,
Will use them well to cheer his heavenward
Sunday, Oct. 20, 1816.
lain^s s^nt with the t»iws ot M&\^
Thou, whom with proud and happy heart I call
Mine, first by birth, but more by love unfeigned,
And by that awful warfare most of all,
To which by holiest vows we are constrained.
Brother, behold thy calling ! These are they,
Who arm'd themselves with Prayer, and boldly trie3.
Wisdom's untrodden steeps, and won their way ;
God's Word their lamp, His Spirit was their guide.
These would not spare their lives for fear or ruth ;
Therefore their God was with them, and the glare
Of their death-fires still lights the land to Truth,
To shew what might is in a Martyr's prayer.
Read, and rejoice ; yet humbly ; for our strife
Is perilous like theirs ; for Death or Life.
>«. 5, 1817.
^t ISiaaUt^B Tomb '.
'he grey-eyed Mom was sadden'd with a shower,
w silent shower, that trickled down so still,
caxce droop'd beneath its weight the tenderest
»caxce could you trace it on the twinkling rill,
)r moss-stone bathed in dew. It was an hour
viost meet for prayer beside thy lowly grave.
Most for thanksgiving meet, that Heaven such power
To thy serene and humble spirit gave.
"Who sow good seed with tears shall reap in joy."
So thought I as I watch'd the gracious rain.
And deem'd it like that silent sad employ
Whence sprung thy glory's harvest, to remain
^or ever. God hath sworn to lift on high
•^Vho sinks himself by true humility.
Au^. 1 817.
' The original MS. is on a half-sheet of foolscap paper, folded, with
■ piece of dried wall-rue in it, no doubt gathered on the spot.
The hope which is laid up for you in heaven.*' — Col. i 5*
The traveller \ when his time is short,
Speeds, careless of the rugged way ;
He lingers not for village sport,
He lingers not for landscape gay.
The birds his woodland path beside,
Riot in wildest bliss of song;
The moonlight streams so sweetly gHde,—
He dares not look, or linger long.
The Christian knows his time is short.
But oh ! the way is rough and drear ;
And bowers of bliss are nigh, to court
His spirit from its high career.
s First printed in " Days and Seasons."
h Composed during a hard trot on the Witney road, on a Monday mc
ing, March, x8i8.
Let him not swerve ; for storms and night
The erring soul have oft opprest :
But who rides on is sure of light
To guide him to his promised rest
Farewell, bright visions of my lonely hours,
Gay dreams of buoyant hope, a long .farewell !
No room for me in Hymen's holy bowers :
I have no part in Love*s delightful spelL
Still must I hold alone my weary course,
No tender arm upon mine arm to lean ;
No kind and loving eye, whose gentle force
From selfish grief my wayward heart might wean.
Deep in the windings of a bowery dale,
(A spot where angels might delight to roam,)
Haunt of each sun-bright hue, each fragrant gale,
Presumptuous fancy built my pastoral home.
And many a flower adorn'd the low-roofd hall.
And round the half-hidden casement clustered fair.
And hard beside the ivy-mantled wall.
In holiest beauty rose the House of Prayer.
Early Visions. 209
The sound of rivulets was not izx away,
Of soft rains rustling on the dewy eaves ;
Or of that mimic shower when west winds play
At random in the trembling poplar-leaves.
Birds, lambSy and children made our vocal quire,
With here and there a village roundelay ; —
Such tones as careless flung from Nature's lyre,
Best help two faithful hearts to love and pray.
No louder sound might our sweet rest annoy,
Save that companion of our twilight hours,
Sobering with thoughts of heaven our earthly joy.
The church-bell's voice went round our quiet
Nor seem'd the holy invitation vain ; —
Duly at mom and eve (so spake my dream)
From rest, or labour done, a rustic train,
Pursued the churchway path beside the stream.
0n a 39lanum«nt in l^ixjbfkiU
This cannot be the sleep of death,
Or sure it must be sweet to die ;
So calm, this holy roof beneath,
On such a quiet couch to lie.
Each gently pressing, gently prest,
To slumber in each other's arms ;
This shrinking to her sister's breast,
For shelter from all earth's alarms,
With such entire and perfect trust,
That e'en in sleep she seems to say,
'' I shall lie safe, I know I must.
My Ellen holds me night and day."
' Printed, but without the four last stanzas, in " Church Poetry." iS4^
On a Monument in Lichfield Cathedral, 211
rhe other with maturer grace,
In dawn of thoughtful womanhood,
rialf upward turns her fair, meek face,
As if an angel o'er her stood.
\s calm her brow, as sure her faith,
But more than infants use, she knew
^If right I guess,) of Life, and Death,
Of Death, and Resurrection too.
Already now her ear began
The depths of solemn sound to trace ;
The thrilling joys that round her ran
When music fiU'd this holy place.
Yon dark-arch'd galleries, high aloof,
The glory and the mystery
Of long-drawn aisle and fretted roof.
Already caught her wondering eye.
And she would gaze, when morning's glow
Through yonder gorgeous panes was streaming.
As if in every niche below
Saints in their glory-robes were gleaming.
212 On a Monument in Lichfield Cathedral,
To thee, dear maid, each kindly wile
Was known that elder sisters know,
To check the unseasonable smile
With warning hand, and serious brow.
From dream to dream with her to rove,
Like fiaury nurse with hermit child :
Teach her to think, to pray, to love,
Make grief less bitter, joy less wild ;
These were thy tasks : and who can say.
What visions high, what solemn talk,
What flashes of unearthly day.
Might bless them in their evening walk ?
Oft as with arms and hearts entwined
They mused aloud, this twilight hour,
What awful truths high God hath shrined
In every star, and cloud, and*flowerl
But one day, when the glorious theme
Seem'd but to mock their feeble sight ;
As they look'd up from earth's dark dream
To worlds where all is piure and bright,
On a Monument in Lichfield Cathedral. 213
Strong in the strength of infancy,
In little children's wisdom wise,
They heard a Voice, " Come home to Me
Yours is the kingdom of the skies."
Their home is won, their simple faith
Is crown'd : in peace behold they lie.
This cannot be the sleep of death.
Or sure it must be sweet to die.
But thou, fond man, whose earth-bound eye.
By sorrow dimmed, but more by sin.
Thus vainly strains itself to spy
^he purer world that liv'd their innocent hearts
Back, soldier ! to thy daily strife !
The virgin whiteness of thy shield
Is sullied ; nor till setting life
Can their enjoyments be to thee reveal'd.
214 On a Monument in Lichfidd Cathedral.
Only this secret take with thee,
And let it cahn each murmuring thought,
The blissful rest thou here dost see,
By vigils of deep agony was bought
And He, whose Blood the purchase made,
Yet guards it Make His arms thine home.
As soft a veil thine eyes shall shade.
To soothe thy wearied soul as glorious visions come.
July 22, 1819.
^^1" the dark shade of thy majestic groves,
^^ the rich verdure of thine oaken bowers,
^^ thy fair winding stream that wanton roves
y tufted lawns, and sloping banks of flowers ;
ot e*en those awful and time-honour'd towers,
'^t in their grey old age yet seem to shine
^^ bright with glory as in those high hours
^^n some new trophy of the illustrious line,
y high-sourd chiefs, and bards of strains divine
^1* the arch'd portal day by day was hung :
^^tr yet that sacred oak, the undying shrine
^^ Sidney's name by all the Muses sung,
^^ve lured us, Penshurst, here : a holier shade
^aunts thee. We come to pray where Hammond
quiet souls, whoe'er ye be,
.«m; tD ply in peace your daily task,
%ii . t vtmr gracious God find aught to ask,
may help you in Eternity.
sooth'd and cheer'd by all you meet,
sod cheering all yourselves no less,
in all ye see ye own and bless
«fii> loves you, and accepts your love :
•.« and out a fitting tomb ? These firs,
9k>I&e diige soft whispering day and night,
.«itf weary wandering steps invite.
