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 J OB :

A LY RIC A L D RA M A;

AND

Other #oemg.

BY

H E N R Y W. HAY N E S. 4.
*-*

SEGO N D EDIT IO N.

LONDON :
PUBLISHED BY C. MITCHELL, RED LION COURT,
FLEET STREET;
AND w. PowRIL, 2, NEwMAN's Row, LINcoLN's
INN FIELDS.

MDCCCXLV.
 “Job has great daring and power. Mr. Haynes aims at
being a Goëthe or Byron, at least.”—Athenæum, March 22, 1845

LONDON :
Printed by W. H. Wilson, 8, Bedford Street,
Bedford Row.
 To

CHARLES DICKENS, ESQ.

THIS VOLUME

IS INSCRIBED BY

THE AUTHOR.

A 2
 C O N TENTS.

PAGE

JOB : A LYRICAL DRAMA • • . 11

THE SOLITARY : A POEM . - - 45

SONNET I. . - - • • . 72
- II. • - - - - 73
- III. . - • - - . 74
- IV. • - • - • 75
- V. . • • • • . 76
- VI. • • • - • 77
- VII. . - • - • . 78
- VIII. - - - - - 79
- IX. . - - • - . 80
•- X. • - • - - 81

- XI. . • - - - . 82
MISCELLANIES • • - - • 83
 PR EFACE TO JOB.

THE idea of placing Hades in the craters of

the moon, was suggested by the following pas
sage in Professor Nichol’s “Contemplations
of the Solar System :”—“Wandering through
a district, perhaps the most chaotic in the
moon, where ranges, peaks, round mountains
with flat tops, are intermingled in apparently
inextricable confusion,-where there is no
plain larger than a common field, that, too, rent
by fissures, and strewn with blocks that have
fallen from the overhanging precipices,—we
descry in the horizon what seems an immense
ridge stretching farther than the eye can carry
us, and reflecting the sun's rays with dazzling
lustre. On approaching this wall, through a
country still as toilsome, it appears not so
steep, but to have an outward sloping, which,
however rough, is yet practicable to the strong
A 3
Vi PREFACE TO JOB.

of head and firm in knee. Ascend, then,

O traveller averting your eyes from the burn
ing sun; and having gained the summit,
examine the landscape beyond ! Landscape!
It is a type of the most horrible dream—a thing
to be thought of only with a shudder. We
are on the top of a circular precipice, which
seems to have enclosed a space fifty-five miles
in diameter from all the living world for ever
and ever ! Below, where the wall casts its
shadow, it is black as Orcus—no eye can
penetrate its utter gloom; but where daylight
has touched the base of the chasm, its char
acter is disclosed. Giddy it must be to stand
on the summit of Mont Blanc, or the Jung
frau, or Teneriffe: but suppose Jaques Balmat,
when he set the first foot, on the loftiest Alpine
peak, had found on the other side, not the natu
ral mountain he ascended, but one unbroken
precipice 13,000 feet deep, below which a few
terraces disturbed the uniformity; and at some
ten miles' distance from its base, a chasm deeper,
from where he looked, by 2,000 feet than
Mont Blanc is elevated above the level of the
sea! Would even the stout Swiss have brought
home his senses? or rather would he have
returned at all, and not lain there to this hour,
 PREFACE TO Jo B. vii

fascinated as by 10,000 rattlesnakes? But

onwards:—and to the bottom of this mys
terious place. No foot of man can take us
there: So that we must borrow a wing from
the Condor, * # *k *k * #

Off then! down, down, and arrive ! It is indeed

a terrible place ! There are mountains in it,
especially a central one 4,000 feet high, and
five or six concentric ridges of nearly the same
height, encircling the chasm; but the eye can
rest on nothing except that impassable wall
without breach—only with a few pinnacles on
its top, towering 17,000 feet aloft on every side,
at the short distance of twenty-seven miles,
and baffling our escape into the larger world.
Nothing here but the scorching sun and burn
ing sky: no rain ever refreshes it, no cloud
ever shelters it: only benign night with its
stars, and the mild face of the earth !—But
we tarry no longer, * * * * *k

rest for a moment on the top of that highest

pinnacle. Look around now, and away from
Tycho ! What a scene ! Those round hills with
flat tops are craters; and the whole visible sur
face is studded with them, all of less diameter
than Tycho, but probably as deep. Nay, Mr.
Hansen assures us that some exist of at least
viii PREFACE TO JOB.

equal depth, whose diameter is not more than

3,000 feet! What conceptions can we form of
chasms so tremendous? Can there be life in
them; or are they by some primal curse, shut
out, like the Dead Sea, from all other realms of
the Eternal? Life!—is its profusion so neces
sary? I have been amid solitudes in this land,
where no bird is seen, nor heard the cry of any
winged creature—scarcely even an insect's hum;
where only the casual hiss of the snake, and
the hurried and uneasy creeping of the beetle
announce that life exists! Look yet farther.
What are those dazzling beams, like liquid
silver, passing in countless multitudes away
from us along the whole surface of the moon?
Favourites they are of the sun; for he illumes
them more than all else besides, and assimi
lates them to his own burning glory.—And
see they go on every side from Tycho !
In his very centre, overspreading the very
chasm we have left, there is, now that the
sun has farther ascended, a plain of brilliant
light; and outside the wall, at this place at
least, a large space of similar splendour from
which these rays depart. What they are Mr.
Hansen knows not; but they spread over at
least one-third of the moon's whole surface.
 PREFACE TO JOB. ix

And so this chasm, which in first rashness we

termed a hideous dream, is bound indissolubly
to that orb on which, when the heart is pained,
one longs to look and be consoled, and through
her to the beneficent Universe, even by those
silver though mystic cords.”
 J O B:

A LY RIC AL D R A M.A.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Men. Spirits.
JOB. SATAN.

ELIPHAZ. MICHAEL.
BILDAD. RAPHAEL.

ZOPHAR. PHANTASM OF CAIN.

CHORUSES OF ARCH
ANGELS.

FOUR MESSENGERS. ANGELs, &c.

Voices.

VOICE OF THE LORD.

