Pleasures of religion : with other poems

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FROM THE LIBRARY OF
REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D.

BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO

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PLEASURES OF RELIGION.

IN THREE PARTS.

fl*< OF PRINCs^

"MAY 10 1933 '

PLEASUREM££i£*Lll5

RELIGION,

OTHER POEMS.

BY THE REV. H. STOWELL, A.M.

" HER WAYS ARE WAYS OF PLEASANTNESS,
AND ALL HER PATHS ARE PEACE."

. ri. 17.

LONDON:
C. J. G. AND F. RIVINGTON.

AND

HATCHARD AND SON.

1832.

T. SOWLER, PRINTER, MANCHESTER,

TO

ONE OF THE BEST OF FATHERS,

FROM

WHOSE LIPS THE SENTIMENTS
OF

THE FOLLOWING POEM

HAVE BEEN LARGELY DERIVED, AND IN WHOSE LIFE.
THEY HAVE BEEN BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED,

Cfjte EOorfe

IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,
BY

HIS OLDEST, AND NOW, ONLY SON,

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

PAGE.

Pleasures of Religion. Part 1 1

Part II 27

Part III 59

Notes to Part 1 93

Part II 96

Part III 99

Stanzas on the Death of the Rev. William Thack-
eray. M. A 105

The Withered Rose 110

Impromptu on beholding the Ecce Homo, by Carlo

Dolci 112

A Birth-Day Wish 114

To my youngest Sister 115

Lines written in a Lady's Album 117

The Mercy-Seat 119

Lines on the Death of Wilberforce Richmond 121

Praise to God 125

A Mother's Prayer at her Infant's Baptism 127

The Penitent 128

" In all things give thanks" 130

The Violet 132

The Snow-Drop 134

The Moss Rose 13(>

Musings by Moonlight : 137

Musings of the Mariner's Wife 139

Farewell to Home 140

Stanzas written for Music 145

ANALYSIS OF PART FIRST.

The subject is introduced by a comparison of mankind
without Religion, to the world without the sun — Apostrophe
to the Harp of Judah and Spirit of God — Religion the
source of Eden's bliss — She is still the master-chord of the
soul — The pleasures of Imagination, how imperfect without
her influence — Lord Byron tortured by distempered fancy —
Religion does not extinguish Imagination's fire — But directs
her to heavenly visions — Hope how fallacious, if confined to
earth — Picture of maniac — Benign influence of Piety and
Hope — Memory frequently a source of misery — Joseph's
brethren — Holy recollections fraught with solace — Remem-
brance, even of sorrow, when sanctified, sweet — Address to
the young, persuading them to dedicate their youth to God.

THE PLEASURES

OF

RELIGION.

PART FIRST.

The earth is lovely — on her ample breast.
Ten thousand varied beauties are express'd ;
The smiling valley, and the mountain scene,
This rich in azure, and that bright in green :
Yet, vain were all, unless the lamp of day
Lent to the world his lustre-giving ray ;

B

2 THE PLEASURES

All were a corpse, unkindled by a soul,
And mist, and midnight, would enshroud the whole ;
Such were mankind, unvisited by Thee,
Daughter of God — Ethereal Piety !

Thy joys alone then, shall they lie unsung, —

Thy peerless harp, unheeded and unstrung ?

On Salem's willows, must it always wave,

Judah at once, its birth-place and its grave ?

Dread Instrument of Heav'n! which seers have swept,

Till monarchs trembled, and till nations wept ;

Forgive the skilless hand that now essays,

For noblest themes, to wake thy noblest lays.

Eternal Spirit ! who didst erst inspire

The son of Amoz, with seraphic fire,

OF RELIGION.

Who bad'st the monarch minstrel's numbers flow.
In praise so lofty, and so sweet, in woe,
Deign, in Thy mighty energy, to stir
The kindling spirit of Thy worshipper !
No fabled muse, idolatrous, I own ;
I lay my lowly offering, at Thy throne.

'Mid Eden's bowers, ere sin had shed her blight,
Why dwelt in Adam's breast unmixed delight ?
Was it, from flow'ry shades, or luscious trees,
The halcyon sky, or incense-breathing breeze,
From seraph strains, or ravishment that stole
From nature's freshness, o'er the new-born soul ?
Then, wherefore roamed (immitigable fate !)
Mad with his woe, and steadfast in his hate,

4 THE PLEASURES

TV apostate fiend ? — thro' all th' enchantment raged,
The hell within him burning unassuagecl ? — !
And why was man, in that terrestrial heaven,
When guilt had stained him, up to horror giv'n ?
Cow'ring and quiv'ring 'mid the joyous shade,2
Each beauty stung him, and each sound dismay'd.

So round the lake, in vain, rich mountains rise,
And all above, expand resplendent skies,
Whilst torn by torrents, or convulsed by storms,
The liquid mirror cannot glass their forms ;
But, when it sleeps, unsullied in repose,
Each tree, each sun-beam, on its bosom glows —
The heav'ns, the shores, all vividly impress'd,
Impart their beauties to enrich its breast.

OF RELIGION. D

Thine, then, Religion ! Eden's bliss was thine ;
Peace slept in Adam's breast, that breast thy shrine ;
No grief could wound him, and no pleasure cloy,
This dawn of being was his noon of joy.
And still, in that mysterious lyre, the soul,
Thine is the chord to harmonize the whole $
That chord unstrung — no melody can dwell,
Save fitful wild-notes in the jarring shell.

Have Fancy's joys been sung in rapt'rous lays,
Her own fire kindling incense, to her praise ?
Have minstrels vied to deify the maid,
In native hues so gorgeously, pourtrayed ?
Yet, if to earth her pinions are confined,
Her brightest visions do but mock the mind 5
b 2

6 THE PLEASURES

They lend to life a soul-deceiving smile,

Which gleams to baffle, dazzles to beguile :

Full soon, will sad realities appear,

And chase those day-dreams with a bitter sneer,

And start the dreamer, from his soft repose,

To sick'ning strifes and unimagin'd woes :

Ah ! then, the Power which teemed with angel forms,

Can rouse her thunder, and awake her storms,

Can add unreal ills, the wretch to scare,

And call up fiends to sting him to despair.

That curse was his, whose proudly-titled lyre3
Was fraught with bright, but not with sacred fire ;
Whose touch could wake the hurricane of song.
That sweeps the soul resistlessly along ; —

OF RELIGION. J

Cloyed, with the dull monotony of earth,
Loathing its sweets, disdainful of its mirth,
Back on himself, his mighty fancy turned,
And, like a pent volcano, inly burned —
Save that by fits, the bursts of lurid flame
Betrayed the fearful gulf from which they came;
His genius, like the lamp which lights the tomb,
But serv'd to shew the deepness of his gloom ;
And, where the darkest, dreariest heart he drew,
It was his own, — pourtrayed too sadly true.

Would Grace, then, strip young Fancy of her plumes,
Or chain the eagle 'mid ungenial glooms ?
Psalmist of Israel ! let thy raptures tell,
Prophets of God ! the calumny repel; —

8 THE PLEASURES

Strains that entrance — imaginings that glow,
Bright as the sun, untainted as the snow,
Religion gave you — thus the despot chained
Your towering thoughts, your ecstacies refrained !

Stretch then, Imagination, stretch thy wings,
Soar in thy strength, to everlasting things,
Expatiate in that clime, where all is pure,
And true as bright, and as transporting, sure :
See ! faith with heav'n-ward look and piercing eye,
. Chides thy delay, and wooes thee to the sky ;
The lamp of Truth is flaming, in her hand,
The shades of myst'ry shrink, at her command ;
Behold thy pathway stretching all afar,
Higher than, glimm'ring of the highest star ;

OF RELIGION. 9

Then speed, with trembling ecstacy, to trace

Th' abode of God, the spirit's resting-place;

There linger undeceived, unsated gaze,

Entranced by echoes from angelic lays,

The loveliest visions of that holy clime,

Hush, whilst they hallow, bless, whilst they sublime.

And thou, sweet Hope ! — thine anchor by thy side,
Thou hast been sung, our solace, and our guide,
The soul of action, and the pledge of joy,
The charm of life when all her pleasures cloy :
But false the strain — if, reckless of her birth,
The heaven- born waste her energies, on earth.

Freed from the ark, athwart the watery waste
The dove shot forth, exulting in her haste ;

10 THE PLEASURES

She soared, she sailed — her eye intent to trace

Some mountain-top, some stable resting-place;

But vain her wild career — for, far and wide,

In boundless desolation, rolled the tide ;

Back to her home, the weary wand'rer prest,

With drooping wing, and palpitating breast :

Thus, in the joyous morning of our years,

Hope o'er the world triumphantly careers ;

Thus, all abroad, she finds a shoreless deep,

Fierce in its storms, perfidious in its sleep :

True, on its bosom countless islets float,

Which teem with flowers, and birds of sweetest note ;

But, builds she there ? — behold ! the tempest raves —

Her nest ! — it sinks beneath unpitying waves.

OF RELIGION. 1 1

Fond Dreamer ! still to linger in this wild,
So oft beguiling, and so oft beguiled :
Thy sweetest flower-buds wither, ere they blow,
And, with'ring, lend its bitterness to woe ;
Nor, if they swell, unbosom and mature,
Is disappointment then, less deep, less sure ;
From the frail blossom, all its beauty flies,
When breathless expectation grasps the prize.

Yes ! in fruition's hour, the world reveals
The haggard features, which her guise conceals ;
So soon her pleasures, in their fulness, pall,
She gives the least — when she is giving all : —
For lo ! the spell is burst — her charms depart,
And hope itself is frozen in the heart;

12 THE PLEASURES

No feelings breathe, no waves of passion roll,
To stir the sullen stagnancy of souL

Yon melancholy maniac ! mark his woe,
His eye so stony, and his step so slow —
What desolation reigns — what darkness broods,
Throughout that mind's tremendous solitudes ! —
Yet Hope, the charmer, not a year gone by,
Danced in that step, and glistened in that eye $
Her gayest flow'rets on that desert bloomed,
Her rain-bow girt it, and her star illumed :
But all is vanish'd — she betray'd her care,
Till disappointment deepened to despair,
Till not a germ of joy was left behind,
Nor star-beam streak'd the midnight of that mind.