' massive shade, that hardly stirs
tomb-stones : all the still churchyard,
with the haunts of men, yet seen
0^ cottage-windows o'er the green,
^ntttch of the world it shared.
Charity, and silence Pride,)
rest with these, by holy Hammond's
^E loveliest flowers the closest cling to earth,
And they first feel the sun ; so violets blue,
So the soft star-like primrose drench'd in dew,
tie happiest of Spring's happy, fragrant birth.
5 gentlest touches sweetest tones reply.
Still humbleness with her low-breathed voice
Can steal o'er man's proud heart, and win his choice
om earth to heaven, with mightier witchery
lan eloquence or wisdom e'er could own.
oom on then in yovu: shade, contented bloom,
/eet flowers, nor deem yourselves to all unknown.
eaven knows you, by whose gales and dews ye
ley know, who one day for their alter'd doom
lall thank you, taught by you to abase themselves
>( First printed in the ** Casket," 1829.
0n th« Hotth Exxad,
Yon tower that gleams against the blackening td^
Borrowing such haughty radiance of the sun,
Stands like a Christian in the dark cold world,
Confronting, in the glory Heaven has lent,
The loathsomeness of ill, and making sin
Tlie fouler for its fairness. On his way
The traveller pauses with insatiate gaze,
And turns his back upon Heaven's fountain fire,
To admire its faint reflection in man's work.
Vain moralizer ! Know'st thou not thyself?
Ati^. 25, 182a
lurton 6Uff, n^at VUAhotough.
m on the occasion of Mrs. Arnold's Birthday,
ten days after her marriage.
' fresh and fair, thou cheerful summer breeze,
ustling com, light reeds, and wavy trees,
n the soft swell of Trent's majestic wave.
)unds that loudest tell of Nature's Hfe,
making mirth, and joy, and mimic strife,
dth a few low notes in measure glad but grave.
be the time when the last summer sun
his meridian throne has just begun
slope his westering course ; let one soft cloud
ling around him pour its liquid glow
wrood, and dale, and tower and spire below,
its showery skirts the horizon blue enshroud.
220 Newton Cliffy near Fledboraugh,
So may the various view best answer make
To thoughts that in their bosoms are awake,
Who now on this sequestered terrace roam,
With eyes now wandering round the prospect wide,
Now fondly fix*d where all their hearts abide,
On one dear sheltered spot, their sacred, happy home.
And if those eyes I read not all amiss,
The day seems richer in its tearful bliss.
Than even in its gayest hours of mirth.
Sweet dreams, sweet hopes, sweet recollections rise,
And she who now is hidden from their eyes
Seems closer to their hearts, their best-beloved on
O, then, blest tenants of the sweetest isle
That ever welcomed with its soothing smil^
Tired wanderers o'er the world's tempestuous
Mourn not though henceforth one lov*d footstep
Your consecrated turf may duly press,
And tend your quiet bowers, enjoying and enjo/d.
Newton Cliffy near Fledborough. 221
I-ook how yon stream, of you beloved so well,
Is lovelier, sometimes plunging in his dell,
And lost in winding round his verdurous wall,
Than if to broad bright sunshine all the way
He held his mirror : so this happy day
>Viines happier through such tears as now from you
So, too, your own fair garden fairer shews
For the grey tombs that in its grass repose,
And solemn arches with your flowers inwreathing,
Where round the chxurch, as from its central shrine,
The charm of love domestic, love divine,
O'er every litde leaf by day and night is breathing.
Happy, who know their happiness not here !
To whom sad thoughts of time and change are dear,
As bearing earnest of eternal rest ;
Who at Love's call, or Death's, contented part,
And feel Heaven's peace the deeper in their heart,
brooding like fondest dove upon her darling nest
Aug. 21, 1820.
at parting mih Ws Warn Wiu^s \ .
Is it not sad dear friends should part
Ere eadi has to the other shewn
More dian one little comer of a heart ?
Wece it not better to abide unknown ?
Najy but in this dull, darkling earth
If moie dian transient gleams were giv^
Of fiin confiding love, and the heart's mirth,
Twould surely steal our spirits frail
Then let us thankfully forego
What fimey loves to paint so bright,
Nor grieve our sweetest solace here to know,
Like our last hope, b}' faith and not by sigli
Aug. 30, 1822,
' This and the following poem were addressed to the daughters of t.
Rev. Mr. Pruen, curate to the Rev. Stafford Smith, Mr. Keble's godfather
Mary, Margaret, Anne, Eliza,
Silent maidens of the mill,
Hear a culprit's sad confession,
Whom your frowns would almost kill.
You were plying heads and elbows.
Puzzling all your cyphering wit.
Fidgeting in twenty postures,
Polls were scratched, and nails were bit.
I, meantime, ungrateful varlet,
Quite forgetting all my vows,
(If I could, I'd blush like scarlet,)
Was gone up to Craycombe house.
Now so sad the pangs of conscience,
I am wasted, bark and pith.
Like a withered branch of elder,
(So says Mrs. Stafford Smith).
224 To the Same,
Spare me in consideration
Of my weak and nervous state :
Think, when I am drown'd in Avon,
Your r^;ret may come too late.
I should spoil my Sunday waistcoat,
Oxford lose her fairest sprig,
And I'd haunt, I do assure you.
Haunt you in a doctor^s wig !
*- Vras a young rook, and he lodged in a nook
Si'andpapa's tallest elm-tree ;
^^ ^ame a strong wind, not at all to his mind,
Out of the north-west countree.
^ shrill piping sound this wind whistled round,
^^ l)oughs they all danced high and low ;
^> rock went the nest, where the birds were at
^^-l over and over they go.
^-^ John walking round saw the rook on the
^d smoothed it, and wished to revive ;
*^3 Robert and Hill, they all tried their skill
^ vain ; the poor rook would not live.
And if in your fun round the orchard you run,
You really would wonder to see,
How sticks, moss and feather are strewed by the
Beneath each old racketing tree.
'Tis a very bad wind, as in proverbs we find.
The wind that blows nobody good ;
I have read it in books ; yet sure the young rooks
Would deny it to-day if they could.
They sure would deny, but they cannot well try,
Their cawing not yet have they leam'd ;
And 'tis just as well not ; for a fancy I've got.
How the wind to some use may be turn'd.
Do you see Martha Hunt, how she bears all the brunt
Of the chilly, damp, blustering day %
How gladly she picks all the littering sticks !
Her kettle will soon boil away.
How snug she will sit by the fireplace and knit.
While Daniel her fortune will praise.
The wind roars away, — " Master Wind," they will say,
"We thank you for this pretty blaze."
The Rook. 227
Then spite of the rooks, what we read in the books
Is true, and the storm has done good.
It seems hard, I own, when the nests are overthrown,
But Daniel aiid Martha get wood.
"TtiTTtij^tr xxgaxt ta&mg l^aire of
^jw -sgrresf, Joir -ttt. in rte I^^-cartain'd west
.^^tam ^K; ims tesc :^ son's setting majesty veil,
ITieL immy/i riiTuni cSooiis ^fispoctLog he sinks into
Alii smsss 3ES lasaL larfTmyy o'er moantain and dale.
3ir ±e scar ^wrTrrt^r landsape ^lall soon fade away,
Ad rvT'gnt draws o'a* it her mantle of dew ;
Tbe skv gleam no more with the gilding of day.
And silence and dimness o'ershadow the view.
Yet Imgering awhile, the last remnant of light
Through the dark blue expanse shoots a silvery
And faint glimmering mildly recals to the sight
The charms that late shone in the landscape of day.