- OF THE EARTH.

- OF THE STARS.

- OF THE DEEP.
- OF DEATH.

CHORUS OF SHADOWS.
 [ 11 |

J O B:

A LYR ICAL D R A M.A.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—Heaven.

Chorus of Angels.
FROM those many voiced spheres
Sparkling in the blue abysm,
Suns whose blinding light appears
To colours of the '# prism
Mellowed, by interminate degrees
Of subtle space, whereon they thickly rest,
Like cluster'd islands, strewn on Indian seas,
When the sun gilds them as he seeks the west!
From those daedal orbs and spheres
Whose rays thro' all preceding years
Have travell’d since the universe had birth,
But never reach'd yon spot of mortal earth !
From those orbs, with hair of stars,
Heaven’s pathless wanderers!
Every star, a world of life,
With thought, with motion, feeling rife,
From the confines of creation,
And the bounds of desolation;
We come to worship at the throne
Where the Eternal sits, Omnipotent, alone!
12 JOB. [ACT 1.

2.

From the corners of the earth,

Keepers of the winds of heaven,
Who at thy fiat give the simoom birth,
When o'er the desert its hot haze is driven,
Whelming in death each nerveless host
Beneath that baneful, purple glare!
Or with tornadoes fright #. eep's wild coast,
And bleach the seaman’s bones in upper air!
At whose command the swift typhoon is still,
Obeying thro’ our voice Jehovah's will!
From the four quarters of man’s heritage,
His cradle and his tomb from age to age!
We come to worship at the throne
Where the Eternal sits, Omnipotent, alone!

3.

Of vengeance the stern ministers, we leave

That earth where men live, suffer, die and grieve,
We who the waters of the firmament [rent
Loosen’d in heaven, and the deep's fountains
When universal ruin spread her shade,
And God repented of the works he made :
In those dread moments of chaotic night,
When stars, and moons, and orbs withheld their
light !
And shudder'd thro’ their spheres, as at an hour
When continents confess an earthquake's power!
Spirits of retribution, we are they,
Thou art Omnipotent, and we as clay,
Albeit immortality is ours,
The boon man lost ere exiled from the bowers
 sCENE 1.] JOIB, 13

Of Eden blest,—whence we expell’d

The first transgressors, and withheld
Them from the tree of life, for evening dim
Show'd them the swords of cherubim
Guarding the only tree whose fruit could give
Lost immortality, and bid them live;
Those flaming swords were ours
Guarding the inhibited bowers,
And here we worship, bending to the throne
Where the Eternal sits, Omnipotent, alone!
Semi-chorus 1.
Hark! a sound of mighty pinions,
Like a flock of vultures soaring
O'er Caucasus' waste dominions,
Heaven’s eternal height exploring,
Onward comes, like rushing wind
O'er the Euxine's stormy breast,
While the tempest hastes behind,
In clouds and thunder darkly drest !
Semi-chorus 2.
The arch-apostate, who rebelling,
Dared Omnipotence defy;
Hell is whose apportion'd
From the face of' ! dwelling
Well I mark his brow of hate,
Pride, and guilt's eternal gloom;
For the seal of damning fate
On his brow imprints his doom |
Enter SATAN.
Voice of the Lord. Whence comest thou?
Satan. From going to and fro
Upon the earth, polluted by the slaves
B
14 JOB. |ACT 1.
Who at thine altars bend the abject knee,
In fulsome homage, while their hearts despise
Their nought-requited worship; sacrifice
Of sheep and oxen by the glittering knife
That trembles in the hand of dotage, what
Pleasure can these afford? Such thoughts are
theirs:
“Why must our altars ever stream with blood
Of murder'd steers? And why doth God reject
All offerings save those dyed in reeking gore,
Until our altars overflow with hues
Incarnadine?”, From going to and fro
Upon the earth, fraught with such sights and
scenes,
Of servile acts, deeds grudgingly perform’d,
And walking up and down in it.
Voice of the Lord. Hast thou
Consider'd well my servant Job, how there
Is none like him in all the earth; a man
Upright and perfect, one that feareth God
And hateth evil?
Satan. Doth he thus for nought?
Hast thou not compass'd him on every side
Lest any hurt him? and about his house,
Hast thou not bless'd him, and all that he doth,
His substance hast thou not increas'd, until
His name is great in all the land of Uz?
Stretch forth now thine almighty arm and touch
All that he hath, and he '#curse thee then
Unto thy face.
Voice of the Lord. Behold, all that he hath
Is in thy power, only upon himself
Put not thy hand; and get thee hence, for thou
Art an offence to me, and these my —
SCENE I.] JOB. 15

Satan. Slaves !
Proud of their dazzling servitude, who bow,
Immortal, to a being like themselves
Immortal! made by him who can no more
Their being uncreate, and is no more
Than their compeer in immortality :
Omnipotent, but that alone cannot
Make happiness, since it makes misery
In those it has created ! Omnipresent,
Beholding the knee-worship of a race
Who worship but through fear || Omniscient,
Reading their secret hearts, and knowing them
Belie the words their pale lips syllable !
Are they not happier who, immortal, have
None other attributes?
Michael. Hast thou not pain?
Satan. We suffer.
Michael. Immortality has ever
An attribute, and thine is pain.
Satan. For ever !

Chorus of Angels.
Hail! All hail!
Thou who makest the darkness and light thy
pavilions,
Hell turns pale
At the sound of the name that has vanquish’d
her millions !
Jehovah, the wheels of whose chariot’s shock,
Is the :* that rendeth the adamant
rock |
Who rideth abroad on the swift typhoon
In the dim eclipse of the icy moon!
B 2
16 JOB. [ACT 1.
Where the damn'd of earth and heaven dwell
In howling caves, and lunar wildernesses,
Sublimed by horror each into a hell
Of fearful chasms, and shapes with Terror's
serpent tresses !
Hail! all hail!
We rejoice while fiends of Hades wail.
Eternal Spirit of the universe,
Who forth from darkness and chaotic night
Call'd with creative voice obedient light,
Ere nature trembled at the general curse!
All hail!