OF RELIGION. 13

Deluded Hope ! had'st thou thine anchor cast,
Where heaves no billow, and resounds no blast;
Within that "vail," which hides the changeless shore,
Upon that rock, which stands for evermore —
Yon shiver'd bark might ev'ry storm have braved,
The Hand that loos'd the tempest, would have saved.

Oh ! deem not Piety would quench thy light,
Or blot the last, lone star from sorrow's night ;
Let proud Philosophy thy joys disdain,
As blossoms pregnant with the fruit of pain,
Let Her the nakedness of earth deride,
Yet give the heart no heritage beside —
Mock thine illusions — yet, herself supply
No ray to guide thee to thine home on high : —

c

14 THE PLEASURES

Religion pities, while she chides thy dreams,
And, if she seem severe, she only, seems ;
She scares the meteors of the world away,
But pours upon thine eye celestial day,
Instructs thy pinions, how to soar sublime,
Beyond the tumults, and the woes of time,
To boundless scenes which open on thy view.
For ever, bright'ning, and for ever, new.

So mounts the eagle, in his daring flight,
Till purer regions break upon his sight,
Till, o'er his azure path, he sails serene,
While clouds and tempets, far beneath are seen.

Assert thy freedom, Daughter of the skies !
On Faith's broad pinions, to thy birth-right rise

OF RELIGION. 15

What though, the while, thy earth-born meteors fade,
Though earth surround thee with her murkiest shade —
Thy heaven-lit lamp shall brighten 'mid the gloom,
The vale of death, the shadows of the tomb —
Thus, tho' the stars desert the morning sky,
They set unheeded — for the sun is nigh.

And rest is thine — how calm thy bright abode,

Beneath the shadow of the wing of God !

No more the sport of changes, or of fears,

His promise stays thee, and his presence cheers :

The earth, the heav'ns may peal their parting groan,

His Word must stand, unshaken, as His throne.

Thy joys too, Memory ! sweetly pensive maid,

With step more measur'd, and with look more staid —

]6 THE PLEASURES

Thy chasten'd joys have woke the minstrels' lays,

And many a lyre has warbled in thy praise.

But thou canst pierce, as well as sooth, the heart ;

Back from thy faithful mirror, thousands start,

They dread thee, as they dread the scorpion's sting,

They cannot brook their life's uncurtaining —

In wildest revel, or in mad excess,

How many plunge to find — forgetfulness !

Touched by thy talisman, the splendid sin
Unmasks the loathsomeness, that lurked within ;
'Tis thine from Pleasure's wither'd flowers to press,
Sweet, as they seemed, their innate bitterness,
To strip our follies of their masquerade,
And bid our fondest day-dreams stand display'd. —

OF RELIGION.

Yes ! thou canst wring the gayest trifler's mind,
If led in soberer hour, to glance behind j
Aghast, he sees a wide-stretched desert scene,
A waste, unbrighten'd by one speck of green.
Around the child of guilt, when horrors roll,
Thy spell envenoms his distress of soul,
It wakes the spectres of his crimes, to scare
His haughty spirit wrestling with despair ;
Too well, the tortur'd conscience knows thy force
To fan the smouldring furnace of remorse,
Recalling brighter scenes — not to illume,
But lend a darker horror to his doom.

Thus Mem'ry haunted with their ruthless deed,
The Hebrew brothers, in their hour of need ;4
b 2

17

18 THE PLEASURES

" We saw the anguish of his soul/' they cried,
" Our brother's anguish — yet our hearts denied
" His prayer of agony — therefore., on our heads,
" The Lord the vials of His vengeance sheds."

Such, and so bitter, are the fruits we glean,
In after days, from every guilt-sown scene ;
But, o'er the just man's path, religion strews
Flowers, which when withered, fragrancy diffuse,
She rears high monuments, where lingers yet,
Unwaning radiance, though the sun be set.
So, w7hen on Sinai's top, the seer had trod,
And held mysterious intercourse with God,
A ling'ring lustre play'd around his face,
A ray of Heav'n, a more than human grace.

OF RELIGION. 19

Remembrance loves to hover o'er the days,

Embalmed with prayer, and redolent of praise,

Bright hours, when communing with God, we found

A heavenly atmosphere effused around,

When He, who shrines Him in the contrite breast,

Imparted joys, too big to be express'd :

Ah ! these are life's illumin'd spots, they throw

Reflected radiance, on her hours of woe,

The drooping spirit they can sweetly cheer,

Rekindle Faith, and melt the shades of fear.

Nor sweet the retrospect of bliss alone,
Affliction hallowed, leaves a joy, when flown;
Threading their past-gone path, the righteous learn,
Through all its tangled mazes, to discern

20 THE PLEASURES

The golden clew of mercy — they can trace
The tenderest footsteps of their Father's Grace,
'Mid darkest scenes ; — their sorrows yield a balm,
And o'er the tempest, steals a sacred calm.

O ye ! whose breasts with youthful ardor glow,
As yet, by care undamp'd, unchill'd by woe,
Whose fancy lends an Eden to your view,
Hope fondly whispering, that the dream is true,
Dare to be wise — each gay illusion spurn,
Nor fill with poison leaves sad Mem'ry's urn ;
Avert the curse, which guilt-stain 'd youth bequeathes,
The crown of thorns, which early Folly wreathes
To gore the brow of Penitence : — in vain,
When once, some deed of darkness leaves its stain,

OF RELIGION. 21

Shall pale Contrition, in maturer age,
Yearn to erase it from your being's page —
God may forgive, His Spirit may renew,
Yet cannot His Omnipotence — undo.

At once, unwav'ring, in your God confide,

Forego earth's siren blandishments, untried,

Nor prove by tasting, that the cup of sin,

Though fair, without, disguises gall, within ;

Disdain to desecrate the bloom of youth,

Or trust the world, distrusting Heavenly Truth :

No sinless flight of Fancy, she will bind,

Forbid no harmless hope to light your mind,

But lend a zest to ev'ry guiltless joy,

And take from pleasure — naught but its alloy.

22 THE PLEASURES, &c.

Thus too, shall Mem'ry dwell, with placid eye,
In life's calm twilight, on the years gone by,
While lovely shadows o'er her vision glide,
More soft, than tints of dewy eventide,
And long-protracted, breathing low, yet clear,
Mellifluous echoes melt upon her ear.

EXD OF PART THE FIRST.

THE

PLEASURES OF RELIGION.

PART SECOND.

ANALYSIS OF PART SECOND.

Apostrophe to the Deity — Man formed to enjoy God.
can find his portion no where beside — Sin has severed us
from God — Sinner haunted by terrors — tormented by his
own heart — Religion repairs the ruin— Sweetness even in
repentance — Faith discovers the Saviour — God in Christ the
Penitent's comfort — Joy of Pardon — Ethiopian Eunuch —
Comfort, however gradual, exquisite — Joy of returning Holi-
ness— Delight even in the Christian conflict — Apostrophe to
graceless heroes — Freedom of Christian displayed in Paul and
Silas — Piety imparts many fountains of pleasure — Divine
Love chief of these — God the only rest of our affections —
His perfection contrasted with human defect, His immuta-
bility with human frailty, the Infallibility of his love, with
human caprice — Earthly love necessarily alloyed — Divine,
never — Love of God light to the heart — Love lightens every
load — Power of it in St. Paul — his love to man— Blessedness of
Charity — especially of the communion of saints — Happiness
of the world, were these principles universally diffused.

THE PLEASURES

OF

RELIGION.

PART SECOND.

O Thou ! whose voice, on nature's birth-day, spoke,

x\nd boundless chaos into being broke —

Whose word went forth — the universe was made,

In all its glorious garniture arrayed ; —

Say, was not man, (Thy master-work,) designed

To make Thyself the portion of his mind ?

28 THE PLEASURES

Incarnate angel, godlike in his mien,

With heavenward aspect, and with brow serene,

His soul of mighty energies possest,

His Maker's image glowing in his breast —

Nature's high-priest, vicegerent of his God —

Was it for him to grovel on the sod ?

The stream shall sooner fill the ocean's womb,

A taper's gleam the universe illume,

Than man's sublime, illimitable mind,

In aught, save Deity, contentment find.

Why else, in triumph's hour — the world his own,
Her kings, her treasures prostrate, at his throne,
When no unvanquished region could afford
Prey for his lust, or carnage for his sword —

OF RELIGION. 29

Wept the proud Grecian ? — ah ! he felt the whole1
Could never slake the yearnings of the soul.

But sin has rent the spirit in our breast,
From Him who formed it, in Himself to rest ;
Xor rent alone — o'er man, if unforgiv'n,
Lowers like a storm, the righteous wrath of heav'n \
And, deck the convict's dungeon as you will,
The scaffold's phantom haunts his fancy still,
Though mirth, and melody enchant his cell,
One glance of thought can dissipate their spell,
Can utter horror, in a moment, throw,
O'er all the ghastly gaiety of woe : —
Thus, quiv'ring bodings of Almighty ire,
Sudden, and vivid, as the light'ning fire,
D 2

30 THE PLEASURES

Will pierce the sinner, in his proudest hour,

And quail his spirit with mysterious power :

At war with God, the joyousness he knows,

Is but the mockery of true repose —

The rank luxuriance on the mountain side,

Within whose womb the fires of ruin hide,

Whose frequent throes, 'mid seeming calmness, show

A fiery flood is travailing below.

Apostate man ! within thy bosom dwell,
If unrenew'd, the elements of hell ;
Left to thyself, to nature's lusts consigned,
There needs no more to agonize thy mind ;
Intestine strife thy lawless passions keep,
Like adverse tempests battling on the deep ;

OF RELIGION. 31

Desires insatiate, on each other prey,

Or rankling cares exert their with'ring sway ;

Unsceptered conscience lifts her voice in vain,

Unheard, amid the roaring of the main ;

Or heard, to chafe the surges of the soul,

While shame, and doubt brood darkly o'er the wbole.

