Though the frame shudder, and the spirit sigh, An equal to the mortal conflict rise? Where'er we fly, still wins the dreadful race, Is the last hour of thousands-they retire And the heart owns the might of solitude, drained The bitter cup, till not the dregs remained; But did no hand celestial succour bring, But wake! be glad, ye nations! from the tomb Would mock the feelings she perchance can hide, Break forth in joy, ye ransomed! saith your God! Call up the countless armies of the dead, Made for creation, be reversed for thee?" Swell ye the raptures of the song afar, -Search thy deep wisdom, solve the scarce de- When fiercely blazed a living shroud of flame, fined And mystic questions of the parting mind, In whelming grandeur, on her vision first, Shall first receive her wing but half unfurled? Hath the firm soul exulted, and the voice And say, cold Sophist! if by thee bereft Shall yield its hidden dead, and heaven and earth Should we not sink beneath our God's rebuke, shall flee? Hast thou no answer ?-then deride no more Ag at unearthly sounds, before them start, When o'er our heads the desolating blast, No more responsive to our smile or sigh, O England's flower! wert gathered to the dead? When fied the hope through all thy pangs which When thy young bosom, o'er thy lifeless child, "It is the will of God!"-yet, yet we hear To wake and guard thine own high virtues there. Have owned her sovereignty-alone she stood, In high and holy singleness, alone, Still in the deep asylum of thy breast Shall the pure elements of greatness rest, Devotion's voice in choral hymns arise, And bear the Land's warm incense to the skies. Prophetic tones to Judah's harp conveyed; NOTES. Note 1, page 150, col. 1. "He is patient, because He is eternal.' Note 2, page 150, col. 1. Fly, to the City of thy Refuge, fly! "Then ye shall appoint you cities, to be cities of refuge for you; that the slayer may flee thither which killeth any person at unawares.-And they shall be unto you cities for refuge from the aven ger."-Numbers, chap. xxxv. Note 3, page 150, col. 2. Note 4, page 151, col. 2. Must drink the cup of trembling. "Thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung them out."—Isaiah, chap. ü Note 5, page 151, col. 2. Come in the still small voice, and whisper-peace. "And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in not in the fire: and after the fire a still small pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord voice."-1 Kings, chap. xix. Note 6, page 153, col. 1. To set the sign of fire on every height. was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was "And set up a sign of fire."-Jeremiah, chap. iv Stanzas to the Memory of the late King. "Among many nations was there no king like him."-Nehemiah. "Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day in Israel!"—Samuel. ANOTHER Warning sound! the funeral bell, He, at whose coming monarchs sink to dust, Pure from its ruins, hath returned to God! Vain voice of Reason, hush!--they yet must flow, Roused by the glorious shades of vanished years. have way. What though amidst us, like a blasted oak, Saddening the scene where once it nobly reigned, A dread memorial of the lightning-stroke, Th' undying tendrils of our love, which drew Fresh nurture from its deep decay, and sprung Luxuriant thence, to Glory's ruin true; While England hung her trophies on the stem, That desolately stood, unconscious e'en of them. Of them unconscious! Oh mysterious doom! Who shall unfold the counsels of the skies? this was the voice which roused, as from the tomb, The realms high soul to loftiest energies! Ilis was the spirit, o'er the isles which threw The mantle of its fortitude; and wrought In every bosom, powerful to renew Each dying spark The star of tempest! beaming on the mast, The seamen's torch of Hope, 'midst perils deepening fast. Then from th' unslumbering influence of his worth, Strength, as of inspiration, filled the land; A young, but quenchless, flame went brightly forth, Kindled by him-who saw it not expand! Such was the will of Heaven,-the gifted seer, Who with his God had communed, face to face, And from the house of bondage, and of fear, In faith victorious, led the chosen race; He, through the desert and the waste their guide, Saw dimly from afar, the promised land—and died O full of days and virtues! on thy head Centred the woes of many a bitter lot; Fathers have sorrowed o'er their beauteous dead, Eyes, quenched in night, the sun beam have forgot; Minds have striven buoyantly with evil years, And sunk beneath their gathering weight at length; But Pain for thee had filled a cup of tears, Where every anguish mingled all its strength; Then came the noon of glory, which thy dreams, The ice-rock glows not 'midst the summer's pride! Nations leaped up to joy-as streams that burst At the warm touch of spring, their frozen chain, And o'er the plains, whose verdure once they nursed, Roll in exulting melody again; The glittering meteor, like a star, which often appears about a ship during tempests, if seen upon the main-mast, is considered by the sailors as an omen of good weather.