Semi-chorus 1.
Lo! where like lightning Satan falls from
As erst he fell. [heaven,

Semi-chorus 2.
From the Eternal presence unforgiven
To deepest Hell!
Raphael. From his journey full soon
Alighteth our foe,
On the disc of the moon,
Which floats darkly below !
Chorus of Archangels.
In the deep silence of Eternity,
Ere men or angels fell, or were created,
When nought existed save infinity,
That is and was, for evermore undated !
Ere Lucifer unfurl’d
His banner in the morning of the world,
Amid the radiant spheres
His bright compeers!
scENE II.] JOR. 17

Or Satan down from primal bliss was hurl’d,

Eternally to dwell
With those the “third” of Heaven who dared
Against the Almighty “Word '" [rebel
Thou dwelledst in the solitude of night,
In unparticipated loneliness,
When sin’s dark shadow blotted not the light
Of heavenly spirits rising from th’ abyss
To which it sunk their host companionless,
Save that the shade of Pain
And grim Despair, the spectres twain
Who swell the aggregate of their distress,
Like phantoms haunted them through their
Of penal pain |domain
Thou the Omnipotent, Eternal King,
Whose name, which they blaspheme amid their
wail,
We celebrate with harps of heavenly string:
All hail

SCENE II.—The Craters of the Moon. Enter

SATAN on the verge of a dismal precipice.
Satan. Princes and Potentates of earth and
air,
Whom might hath overthrown, and vanquished,
And tyranny condemns to black despair,
Arise and bruise the fell oppressor's head,
Thro’ Job his minion, that he curse
This despot of the universe;
Upheld by numbers on his iron throne,
Omnipotent from this one source alone !
Ye third of Heaven's sons, who dared defy
Him and contest the throne of Deity,
Till Heaven’s foundations totter'd with the strife,
And anarchy usurp'd the Anarch's reign,
Who makes that he may mar, and giveth life
B 3
-ā

18 JOB. [ACT 1.
That he may torture with eternal pain:
Bear witness Sodom, and its fiery rain;
Bear witness universal nature, when
Destruction follow’d in the paths of life,
When huge Behemoth from his mountain den
Roar'd with affright, and waged conflicting
strife
With the o'erwhelming deluge; when the halls
Of kingly palaces were tenanted
By the £ shark, whose horrid form appals
The seaman’s heart, impatient for their dead,
Whose home is on the wilderness of waves
Which sparkle over unillumin'd caves,
Where the green serpent of the dark domain
Uncoils his emerald folds; a horrid chain :
Or rising thence when storms and tempests roar,
Uprears his horrent head remote from shore,
To scare the mariner, whose gurgling breath
Shall soon be drown'd in the cold wave of
death !
Bear witness Cain |
Phant. of Cain. Guilt's comate and compeer
Bound to a pallid, bleeding phantom here !
Myself a phantom ! perdurable pain,
Into each sense eats like a burning chain,
With wild remorse, and all pursuing fear !
Accurs’d be he who made a world to wo,
Unceasing anguish, and perpetual throe,
Who, if omniscient, saw the coming fall
Of man, and should have hinder'd, what to all
Thro' endless ages, if the tyrant will,
Shall be an heritage of torture still!
Satan. Adam thy father sinn'd.
Phant. of Cain. Then why prolong
His race to feed on torture, and the thong
sCENE II.] JOB. I9

Of misery's scorpion scourge to feel for aye!

Venting almighty wrath on forms of clay:
Were this not so, the seal upon my brow
Had never rack'd the soul it tortures now !
Satan. But he has minions even of thy race,
Who cringe that he may spare, supremely base,
And this is nicknam'd worship !
Spirits! ye
Whose future, unlike man's, shows visibly,
Who fear no tortures worse than ye endure,
While mortals tremblingly, and insecure,
Anticipate the day, when naked shades
The spark immortal, which their flesh invades,
Shall join thro’ Death the myriads gone before,
When meteoric life can burn no more !
Attentive hear me !
There is one on whom
Our tyrant smiles; man’s meanly sentenc'd doom,
That he shall by the clammy sweat of toil
Eat bread, till gather'd to the charnel’s soil,
Whence he was form’d, like the inferior train
Of beasts, on whom the curse inflicteth pain,
And death, in common with the groaning earth,
Since both have sprung from one degrading
birth !
In him rests unfulfill’d.
In princely ease
Luxuriously he wantons; the disease
Of poverty entail'd, want, wo, despair,
His heart knows not, it never enter'd there;
For which revenue of earth's pomp and state,
While meaner hearths lie cold and desolate,
He flatters, bows, and cringes, at the throne
Of Him our foe, self-nam'd the Holy One!
And lest his drunken sons in their excess
Inebriate, from very wantonness,
20 JOB. [ACT 1.
Should curse that God whence they derive their
State
Of servile splendour, free from adverse fate,
Burnt offerings frequent 'mid the ruddy blaze,
Consume before the morning's purple rays |
To cleanse the sin (such is the craft of age)
Their hearts may bear inscrib’d as on a page!
Such then is Job; than whom in all the East
None greater is, in cunning not the least!
Spirits, attend
Before the throne of Him,
Obey'd with fear by man and cherubim,
I have impeach'd the fealty of Job,
And will the princely sycophant disrobe
Of his assumed meekness, to the scorn
Of all that live, of men or angels born
And from his lips in place of prayer a curse
Shall brand the despot of the universe !
Chorus of Evil Angels.
Hail! Hail! Hail!
As the wind impels the sail,
As the tides obey the moon,
Our might shall work full soon,
The thing thou would'st have done
To spite the Holy One!
Hail! Hail! #.
This lunar wilderness is not our jail,
But of the damn’d of earth \
Who lov’d unholy mirth, '
And pay its penalty in endless wail! \
We are free to soar,
And at will explore [shore!
Ocean, earth, and air, beyond the antarctic
Far from this howling den,
The final hell of unredeemed men,
scENE II.] JOB. 21