A Thought upon taking Leave of some Frietids, 229
So fleet the blithe visions of friendship and joy,
So fancy the dream of delight can restore.
And in fond recollection again we descry
Faint-imaged those pleasures that now are no more.
^ywrr inr iht j^ntitmciatian "*♦
no 5dgzi*st to sympathize
^ anr frsT £3u} fleshly ties,
yjfii:^. T«t Brodier dear,
Frc^T^^ :^ t:»D pnesamptuous thought,
li r-i'— ^>5 -srsrwjLrd griefi I sought
Tc c^js an Thee too near.
Ye: s^re "twas not presumption, Lord,
Twas Thine own comfortable word
That made the lesson known :
Of all the dearest bonds we prove,
Thou countest sons' and mothers* love
Most sacred, most Thine own.
"' Vide the Preface, p. x.
Hymn for the Annunciation, 23 1
When wandering here a little span,
Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man,
Thou hadst no earthly su-e :
That wedded love we prize so dear,
As if our heaven and home were here,
It lit in Thee no fire.
On no sweet sister's faithfiil breast
Would*st Thou Thine aching forehead rest,
On no kind brother lean ;
But who, O perfect filial heart,
E'er did like Thee a true son's part,
Endearing, firm, serene ?
Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild.
Thou wept'st upon thy sinless Child,
Thy very heart was riven :
And yet, what mourning matron here
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear
By all on this side heaven ?
A Son that never did amiss.
That never shamed His Mother's kiss.
Nor cross'd her fondest prayer :
232 Hymn for the Annunciation.
E'en from the tree He ileign'd to bow
For her His agonized brow,
Her, His sole earthly care.
Alas ! when those we love are gone,
Of all sad thoughts, 'tis only one
Brings bitterness indeed ;
The thought what poor, cold, heartless aid
We lent to cheer them while they stayed ;
This makes the conscience bleed.
Lord, by Thy love, and by Thy power,
And by the sorrows of that hour.
Let me not weep too late.
Help me in anguish meet and true
My thankless words and ways to rue,
Now justly desolate.
By Thine own Mother's first caress.
Whom Thou with smiles so sweet didst ble:
'Twas heaven on earth to see ;
Help me, though late, to love aright
Her who has glided from my sight.
To rest (dear Saint) with Thee.
Hymn for the Annunciation, 233
Thou knowest if her gentle glance
Look on us, as of old, to enhance
Our evening calm so sweet :
But, Son of Mary, Thou art there.
O, make us ('tis a mourner's prayer)
For such dear visits meet.
June I, 1823
^ a^int tot a fzhU.
Sun, Moon, and Stars, one day contending sought
WTiich should be dearest to a poet* s thought
The noonday Sun too bright and gay was found,
In trance of restless joy it whirls us round.
The Moon, too melting soft, unmans the heart,
Or peeps too slily where its curtains part,
Or sweeps too wild across the stormy heaven.
Behind the rushing clouds at random driven.
Take Sun and Moon who list ; I dearer prize
The pure keen starlight with its thousand eyes,
Like heavenly sentinels around us thrown.
Lest we forget that we are not alone ;
Watching us by their own unearthly light
To shew how high above our deeds are still in sight.
On a starlight nighty April 15, 1825.
Thou gentle Moon, so lone and sweet,
Gliding around thy sea of blue.
How dost thou change, to greet
Each heart with answer true 1
When memory heaves too sad a sigh
For friends and hopes that once were near
Thou whisperest, " Look on high,
Perhaps they own thee here/'
When from some pastoral home we gaze
On thee in thoughtful bliss at even,
Thy shower of placid rays
Is like a smile from heaven.
SepL 23, 1825.
Fragment txn his $istet Mattj Jinne^s
Sweet bed of death ! how oft to thee
In joy and woe my heart shall turn :
How dearer than delight to me
Thy spirit-soothing lore to learn.
In thought to watch that angel-face,
When now the storm had pass'd away,
And all mine anxious eye could trace
Was only sweetness in decay.
O, truest, kindest, gentlest maid !
Earth has no words so soft and pure
That they our dreams of thee should aid.
But Heaven will help them to endure.
There is no cloud that floats on high.
No violet in the dewy vale,
But breathes of thee, and brings thee nigh ;
Thy dear memorials cannot fail.
Sep^. 20, 1826.
Cove beyond cove, in faint and fainter line
I trace the winding shore, and dream I hear
The distant billows where they break and shine
On the dark isles. Around us, far and near
The bright gay breeze is sweeping cheerily,
Chequering the green moor, like the summer field
Of ocean, with the. shadows of the sky.
In all* their graceful majesty reveal'd.
Now purple-shaded, now in playful light,
To south and north the glorious hills are seen ;
Where hovering fancy may at will alight
By pastoral dingle, or deep rocky screen.
Such airs, like sallies of thy cheerful heart,
A living joy, dear friend °, to all impart
Au§^. 3, 1827.
■ The "dear friend" was Noel Thomas Ellison, the Rector of Huntspill :
whoever knew him would feel as most touching and most characteristic the
" light sallies" and the " living joy" they imparted.— J. T. C.
The Exe Waur Titrettan at Suntise.
Farewell, thou soft Moon, and ye shadowy gleams,
That haunt the traveller all the summer night ;
Where under the green boughs the glittering streams
Dance, blithe as fairies, in the dewy light.
And welcome from the east, thou beam of day !
But by all cheering tones that on thee call
From matin breeze or wakening bird, I pray,
Draw gently o'er us thy bright mantling pall ;
And let the unsated eye have time to trace
Along the woody fence of this fair dale.
How, one by one, thy glowing lights give chase
To the cold mists, and o'er the gloom prevail.
Hope is at hand, and whispers, " Wait awhile ;
The darkest shades at dawn may wear the gayesf
Aug. 7, 1827.
gi MiU from Txxtn^ss an thje Tot Eoad^
Dark mountains, happy valley, glorious sky !
I know not well, nor boots it to enquire,
Which of you all I dearest prize, and why :
Yon purple peaks, that sea of living fire,
Or the green vale, and feudal towers below
Where all sweet flowers of peace and home may
Well are ye match'd, and sweetly do ye blend
Your grave glad music in the thoughtful heart.
But if I needs must choose, mine eye would send
A wistful glance beyond the source of Dart,
And seize and keep those gorgeous hues above,
For they are seen far off by those I love.
Aug. 24, 1827.
The road-side airs are sweet that breathe of home,
When from their hedge-row nooks the merry flowers
Greet our return, much wondering they should roam
Who might have stayed within these pleasant bowers.
For wonders seen by ocean or by land,
For treasures won in some far orient clime,
No ear have they, but leaves by breezes fanned
Awake them soon, and showers at morning prime.
A happy choir ; but happier, sweeter still
The sounds of welcome from the well-known hearth,
Where gay, home-loving hearts entwine at will
The living garland of content and mirth.
Green be the far-off bowers, the skies benign ;
These only say, " rest here, for we are thine."
Sept, 1, 1827.
Turning out ot th^ Jaondon Eoad,
down to $app^rton^
Tired of the rude world's angry din,
Thine ear still echoing with the sounds
Of toil and strife, of gain and sin.
Welcome within our peaceful bounds !
Come down by moonlight, see the breath
Of slumbering autumn ; how serene
'Tis gathering round lone copse and heath,
And o*er the deep rill's alder screen.
So silent all, you well might deem
Twas midnight on the verge of mom,
But for the smoke's dim silvery wreath
From yon low-nestling cot upborne.
242 Tumv^ out of the London Road^ ofc.
Such dewy breathiDgs of delight
Who deariy love, and deeply scan,
May trace in every summer night.
Heaven teaching earth to comfort man.
Or/. 2, J 835].
Haij, but tlwsje aw l^uezes.