Benign Religion, harbinger of peace !
"Tis thine to bid the war of passion cease —
Renew our fellowship with God, and bring
The restless spirit from its wandering —
Give back to conscience, her primeveal sway,
And chase the fears of conscious guilt away.

What, though the penitent is taught to sow
The seeds of bliss, amid the tears of woe ;

32 THE PLEASURES

What, though his heart more poignantly must feel

Its own disease, or ever thou wilt heal ; —

E'en, with contrition's deepest anguish, blend

Of Mercy's balm, such foretastes as transcend,

In secret sweetness, all the gaudy flowers,

Which laughing Folly gleans from Pleasure's bowers,

So, in her hour of agony, and fear,

'Mid nature's pangs, the mother's soul to cheer,

There rise imaginings of coming joy,

And eager fancy clasps the wished-for boy.

Nor grief endures — Faith guides the trembling eye
To Him, who brings the day-spring from on high :
Not, as of old, to Sinai's top he came,
His voice the thunder, and his robes the flame ;

OF RELIGION. 33

But shrined in flesh — a brother to our race —

The latent Godhead beaming in his face,

Yet, so subdued, that he illumes the mind,

Which his unshorn effulgency would blind :

As, when the sun, wrhich, throned in noontide height,

Eludes the eye, insufferably bright,

Has veiled in cloud the fierceness of his blaze,

His orb no more is shrouded from our gaze.

Thus, God in Christ, repels the heart no more,
Our woes he tasted, our transgressions bore ;
He shed the blood, almighty to atone,
His love — His justice hails us to his throne —
He braved the cross, the agony, the grave, —
As man, to suffer, and as God, to save.

34 THE PLEASURES

Oh ! when the contrite sinner first descries

The might, the merit, of that sacrifice,

Sees, how the sinless, for the sinful, died,

How death was vanquish'd by the Crucified,

Discerns those wounds — the records of His love,

Inscribed on earth, yet unefFaced above,

And hears him whisper — " These were borne for thee,

" Thy guilt is pardoned, and thy soul is free" —

A speechless rapture through his spirit thrills,

And overpowers the bosom which it fills,

Transcending far, the transports which dilate

The captive's bosom, when his prison gate

Flies wide — when burst are every bolt and chain,

And life, and liberty are his again.

OF RELIGION. 35

Such ecstacy the Morian stranger knew, 2

When first salvation broke upon his view ;

The desert pathway he had often trod,

To seek in Zion for the peace of God,

But vain his search — until the heaven-taught sage

Unveiled the myst'ries of the sacred page,

From types and shadows, turned his yearning mind,

To scan the promised Saviour of mankind —

Then, freed from guilt, from darkness, and dismay,

He sped, rejoicing, on his lonely way.

True, mercy's day-spring does not always rise,
Like morning bursting on the polar skies —
The sun forth rushing from the womb of night,
Enkindling darkness into perfect light :

36 THE PLEASURES

Yet, as the traveler, who benighted, strayed,
By dangers menaced, and by doubt dismayed,
Joys at the dawn, however staid her guise,
Or slow her footsteps up the eastern skies :
So, faintest glimm'rings of Redemption cheer
The wounded spirit, though obscured with fear ;
If few, and falt'ring, are the hopes he knows,
Yet, these are harbingers of full repose.

Nor pardon only, does the cross impart,
It heals the fell distempers of the heart,
Replete with virtue, which, by faith applied,
Allays our passions, and subdues our pride —
With love to God, dilates the soul again,
And from that fountain gushes love to men.

OF RELIGION. 37

How sweet returning health, with roseate glow,
To one, long wasted on the couch of woe —
To feel her touch, her balmy breath supply
Life to his pulse, and lustre to his eye —
Diffuse a vigor through the vital springs,
And tune afresh the harp of many strings ;
His spirits flutter with instinctive glee,
His bosom heaves with conscious energy,
A new existence he appears to find —
Another world encompasses his mind :
But sweeter far, throughout the soul, to feel
Immortal Health her energies reveal —
The Holy Ghost His quick'ning fire impart,
And Heaven's own elements inform the heart —
Eternal Life implant her seeds within,
And Grace arrest the pestilence of sin : —

"38 THE PLEASURES

Then, then, our native powers of spirit stir,
(Long lifeless, in their living sepulchre,)
Burst the dark cerements of sense, and lust,
And, heaven-born, spurn this heritage of dust.

If Judah's monarch, when the mystic light,3
Which spake the present God, o'erpowered his sight,
Felt speechless transport in the thought, that He,
Whose habitation is Eternity —
The Dread — the Infinite — that He should deign
To dwell with mortals, in an earthly fane; —
Then say — what raptures in that breast should swell,
Where God vouchsafes, in very deed, to dwell —
Where inspirations, powers, and peace divine,
Declare whose presence fills the lowly shrine.

OF RELIGION. 39

True ! there is conflict in the new-born soul,

The flesh, tho' vanquish'd, spurns the mind's control;

The Prince of Darkness struggles to regain,

Mad with discomfiture, his wrested reign ;

The world her terrors, her seductions, plies,

Intent to crush the offspring of the skies —

Yet boasts that warfare its severe delights,

The Christian warrior triumphs, whilst he fights,

For Heaven, for liberty, he wields the sword, —

The Cross, his standard, and his strength, the Lord.

Exults the soldier, 'mid the dark affray,
While Fancy paints the trophies of the day ? —
Delights his spirit, when the fight is done,
In crimson'd spoils, however hardly won ? —

10 THE PLEASURES

Shall then, the champion of the Cross despair ? —
Whilst angel succours, viewless, fill the air —
Whilst He, who leads him to the righteous war,
Once dragged each foe, in triumph, at His car —
Whilst feeblest saints have, thro' that Saviour's name,
Despoiled the mighty, put the proud to shame ? —
No ! — sweet the thrill of liberty he knows,
Just roused, indignant, from the slave's repose ;
He is a freeman, who, in freedom's cause,
With arm scarce fetterless, the faulchion draws,
Who springs undaunted to the battle field,
Prepared to die — but not prepared to yield.

Ye sons of Fame ! whose martial deeds have strung
Ten thousand harps, whose arms and names have rung,

OF RELIGION. 41

Wide as the world, which trembled at your tread,
Or reeled intoxicate with blood ye shed; —
But who, "mid all your exploits, never broke
The chains of lust, nor riv'd ambition's yoke,
But dragged on lengthening fetters to your graves,
Conquer'd, though conqu'ring, and though tyrants,

slaves —
How mean your triumphs, and your joys, how base,
To his, who wins the bloodless palms of Grace —
Who nobly bends his passions to control,
And dares assert the freedom of his soul.

No despot bonds his liberty can bind,
Chartered of Heaven, enfranchised in his mind : —
At midnight lone, within thy dungeon cells,
Philippi ! hark ! a strain of rapture swells,4
E 2

42 THE PLEASURES

From vault to vault, the holy anthem peals,
And, o'er the captive's troubled slumber steals,
Sweet, as the dream of Hope — is it from lyre,
Awoke by wanderer from the heavenly quire,
In pity, come to charm the captive's woe —
Those notes, mysterious in their sweetness, flow ?
No ! from yon inmost prison they resound,
Where, torn with scourges, blood-suffused, and bound,
Yet still, from Heaven unbarred, in spirit free,
Two saintly heroes speak their ecstacy,
On wings of gratitude, and praise, arise,
And make their den — a portal to the skies.

Thus, irrepressible, in holy hearts,

The spring of bliss, which piety imparts :

OF RELIGION. 43

From ev'ry grace the Comforter bestows,

A secret stream of heavenly sweetness flows,

But chief from love divine \ — 'tis love whose sway,

Our complex train of energies obey;

'Tis love degrades, or elevates the mind ; —

No wealth can bribe it, and no fetters bind : —

Give we our love ? — our very selves are given,

A boon profaned, unless bestowed on Heaven.

In God alone, can our affections rest,

In none but Him, with full fruition blest ; —

The shallow beauty of created things

Can never meet their mighty hankerings ;

Why else sad jealousy ? (love's earthly shade,)

Why else the hearts in cold mistrust arrayed ? —

44 THE PLEASURES

Whence streams of love, redundant, once, were fed,

Till disappointment froze the fountain-head : —

But who can mete the glories that surround

Thy Name, Jehovah ! — who attempt to bound

Thine infinite perfections ? — angels there,

Eternity before them — must despair

To find a shore — and mortal love, for Thee,

Is all too strait — she sighs for sympathy,

She yearns to tune all being in Thy praise,

To share her transports, and resound her lays.

In God alone, can our affections rest —
If warped to earth, they lacerate our breast,
As, when the wroodbine round the sapling clings,
And wastes her wild luxuriance of rings,

OF RELIGION. 45

Full soon will storms those tangled tendrils rend,

Torn by the shrub, that promised to defend :

But, if she wisely, fear the tempest's shock,

And seek, and circle round some massive rock,

Strong in his strength, her weakness shall abide,

His crags shall stay her, and his clefts shall hide :

So, let the tendrils of the heart be wound

The changeless, omnipresent God around —

Nor chance, nor death those life-strings then, can tear,

Nor treach'ry blight them into sere despair.

In God alone, can our affections rest —
There, only there, of full return possest.
How keen the pangs of unrequited love !
The self-deserted lover, like the dove

46 THE PLEASURES

Reft of her young, or outcast wretch distraught,
Roves aimless, hopeless, lost in wildering thought,
If unreturned his flame — he feels, (sad cost !)
His all is lavish'd, and his all is lost. —

Misguided man ! — oh ! consecrate that flame
To Him, from whom its native ardors came ;
Too deeply then, those ardors cannot burn,
They find, at once, an infinite return ; —
Thy bosom's jewel never more despised,
Though mean for God, by God for ever prized.

Nor fails devoted love, though unbetrayed,
From mortal fellowship to gather shade ;
The heart in Friendship never bleeds alone,
We add our friend's distresses to our own ;

OF RELIGION. 47

With twofold burden, thus, so oft, opprest,

Our love, though dear, is fatal to our rest : —

Not so, Almighty Father, when Thy name

Wakes in our breast the heaven-descended flame ;

Unmeasured and unmingled bliss Thine own,

They catch its brightness, who approach Thy throne.