Where no translucent springs

With lucid dew load zephyr's balmy wings!
But all is black despair, ful air ||
Whose shadow like a curse hangs on the bale
And like the portent of some pending ill,
Breathes of suspended doom incomprehensible?
All forms we can assume,
That of the whirlwind, or the hot simoom,
Or tremble like a star
On the mountain ridge afar,
To mislead the sage, [starry page.
Who deems he reads of fate on midnight's
We are thine instruments,
To fulfil
Whatever high intents
Our sov’reign lord may will!
Whatever thoughts have birth
In thy flaming breast,
Of ill to earth,
And unto man unrest;
We read, albeit thou
Speak'st not, nor dost avow
In lineaments sublime of thine immortal brow!
Erst radiant with light
Before Jehovah's sight,
Which from his presence bright,
And throne did flow;
But rob’d in nobler gloom of empire now,
Like sunset mountains from the plain beneath
Which tower in pride,
Their regal summits to the heavens allied;
Scorning the world of Death,
Whose date of happiness is in its breath,
Spread ever at their feet!
Which ocean’s servile waves kiss as they meet,
22 JOB. [ACT I.
Ever the same,
Like mortals tame,
Who kneel and basely pray,
Children of degraded clay
Bowing the abject knee,
God of a servile world, to thee;
Like slaves to earthly tyrants, homage they
Which thou exactest stoop and pay,
In token of thy deity!
Detested tribute! who would mortal be
To worship with acclaim,
His name, [ignoble fame !
Whose brow is bound with wreaths of such
Wrung from the unwilling breast
Of agony and woe,
By sorrow, and unrest,
And many a mortal throe!
We who inhabit space,
Earth, stars, to whom is given
Aught for a £ place
Excepting heaven!
Scorn the degrading leaven
Of such hypocrisy to blend [ascend!
With souls who dare to sink, if they may not
Like the o'erhanging pine
Which bends beneath the sway
Of winds, which strongly twine
Around its form to-day,
And rend it in their boisterous play !
The spirit of our chief
Its purpose over ours
Breathes! summary, and brief,
Shall Desolation tread the fairest flowers
Of yonder parasite's demolish’d bowers!
And utter ruin tread
sCENE III.] JO18. 23

The winepress of our wrath, and show

Sights, scenes, and sounds of wo! [head!
And agony's sharp thorn wound his devoted
And sorrow, sorrow, sorrow,
Lift the curtain of each morrow,
And none relief shall lend tho’ he would borrow!
Hail! Hail! Hail!
As the wind impels the sail,
As the tides obey the moon,
Our might shall work full soon
The thing thou wouldst have done,
To spite the Holy One:
Hail! Hail! Hail!

SCENE III.—An Altar on which Sacrifice has

recently been performed. JoB standing be
side it.
Job [solus]. God of Eternity, and Time, and
pace 1
Whose throne, and reign, alike invisible,
Are known, and felt, acknowledg'd, and obey’d
By thy peculiar servants, who have faith
In thine omnipotence and equity;
Eternal monarch of the universe!
Who borroweth from none, and giv'st to all
Life, light, and being, and unto a few
Thy fear, with length of days! Almighty King!
Whose throne is rear'd within thy servants’
hearts,
And as a fountain to the stream imparts
Its crystal waters, so from thee, the spring
Of universal joy, flows ever forth
The tide of happiness, serene and pure,
From which the pious soul drinks draughts,
deep draughts,
Of holy rapture, and divine repose!
 24 JOB. [ACT 1.
God of Creation! at whose high behest
Chaos sprung forth, a world of symmetry !
And in the blue cerulean, orbs on orbs,
Of dazzling splendour mov’d harmoniously
Thro’ pathless ether and eternal space!
Proclaiming to the earth thy deity
And high intelligence!
To thee, O Lord!
This sacrifice (consum’d by fire, which thou
In mercy hast accepted at my hand)
Is offered for my sons, lest in the days
Of feasting, in the folly of their mirth . [taught
They may have mock'd, the God their father
Them to adore with meekness, that their days
May be prolong’d, and on its closing eve
Thy favour cheer the downward path of life,
When dim obscurity enwraps around
The dwelling-place of Death !
Have I not stood
In mine integrity, firm, undismay’d,
Amid the heathen when they cried Ha! Ha!
And mock'd my morning orisons, and cried
Against my evening vigils? Thou hast seen
y faith, how I have sanctified my house,
To cleanse from leprous sin, and purif
The stain that may have fallen upon the hearts
Of any that inhabit it.
O Lord!
Thou whose pavilion is Eternity,
Whose ministers are ever on the wing
On missions of divinest mercy, or
Just retribution, on thy awful name
Which mutters over hell like thunder to
The spirits of the damn'd, but sweetly falls
With crystal melody upon the ear
Of true devotion, on thy holy name
 sCENE III.] JOB. 25

I call, that thou wilt hear, as thou hast heard,

In future days as in the past, the prayer
Of humble faith reliant, and accept
Its sacrifices.
But whom have we here,
Pallid and trembling, as with fear aghast,
And blanch’d as is a corse?

Enter First Messenger.

First Mess. The oxen plough’d,
The asses fed beside them quietly,
When arm'd Sabeans fell on us, and took
Them from thy servants, whom the robbers slew:
I only have escap'd to tell thee!
Enter Second Messenger.
Second Mess. Fire
Of God has fallen from heaven, and burned up
Thy cattle, and thy servants, and consum'd
them:
I only have escap'd to tell thee!
Enter Third Messenger.
Third Mess. LO !
The Chaldeans made three bands, and fell upon
The camels, and have borne them hence, and
slain
Thy servants with the sword, and I alone
Escap'd to tell thee!
Enter Fourth Messenger.
Fourth Mess. From the wilderness
A mighty wind arose, and smote the house
Of him thy firstborn, while thy sons and daugh
ters
C
26 JOB. [ACT I.
Ate, and drank wine with him, and lo! it fell,
And they are dead who were thy children; all
Lie buried in the ruins. I alone
Escap'd to tell thee!
[JoB rises, and rends his mantle.
Job. Thus my heart is torn
For nature must have sway. Oh, heavy hour !"
Fraught with transcendent pangs, and this the
worst.
My children! Oh, my children!
[Throws himself on the earth.
Thus, O Lord :
My gray hairs seek the dust! whence I was
made :
Naked came I forth from the womb; ere long
Naked the earth to her maternal arms
Shall clasp me !
Lord! thou gavest, and again
Thou hast resum'd thy gifts, and be thy name
In giving, and in taking hence, pronounc'd
Blessed and holy! shall a worm complain?