** What manner of nian is this, that even the winds and
the sea obey Him ?"— ^/. MaU, viii. 27.
Nay, but these are breezes bright,
Currents pure from deeps of light ;
Bracing to all hearts are they.
He whom winds and seas obey
To the children of His love
Tempers them that they may prove
Free, not lawless, chastely bold.
ear not if strong o'er thee such gales should blow,
Even when autumnal life might sigh for calm ; -
But test them ere thine heart overflow.
By pureness, and by love's soft balm.
From the rushing of that breeze
Far away the ill spirit flees.
What were else a storm and strife,
Blotting the last gleam of life,
244 ^'"O't ^ ^^^ ^^^ Breezes.
Now shall waft thee steadily
Upward dirough the ludd sky,
Like the deep air gathering
Underneath an eagle's wing.
Then fearless let the sacred whirlwind bear
Thee, wearied else, where Christlike souls ascend
But mark : — no gales may waft thee there.
But thence were breathed, and homeward tend.
Oct I, .
^aw shall thje Eigfhteous ?
How shall the righteous win their way
In a dark world of snares, where they
With jealous care their eyes must hide,
Lest with the glance the heart be lured aside ?
How may she know, to mend, her brethren's sin.
Whom grace baptismal guards from sympathy within ?
Faith, as she lies on Jesus' breast.
Will humbly, gently, ask how best
She unentangled may discern
The wild wood path, and point the safe return.
Heaven will instruct her, with averted gaze
To stoop and reach her arm, and grovelling sinners
Tliete have h^^n mighi^ Winds.
There have been mighty winds on high,
The hail-douds fell and keen
Have marred the mild autumnal sky.
Just gaily aping Spring's soft eye,
And rent earth's robe of all but vernal green.
But now again the West will breathe,
The storms afar will fleet.
And clouds above, and woods beneath,
Weave, ere they fade, one joyous wreath,
For a kind soothing autumn-farewell meet.
Oc/. 31, 1835.
In Harmony, they say, the part
Which rules the strain, and wins the heart,
Is that which children compass best.
Who learns the lesson, he is blest.
Twa t>amps apart, &c.
Two lamps apart may brightly bum,
But brighter if you blend their flame ;
This lesson may our Churches learn,
And all who worship in the same.
You ask me for a song, my dear ;
Born with no music in mine ear,
And hardened now, and dulFd, I fear,
By many a care, and many a year.
But never mind ! of music sweet
No lack is here the day to greet ;
Summer and Spring are both in tune
To honour this fourteenth of June.
April and May, and June together.
Have treasur'd up their choicest weather,
Cloud, verdure, sunlight, shower and breeze
And twinkHng skies, and waving trees,
Politely have kept back their store.
This happy morn to grace the more.
And hark ! what notes from every bower,
And whiff ! what gales from every flower.
Sure if you're not content with these.
My little Bess, you're hard to please.
To E, K,,jun, 249
But if to match this out-door song
For something nearer home you long,
I think I know two fairies small,
And one light elf will come at call.
And whosoe'er shall see them stand
With you, my maiden, hand in hand,
Shall own 'tis music even to see
Eight round blue eyes so full of glee.
No need one word to sing or say j
Your smiles will be a song as gay
As ever crowned a wedding-day.
June 14, 1838.
Maltretn at a i^istanl:J^♦
Soft ridge of cloud or mountain ! which thou art
I know not well ; so delicately fine
Swells to mine eye the undulating line,
Where gazing to and fi:o, as loth to part,
Unwearied Fancy plies her busy art,
To trace what lurks in those deep folds of thine,
StreakM by the varying heavens with hues divine.
With me 'tis fancy all ; but many a heart
Perchance e'en now perusing thee afar
The meaning reads of every spot and wave
That seems to stain thee, or thine outline mar.
Here is their home, and here their father's grave.
Such is our holy Mount ; all dream it fair,
Those only know, whom Faith hath nurtured there.
There sate one lonely on a green hill side
Watching an April cloud : his place of rest
An upland meadow with its mossy slope
losing itself beneath a winding copse,
Where willow-blossoms glanced in sun and breeze.
Not noticeable was the spot, unless
For the rich world, perchance, of vernal flowers.
That seem*d as each had there a claim by right
For cradle, home, death-bed, and grave, all one.
Violets, by himdreds seen, a token were
Of thousands out of sight : anemones
^ their own sweet fresh-venturing out, or e'er
The south-wind blow. Around them, most like boys
^>und timid maidens in their hour of play,
The celandine so bold and open-eyed,
Sngjy, or in wild clusters, far and near.
* I Cttoot refuse myself the pleasure of inserting this sweet picture, in-
••■Phte as it is. The spot referred to was a very favourite one of the
^^"^^ It b the upper part of a field on Ladwell Hill, in the parish of
^Bnky»jiiit under the "winding" line of the "copse," in the direction of
Nor wants there tiie soft pfrimrose, wheresoe'er
Ad^-ancing hours will draw a veil of shade,
In her glad quiet Dook musing at home.
Sure 'twas a joyous company : — the more
For the bright Easter bells, that hardly yet
Had ceased to stir the noontide air. But he
AMio in the midst reclined, seemed dreaming on
Of something fer away. Was it his flock ?
For souls were in his charge, and he had vowed
His cares, his visions, one sole way to turn, —
154atj-daij Sang fxxr th^ ^utsUij
April's gone, the king of showers ;
May is come, the queen of flowers ;
Give me something, gentles dear.
For a blessing on the year.
For my garland give, I pray.
Words and smiles, of cheerful May :
Birds of Spring to you we come,
Let us pick a little crumb,
the dew of the morning we gathered our flowers
^m the woodlands, and meadows, and garden
'^d now we have twisted our garland so gay,
^ are come here to wish you a happy May-day.
Mother out ot $i$ht^
Wntten for the "Lyia LmooentinnL''
Saw ye the bright-eyed stately child,
Vnih sunny locks so soft and wild,
How in a moment round the room
His keen eye glanced, then into gloom
Retired, as they who suffer wrong
When most assured they look and long ?
Heard ye the quick appeal, half in dim fear,
In anger half, " My Mother is not here !"
Perchance some burthen'd heart was nigh,
To echo back that yearning cry
In deeper chords than may be known
To the dull outward ear alone
P Vide the Preface, p. xi.
Moiher oiU of Sight. 255
What if our English air be stirred
With sighs from saintly bosoms heard,
Or penitents, to leaning angels dear,
** Our own, our only Mother is not here."
The murmurings of tiiat boyish heart
They hush with many a fostering art.
Soon o'er the islands of the west
The weary sun will sink to rest ;
The rose-tints fade, that gradual now
Are climbing Ben-y-veer's green brow,
Soon o'er the loch the twilight stars will peer,
Then shalt thou feel thy soul's desire is here.
Lightly they soothe the fair, fond boy.
Nor is there not a hope and joy
For spirits that half-orphan'd roam
Forlorn in their far island home.
Oft, as in penance lowly bowed,
Prayer — like a gentle evening cloud
Enfolds them, through the mist they seem to trace
By shadowy gleams a royal Mother's face.
256 Mother out of Sig/U.
The holy Church is at their side,
Not in her robes a glorious Bride :—
As sister named of Mercy mild
At midnight by a fever'd child
Might watch, and to the dim eye seem
A white stoled angel in a dream,
Such may the presence of the Spouse appear
To tender, trembling hearts, so faint, so dear.
The babe for that sweet vision's sake
Courts longer trance, afraid to wake ;
And we for love would fain lie still,
Though in dim faith, if so He will.
And wills He not ? Are not His signs
Around us oft as day declines ?
Fails He to bless or home, or choral throng,
Where true hearts breathe His Mother's evensong
Mother of God ! O, not in vain
We learn'd of old thy lowly strain.