-See pure and generous thought: Dampier's Voyages. And bright o'er earth the long majestic line Of England's triumphs swept, to rouse all hearts but thine. Oh! what a dazzling vision, by the veil That o'er thy spirit hung, was shut from thee, When sceptred chieftains thronged, with palms, to hail The crowning isle, the anointed of the sea! Within thy palaces the lords of earth Met to rejoice,-rich pageants glittered by, And stately revels imaged, in their mirth, The old magnificence of chivalry. They reached not thee,-amidst them, yet alone, Stillness and gloom begirt one dim and shadowy throne. Yet was there mercy still-if joy no more Within that blasted circle might intrude, Earth had no grief whose footstep might pass o'er The silent limits of its solitude! If all unheard the bridal song awoke Our hearts' full echoes, as it swelled on high; Alike unheard the sudden dirge, that broke On the glad strain, with dread solemnity! If the land's rose unheeded wore its bloom, Alike unfelt the storm, that swept it to the tomb. And she, who, tried through all the stormy past, Severely, deeply proved, in many an hour, Watched o'er thee, firm and faithful to the last, Sustained, inspired, by strong affection's power; If to thy soul her voice no music bore, If thy closed eye, and wandering spirit caught No fight from looks, that fondly would explore Thy mien, for traces of responsive thought; Oh! thou wert spared the pang that would have thrilled Thine inmost heart, when Death that anxious bosom stilled. Thy loved ones fell around thee-manhood's prime, Youth, with its glory, in its fulness, Age, All at the gates of their eternal clime Lay down, and closed their mortal pilgrimage; The land wore ashes for its perished flowers, The grave's imperial harvest. Thou, meanwhile, Didst walk unconscious through thy royal towers, Though many a step, of once familiar sound, Came as a stranger's o'er thy closing ear, And voices breathed forgotten tones around, Which that paternal heart once thrilled to hear, Nor might the phantoms to thy spirit known And closing up each avenue of bliss, Murmur their summons, to "despair and die!" No! e'en though joy depart, though reason cease, Still virtue's ruined home is redolent of peace. They might be with thee still-the loved, the tried, The fair, the lost-they might be with thee still! More softly seen, in radiance purified From each dim vapour of terrestrial ill; Long after earth received them, and the note Of the last requiem o'er their dust was poured, As passing sunbeams o'er thy soul might float Those forms, from us withdrawn-to thee restored! Spirits of holiness, in light revealed, To commune with a mind whose source of tears was sealed. Came they with tidings from the worlds above, Those viewless regions, where the weary rest? Severed from earth, estranged from mortal love, Was thy mysterious converse with the blest? Or shone their visionary presence bright With human beauty?-did their smiles renew Those days of sacred and serene delight, When fairest beings in thy pathway grew? Oh! Heaven hath balm for every wound it makes, Healing the broken heart; it smites- but ne'er forsakes. These may be phantasies-and this alone, Of all we picture in our dreams, is sure; Breathes deep in dreams amidst the mourners and No cloud to dim, no fetter to inthral, the slain. And who can tell what visions might be thine? The stream of thought, though broken, still was pure! Still o'er that wave the stars of heaven might shine, Where earthly image would no more endure ! Haply thine eye is on thy people now, Whose love around thee still its offerings shed, Though vainly sweet as flowers, grief's tribute to the dead. But if th' ascending, disembodied mind, Borne on the wings of Morning, to the skies, May cast one glance of tenderness behind, On scenes, once hallowed by its mortal ties, How much hast thou to gaze on! all that lay By the dark mantle of thy soul concealed, The might, the majesty, the proud array Of England's march o'er many a noble field, All spread beneath thee, in a blaze of light, Shine like some glorious land, viewed from an pine height. Away presumptuous thought!-departed saint! Seen from the birth-place of celestial day? Earthquakes have rocked the nations:-things re vered, Th' ancestral fabrics of the world, went down On the bright cloud that fills the mercy-seat! And thou mayest view, from thy divine abode, The dust of empires flit, before the breath of God. And yet we mourn thee! yes! thy place is void Within our hearts-there veiled thine image dwelt, But cherished still; and o'er that tie destroyed, Though Faith rejoice, fond Nature still must melt. Beneath the long-loved sceptre of thy sway, Thousands were born, who now in dust repose, And many a head, with years and sorrows gray, Wore youth's bright tresses, when thy star arose; And many a glorious mind, since that fair dawn, Hath filled our sphere with light, now to its source withdrawn. And swept each holy barrier from their course, Firm and unmoved, amidst that lava-flood, Still, by thine arm upheld, our ancient landmarks stood. Be they eternal!-Be thy children found Still, to their country's altars, true like thee; And, while "the name of Briton" is a sound Of rallying music to the brave and free, With the high feelings, at the word which swell, To make the breast a shrine for Freedom's flame, Be mingled thoughts of him, who loved so well, Who left so pure, its heritage of fame! Let earth with trophies guard the conqueror's dust, Heaven in our souls embalms the memory of the just. All else shall pass away-the thrones of kings, The holy records Virtue leaves the heart, Still on thine offspring may thy spirit rest! And many a name of that imperial line, Father and patriot! blend, in England's songs, with thine! |