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

SCENE 1.] JOB. 27

ACT II.

SCENE I.—Heaven.

Chorus of Angels.
When the stars were not,
And chaos dim,
Of her own dark thought
Wove a long, lone hymn !
When the earth was nought,
And cherubim
With their pinions of light form'd the only sun
Which scatter'd the shadows, drear and dun,
Of the dread abyss,
Ere its wilderness
Of space was peopled by sun or star,
The lamps of Eternity which are:
We veil'd our eyes with our brilliant wings,
As thy glory shone
A dazzling zone,
Of diamond light round thy blinding throne!
Whence ever springs
A fountain of splendour
Glorious beyond mortal imaginings,
Eclipsing the sheen of created things
# their halos of beauty tender!
We veil'd our eyes, O Lord,
And worshipp'd thee as now,
Jehovah aye ador'd,
Worthy art thou
C 2
28 JOB. [ACT II.
The homage of thy creatures to receive!
Seraph and seraphim!
Cherub and cherubim !
To thee they everlasting glory give.
Thou art Omnipotent,
Thy glories are not blent
With any other god's, since none there are
In planet, orb, or star!
But thron’d in unparticipated might
Thou rulest earth and heaven;
Thy power is felt even in the realms of night,
Where Satan holdeth his permitted reign,
Far from thy face, and archangelic “seven,”
In Hades’ dim domain,
Whose very atmosphere doth breathe of Cain :
Thy empyreal throne
With belted stars, and planets richly studded,
From whence has ever shone
Thy glory, till both heaven and earth are flooded
With varied splendour of the day and night,
To earth, and all thy creatures yields delight!
Mountain and valley, 'neath the noontide beam,
The very leaves laid in their summer dream,
Have each a voice! [stream
And when night's spangles tremble on the
Its waves rejoice!
Semi-chorus 1.
The stars of heaven sing
A lay of their early prime,
Nor canst thou jar a string
Of their heavenly music, Time !
Their melody sublime
The seraphs pause to hear, sphere!
Making one liquid sound, of the blue atmo
scENE I.] JOB. 29

Semi-chorus 2.

The planets crystalline

Pave with mosaic dyes
Heaven: as flowers intertwine
In a parterre, their eyes
Upturn’d towards the sunny skies,
Narcissi, eglantine, anemone,
Thus worship silently!

Chorus.

The earth on its axle of brightness

Revolves in the face of the sun,
Who dwells in his orbit of lightness,
The centre of many a one
Of the spheres which encircle him round,
As seraphs with homage profound
Encompass his throne whose unparallel’d reign
Embraceth Eternity’s vasty domain!
Jehovah omnipotent aye,
Who liveth while spheres and orbs decay,
Like twilight fragments, dim and grey,
In the night of Time unceasingly l
All, all, save mind expires, and shall expire
Of all created things, whatever star
Contains its deity begotten fire
In the realms of space afar !
Michael. I see an angel's broad and mighty
VanS

Darkening the planets, as with an eclipse!

And £ he flies, swift as the light,
And radiant as the sun 'tis Raphael, now
His archangelic countenance I view,
Near and more near he speeds, and now is here.
C 3
30 JOB. [ACT II.
Enter RAPHAEL.

Raphael. Upon the verge of the bright

morning star
I stood, as night's dim shadows fled away
Which erst envelop'd it, revealing now
The silvery morning with her lucent urn
Stor'd with refreshing dew, which aye she shook
Upon the grateful flowers, and bursting buds!
And saw amid the pathway of the stars
A dark unwonted cloud, such as appears
With fire and thunder charg'd in sultry climes
Ere yet the tempest bursts.
Earthward it sped
As by careering winds impell’d along
With force precipitate.
Immediately
I spread my pinions to the breath of heaven
And follow’d its dim wake thro’ pathless air
Till on an eastern mountain I alit,
While yet on earth’twas twilight, for the sun
Encircled with a host of grayish clouds,
Like spectres of the hours of darkness past,
Scarce peer'd above the dim horizon.
Soon
What seem’d a cloud assum'd another shape,
And then to many shapes it chang'd, until
A legion of dark spirits I beheld,
Satan among them.
In another hour
Oxen were ploughing in a pleasant field,
Amid the fallow glebe, when what appear'd
Sabean robbers took them forcibly
From those that kept them, whom they slew.
Anon
A baleful storm spread its dark canopy
SCENE 1.] JOB. 31

Over the heavens, the vivid lightnings flash'd

And slew a herd of many kine and sheep,
With those who watch’d by them!
Again I saw
Camels innumerable on an outstretch'd plain,
Quietly feeding, when a lawless band,
Of what appear'd Chaldeans, slew the men
That kept them, and the camels bore away.
Again at noon I saw a mansion, where
Friends were carousing; suddenly a wind
Smote the house direfully, with shock that fell’d
The fabric, overwhelming all within
In one promiscuous death!
Again I saw
An old man offer sacrifice, and bow
Before the living God, and offer praise
At his almighty shrine! when suddenly
There came unto him divers messengers
Of evil tidings.
Then he tore his robe,
And falling on the earth he worshippèd.
The name of this old man was Job!
Behold !
The doom'd of heaven approaches; in his eye
There is a baneful glare; what doth he here
Amid the sons of God :
Enter SATAN.
Voice of the Lord. Whence comest thou?
Satan. From going to and fro as heretofore,
Upon the earth, and walking up and down
In it! the man,
Voice of the Lord. Hast thou consider'd well
My servant Job! that there is none like him,
A perfect, upright, and a righteous man,
That holdeth his integrity; albeit
32 JOB. [ACT 11.
Thou movedst me against him, to destroy
His life without a cause !.
Satan. All a man hath [hand
Will he give for his life; stretch forth thine
And taint him with disease, till he becomes
A sight of pity, and a pestilence [upon 1
That none may touch, and scarce dare look
And blasphemy shall straight usurp the seat
Of prayer upon his lips!
oice £ e Lord. Behold he is
Within thy power, his person to afflict
With aught that genders suffering and despair,
And impious complainings. But his life
Is in my hands, 'gainst it thou hast no power,
Nor shalt possess none.
To thy work—down-down |