Light, in Thy light, Thy chosen children see,

They share unbounded blessedness in Thee —

It cheers their heart, whatever ills betide,

That Thou art glorious, and glorified : —

So lends the lamp of day reflected light

To orbs, themselves as rayless as the night ;

So yields a warmth to worlds that round it roll,

Themselves as icy, as the wintry pole.

48 THE PLEASURES

Say not, the debt oppressively will weigh,

Such love entails, but must despair to pay —

Her babe shall sooner tire the mother's breast,

Or arm we love, on our's in fondness, press'd.

God, with his bounties never will upbraid,

Nor, whilst we love Him, deem Himself unpaid :

'Tis sweet to feel we shall for ever, owe

Our all to Him, from whom our all must flow —

For wrorlds — the Christian would not yield that load,

Or rend one tie that rivets him to God \ —

He knows not happiness, who knows not this —

To spurn dependence, were to spurn our bliss.

Love, mighty love, can every task beguile —
Can make the sternest face of duty smile : —

OF RELIGION. 4*)

Mark ! how yon mother watches o'er her boy,
By night, her vision, and by day, her joy;
Unwearied still, his ceaseless wants supplies,
Bears all his tempers — thrills to all his cries;
That task a stranger's loathing soon would stir,
But love endears the irksome toil to her : —
Or see ! — beside the death-bed of her sire,
Where life long flickers, ere the lamp expire,
Yon pallid maiden — there, the live-long night,
The slow-paced day, she finds her sad delight ;
To smooth his pillow, or his head sustain,
Forestall his wishes, share his ev'ry pain —
The one, last solace of her burden'd breast,
That pain, her pleasure, and that toil, her rest.
Thy love, then, Saviour ! — shall it not endear
Each painful precept? — hush each faithless fear? —

F

50 THE PLEASURES

It makes contrition's bitter cup be sweet,
The stony pathway grateful to our feet ;
Reproach, and scorn sit lightly on our brow,
Yea, self-denial — is indulgence, now.

Holy Apostle ! — love's constraining power,
Shone matchlessly in thee, that bitter hour,
When all around thee press'd a weeping band,
With anguish speechless, on Miletus' strand ;5
I see them, moving slowly down the shore,
Assured, on earth, to see thy face no more ; —
Uncheck'd the younger, let their sorrow flow,
The hoary fathers wrestle with their woe ;
But thou art calm — upon thy manly face,
No passing shade of faithlessness we trace, —

OF RELIGION. 51

Chains, stripes, and tortures lower upon thy mind,

And martyrdom itself glooms dark behind,

Yet firm thine accents fall — " Ye know, my friends.

" Death tracks my steps, uncertainty attends ;

" Ye know that bonds, imprisonments, and foes

" Beset my pathway, to my pathway's close ; —

" But, though they menace, they can never move

" My settled soul — nor life itself I love,

" If only finished were my dread employ —

u If crowned my heaven-sent embassage with joy/3

So spake the saint, and launching from the shore,

He gazed, then turned; — they saw his face no more.

But they were with him — on his heart imprest,
For love to man well'd ceaseless, in his breast.

52 THE PLEASURES

That stream which, far and wide, bright verdure flings,

But decks the most the valley whence it springs.

Twice happy Charity ! in blessing, blest,

E'en in her work, of her reward possest ;

Her genial breath dissolves the icy bands

Of wintry selfishness, her touch expands

The straitened heart — forth from its depths she brings,

Where all was desert, life-diffusing springs ;

And hate and spleen, those marshes of the soul,

Whence noisome exhalations darkly roll —

Her culture heals — she bids refreshing green

Invest with loveliness the sterile scene,

And flowers, profuse of balmy sweetness, bloom,

Where all was cold and dismal as the tomb.

She grants the soul the grandeur to believe,

u It is more blest to give, than to receive,, —

OF RELIGION. 53

Attunes our heart-strings to a brother's groan,
And makes another's happiness our own :
Enlarged by her, each prejudice subdued,
The heart exults in conscious amplitude,
Tastes how sublime the pleasure to forgive,
How sweet to sympathize with all that live.

But most benign, and beautiful her spell,

Where, knit in spirit, holy brethren dwell ;6

Mysterious melody of souls is theirs,

Which soothes their woes, and charms away their

cares —
Whilst more symphonious, than the well-strung shell,
In grief, in joy, their hearts responsive swell.

f2

54 THE PLEASURES

Oh ! might that mystic harmony expand
From heart to hearty through every tribe and land.
Till countless chords, so long to discord strung,
Attuned by love, in boundless concert rung —
How much of Eden, yet again, would bless
This withered world's tremendous wilderness !

END OF PART THE SECOND.

THE

PLEASURES OF RELIGION.

PART THIRD.

ANALYSIS OF PART THIRD.

Comparison of the hypocrite to the kite — The good man
resembles the lark — He pursues Heaven in earth's employ-
ments— His element, holy things — The enjoyment found hi
prayer, private, family prayer — Picture of domestic altar —
Joy of praise — -The Sabbath morning — Day of rest sweet to
the poor — Pleasures of Religion unrestricted — Church-going
bell — Public worship — Portrait of preaching — The Lord's
Supper — Close of Sabbath bewailed by many — The widow
lingers over her bible — That book the last companion of
Collins — Scripture the only Rock of Truth — Consolations of
the Bible — Kindly influence of Religion in affliction— Resigna-
tion her child — She unites with indissoluble ties — The World
ministers no such solace — Benign intention of adversity — .
Peace from trust in Providence — Triumph of Martyrs — Reli-
gion divests death of its terrors — smooths the pillow of pain—
Her final triumph — Religion the happiness of Eternity.

THE PLEASURES

OF

RELIGION.

PART THIRD.

Lo ! mounting upwards, how the craven kite
Seems to aspire, exulting in his flight,
Yet earthward ever bends his sordid eye,
Craving for prey, regardless of the sky —
Such the dissembler, saintly in his show,
His heart, the while, still grovelling below,

60 THE PLEASURES

His raptures feigned, as his desires are base,
Misname not him — " recipient of Grace' ' —
Forbear, misjudging World ! forbear thy sneer,
'Tis not Religion thou deridest here.

But see ! afar, swift soaring, while she sings,
Heaven in her eye, and freedom on her wings,
The joyous lark pursues her high career,
Nor casts one glance on all the turmoil here —
Expressive emblem of the saint indeed !
His heart, and life harmonious with his creed ;
In spirit simple, as in purpose clean,
Truth in his eye, and nature in his mien —
His bearing speaks him of celestial birth,
He walks a pilgrim, hast'ning from the earth ;

OF RELIGION. 6 1

A stranger doomed, awhile, to toil and roam,
'Mid foreign climes — but still, in heart, at home :
True, he can hail, if gushing undefiled,
The native springs which still refresh this wild;
But halts not long — intent on ardent haste,
Where others build, he pauses but to taste ;
The world, in vain, would lull him on her breast,
Where sin has ravaged, he can never rest.

Through weal, and woe, contending for the skies,
In earth's pursuits, unearthly is his prize :
Terrestrial toils, (the worldling's only joy,)
To him are tasteless — his estranged employ ;
Rebounding from them, how his spirit springs,
When freed, awhile, from transitory things,

G

62 THE PLEASURES

In holy scenes, and services, he finds
The kindly element of hallowed minds. —

Sweet, o'er the borders of the sandy waste,
Where parch'd, and sultry stirs each deadly blast,
Steals forth the balmy breathing of the gales,
Which gather freshness from irriguous vales,
To greet the pilgrim — tell his thoughts of bowers,
Cool streams, and mossy banks, and dewy flowers ;
But far more soothing, in the calm retreat,
The closet temple — from the Mercy-Seat,
When chafed with turmoil, or with conflict faint,
A heavenly atmosphere revives the saint,
And wooes him, sweetly, to that cloudless clime,
By sin untainted, and untrod by time.

OF RELIGION. 63

Howe'er maligned, unpitied, misconceived.

Betrayed the deepest, where he most believed —

He finds, in secret, an untiring ear,

Still, prompt to pity, still, at hand to hear.

Yon chamber's walls have seen him bow in prayer,

O'erwhelmed with grief, disquietude, and care —

Those walls have seen him rising from the dust —

Care turned to calmness, doubtfulness to trust ;

E'en whilst he poured the fulness of his breast,

Or spake to God, in groanings inexprest —

A secret hand, impalpably, unbound

Eeach spell that earth had round his spirit wound,

And sense, and sorrow, with their shades, withdrew.

Till Heaven alone expanded on his view.

64 THE PLEASURES

And dear the altar, where the household meet,
Heart tuned to heart, around the Mercy-Seat ;
The sire, the servant, and the child are there,
Distinctions vanish — they are one in prayer ;
There, toil is solaced, there, disquiet soothed,
Each eye illumined, every wrinkle smoothed ;
Unholy thoughts, and tempers take their flight,
As, touched by morning, melt the shades of night,
Love sheds her dews on every suppliant soul,
And Peace, and Hope breathe fragrance o'er the
whole.

My native home ! — on Memory's mirror glassed,
Amid thy scenes, endeared as when they passed,
The social temple shines in purest light,
Its visions still, glide softly o'er my sight —

OF RELIGION. 65

Again the wonted summons greets mine ear,
I see the eager young-ones flocking near,
Each bent to kneel beside the sacred chair,
Whence, he who loves them pours the tide of prayer.
And hush! — those low, deep, pleading tones are heard,
Which, countless times, my youthful soul have

stirr'd—
Alone, serene, they swell — till mingling sweet,
In Christ's own words, all hearts, all voices meet.
Nor praise is silent — hark ! the vesper lay,
Unskilled, but heart-felt, calms the cares of day,
Attunes each spirit to profound delight,
And leaves its echoes 'mid the dreams of night. —

G2

66 THE PLEASURES

Praise ! — 'tis the fragrance breathed from blooming

Earth's sweetest incense, with her least alloy —
Praise ! — the sublimest energy of thought,
Celestial minstrelsy by mortals caught;
The soul, in praise, affects an angel's flight,
Soars near to Heaven, reflecting Heaven's delight.

