Homes of the mighty, whose renown 'Tis still the same! where'er we tread The wrecks of human power we see→ Left to decay and thee! And still let man his fabrics rear, August in beauty, grace, and strength; Days pass-thou ivy never sere!* And all is thine at length! TO ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S CHILDREN ON HIS BIRTHDAY. WHERE sucks the bee now?-Summer is flying, With the cowslip cups, where the fairies dwell; For love bids it welcome, the love which hath smiled Ever around thee, my gentle child! Watching thy footsteps, and guarding thy bed, And pouring out joy on thy sunny head. Roses may vanish, but this will stay Happy and bright is thy natal day! ON A SIMILAR OCCASION. THOU wakest from rosy sleep, to play Thou hast no heavy thought or dream Long be it thus-life's early stream Yet, ere the cares of life lie dim On thy young spirit's wings, Now in thy morn forget not Him From whom each pure thought springs! * "Ye myrtles brown, and ivy never sere.”—Lycidas. So, in the onward vale of tears, When strength hath bow'd to evil years CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. FEAR was within the tossing bark And men stood breathless in their dread, But One was there, who rose and said And the wind ceased-it ceased!-that word And fell beneath His eye. And slumber settled on the deep, They sank, as flowers that fold to sleep O Thou, that in its wildest hour Thou that didst bow the billow's pride Oh, speak to passion's raging tide, EPITAPH. OVER THE GRAVE OF TWO BROTHERS, A CHILD AND A YOUTH. THOU, that canst gaze upon thine own fair boy, And o'er his slumber bend in breathless joy, Come to this tomb! it hath a voice for thee! Pray!-thou art blest!-ask strength for sorrow's hour, Thou that art gathering from the smile of youth All the heart's depths before thee bright with truth, Look on this tomb!-for thee, too, speaks the grave, MONUMENTAL INSCRIPTION. EARTH! guard what here we lay in holy trust, But thou, O Heaven! keep, keep what thou hast taken, Guide us where these are with our sister flown- THE SOUND OF THE SEA. THOU art sounding on, thou mighty sea, The ancient rocks yet ring to thee; The Dorian flute that sigh'd of yore. The harp of Judah peals no more On Zion's awful hill. And Memnon's lyre hath lost the chord That breathed the mystic tone; And the songs at Rome's high triumphs pour'd Are with her eagles flown. And mute the Moorish horn that rang O'er stream and mountain free; And the hymn the leagued Crusaders sang Hath died in Galilee. But thou art swelling on, thou deep, Through many an olden clime, Thy billowy anthem ne'er to sleep Thou liftest up thy solemn voice And all our earth's green shores rejoice It fills the noontide's calm profound, And the still midnight hears the sound, Let there be silence, deep and strange, Thou speak'st of One who doth not change- THE CHILD AND DOVE. SUGGESTED BY CHANTREY'S STATUE OF LADY LOUISA RUSSELL. THOU art a thing on our dreams to rise, 'Midst the echoes of long-lost melodies, And to fling bright dew from the morning back, Thou art a thing to recall the hours When the love of our souls was on leaves and flowers; Are they gone? can we think it, while thou art there, Is it not spring that indeed breathes free And fresh o'er each thought, while we gaze on thee? No! never more may we smile as thou To have met the joy of thy speaking face, A DIRGE. CALM on the bosom of thy God, Dust, to its narrow house beneath! Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers, " SCENE IN A DALECARLIAN MINE. "O! fondly, fervently, those two had loved, HASTE, with your torches, haste! make firelight round (”. They speed, they press-what hath the miner found? Relic or treasure-giant sword of old? Gems bedded deep-rich veins of burning gold? ⚫ Chain'd by one feeling, hushing e'en their breath, Had touch'd those pale bright features-yet he wore Who could unfold that mystery? From the throng With the loved face once more-the young, fair face, From her deep heart the spirit of the past Gush'd in low broken tones:-" And there thou art! As for a few brief hours!-My friend, my friend! |