SCENE II.—JoB seated upon the ground; ELI

PHAz, BILDAD, and ZoPHAR with him.
Job. Let the day perish from the year,
wherein
W', wretched life was given l be the night
Whose shadows did conceive me blotted out,
And both alike forgotten! let not Time
Their moments chronicle, nor sun nor moon
Illumine either! let the shade of death
Hide them for ever, as they ne'er had been,
And blackest clouds for aye envelop them
In unexplor'd oblivion! Let them not
Be wedded unto Time !
Lo! let that night
Be solitary' let no joyful voice
Be heard therein for ever! Let the stars
Be dark of its sad twilight! Let it look
For light and find none! Let the smile of day
scENE II.] JoB. 33

Be hid from it, and let it not behold

The eyelids of the merning !
Why was not
My life prevented then I should have slept
And been at quiet, an untimely birth,
That never saw the light!
I should have slept
With kings and counsellors of earth, who built
Desolate places for themselves to rest in,
There small and great are equal; there the slave
Is free from his oppressor!
Why is light
Given to the wretched? and life unto him
Whose soul is bitter? He who thirsts for death,
And lo! it cometh not, but flieth him;
He who exulteth when he finds a grave
And hastens to possess it!
Lo! the thing
I feared is come upon me! I was not
In thoughtless ease, or lapp'd in wantonness;
Yet trouble came; the thing I greatly fear'd
Is come upon me ! -

Eliphaz. Hast thou ever seen

The innocent to perish' or beheld
The righteous smitten? they that sow do reap
That which they sow'd, and thus is it with thee.
Fear came upon me in the night, when sleep
Falls upon men, and trembling shook my frame,
A spirit passed before my face; it £
But I could not discern the form thereof;
An image was before me, and I heard
A voice from out the silence sav-“Shall man
Who is a mortal be more just than God?—
More pure than is his maker? for behold
He trusteth not his servants, and his angels
Doth charge with folly! how much less in them
34 JOB. [ACT II.
That do inhabit clay, and in the dust
Is whose foundation laid ' who fall before
The moth, and perish from the universe,
While none regard it, and who die without
Or excellence or honour!”
From the dust
Affliction cometh not, nor doth distress
Spring from the soil ! but man is born to wo
As sparks fly upward and ascend to heaven;
God takes the wise in their own craftiness,
And disappoints the cunning, that they meet
Darkness at noonday, and do grope about
As in the night-time. Happy is the man
Whom God correcteth; thou shalt not despise
The chastening of his hand! he bindeth up
That which he bruiseth, and he shall restore
Thy soul from death, so that thou shalt not fear
Destruction when it cometh; thou shalt laugh
At famine, and the wild beasts of the earth,
And to thy grave, in a full age, a shock
Of corn in season thou shalt come !
Job. The shafts
Of the Almighty are within me, they
Drink up my spirit with their bane. Wo! wo!
Oh! that he would destroy me ! then I should
Be comforted. My brethren have dealt
Deceitfully, and as a running brook
They pass, and are not! they beheld my grief
And were asham’d ! I borrow’d not of them,
Nor bade them to redeem me from the hand
Of him that was more mighty. Show me where
And in what I have err'd, and I will cease
My speech towards them.
Ye do dig a pit
For friends, and overwhelm the fatherless
That have no helper; many weary nights
scENE II.] JOB. 35

And months of vanity are mine; my flesh

Is cloth'd with worms, and loathsome, and my
days
Are destitute of hope; my life is wind,
And as a cloud doth vanish; he that finds
A grave is seen no more; for this I speak
In bitterness of soul, yet would I not
Live always (Looking upwards).
When wilt thou return ? how long
Wilt thou depart from me? why hast thou set
A mark against me, so that I become
A burthen to myself? why wilt thou not
Pardon my sin? For I shall sleep in dust
And those that seek shall find me not.
Eildad. How long
Wilt thou speak thus? Is God unjust? Thy sons
Did sin against him, and he cast them off
In their iniquity; if thou wert pure
It had not been thus, but he would have made
Thy habitation prosperous, Look, and see
For lack of moisture dies the waterflag,
It withereth away; even thus shall perish
The hypocrite's last hope; his house shall fall
And he shall not endure. But God will not
Destroy a perfect man! nor will he help
The evil doer.
Job. Say how shall a man
Be just with God, the wise, and mighty one !
Who rendeth mountains in his wrath, and in
His anger grindeth hills to dust; who makes
The earth to tremble; who commands the sun,
And lo! it riseth not! who sealeth up
The stars in dim obscurity; who treads
The waves of ocean, when its surges roar
In awful majesty, sublimely lone!
 36 JOB. [ACT II.
Arcturus, Orion, who made, and the
Far Pleiades, who shall contend with him?
Who passeth by and we discern him not!
He taketh hence, and who shall hinder him,
Or say what doest thou? Then how shall I
Choose words to reason with him? He it is
Breaketh me with a tempest of deep wo,
Who filleth me with bitterness, and makes
My heart as wormwood; but my days are swift
As a sun-gazing eaglet's flight, and soon
Will pass, and I forget their weariness
In the dim regions of perpetual shade
And dull chaotic images, where light
Is even as darkness!
Zophar. God of thee exacteth
Less than thy crimes deserve. Canst thou discern
By searching the Almighty? or find out
£ to perfection? If iniquity
Dwell in thy tabernacles, put it hence,
So shall thy countenance be bright, and thou
Steadfast for ever, and forget thy grief,
As waters that glide silently away !
And winds that echo amid ruins, ere
They fade from the sad ear of him who holds
His vigils near them :
Then thy age shall be
Radiant as morning, thou shalt rest secure
As one entrench'd around, and fear shall not
Approach thy habitation.
Many then
Shall make suit unto thee, but wicked eyes
Shall fail, and wicked men shall not escape;
Their hope shall not survive, but like a ghost
Depart in darkness |
ob. Doubtless ye in sooth
Are the wise people, wisdom shall die with you!
scENE II.] JOB. 37