Now morning dawns, — unwonted stillness reigns,
More soft, the sunshine sleeps along the plains ;
Peculiar freshness o'er the landscape steals,
And full, and clear the woodland music peals,
All speaks that day, the antepast of Heaven, —
A boon to man, 'mid Eden's purcness, given,
With blessings laden, by our Father blest, —
The day which wooes to worship, and to rest.

OF RELIGION. 67

Hail, gracious Sabbath ! to the heavenly mind;

Thy dawn how welcome, thy repose how kind !

Oh ! how benign thy orient beams are shed,

Through latticed window, on the poor-man's bed —

The pious poor-man — gilding all his woe,

His clean-swept cottage smiling with the glow,

Whilst, light of heart, from dreamless sleep he springs,

On mercy musing, till, for joy, he sings :

His thoughtful spouse has laid, in neat array,

The well-saved garments, sacred to the day,

With dewy flowers, the peasant's only gem, —

Yet Judah's monarch could not vie with them 5 — l

Nor vie the transports intellect bestows,

When reason triumphs, or when fancy glows, —

They cannot paragon that peace of heart,

Which Sabbath scenes to holy cots impart ;

68 THE PLEASURES

Unbought, unlaboured, — fresh from Heaven's own

clime,
In nature simple, as in kind sublime.

Divine Religion ! — by thy Sire's decree,
Respect of persons has no place with thee ;
Wit, learning, genius, charm the favor'd few,
Thy blessings fall, unstinted as the dew 5
No soul so vast, but thou canst overflow,
But thou canst elevate, no mind so low;
Thy bounty free, as beams the lamp of day,
Which lights, and gladdens, with impartial ray,
The gorgeous palace, or the homely cell,
The wide horizon, or the narrow dell.

OF RELIGION. 69

Hark ! echoing, sweetly, down yon winding vale,

Now swells, now fades, upon the whisp'ring gale,

The Sabbath-speaking bell ; — how dear its tone, —

Heard, 'mid the gen'ral hush, so sacredly alone !

The vain may slight it, and the scorner sneer,

It falls, in melody, on many an ear,

Full many a heart throbs lighter at the sound,

Full many a fetter'd spirit feels unbound :

Prompt at its call, the hills, the valleys teem,

Lo ! cheerful groups from every hamlet stream,

Meandering many a devious path along,

In social converse, or in hallowed song,

Then meet, and mingle in yon house of prayer,

And youth and age, and want and wealth, are there.

70 THE PLEASURES

A soothing awe pervades : — no mystic light,
'Mid cherub wings enshrined, o'erpowers the sight,
Within those simple walls ; yet God is nigh,
His beauty beams on Faith's transpiercing eye,
She feels His presence, His still voice she hears,
Distinct to her, unheard by other ears.
Delightful scene ! where souls in concert meet,
Their prayer more fervid, and their praise more

sweet ; —
Though soft the warblings of the lonely shell,
More rich, more rapt'rous peals the chorus swell.

See, rising slowly, with unconscious grace,
Awe in his mien, compassion on his face,
Salvation's Herald proffers peace to men,
Beseeching rebels to be sons again ; —

OF RELIGION. 71

Unfolds the glories of Redemption's plan,

Dilates on love, no finite mind can span,

Unlocks the treasures, Faith may call her own,

Or chides the bad, in Mercy's sterner tone,

Or strews the balmy promises abroad,

Or, trembling, paints the majesty of God : —

Than grass-girt fountains, 'mid the desert's sand,

Than genial showers, on scorched and panting land,

Than dew, o'er fainting blossoms lightly strown,

Or lending balm to herbage newly mown, —

More sweet those accents — Heaven and earth combine,

The voice is human, but the word — divine.

Divine the word — the Spirit's power attends,
Presumption shudders, and Rebellion bends ;

12 THE PLEASURES

But Hope expands her pinions, whilst she hears,
And meek Contrition smiles away her tears,
And lowly Doubt uplifts her drooping head,
And child-like Fear expels enthralling Dread.

Hushed is the voice — the crowd has pass'd away,

But still a chosen few, with fond delay,

Are lingering there— and lo ! the wine and bread,

For mystic feast, in decent order spread :

Expressive symbols ! to the faithful guest,

How near ye bring, with influence inexprest,

The scenes of Calv'ry ! — Faith seems turned to sight,

Whilst bowed with grief, yet trembling with delight,

Each suppliant sees, 'mid sable-vested skies,

'Mid fearful signs, th' atoning sacrifice. —

OF RELIGION. 73

O Lamb of God ! as overawed we gaze,
Our breasts are heaving with a tide of praise,
Thy flesh and blood celestial life impart,
And pledge forgiveness to each contrite heart.

Night glooms again — as fades the Day of Rest,

Half bursts the wistful sigh from many a breast, —

" Oh ! that the Sabbath sun would cease to set,2

" The Sabbath noon its downward path forget !" —

Tenacious of the day, where faintly gleams

Yon lonely taper, there, whilst wrapped in dreams,

Are all around her, see that widow pore,

Of time unheeding, o'er the Spirit's lore :

No minstrel visions on her fancy roll,

Nor spells of science fascinate her soul,

/4 THE PLEASURES

Yet scenes, than Poesy has dreamt, more bright,
Or science sought for, trance her in delight.

Those scenes, sad Bard ! (whose magic pencil drew3
The shapes of passion, with a touch so true,)
Those scenes alone, thy wounded spirit cheer'd,
When want had wrung it, and unkindness sear'd ; —
By Fancy tortured, and by Hope betrayed,
Whilst Reason's ray scarce flickered 'mid the shade,
One solitary book thy pale hand prest,
Thy last companion, but that last, thy best : —
Oh ! hadst thou sooner known its power to bless,
To calm each passion, sweeten each distress,
With lovelier strains thy hallow'd lyre had rung,
Nor ever thus, thy heart-chords been unstrung.

OF RELIGION *J5

Unchanging Word of Him who cannot change !
Deserting thee — how hopelessly we range ; —
On doubt's wild current cast — we struggle there,
Till, whirled from deep to deep, we reach — despair :
To shipwreck'd wretch, each plank he clung to, lost,
From wave to wave, desponding, fainting, tost,
What joy to grasp the skirts of some vast rock,
Which sits unruffled, 'mid the tempest's shock !
What speechless joy to gain its lofty crest,
And stretch him there, in safety, and in rest !
Nor less, from error's chaos just emerged,
Where fiercest elements, unceasing, surged,
Distracted long, amid the war of schools,
The jar of systems, and the din of fools, —
Exults the sage, when, all his day-dreams past,
On Truth's own record he can rest at last,

76 THE PLEASURES

There, feel the anch'rage of his soul is found,
Thence, eye serene the shoreless deep around.

Nor bleak, nor bare, that refuge of the mind,
Through all its borders crystal streamlets wind,
Where trees of life, for every wound and woe,
From leaves of promise, healing balm bestow,
Whilst fruits of mercy every shade bestrew,
More rich, more exquisite than Eden knew.
Alas for him ! to wThose misguided feet,
Unknown, unsought for, this serene retreat,
From griefs unsheltered, and to fiends a prey,
How wild, how desolate, his death-ward way !

With quenchless beam, in sorrow's deepest night,
Religion shines, by darkness made more bright,

OF RELIGION. 77

When fleets each meteor from life's stormy scene,
Her lustre streams, 'mid anarchy, serene,
Revealing still, to Faith's unshrinking eye,
A stormless region — an unclouded sky.

With noiseless step, approach that chamber, there,
Behold, absorbed in agony of prayer,
A Christian mourner — oh ! how deep his woe !
He feels, in every nerve he feels the blow ;
His life was bound in her's — their souls were one,
Like chords attuned, they never jarr'd in tone. —
He starts — what sound profanes the hush of prayer? —
An infant's wailing for a mother's care ! —
O Gor> ! that struggle ! — but the strife is won,
He only whispers deep — u Thy will be done"
h 2

/O THE PLEASURES

Sweet echo ! caught from the celestial quires,
From angel raptures breathed by golden lyres,
Of all their boundless harmony the soul, —
Thy will be done, the key-note of the whole.

Say, can the hopeful, like the hopeless, weep,
Whose bitter comfort is their love to steep
In cold forgetfulness ? — for round the tomb,
They trace no rainbow glowing 'mid the gloom,
No tie, unwithered, wins their heart to stay,
Where thoughts of dying haunt them with dismay :
But souls renewed, in nobler union blend,
In love, nor nature gave, nor death can rend,
(Unlike affection based upon our breath,)
Decays not in decay, nor dies in death.

OF RELIGION. j\)

To sense though sever'd, yet to faith still one,
Their spirits meet and mingle round the Throne,
That Throne, at once, of Glory, and of Grace,
Its top the Heaven of Heav'ns, the earth its base.

Let false Philosophy profanely prate
*Of luckless chance, or unpropitious fate,
Her caustic balms can never staunch the flow —
The ceaseless gush of broken-hearted woe ;
But Faith assures us e'en the piercing brand
Is held, and hallowed by a Father's hand ;
No random stroke, no aimless wound is made,
Such Mercy wields, such Wisdom guides the blade.
Benign its errand : — Mark, the furnace blaze,
Where, o'er the fining-pan, with ardent gaze,

80 THE PLEASURES

Hangs the refiner ; — note his anxious care
To heat the ore, till brightly mirror'd there/
He meet his image : — thus the Saviour proves/
Renews, refines, the contrite whom he loves,
Through waves, through flames, submissively, they pass,
Till, on their souls, His portraituie they glass !

Not theirs the palsied apathy which rests,
On baseless boldness, in unthinking breasts,
Vain as the sand-based pile, which forms a grave
For him who reared it, — when the tempests rave ;
Their peace (of peace with God the cov'nant sign,)
Stands on a basis, changeless — for divine,
Firm as the pillars which sustain the Throne
Of Him, who calls the universe His own.