Fain in thy shadow would we rest,
And kneel with thee, and call thee blest ;
Mother out of Sig}^. 257
With thee would "magnify the Lord,"
And if thou art not here adored,
'- seek we, day by day, the love and fear
lich bring thee, with all saints, near and more near.
What glory thou above hast won.
By special grace of thy dear Son,
We see not yet, nor dare espy
Thy crowned form with open eye.
Rather beside the manger meek
Thee bending with veiled brow we seek^
r where the angel in the thrice-great Name
ail'd thee, and Jesus to thy bosom came.
Yearly since then with bitterer cry
Man hath assaiFd the Throne on high,
And sin and hate more fiercely striven
To mar the league 'twixt earth and heaven.
But the dread tie, that pardoning hour,
Made fast in Mary's awful bower,
ath mightier proved to bind than we to break.
3ne may that work undo, that Flesh unmake.
258 Mother out of Sight,
Thenceforth, whom thousand worlds adore,
He calls thee Mother evermore ;
Angel nor Saint His face may see
Apart from what He took of thee.
How may we choose but name thy name
Echoing below their high acclaim
In holy Creeds ? Since earthly song and prayer
Must keep feint time to the dread anthem there.
How, but in love on thine own days,
Thou blissful one, upon thee gaze ?
Nay every day, each suppliant hour,
Whene'er we kneel in aisle or bower,
Thy glories we may greet unblamed,
Nor shun the lay by seraphs framed,
** Hail, Mary, full of grace !" O, welcome sweet
Which daily in all lands all saints repeat !
Fair greeting, with our matin vows
Paid duly to the enthroned Spouse,
His Chiu*ch and Bride, here and on high,
Figured in her deep purity.
Mother out of Sight. 259
Who, bom of Eve, high mercy won,
To bear and nursie the Eternal Son.
O, awful station, to no seraph given,
On this side touching sin, on the other heaven !
Therefore as kneeling day by day
We to our Father duteous pray,
So unforbidden may we speak
An Ave to Christ's Mother meek :
(As children with " good morrow" come
To elders in some happy home :)
Inviting so the saintly host above
With our unworthiness to pray in love.
To pray with us, and gently bear
Our falterings in the pure bright air.
But strive we pure and bright to be
In spirit, else how vain of thee
Our earnest dreamings, awful Bride !
Feel we the sword that pierced thy side
Thy spotless lily flower, so clear of hue,
Shrinks from the breath impure, the tongue untrue.
I Dec, 8, in Conceptione B.M. F., 1844.
Wlien is eammtmion twarjest?
When is Communion nearest ?
AXTien blended anthems dearest ?
Is it where hi away dim aisles prolong
The cadence of the choral song ?
Whose notes like waves in ocean,
When all are heard, yet none,
With e\*er upward surging motion
Approach the Eternal Throne ?
Notes that would of madness tell,
So keen they pierce, so high they swell ;
But for heaven's harmonious spell ;
Keen to the listening ear, as to the sight
The purest wintr}* star's intolerable light,
Vet mild as evening gleams just melting into night
Or rather where soft soaring
One silent heart adoring
Loves o'er the stillness of the sick man's room
To breathe intensest prayer s perfume.
When is Communion nearest? 261
Whether calm rest be sealing
The pained and wearied eyes,
Or in high blended feeling
Watcher and sufferer rise.
Sweet the sleep, the waking dear
When the holy Church is near
With mother's arms to hush and cheer.
Seems it not then as though each prayer and psalm,
Came like one message more from that far world of
An earnest of His love, whose Blood is healing balm ?
^olij is the Skk Man^s Eoom.
Holy is the sick man's room.
Tempered air, and curtain'd gloom,
Measured steps, and tones as mild
As the breath of new-born child,
Postures lowly, waitings still.
Looks subdued to duty's will,
Reverent, thoughtful, grave and sweet :
These to wait on Christ are meet.
These may kneel where He lies low.
In His members suffering woe.
Nor in other discipline
Train we hearts that to His shrine
May unblamed draw near, and be
With His favoured two and three.
Therefore in its silent gloom
Holy is the sick man's room.
$t* Mark xm. h
Draw near as early as we may,
Grace, like an angel, goes before.
ITie stone is roird away,
We find an open door.
0, wondrous chain ! where aye entwine
Our human wills, a tender thread,
With the strong Will Divine.
We run as we are led.
We, did I say ? 'tis all Thine own ;
Thou in the dark dost Mary guide.
Thine angel moves the stone,
Love feels Thee at her side.
t(xtdf it ewtf Ac.
O Lord, if ever of Thy Spouse forlorn
Thy mercy heard the loud and bitter cry,
Then loudest, when in silent agony
She pleads her children's hate, her subjects' scorn.
Now be that hour : now pride, that all would know^
Proclaims Thee Saviour, but obeys Thy foe.
Ere love's one relic crumble quite away,
Ere, as we scorn to fast, we cease to pray.
Spare us, good Lord : speak out once more
The word that wrought Thy work of yore,
** Sell all, and all forsake ; and trust
The Cross for treasure : God is just."
$t $(xhn xiv. h
" Trust in God, and trust in Me."
How should a sinner turn to Thee,
Maker of a world of glory,
Brother of a race forlorn,
If questions, fancy-bred and earthly-bom,
Rise and obscure the sacred story ?
Thee must we own God-Man, even as Thy Sire
Sole fount of Godhead, ere we turn to Thee entire.
f e of nicje Touch, S^c.
Ye of nice touch, and keen true eye
To measure gain and loss, O say,
Haird the bright City built on high
No joyful winning day.
When angel accents chimed so clear
On great Augustine's ear.
When from God*s open book
The holy fire brake out
And flash'd, and thrill'd at once in every nook
Of his sad soul, consuming fear and doubt,
Each cloud of earthly care,
And left heaven's fragrance there ?
Thine, holiest hermit, was the spell ;
(Heaven crowning so thy humble love ;)
Earth, and the glory of thy cell
Within his bosom strove.
Far off he mark'd heaven's portal ope to thee,
And pray'd for wings as free.
Ye of nice Touchy df^c, 267
O torch, from saint to saint V
From age to age passed on,
Still may we see thee, when Church fires grow faint,
U^ave brightening in some grasp of gifted holy one.
[ Two lines wanting. J
Th^ Clarion j^alls, &c.
The clarion calls : away ! to take
Thy station in God's host ;
And with His mitred watchmen wake ;
And in meek silence for His sake
Endure what scornful music earth can make
When holy ground seems lost
Too well I read thy shrinking brow ;
A sting is busy there :
A fretful conscience, wondering how
Such boldness suits with broken vow.
Didst thou not erst before the Anointed bow
And glad obedience swear ?
In Shoirs mid Places wJuer^ thetj Sing^
her^ fallaureth the Jlnthem^
Lord, make my heart a place where angels sing I
For surely thoughts low-breathed by Thee
Are angels gliding near on noiseless wing ;
And where a home they see
Swept clean, and garnish'd with adoring joy,
They enter in and dwell,
And teach that heart to swell
With heavenly melody, their own untired employ.
Far, far on other isles,
Where other stars are beaming,
WTiere the bright rose on Christmas smiles,
And Whitsun lights with frost are gleaming,
Yon kindly Moon, and glorious Sun
Their race, as here, unwearying run.
What if all else be strange ?
The two great lights of heaven
Know neither error, stay, nor change.
By them all else to sight is given :
And with them duly, fresh and bright,
Home thoughts return bodi day and night.
Glory to our true Sun,
Who shineth far and near ;
Who for His duteous Spouse hath won
A place as of a lunar sphere ;
And by their light, where'er she roam,
Faith finds a safe, familiar home.
Whij se^k wi^f sounding high and lout ?
