It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom,
To see thee, Absalom!
'And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up,
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee !— And thy dark sin! --oh! I could drink the cup, If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, My lost boy, Absalom!'
He covered up his face, and bowed himself
A moment on his child; then, giving him
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped
His hands convulsively,2 as if in prayer.
And, as if strength were given him of God,
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall
Firmly and decently- and left him there,
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep.
THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.
(MRS. HEMANS.)
WHAT hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells,
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious Main ?
-Pale glistening pearls and rainbow-coloured shells,
Bright things which gleam unrecked of3 and in vain.
1 Thy dark sin, the sin of rebellion.
2 Convulsively, in an agitated manner.
3 Unrecked of, not thought of.
-Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy Sea!
We ask not such from thee.
Yet more, the depths have more! What wealth untold,
Far down, and shining through their stillness, lies!
Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal argosies.1
-Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful Main!
Earth claims not these again !
Yet more, the depths have more! Thy waves have rolled Above the cities of a world gone by;
Sand hath filled up the palaces of old,
Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry! 2
---Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornful play
Man yields them to decay!
Yet more, the billows and the depths have more :
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast!
They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle-thunders will not break their rest,
-Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave!—
Give back the true and brave!
1 Royal argosies, thousands of richly-laden ships. Jason, a Greek prince, accompanied by a number of companions, is said to have made an adventurous voyage in a ship called the 'Argo,' and to have performed many wondrous deeds during the three years it occupied. The word argosy' is now applied to any ship with a rich or valuable cargo.
There is no part of the land that has not at one time been under the sea, and many parts of the present bed of the ocean were once high above the sea-level.
Give back the lost and lovely! those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long,
The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom,
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song!
Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown--
But all is not thine own!
To thee the love of woman hath gone down;
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head,
O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown!
-Yet must thou hear a voice-Restore the dead!
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee !-
Restore the dead, thou Sea!
NEAR yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild,
There where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village pastor's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich 2 with forty pounds a year;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e'er had changed, nor wish'd to change his place;
1 Copse, a wood of small trees.
2 Passing rich, exceedingly rich. This was about the income of the Rev. Charles Goldsmith, who is here referred to, at the time his son, the poet, was born.
Unskilful he to fawn or seek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train,
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;
The long-remember'd beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ;
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sate by his fire, and talk'd the night away;
Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won.
Pleased with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave ere charity began.
Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side;
But in his duty prompt, at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all :
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
1 Spendthrift, one who spends his money recklessly.
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