OF RELIGION. 8]

When God comes forth, in robes of wrath arrayed,
His pathway shrouded in tempestuous shade,
The sword, the pestilence, before him fly,
His whirlwinds rend the terror-stricken sky,
When, at his look, the solid mountains bow,
And ocean lifts to heaven his stormy brow, —
With awful joy, the child of Faith can see
The Hand that helms the seeming anarchy,
His Hand, whose all-pervading care decrees
A sparrow's death — an angel's destinies, —
His Hand, who bids the tempest peal His praise,
And fiends, and fiend-like men, His trophies raise.

Beside the savage flames, convinced, amazed,
The world has stood : — for, as she fiercely gazed,

82 THE PLEASURES

The tortured martyrs, awfully serene,

Like stars amid the tempest's gloom, were seen ; —

No shriek of horror, no half-smothered groan,

But strains of height'ning rapture swelled alone ;—

As louder, sweeter, streams the sky-lark's lay,

The more she mounts towards the gates of day ; —

Their bodies' agony — they felt it not,6

Amid the spirit's ecstacy forgot ;

Rapt, like the prophet, in a car of flame,

Their death had nought of dying — but the name.

Unpitying Death ! thy iron hand inters
Earth's joys and hopes within our sepulchres,
Interred, to rise no more : — nor science then,
Nor art, nor wit, nor eloquence, again

OF RELIGION. 83

Avails the graceless man \ — one only pearl,

Unknown, contemned, amid ambition's whirl,

Can deck the spirit when she seeks the skies, —

Nor earth bestows, nor death can wrest that prize.

Appalling Death ! fond Poesy has tried,

In vain, with flowers and flowery wreaths to hide

Thy ghastly features; — yes, and vainer still,

Has proved Philosophy's illusive skill.

Despite of all, thy withering scowl has bowed,

In abject dread, the proudest of the proud,

Thy phantom form has hovered round their way.

Their dreams by night, their fantasies by day,

A stern intruder on the secret hour,

A guest, unbidden, in the festive bower ;

'Mid every vista of forestalled delight,

Thy blighting shade has mock'd the eager sight ;

84 THE PLEASURES

And beauty's flowers have shrivelled at thy look,
And mirth the banquet, hope the breast forsook ;
Thy icy breath around the heart has stole,
And chilled and chained the current of the soul.

Afar, so frightful — how terrific, near !

The dread reality transcends our fear : —

Who, who can fathom that stupendous change,

The last, the mightiest, in our being's range ?

Or who withstand the dark, resistless, power,

Which drives the spirit forth, that fated hour ?

Oh — utter impotence of earth to aid !

Of reason's ray to penetrate the shade !

And bleeding Love, and yearning Friendship, there,

Can only lend a blackness to despair.

OF RELIGION. 85

Unrivall'd trophy of her peerless power !
Religion only, can illume that hour ; —
With eye undimm'd, she scans the grisly king,
Yet owns his terrors, and displays his sting. —
But lo ! she clothes him in Salvation's light,
Those terrors vanish — death himself is bright, —
Such as, 'mid Eden's bowers, he might have trod,
To waft some spotless spirit home to God ;
His sting, once sheathed in the Redeemer's breast,
No more that Saviour's ransomed can molest,
Disarmed, transformed — he smiles, their awful friend,
And thoughts of death with happiest thoughts may

blend;
For, yearning ever for their home on high,
To them how dismal — were they not to die !

i

86" THE PLEASURES

In shattered tents, imprisoned darkly here,

Their spirit sighs to soar, with free career ;

Nor shrinks from Heaven, (as from a foreign shore,)

By Faith and Hope frequented long before :

Nor loathes the grave, ordained by Christ to be

A garden, big with immortality.

How beautiful the hoary saint's decline !
Around whose brows a crown of virtues shine ;
No lengthening shadows o'er his prospects roll,
No twilight dims the evening of his soul ;
Uncheck'd the well-spring of his feeling flows,
Unchill'd the altar of his worship glows ;
His spirit simple, as his heart is mild,
In years a sage, in gentleness a child.

OF RELIGION,

Serene, yet wistful; he awaits his e i

As one who lists the footsteps of a friend.

Or warder watching for the eye of

To smile the darkness, and his t lis •

Bat brighter yet, Religion's power appe
When death invades the noontide of our years.

Arrests the Christian, in the bloom of time,
His love, his joy, his vigor in their prime.
Unheralded by sickness, strikes the blow.
And calls, at once, from every charm below.

My sainted Mother ! like the light'ning's gleam.

Or change that rushes o'er some fitful dream, —
Thy summons came : — domestic as the dove.
It found thee nestling in thy home of !■

88 THE PLEASURES

Thy nest without a thorn — it found thee there.
Thy tender young-ones clinging to thy care,
Thy spouse — his very heart with thine entwined,
Attuned in sweetest harmony of mind ;
All, all of blandishment that earth could give
Endear'd thy lot, and made it sweet to live ;
Yet, though thy faith, a little moment, quailed,
Thy hope just falter 'd — for it never failed —
How soon, athwart thy sudden twilight, broke
The Sun of Righteousness ! in love He spoke —
Earth's spell dissolved — and burst was nature's thrall-
Thy dying whisper — " God is all in a//."7

O thus, triumphantly, Religion throws
Unearthly lustre o'er life's awful close,

OF RELIGION. 89

Nor then expires ; — beyond the flight of time,

She reigns transcendent in her native clime,

The child of God eternally confest,

The life, the bliss, the beauty of the blest, —

Her throne established — her career begun,

Of earth the pole-star, but of Heaven — the sun.

EXD OF PART THE THIRD,

I 2

NOTES

NOTES

PART FIRST.

1 p. 4. 1. 2.

Th' apostate fiend? — thro* all th? enchantment raged ,
The hell within him burning- unasuaged ?

a With what delight could I have walked thee round.

If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange

Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,

Now land, now sea, and shores with forests crown'd,

Rocks, dens, and caves ! But I in none of these

Find place or refuge ; and the more I see

Pleasures about me, so much more I feel

Torment within me, as from the hateful siege

Of contraries ; all good to me becomes

Bane, and in Heaven much worse would be my state."

94 NOTES.

2 p. 4. I. 5.

Cow* ring and quiv'ring 'mid the joyous shade,
Each beauty stung him, and each sound dismay 7/.

See Gen. ch. iii. v. 8.

3 p. 6. 1. 11

That curse was his, whose proudly -titled lyre
Was fraught with bright, but not with sacred fire.

The following lines, written by Lord Byron, shortly before
his death, and on the day wThen he had completed his thirty-
sixth year, fearfully illustrate the wretchedness which resided
in his breast.

" My days are in the yellow leaf,
The flowers and fruits of love are gone.
The worm, the canker, and the grief,
Are mine alone.

" The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some volcanic isle,
No torch is kindled at its blaze,
A funeral pile.

NOTES.

•; The hope, the fear, the jealous care>
Th' exalted portion of the pain,
And power, of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain."

4 p. 17, 1. 14.

Thus Mem'ry haunted with their ruthless deed.
The Hebrew brothers, in their hour of need:
" We saw the anguish of his soul" ■

See Gen. ch. xlii. v. 21.

p. 18. 1. 13.

A lingering lustre play'd around his face,
A ray of Heav'n, a more than human gxace.

See Gen. ch. xxxiv. v. 39, 30.

NOTES.

PART SECOND.

* p. 29. 1. 1.
Wept the proud Grecian

The circumstance of Alexander's weeping because he had
no more worlds to conquer, is universally known.

2 p. 35. 1. 1.

Such ecstacy the Morian stranger new.

See Acts ch. viii. v. 26 to 39.

a p. 38. 1. 5.

// Judith's monarchy when the mystic light,
Which spake the present God, overpowered his sight.

NOTES. 97

u While Solomon was dedicating the temple, his great soul
appears to have been put into a rapture at the very idea that
He whom the heaven of heavens could not contain, should
deign to dwell with men upon the earth. How much more
should each of us be transported, when he finds the idea rea-
lized, by his own heart having become the seat of the Divine
presence!"

Work of the Holy Spirit. Robert Hall

* p. 41. L 14.

At midnight lone, within thy dungeon cells,
Philippi! hark! a strain of rapture sicells.

See Acts ch. xvi. v. 25.

■ p. 50. 1. 8.

When all around thee press" d a weeping band,
With a?iguish speechless, on Miletus9 strand.

See Acts ch. xx. v. 17 to the end of the chapter.
K

98 NOTES.

6 p. 53. L 8.

But most benign, and beautiful her spell,
Where, knit in spirit, holy brethren dwell.

How lovely the following picture of Christian fellow-
ship, drawn by the sweet Psalmist of Israel — Oh, that it
were a picture of the world !

" Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to
dwell together in unity !

" It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that r°n
down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard ; that went down
to the skirts of his garments.

" As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended
upon the mountains of Zion : for there the Lord com-
manded the blessing, even life for evermore."

NOTES.

PART THIRD.

i p. 67- L 12.

But Judafis monarch could not vie with them.

See Matt. vi. 29.

2 p. 73. 1. 7-

u Oh ! that the Sabbath sun would cease to set,
" The Sabbath noon its downward path forget /"

I have often heard this sentiment expressed by the poor. I
recollect that one summer evening, as I was returning home
from the duties of the holy day, one of my humblest hearers,
as I passed her on the road, remarked, " Oh, sir, if the blessed
Sunday would but never end."

100 NOTES.

^ p. 74. 1. 3.

Those Scenes, sad Bard ! (whose magic pencil drew
The shapes of passion, with a touch so true.)

" The unfortunate author of these inimitable lines," (says
Montgomery, in his Introductory Essay to the Christian
Psalmist, alluding to some exquisite stanzas by Collins on
44 the death of the brave,") " the unfortunate author of these
inimitable lines, a little while before his death, in a lucid
interval of that madness to which "a wounded spirit" had
driven him, was found by a visiter, with the Bible in his
hand. "You see," said the poor sufferer, " I have only one
book left ; but it is the best." Oh ! had he found that one,
that best book, earlier, and learned to derive from it those
comforts which it was sent from Heaven to convey to the
afflicted, could not he have sung " the death of the righteous"
in numbers as sweet, as tender, and sublime, as these on " the
death of the brave."