Why seek we, sounding high and low
Through heaven and earth, as though
The Eternal Son were yet enthroned on high
In His first unincamate Majesty ?
Why, tottering on the dizzy steep.
Gaze down the lowest deep ?
Find'st thou a cave so dark but His dear might
Hath burst the bars, and wing'd the prisoner's flight ?
Nay homewards, wandering soul, repair.
The gloom, the bars are there :
The word is nigh, even in thy mouth and heart,
Only obey, and He will all impart.
A leaf or spray at hand may hide
A landscape fair and wide.
Thy casement clear, and thou a reach shalt find
Of earth, air, sea, quite to an eagle's mind.
The shepherd lingers on the lone hill side,
In act to count his faithful flock again,
Ere to a stranger's eye and arm imtried
He yield the rod of his old pastoral reign :
He turns; and round him memories
Thoughts that had seem*d for ever left behind
Overtake him, e'en as by some greenwood Ian
The summer flies the passing traveller find ;
Keen, but not half so sharp as now thrill o'er his mi
He sees the things that might have been arise,
The heavenly vision how the saints adore.
Erst slighted by his cold, unworthy eyes,
Then upward drawn in wrath, and seen no more.
Now it returns, — too late, — ^his time is o'er 3
h.€ moms and eves are gone when Heaven bade
-And earth bade slumber, and he lov'd earth's
better than Heaven's. What angel now might
dear he fain would buy one precious week or
^e sees from things that are the veil half-drawn,
The souls, his charge, awaiting their dire doom
On earth, or where earth's light no more may
What if, that hour, in more than dreams they
Marred by his baseness, by his sloth bade roam ?
-^> spare him, heavenly chastener ! spare his soul
That bitterest pang; — nay, urge it close and
So the dark Past the Future may control,
'^nd blood and tears be found to blot the accusing
Seeks he the weary heart's appointed rest ?
Eadi soothing verse to him is stem rebuke.
Loi a wide shore that feels the breezy West,—
He sees where kneeling saints with upward look
Assuage the ferewell pang Love scarce can brook,
With upward look, and tears subdued to prayer.
And He who never yet true love forsook
By His own loved Apostle sealing there
His presence through the veil, wafts high each clou^
Well may the ^thful flock hang o'er that page
In joy ; but pastors of no pastoral mood,
Or slumb rers o'er God's wasted heritage ! —
Oft as they read " Behold me pure of blood.
None have I left unwarn'd, no breath of goc:^^
Stifled or tainted," — hard and cold the heart
Which can endure unbroken ! dull and rude
The spirit, which to heal such sudden smart.
Flees to the blind world's praise, or custom's so
ing art !
$t $(xhn V. 16, 17*
Ye know not what ye ask :
Should He but once your rude words hear,
And cease from His eternal task,
The heavens would start asunder, sphere from
Such Sabbath as ye bid Him keep
Were to the world and you, a deathful endless sleep.
Ye know not whom ye seek
With murderous aim, the Lord of Life.
So is it yet ; when foes would wreak
On His immortal Church their haughty strife,
What do they else but seal and stay
The fount of their own grace, Life's open, only way ?
When in hit ^am of stiU Bjecatj.
When in her hour of still decay,
The matron Earth to her worn breast
The relics of her Spring array
Folds, ere she sink in quiet rest ;
Envying her calm, thou wak'st that hour,
Prince of the tainted air's rude power ;
And twisting, sweeping, rushing, rending,
With every gentlest motion blending
Of frailest shrub in greenwood lair,
Before their time thou la/st them bare.
E*en so when Christian souls are sere,
And fading leaves of earthly life
Drop one by one, and leave all clear .
For a new Spring, whose buds are rife
Already, then the unsleeping foe
Watches to lay that glory low;
Whefi in her Hour cfsHil Decay. 277
Some breath of passion wild preparing,
Pride, hate, desire's untimely glaring ;
And in a moment mars our best.
■ Autumnal wanderers, keep your nest !
Ta the hotd (xt the Manor of Metdon,
The Petition of sundry Life Tenants, or Hereditary
Denizens of the said Manor
That by the custom of this clime
Even from immemorial time,
We, or our forefathers old
(As in Withering's list enrolled)
Have in occupation been
Of all nooks and corners green,
Where the swelling meadows sweet
With the wavy woodlands meet.
There we peep and disappear
There in games to fairies dear
All the spring-tide hours we spend.
Hiding, seeking without end.
And sometimes a merry train
Comes upon us from the lane.
To the Lord ofi/ie Manor of Merdon. 279
Every gleaming afternoon
All through April, May, and June,
Boys and maidens, birds and bees.
Airy whisperings of all trees,
With their music well supply
All we need of sympathy.
Now and then a graver guest
For one moment here will rest.
Loitering in his pastoral walk,
And with us hold kindly talk.
To himself weVe heard him say,
" Thanks that I may hither stray ; '
Worn with age, and sin, and care.
Here I breathe the pure, glad air ;
Here Faith's lesson learn anew
Of this happy vernal crew.
Here the fragrant shrubs around,
And the graceful, shadowy ground,
And the village tones afar,
And the steeple with its star,
And the clouds that gently move.
Tune the heart to trust and love."
Bl dbe MMiffffnflii^ at laat
CAs yoT wppijants aie advised)
Rff^giM^ and we no more aie prized.
Nov a gbnfc pfamip and tally
Cdfed <* fiGj^ Fannii^" stalks o'er all.
nniaM% laiKng^and sHaii^t lines
Ave die dyrans Ibrirfiixdi he pines.
Fonns uyslcuoos^ ancient faoes^
He jMbl mtiied hate pmsaes ;
And Ins ci»d woid and irin
Is fiom evciy cqps&cxown'd hill,
Eveiy i^ade in meadow deep
Us, and our green bowers to sweep.
Now oar prayer is, here and there.
May your Honour deign to spare
Shady spots and nooks, where we
Yet may flourish, safe and firee.
So old Hampshire still may own
(Charm to other shires unknown)
Bays and creeks of grassy lawn
Half beneath his woods withdrawn ;
To the Lord of the Manor of Merdon. 281
So from many a joyous child,
Many a sire and mother mild.
For the sheltering boughs so sweet.
And the blossoms at their feet,
Thanks, with prayers, shall find their way.
And we flowers, if we could pray,
With our very best would own
Your young floweret newly blown.
Anemone Nemoros^, Daffodil,
Primula Vulgaris, Cowslip,
Violet, &c., &c., &c., innumerable signatures.
LadwellHill, Apnl z, 1851.
Ta his Sister EUzsaheth.
Saixts in Paradise^ we know.
Wait and kxng for saints bdow,
SarCy if in leafans of joy began
Eaxdi's |Mlgiinis aie remembered one by one.
If days and times are noted there.
Now, on dus Sonds^ still and fiur.
Dearest Sister, diere are two.
Two, as dear, that turn toward you.
One that on this ^vour^d day
Down in happy slumber lay.
O, who the thoughts may guess and deem
That haply mingle with her angel-dream,
WTien among graces tasted here
She counts thy warnings. Sister dear.
Smiles and words, and ways of love
Here half-seen, now felt above.
To his Sister Elizabeth, 283
With her waits by Eden's stream,
Partner of her blissful dream
A younger spirit, too pure, too fair
E*en for love's sake, this mean earth long to bear.
She in her partial love had plann'd
This sacred task for an unworthy hand.
May it now, till life shall end,
With her sweetest memory blend !
Written in tlte JUhum at BudA^sAon
Whoe'er from Cuddesdon's pastoral shade
Shall seek the green hill's point, and gaze
On Oxford in the " watery glade,"
And seem half-lost in memor/s maze,
Much wondering where his thoughts of good
Have flown, since last in that lone nook he stood,
But wondering more untiring Love should be
So busy round the unworthiest ; — ^let him see
There hath before him been one musing e'en as he.