But I am as a man mock’d of his friends,

The uprightman is laugh’d to scorn, but thieves
And ' unrighteous prosper, who provoke
The God that doth uphold their feeble breath,
Who knoweth not these things? that the strong
arm

Of the Almighty hath wrought this, who holds

The souls of all that live within his hand—
The breath of all mankind With him is
strength
And wisdom. He discovereth out of night
And darkness wond’rous things, and brings to
light
The £w of pale death.
Oh! that ye would
Hold your peace wholly, it should be your wis
do
Forgers of lies, and valueless physicians !
Let come on me what will, but hold your peace,
Tho' he should slay me I will trust him yet!
And will maintain '. way before him. He
Shall be my soul's salvation. Hypocrites
Shall fall before him !
In the dust of death
Man lieth down and riseth not, until -

The heavens be no more. Oh! that the grave

Might hide me till thy wrath be past, thou who
Destroy'st the hope of man, and having chang'd
His countenance doth send him hence.
Eliphaz. Thou dost
Strengthen thyself against the Lord, and run
On the thick bosses of his buckler
Job. Peace |
Miserable comforters are ye all! my face
Is foul with tears, and on my eyelids rest
D
38 JOB. [ACT II.
The shadow of black death. My friends have
scorn’d
What God hath stricken, but my prayer is heard,
My record is on high !
But as for you
Do ye return, for lo! I cannot find
One wise among ye.
Bildad. Wherefore are we all
Counted as beasts, and vile? the wicked’s fire
Shall be put out, and shall not shine; a snare
And terrors compass him on every side;
His root shall be dried up; remembrance
Of him shall perish from the earth: such are
The wicked, such the dwelling-place of him
That knows not God the Holy One.
Job. I know
That my Redeemer liveth ! He shall stand
At the far latter day upon the earth !
Tho' worms destroy this body, in my flesh
I shall see God! Behold him for myself
And not another!
Ere ye answer pause,
Lest ye condemn the innocent, whom God
Hath sorely stricken: still my hope is in him :

SCENE III.-Hades.

Chorus of Evil Angels.

Lo! we prevail not, vanquished
Lies our fierce and subtle head,
And his wiles like drops of rain,
Shaken from a lion’s mane,
Find defeat, again, again!
scENE III.] JOB. 39

Ai! Ai !
Lucifer, the morning star,
Was he named in Heaven afar
Ere he fell from thence, (as falls
Light drops from a planet's car,)
To the deep and sullen halls
Of immitigable gloom,
Which black Hades like a tomb
Shadows forth, above, around,
With a spell that is profound !
Everlasting dreariness,
Like a spirit of distress,
Or the soughing autumn wind,
Doth the ' region bind;
And a shroud of weariness
Aching to the sense and mind,
Hangs upon the shadowy sight
In this realm of triple night!
Ai! Ai !
One alone could vanquish thee,
He who vanquish’d thee of old,
He whom men name Deity,
We call tyrant manifold !
Worshipped with blood and gold,
By the human slaves, who fain
Our lost heritage would gain,
Who by wily serpent guile
Lost their paradise erewhile,
Serpent arts, and woman’s smile!
Enter SATAN.
Semi-chorus 1.
Hail to thee! monarch of gloom!
Hail to these regions of doom!
D 2
40 JOB. [ACT II.
Back from a world which thou spurnest,
Thou to thy kingdom returnest,
Wanquish’d in purpose, yet hail!
Semi-chorus 2.

Sweet was the groveller's wail,

Sweet was the sweat of his soul,
Wrung by the keenest of dole,
And anguish unutter'd by aught
Save those drops of his agoniz'd thought!
Satan. And this, forsooth, is evidence of faith,
To bear without repining, righteousness
Imputed by the amount of torture suffer'd
In quiescent meekness! . Can there be a thing,
A being so degraded, an immortal,
Tho' girt with a mortality of flesh,
So sunk in self-esteem, as to embracc
The wheel that crushes it ! Execrable !
And lo! this infamy is holiness
Unto the Lord! Our state is nobler far:
We suffer, but we fawn not; worse than death
And all Tartarean depths, destruction, pain,
And agonies that with infinity
Are wed for aye, were such a compromise
Of nature’s feelings, and her wish to curse,
If such a wretch had soul for such a wish,
Yet ignobly restrain’d it.
Thro' the glooms
Hence to our ebon throne! There parasites
At least are not. There suffering dwells but
fawns not.

[Exeunt through the darkness.

scENE III.] JOB. 41

Chorus of Shadows.
1.

Children of chaotic night,

And primeval gloom,
We hate, we hate the light,
As mortals shun the tomb!
Nought but th’ Eternal's ken
Can pierce the deep abyss,
And view the mysteries
Of Night's and Demogorgon's den
Echo.
The mysteries
Of Night's and Demogorgon's den!
2.

Spectre-like we haunt the deep,

overing over all,
Where quietude's sepulchral sleep
Finds nought to break its thrall!
Nought save th’ Eternal’s ken
Can pierce the deep abyss,
Or read the mysteries
Of Night's and Demogorgon’s den!
Echo.
The mysteries
Of Night's and Demogorgon's den!

D 3
42 JOB. [ACT II.

SCENE IV.—A mountainous extent of Country.