* p. 80. 1. 2.

. till brightly mirror 'd there,

He meet his image-

NOTES. 101

I have been assured that this is really a test employed by
refiners of silver, to determine how far the ore has become
purified.

p. 80. L 3.

• thus the Saviour proves.

Renews, refines, the contrite whom he loves.

See Mai. Hi. 3.

6 p. 82. 1. 7-

Their bodies* agony — they felt it not,
Amid the spirit's ecstacy forgot.

Overcharged as this description may appear, it was literally
verified in the deaths of many martyrs — especially of that one
who exclaimed whilst the fire was preying on his vitals — that
the flames were to him as a bed of roses.

K 2

i0 2 NOTES.

» p. 88. 1. 12.
Thy dying whisper — " God is all in all."

u While I was seated by her bed side, watching every
change of countenance, she looked at me in a manner which
no pen can describe — she looked unutterable things. Never
^hall I forget this parting look — it wTas full of tenderness —
it spoke love, and peace, and heaven — and as such I felt it.
Then it was that she whispered in my ear, " I cannot speak
much, but God is All in All."

Memoirs of Mrs. Stowell,
by Rev. H. Stowell, Rector of BallaUgh.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

STANZAS

ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. WILLIAM THACKERAY, M. A.
Late of Manchester.— December 9, 1826.

1 Thess. iv. 13.

Weep for the dead around whose tomb,
No flowers of hope celestial bloom,

To smile away despair ;
But weep not for the hallowed dead,
Hope blossoms on their lowly bed,

And angels linger there.

10G MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

I will not wake the harp to woe.,
Nor bid wild strains of sorrow flow

For thee, my sainted friend !
I dare not desecrate the peace,
That sweetly curtained thy decease, —

For hope was in thine end.

This, this shall sooth a mother's breast,
iVnd hush a sister's grief to rest,

Make praise with mourning blend
Though sent their earthly joy to shroud,
The bow of mercy girt the cloud, —

For hope was in thine end.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 107

No pain could dim that beamy face,
Where kindness shed her softest grace,

And patience smiled serene :
Thine was a soul of tenderest mould.
This world for it was all too cold, —

It sought a kindlier scene.

Few knew the riches of thy breast,

They loved thee most who knew thee best,

" A gem of purest ray" —
A lowly lily of the glade,
Which sweetly scents the secret shade,

But shrinks from glaring day.

108 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

'Twas in the dear, domestic hour,
Thy soul put forth its magic power,

Thy feelings freely flowed —
A brother, tender as the name,
And who could paint the filial flame,

That in thy bosom glowed ?

Reviewing thy last peaceful days,
My heart enkindles into praise,

To God be glory given,
He led thee to the Saviour's cross,
Refined thy soul from earthly dross —

Then took thee up to heaven.

.MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 109

Softly, as sinks the babe to rest,
Rock'd on his mother's heaving breast,

Thy spirit stole away ;
So gently fled thy parting breath,
We could not think that it was death, —

A smile still lit .thy clay.

110 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE WITHERED ROSE.

Fairest flower, the pride of spring,
Blooming, beauteous, fading thing,
'Tis as yesterday when first,
Forth thy blushing beauties burst,
iVnd I marked thy bosom swell,
And I caught thy balmy smell,
Fondly hoping soon to see
All thy full-blown symmetry —
But I came — and lo ! around,
Sadly strewn upon the ground
Lovely, livid leaves I see —
Oh ! can these be all of thee ! —

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 1 1

I could weep, for so I've known
Many a vivid vision flown,
Many a hope that found its tomb,
Just when bursting into bloom,
Many a friend — ah ! why proceed ?
See afresh my bosom bleed —
Rather, turn my thoughts, on high,
Hopes there are which cannot die, —
Yes, my Saviour, Thou canst give
Joys that will not thus deceive. —
Eden's roses never fade,
Eden's prospects know no shade.

112 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

IMPROMPTU

ON BEHOLDING THE ECCE HOMO, BY CABLO DOLCI.

Yes ! — So He looked ; that look divine,
Incarnate God ! was only Thine, —
That eye, that mien, is full of Thee,
Instinct with latent Deity. —
The man of sorrows too, is there,
A world of woe, a weight of care,

* This sublime picture is in the collection of William
Townend, Esq., ofArdwick, near Manchester.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 113

Yet fixed, immovable, serene —

Through deepest shades — the God is seen.

If thus, a mortal sketch can move, —
Can thrill the heart with awe and love, —
What shall we feel, when, freed from thrall,
We view the Great Original.

l 2

114 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

A BIRTH-DAY WISH

FOR A FRIEND WHOSE EARLY LIFE HAD BEEN SHADED
BY SORBOW.

The sun that at noontide was curtained with shade,
Sometimes sinks to its rest in splendor arrayed,
Every cloud from the bright blushing heaven is rolled,
And the deep heaves, resplendent with silver and gold ;
Oh ! thus may my friend — all her sorrow gone by —
Discern not a shade in her eventide sky ;
May she find that the gloom of her noonday was given
To brighten the pathway that leads her to Heaven.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115

TO MY YOUNGEST SISTER.

My dearest Sister ! well I know
Thy artless love's assiduous flow,
And oft I feel, though unexprest,
The fond vibrations of th> breast ; —
For why ? — each sister-string in thine,
Meets with a brother-chord in mine,
Responsive to its softest note —
As warblings from the lyre, that float
'Mid mountain wild, or winding glen,
Are sweetly echoed back again.
What craves thy brother's heart for thee-
Form, beauty, wealth, celebrity ?

11C MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Away, ye shadows ! these can ne'er
Express a brother's depth of prayer —
That thou betimes, mayest walk with God,
Pursue the path thy mother trod,
Explore her steps with eager eyes,
Intent to meet her in the skies ; —
That, like her, thou may'st brightly show
How sweet is holiness below ; —
That, like her, thou may'st smile on death,
Praise, whispering praise, thy parting breath —
E'en 'mid the shroud, the gloom, the grave —
More, more than this, I cannot crave.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ] 17

LINES

WRITTEN" IN A LADY'S ALBUM.

Say, hast thou spied some silvery stream,
Pure as the day-star's virgin beam,
Which winds its way thro' secret glades,
Still courting solitude and shades,
More lovely in its modest guise.
Than if it sought admiring eyes ;
Yet beauty tracks its noiseless flow,
And pomp of flow'rets round it blow,
Which, bending o'er the glist'ning wave,
Love in its limpidness to lave,
As though to kiss the kindly rill,
Which gives them life and verdure still; —

118 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

And hast thou watched its peaceful close,
Thus blest and blessing, whilst it flows, —
Watched howr it sought the waveless deep,
As if upon its lap to sleep ; —
Be such your path, my Christian friend,
Whilst through life's chequer'd scenes you wend,
As pure, as kindly, as serene,
A blessing still — yet still, unseen,
Content your good should pass unknown,
Save to th' Omniscient Eye alone,
Whilst fruits of love, and flowers of grace,
Adorn your path, and mark your race —
And then-*-be such your tranquil close !
In death, reflecting Heaven's repose.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 119

THE xMERCY-SEAT.

From ev'ry stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat,
'Tis found beneath fie Mercy-Seat.

There is a place where Jesus sheds
" The oil of gladness" on our heads ; —
A place than all beside more sweet,
It is the blood-stained Mercy-Seat,

There is a spot where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend,
Though sunder'd far — by faith they meet,
Around one common Mercy-Seat.

120 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS:

Ah ! whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismay'd —
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suffering saints no Merey-Seat ?

There, there, on eagle-wing Ave soar,
And time and sense seem all no more,
And Heaven comes down our souls to greet,
And glory crowns the Mercy-Seat.

Oh ! may my hand forget her skill,
My tongue be silent, cold and still ;
This bounding heart forget to beat,
If I forget the Mercy-Seat.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 121

LINES

ON THE DEATH OE WILBEREORCE RICHMOND, ACrED 18.*

What though thy sun, so passing bright,
Sank, ere it reached its noonday height, —

Arising but to wane ;
What though peculiar prospects fled,
When thou wast numbered with the dead, —

Shall Friendship dare complain ?

* The second son of the late distinguished Leigh Rich-
mond, Hector of Turvey, Bedfordshire. He was a youth of
fascinating amiability and extraordinary promise ; but cut
down by consumption in the very blossoming of his powers
and his parents' hopes.

M

122 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Lo ! Hope her radiant rainbow spreads,
And Memory sweetest flower-leaves sheds

Upon thy peaceful tomb. —
Great God ! " Thy footsteps are not known/'
Mysterious darkness tents Thy throne —

Yet love informs the gloom.

Meek Mourner ! long upon his soul,
The Spirit " moved" with deep control,

Then wrought a goodly peace —
As, brooding o'er the troubled deep,
The halcyon lulls the waves to sleep,

And bids the tumult cease.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 -;3

Then, ravish'd with his Saviour's love,
u The kindling fire" within him strove,

His tongue was mute no more :
In accents ripe as those of age,
A youth in years, in grace a sage,

He strewed his sainted lore.

Then, soft as melts the leaf of snow,
Which lights upon the streamlet's flow,

His spirit stole away; —
But who could trace its lightening speed,
When disencumber 'd, raptur'd, freed,

It sought eternal day.

124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

And yet, methinks, he paused to east
One tender look, — that look the last,

Upon his native home ;
One wistful prayer of love he shed
On the dear weeping group — then sped

Up to the heavenly dome.

Dear Family ! from whom was sent
This fairest flower of sweetest scent,

O dry your tearful eyes, —
Behold the path your darling trod,
His footsteps mark the way to God,

He wooes you to the skies.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 125

PRAISE TO GOD.

A HY3IN WRITTEN FOR A SUNDAY SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY.

Tune every hearty wake every tongue,
Be every thought and feeling strung

To swell another hymn of praise ;
Oh ! for the golden harps of Heaven —
The strains to mortals never given —

The melody that angels raise !

- Yet, mid the harping of the skies,
Our lisping lays may dare to rise,

And, trembling, seek the Saviour's ear; I
When the sweet music of the blest >.