Jan. 13, 1854.
Burse, let tne draw, &c.
** Nurse, let me draw the baby's veil aside,
I want to see the Cross upon her brow."
Nay, maiden dear, that seal may not abide
In sight of mortals' ken ; 'tis vanish'd now.
** Alas, for pity ! when the holy man
Said even now, * I sign thee with the cross,'
AVhat joy to think that I at home should scan
The bright, clear lines ! O, sad and sudden loss !"
Complain not so, my child : no loss is here.
But endless gain. If thou wilt open wide
Faith's inward eye, soon shall to thee appear
WTiat now by wondering angels is descried,
Thy Lord's true token, seen not but believ'd.
And therefore doubly blest O, mark it well,
And be this rule in thy young heart received.
Blest, who content with Him in twilight dwell.
2S6 Nurse^ Id nu draw, &c.
Saints, whfle the very image He denied^
Made much of the dim shadow : now He gives
The image. In adoring faith abide,
.\s in spring-time we watch unfolding leaves.
Woe to impatient hands, that ere its prime
Force the bud open, mar the unready flower :
Woe to faint hearts that will not wait the time.
To know the secrets of your blissful bower.
Thy saints, O Lord, and Thine own Mother dear
Are round Thee as a glory-cloud : we see
The general glow, not each in outline clear.
Or several station : all are hid in Thee.
In prayer we own Thee, Father, at our side,
Not always feel or taste Thee ; and 'tis well.
So, hour by hour, courageous faith is tried ;
So, gladlier will the mom all mists dispel.
Ft-d. 19, 1854.
Written for tlie Book of Prayers, at Onddesdon College.
* * Also, I heard the voice of the Lord, saying. Whom shall I
send, and who will go for us ? Then said I, Here I am, send
me." — Isa, vi. 8.
Lord of life, prophetic Spirit !
In sweet measure evermore
To the holy children dealing
Each his gift from Thy rich store ;
Bless Thy family, adoring
As in Israel's schools of yore.
Holy Jesus I Eye most loving
On each young disciple bent ;
Voice, that, seeming earthly, summoned
Samuel to the awful tent ; —
Hand, that cast Elijah's mantle ;
Thine be all Thy grace hath lent !
288 Hymn for Easter-tide,
As to Thine own seventy scholars
Thou of old Thine ann didst reach,
Under Thy majestic shadow
Guiding them to do, and teach,
Till their hour of solenm unction.
So be with us, all and each.
God, and Father of all spirits
^\^lOse dread call young Joshua knew,
Forty days in darkness waiting
With Thy servant good and true ;
Thence. to wage Thy war descending,
Own us, Lord, Thy champions too.
One Thy light, the Temple filling,
Holy, holy, holy Three :
Meanest men, and brightest angels
Wait alike the word from Thee.
Highest musings, lowliest worship,
Must their preparation be.
Hymn for Easter-fide. 289
Now Thou speakest, — ^hear we trembling,
From the Glory comes a Voice.
" Who accepts the Almighty's mission ?
Who will make Christ's work his choice ?
Who for us proclaim to sinners
Turn, believe, endure, rejoice?"
Here we are, Redeemer, send us !
But because Thy work is fire.
And our lips, imclean and earthly,
Breathe no breath of high desire,
Send Thy Seraph from Thine altar
Veiled, but in his bright attire.
Cause him. Lord, to fly full swiftly
With the mystic coal in hand.
(Faith and Love will understand,)
Touch our lips. Thou awful Mercy,
With Thine own keen, healing brand.
^TiiiK fliDc same zfiac xce ^kndlc;
Ocdr^sc nr ^BBC;, vc pay Thee,
t !».•'■ 'HHII.'ii
To ffis Woid aad ^Eisdom sore.
To Hs aB-cn1^^itniing ^im,
Pamm of die fiail and poor.
Three in One, he poise and glory.
Here, and whOe the heavens endure.
'm tlw 0pi^niti0 of ih& W^st Window
of th« ^aJl of $t. Andrew's BalUge,
Bradfi«ld. i^ptil $, l$$9.
In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread."
When Adam his first Sunday kept,
It dawn'd on work, and not on rest ;
Yet when he laid him down and slept,
No travail sore his soul opprest ;
Work, easy as an angel's flight,
Brought slumber as an in^t's, light.
Upon the ground he casts him now,
The ground, accursed for his sake ;
The chill damps on his weary brow,
And even in sleep his heart will ache.
If to his fellow-men he call,
There is the curse of Babel's wall.
292 Far the Opming^ &'c.
But thou the Lord's new Eden seek,
The garden-mount where olives grow,
There prostrate lies a Sufferer meek,
Go, bathe thee in His Sweat, — ^and lo !
Thou, as at first, shalt rise renewed.
For Jesus' gweat is healing Blood.
Thy work a blessed pastime then
Shall prove, — thy rest a sacred song ;
The Babel-cries of scattered men
Attuned to anthems pure and strong.
The treasures of King Solomon
For holy Church redeem'd and won.
f taij^rs txt Saints*
Half-hearted men we creep
Along our listless way,
And where we sowed but yesterday,
E*en now presumptuous would reap.
We stir the root
And see no tender shoot ;
Too fine the work of grace for our rude eye.
Then in proud wrath
Turn on our homeward path,
Leaving th' untended plant in the bleak air to die.
Not so the unwearied Saints,
Yet shadowing with their prayers
The fallen land that erst was theirs :
Where they repose hope never faints.
There, day or night.
Before that altar bright
2 94. Prayers of Saints,
They kneel, if haply from its stores benign,
One healing ray
May dart its downward way,
In course unerring towards some English shrine.
For the Tomb of tlie old Biddleoombes, May 24, 1861.
Lord Jesus, loving hearts and dear
Are resting in Thy shadow here ;
' In life Thou wast their hope, and we
In death would trust them, Lord, with Thee.
" Miserere, Domine,
Aching heart, and weary soul,
. Cares that wildly toss, and roll,
Hush ! — ^the soft note downward stole
With a charm to make you whole.
Hush ! — far off it melts away
0*er the quiet moonlight sea :
The boatmen rest their oars, and say
" Miserere, Domine."
" Miserere, Domine,
" Miserere, Domine."
Youthful spirits, laughing eyes,
Hopes as gay as summer skies,
Hush ! — and in adoring wise
Hear the strain that never dies !
For Music, 297
Lost to mortal ears, that lay
O'er the stars may wander free :
The Angels still their harps, and say,
Batt uud W^hb^f .
D»iL Vfdd Wd>ber, w3d Webber, why rash on so
Your speed is so reckless, it never can last
Wl^ cant you g^de gently around the rough
TheyH not move a hair's breadth for all your
Besides, at the angle which mortals call
Headforemost jrou charge me ; I shrink with
The primroses, open-eyed there on the brink.
Are watching us quite at a loss what to think.
fVedder, Indeed, Mrs. Dart, I must own it is true;
But then, pray consider, I'm younger than you ;
And really till here in this dingle we met,
A lesson in manners I never did get
Dart and Webber, 299
Henceforth arm in arm we'll move on, if you please,
And just at your pace ; pray be quite at your ease ;
But ere we arrive at Holne Chase, I foresee.
The echoes will hear you far louder than me.
April 21)^ 1863.
to lie song
Tht cncoTd deqs His jadffoent shew.
Tbe Lad is King ; the wodd stands fast :
Xatore abides^ for He is strong;
Tbe peifect note He gave, shall last
Till cadence of her even-song.
The Lord is King ; ye worlds rejoice !
The waves of power, that from His shrine
Thrill out in silence, have no choice :
They hann not till He gives the sign.