Is echoed from an infant's breast, £

The Lord of Heaven delights to hear.
\r 2

I

126 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

Bring then, your joyful numbers, bring,
Sweeter, and yet more sweetly, sing —

O holy, holy, holy Lord !
The Heavens, the earth are full of Thee,
Full of Thy glorious Majesty, —

Be Thou eternally adored !

Lord ! let thy mighty Spirit stir
The soul of every worshipper, —

In every breast enshrine thy love !
In all our actions let it glow,
Bright'ning at every step below, —

Until it blaze full-orbed, above.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 127

A MOTHER'S PRAYER

AT HER INFANT'S BAPTISM.

My Saviour ! in thine arms I place
This silent suppliant for Thy grace ;
Suasive, though voiceless, is her prayer,-
Her weakness supplicates Thy care ;
Thy bounteous love has made her mine.
Lord ! I would have her wholly Thine ;-
A precious, but a sacred, loan —
I dare not call the gem my own —
Accept it, Lord ! enough for me —
In life, in death, secure with Thee !

128 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE PENITENT.

I've seen the gentle moon arise,

Whilst storms and clouds obscured the skies \

I've watched her work her wilder'd way

Through all their menacing array —

Now lost in gloom, now dimly seen,

Her course uncheck'd, though meek her mien ;

Still up the height of Heaven she rose,

Her mildness melting all her foes —

Till storms and clouds both glided by, —

She sailed serene athwart the sky,

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 2<)

Triumphant over every shade,
In unstained loveliness array'd :
And thus, around the contrite soul,
May doubts and horrors darkly roll ;
And thus, unquailed, she strives to soar,
Though fierce temptations round her roar;
Sustained by faith, — yet sore distrest,
She will not pause — she cannot rest ;
And thus, at last, upon her way
The Saviour pours unclouded day,
Or leaves, to tell of gloom gone by,
Some silvery shades which tinge the sky.

130 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

" IN ALL THINGS GIVE THANKS."

Of old, in Judah's glorious fane,
One altar blazed, which could not wane,
The chosen priests still fed the flame,
It shone by day, by night, the same,
Whilst precious incense, scattered there,
With holy fragrance filled the air,
Diffusing balmy praise abroad,
Through all the dwelling-place of God :
Thus, in that lowly shrine, where He —
Inhabiting Eternity —

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 131

Delights to dwell — the contrite breast, —
Where He vouchsafes enthron'd to rest.
The fire of love should aye be bright,
In pleasure's day, in sorrow's night —
Whilst ceaseless blessings serve to raise
The odors of unfailing praise*

132 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,

THE VIOLET.

Thou shalt be mine, thou simplest flower,
Tenting thyself beneath the bower

Thy little leaves have made ; —
So meekly shrinking from the eye,
Yet mark'd by every passer by —

Of thine own sweets betray'd.

The rose may boast a brighter hue,
May breathe as rich a fragrance too,

Yet let her yield to thee ;
Not hers thy modesty of dress,
Not hers thy witching artlessness,

And these are more to me.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 133

Dear emblem of the meek-eyed maid,
Whom, nurtured 'mid retirement's shade,

The world hath never known —
Who loves to glide unseen along,
Unnoticed by the idle throng

Whom fashion calls her own ;

Who shines, nor her own shining sees,
Who pleases without toil to please, —

Unstained, untouched by art ; —
Distinguish'd by that choicest gem
That lights up virtue's diadem —

A "meek and quiet heart."

134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE SNOW DROP.

Pale daughter of winter, thou emblem of woe,
Bespangled with ice-gems, embedded in snow,
I love thee, all lowly reclining thy head,
As pure as the tear-drop an angel might shed,
So gently enduring the pitiless storm,
It will not, it cannot despoil thy frail form :
Let others despise thee, and choose for their bowers
The proudest of plants, and the richest of flowers,
To me thou art welcome, meek emblem of woe,
Though spangled with ice-gems, and mantled with
snow.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 135

Let lightsomer flowers bedeck the gay breast —
On my wounded bosom the pale one shall rest ;
Like thee, I have suffer'd the wild winter gale,
Like thee, I have ofttimes been lonely and pale,
Nor will I at storms, nor at blightings repine,
If only, thy pureness, and patience be mine.

136 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

THE MOSS ROSE.

Thy mossy mantle, sweetest rose !

A witching softness o'er thee throws ; —

More winning in its russet dress,

Appears thy blushing loveliness ; —

It is simplicity that lends

The charm which every charm transcends ;-

Fair emblem of the friend, whose heart

Disdains the drapery of art,

Whose feelings freely, deeply, flow

In joy so bright, so dark in woe ; —

To life's last ebb, may she possess

That captivating artlessness !

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 137

MUSINGS BY MOONLIGHT.

Whilst moonlight sleeps on Mona's isle,
Soft as the sleeping infant's smile,
Amid those scenes to memory dear,
Mem'ry which blends the smile and tear,
My soul has winged her flight to roam —
The scenes of youth, the place of home. —
Now blithe, now sad, she glides along,
As varying as the night bird's song;
Each field, each fountain, and each dell,
Have some fond history to tell —
A Father's tenderness they tell,
A Mother's — 'tis unspeakable —
N 2

138 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

A Sister's joys, and tears, and smiles,
A Brother's sports, and feats, and wiles ;
Yet think not that with vain regret
I muse on pleasures waned and set ;
Another home is found by me,
Home in its rich reality, —
Again, a Mother's love I know,
So sweet in joy, so true in woe ;
And could her spirit, now at rest,
Who fed me from her gentle breast,
Behold to whom I yield her place,
Her own sweet image she would trace.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 139

MUSINGS OF THE MARINER'S WIFE,

WHEN THE STORM IS ABROAD.

There is an eye that looks on thee,

Though thou art far away from me —

An eye which never feels repose,

Which all our secret sorrows knows ;

There is an arm around thee cast,

Which sways the surge, and reins the blast,—

An arm Omnipotent to save,

Though death is riding on each wave; —

Then let me to the altar speed,

In this thy hour of deepest need,

And prove the boundless power of prayer,

And place thee 'neath Almighty care.

140 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

FAREWELL TO HOME.

Cold is the heart that never knew
A throb of joy, for home in view,
And colder yet, the heart that ne'er
Finds aught of bliss or beauty there ;
But coldest — oh, how cold ! his heart,
Who can, unstirr'd by grief, depart —
Bid all those friends and scenes adieu,
'Mid which his childhood sweetly grew-
His youth matured — and yet, not find
A pang convulsive rend his mind,
A wild tumultuous feeling's flow —
Whose ebb is pensiveness of woe ! —

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 141

Like torrent foaming down some steep,
Then lull'd in heaving lake to sleep —
No ! for a throne, I would not be
So listless, loveless, lorn, as he.

E'en Mona* ! though thy charms were o'er,
And friends, and home, and hope no more —
Tho' I might roam thy shores alone,
Unloved, unheeded, and unknown ;
Yet would thine ev'ry spot be dear,
For friends were there, and home teas here ;
How could I cease to love the scene
Where such endearments once had been ?

* The classical name for the Isle of Man.

142 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

So loves to linger near the spray
Where late her little treasure lay,
The linnet, 'reft of those her breast.
So warm with tenderness, had press'd,
And ling'ring pours her piteous wail,
Warbling soft sadness to the gale. —
But go — thou picture tinged with gloom,
And chill and cheerless as the tomb ;
Go — for not such is home to me,
A scene of life, and love, and glee.
I've there a Father — on his head,
Parent of All ! — Thy blessings shed —
A Father peerless in his worth,
Whose love has led me from my birth,

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 143

Whose spirit seems my guardian still,

To walk with me and watch my will :

And there I've Sisters, well I know

Their artless love's pellucid flow,

And how each act would fain express

Their bosom's throbbing tenderness : —

Around are friends, not coarsely kind,

But bland in manners as in mind,

The friendship theirs so frank and free,

Offspring of simple piety ;

Nor dwell those sweets amid some wild,

Where kindlier nature never smil'd,

No ! — but enwreath'd with brightest charms.

Where grandeur awes and beauty warms.

144 MISCELLANEOUS TOEMS.

Tho' in his majesty severe,
Could manhood's self then chide the tear
That dimm'd my eye, while from its view,
Mona, thine every charm withdrew ?
Well I bethink me how thy head
A murky mist, that eve o'erspread —
I loved its gloom, all darkly strown,
For why ? — 'twas kindly with mine own :
I would not have thee blithesome seem
Disporting in the noontide beam,
Thy beauties all in glad display,
While from my ken they fade away —
Ah, no ! I lov'd that mist to see, —
Methought that Mona mourned for me.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 14a

STANZAS

WRITTEN FOR 31USIC.

Stranger ! if thou lov'st to be
'Mid the roar of revelry :
If thou lov'st the festive bow'r
Or the purple pomp of pow'r ;
Lov'st it than retirement more,,
Fly, oh ! fly from Mona's shore.

146 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

If ambition fire thy soul,
Panting fierce for glory's goal ;
If thine eye affect the stage,
Where commotions rueful rage ;
Or the battle drench'd in gore,
Fly, oh ! fly from Mona's shore.

If thy heart be dark and drear,
Not a love-beam glimm'ring there ;
If within thy ruthless breast,
Pity never built her nest ;
Virtue never grav'd her lore,
Fly, oh ! fly from Mona's shore.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 14J

Yes, but stranger, if thy mind
Pine some soft retreat to find;
Where to pillow all its woes,
On the lap of soft repose ;
Bid thy wand'rings now be o'er.
Rest, oh ! rest on Mona's shore.

Yes, but stranger, if to thee
Nature's mountain majesty;
Nature's wildest, simplest face,
Beam replete with brightest grace ;
Here of charms how rich the store-
Rest, oh ! rest on Mona's shore.

148 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

If simplicity can please,
Blushing beauty, artless ease,
All the female void of art,
Rich in virtue, rich in heart ;
Stranger, we will part no more,
Rest, aye, rest ! on Mona's shore.

T, Smvier, Printer, St. Ann's-Sqnare, Manchester.

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