Hymn. 30 1
The Lord is King ; hush, wayward heart !
Earth's wisdom fails, earth's daring faints.
There seek Him whence He ne'er departs,
And o^Ti Him greatest in His saints.
Thou, Lord, art King : crown'd Priests are we,
To cast our crowns before the Throne.
By us the creature worships Thee,
Yet we but bring Thee of Thine own.
To the great Maker, to the Son
Himself vouchsafing to be made.
To the good Spirit, Three in One,
All praise by all His works be paid. Amen.
Tte ft iotOe Bixt
T&EKK w«s * iioi small maiden *, and she was ^a
H« GcM^apa and Vkai widi a Ittde Loving treat
So dte coonsdrd with her sisteis, and all the three
And by an old acquaintance, a letter sent with speed ;
Which when the Vicar open'd, he pondei'd o'er
and o'er :
" The time I see is Wednesday, a quarter after four.
To a Little Girl, 303
But when we're all assembled, what will the pastime
No word is here to say, but a Heart and Crown I
A little Heart brimful of love, a Crown without a care :
O this is Christmas mirth indeed, 1*11 joyfully be
I fed Aam ivnais i«ii^ aad Bov am incEned
Ab vd JOB muf^ staidcd, and seem to ay, ' Haik f
At sack bad bdodoor as I most confess,
Folks know not jonr lu^m^e, and hardly will guess.
Oh, Fossr ! a wdl-lired jonng areatme like you.
Who hare fired with the cociteoas all your life
Cannot tdl how a conscience at morning will ache
If with diought of kind letters unanswered it wake.
(Here suppose a lengthy confession*)
To Master Bernard Wilson's Dog. 305
rhen tell Mr. Bernard, dear dog, if you please,
rhat the man whom he knows of his error now sees,
And is quite fain to promise in prose or in rhyme,
That he never will do so again till next time.
Mr. Bernard will say, " I forgive like a king,
He's free to lie loitering by the cool spring ;
And hear the gay Percie-bird whistle and sing
From morning to eve, in his conscience no sting."
Femiehurst^ Aug, 16, 1864.
« fiiiufcim MMffLML
^hPT JBBg. JBC JBg. AnC iJKg.l'iU'
Bnrr i£ Gax. ^s Fa&er% ^dbbe .
Bit Farri s nud anf Vnfii" iiiBr s?c iC- ' jm^
2)ir ^s'p"^ g"ai i h> . anr nrsr >:ianig>
T, s^ - ri -rTS sky
Drzv sear xs sc^ as
DTcad |;'^in ; j<«ii > , c'es is fsspd thars have been
Dread Ward, vbo &aB£ xbe FatVr bast
Dui] dmaden moaa ajcma d tbe Teszzpfe Rode
Each xaora a2>d ere, tbe Golden Keys
E'en Dov Toocbsafe, Good ^irit. One .
Fain would we love Thee, Lord ; for Thou
Far, far cm other isles
Farewell, bright visicms of my lonely hours
Farewell, thou soft Moon, and ye shadowy gleams
Father and Lord of our whole life
Fear not : for He hath sworn
Full many an eve, and many a mom
Give ear, — the Voice rings keen and true
God's mercy is in the pure beam of Spring
Grieve not though Mary's birthday pass'd
Hail I gladdening Light, of His pure glory poured
Hail, Martyr-flowers, who gleaming forth
Half-hearted men we creep
He spake : He died and rose again
Holy is the sick man's room
How can I leave thee all unsung
How long endure this priestly scorn
How mournfully the lingering rain-drops sound
How shall the righteous win their way .
How soft, how silent has the stream of time
How varied, how rich, in the light-curtain'd west
If waiting by the time-crown'd halls
If, when across the autumnal heaven
I love thee well, thou solitary Cave
In Harmony, they say, the part .
Is He not near?— look up and see
Is it not sad dear friends should part
Is there no sound about our Altars heard
I thought to meet no more, so dreary seem'd
Lo I from the Eastern hills the Lord
Lord in Thy Name Thy servants plead .
Lord Jesus, loving hearts and dear
Lord, lift my heart to Thee at mom
Lord, make my heart a place where angels sing
Lord of life, prophetic Spirit
Mary, Margaret, Anne, Eliza
Meek, pastoral, quiet souls, whoe'er ye be
Miserere, Domine ....
My spirit lingers round that blessed space
Nay, ask not for a lay of mine •
Nay, but these are breezes bright
No joy of mine to invite the thunder down
Nor wants there Seraph warnings, mom and eve
Not the dark shade of thy majestic groves
Now the stars are lit in heaven .
Nurse, let me draw the bahy's veil aside
O blessed gem, of saintly, spotless kind .
O God, th' enduring might of things
O, heard ye not the night-wind's roar
Oh 1 surely Scomer is his name .
Oh ! Thou who deign'st to sympathize .
O Lord, if ever of Thy Spouse forlorn
O, mournful on our ears the wild harp died
One only Way to life
O, stay thee yet, bright image, stay
O Sun of Lusitane, are those thy rays
O sweetly timed, as e'er was gentle hand
O thou, whose dim and tearful gaze
Our God in glory sits on high
Sad privilege is mine, to shew
Ssdnts in Paradise, we know
Saw ye the bright-eyed stately child
Seek we some realm where virgin souls may pray
Servant of God, remember
Silence, unworthy I how should tones like thine
Sing, my tongue, of glorious warfare
Sleep has refresh'd our limbs : we spring
Slowly the gleaming stars retire .
Soft ridge of cloud or mountain I which thou art
Sons of our Mother I such the indignant str^n
Strong Ruler, God whose Word is truth
Sun, Moon, and Stars, one day contending sought
Sweet bed of death ! how oft to thee
Sweet bird ! up earliest in the mom
Tell me, ye maidens fair and wise
That by the custom of this clime
The Ark of God is in the field
The banners of the King appear .
The choir of new Jerusalem
The clarion calls : away ! to take
The fire of Heaven breaks forth .
The flood is round thee, but thy towers as yet . • ^
The grey-eyed Mom was sadden'd with a shower 205
The lions prowl around, thy grave to guard • 35
The Lord hath set me o'er the kings of earth • 4^
The Lord is King ; He wrought His will . . 300
The loveliest flowers the closest ding to earth . .217
There have been mighty winds on high .... 246
There sate one lonely on a green hill side . . . 251
There was a kind small maiden, and she was faia to greet . 303
There was a young rook, and he lodged in a nook . •225
The road-side airs are sweet that breathe of home . 240
These are the workings of a spirit pure .... 193
The shepherd lingers on the lone hill side . 272
The Star of day hath risen, and we ... . 124
The traveller, when his time is short .... 206
The twilight hour is sweet at home . . -99
The voice that breathed o'er Eden .119
They say I am no faithful swain ..... x66
They say, " The man is false, and falls away :" . . 45
This cannot be the sleep of death . .210
This glorious mom. Time's eldest bom .... 130
This monung so kindly without any call . . . 304
Thou gentle Moon, so lone and sweet .... 235
Thou, Light's Creator, first and best .... 132
Thou, who in Farleigh's ivied bower . .162
Thou, whom with proud and happy heart I call . 204
Thus evermore the Saints' avenging God . .80
Tired of the rude world's angry din .... 241
"Trust in God, and trust in Me" .265
'Twasontheday when England's Church of yore - 51
Two lamps apart may brightly bum .... 274
Tyreofthefarther West 1 be thou too wam'd . . 55
Visionsofvastnessandof beauty ! long . • *75
Voice of the wise of old . . . . .36
Watch we by night, with one accord uprising . .126
What mountain-echoes roll ..... 197
When Adam his first Sunday kept .391
When Christ to village comes or town . .109
When I behold yon arch magnificent .... 203
When in her hour of still decay ..... 276
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