JoB, alone.
Voice from the Earth. When my foundations
first were laid, -

Oh, where
Wert thou, poor mortal, in what secret shade?
Declare!
Where my foundations rest?
Voice from the Stars. When seraph strains
With ours were blended 'mid cerulean plains,
Where was thy voice?
Voice from the Deep. The breath that now
complains
When forth as from the womb my billows burst
And heard the fiat of Jehovah first—
“Here shall thy waves be bounded by the shore
For evermore !”
Where had it being then? poor mortal, where?
Voice from beneath. Have Death's dark portals
been explor’d by thee?
And hast thou search’d its hidden mystery?
Voice of the Lord. The rain, the snow, the hail,
eanst thou discern
Their secret treasures? Canst thou tell, O Man,
The lightning's ancient dwelling? or the urn
Of morning's dew discover? Canst thou span
Creation with a glance? or say whence springs
The hoary frost of heaven? His daring wings
Whence # the eagle? And the mighty steed !
Who cloth'd his neck with thunder and with
speed?
scENE IV.] JOB. 43

Job. Behold, Lord, I am vile! My lips are

dumb,
How shall I answer thee?
Voice of the Lord. Gird up thy loins
And answer me in faithfulness: Hast thou
An arm like God, or canst thou thunder with
A voice like his? Cast now abroad thy wrath,
And with it humble and abase the proud,
And hide them with the wicked in the dust:
Perform these doings, and I will confess
Thy own right arm can save thee!
Job. Lord! I know
Thou canst do all things; every secret thought
Is open to thy ken; my tongue hath utter'd
That which I understood not, things too great
And wonderful for me, which I discern’d not;
Mine eye now seeth thee, and I repent
In dust and ashes!
Voice of the Lord. Get thee to thy friends,
And say thus saith the Lord, My wrath is kindled
Against ye that ye have not spoken right
# my Eternal name, like Job my servant,
Therefore take seven oxen, and of rams
An equal number, and do sacrifice
Upon an altar, and my servant Job
Shall pray for you, for him will I accept,
Lest F'l with you after your own sin
Which you have sinn’d against me.
As for thee
Thy age shall prosper, and thy future days
Be better than the past!
[JoB bows his face to the earth, and remains in
that position.
44 JOB. [ACT II.

Chorus of Angels.
Hail! to the Lord whose power hath triumphed,
Whose unapproach’d pavilion none may ken!
Whose #" hath bruis’d the hydra serpent's
head,
And sent him vauntless to his penal den :
Hail! to the Lord that loveth mortal men,
Let all creation praise him ! Sun and moon,
Ye multitudinous stars of heaven rejoice,
And waken every planetary voice
With his acclaim, who gives to each the boon
Ofjoy that from his throne descends like glory's
noon |

END OF JOB.
 [ 45 |

THE SOLITARY :

A POEM.

“At night the passion came,

Like the fierce fiend of a distemper'd dream,
And shook him from his rest, and led him forth
Into the darkness.”
SHELLEY.

DEDICATION.

TO FRANCES * * * * *

THERE was a time when this lone heart of sadness

No power could soothe, no charm compose to
rest,
When my worn brain throbb'd with a fever'd
madness, -

And sorrow all things cloth'd in her sad

vest;
Life an unlovely thing devoid of zest
Bound me to earth with th’ incarnate chain
Of suffering, those who slept in death were
blest,
They had endur'd its torture, and were lain
Where I had deem’d alone to find repose from
pain!
46 THE SOLITARY.

But tho’ in sadness pass the darkling night,

Without a star to gild its ebon gloom,
Gay morn will come at length, on wings of light
To chase its shades, and nature's world relume,
Whose face doth then its wonted joy assume,
Wherein no vestige of decay appears!
Thus did my soul her banish’d hopes resume,
Thy smiles, like sunbeams' dew, exhal'd my
tears,
When on thy breast I leant, the dawn of hap
pier years!
Thou cam’st to me in all the charms of youth,
Thy young heart's vows were interwove with
mine,
And both were utter'd by the voice of truth!
May our loves blend as tendrils of the vine
Within each other intricately twine,
Or like the hues we in the rainbow see
When o'er the storm it spreads its arch
divine !
Thy peerless love, and matchless beauty be
The guerdon of the lay I consecrate to thee!

27 November 1840.
 THE SOLITARY, 47

THE SOLITARY.

STILL was the hour, and Luna's radiant car

Rode slowly o'er the dusky arch of night,
Illuming Albion's isle—and £ afar
Gilding with paly beams her cliffs of white;
Where wandering lone, a solitary wight
In pensive mood the lovely scene survey'd;
A harp he bore which seem’d his sad delight,
In flowing mantle carelessly array'd
Thus £e forth beneath night's canopy of
SI18,016

His dark eye wander'd over sea and sky,

Where Hesperus had led the starry train
Since day’s first eve, a planetary dye
In splendour flinging o'er the moonlit main
Of mellowing light serene:—Then turn'd
again .
To gaze upon the ripple at his feet,
# gently murmur'd like young lips when
alm

Has made the heart its desolated seat,

And such seem'd his:—even Nature's sympathy
is sweet!
48 THE SOLITARY.

Sweet when the bosom is by sorrow torn

To view the bat flit by the mouldering tower,
To hear the beetle “wind his sullen horn l”
Such solitude is sweet, as breathes a power
Like kindred sadness thro’ each pensive hour:
Sweet to behold Eternity above
Time's universe, where man, a fragile flower,
Just lifts his head the blast of fate to prove,
Then withering falls to earth, no more to hate
or love!

The roseate dye of youth his cheek o’erspread

Yet sorrow’s impress sate upon his brow,
And oft a tear the lonesome wanderer shed,
Was it for love's or friendship's broken vow?
Ambition foil’d, or what beside of wo?
He touch’d his harp and pour'd this simple lay,
What strain was his would any care to know,
Linger—albeit Time brooks not delay,
And listen tho’ the lyre his pinions fail to stay !

“Hail Night! when Contemplation—heavenly

maid,
From her bright sphere descends, and deigns
a theme
With mortal wight in the sequester'd shade,
Or by the crystal fount, or glassy stream!
When may be kenn’d each planet's azure beam
In their translucent waters mirror'd true !
Unruffl’d by a zephyr's breath,-which seem
While studded there thine imag'd stars we view,
Another arch divine,—another cloudless blue!
 THE SOLITARY. 49

“'Tis in the stilly hours of night I love

To muse alone beside the deep blue sea,
Where 'mongst the white rocks gleaming far
above
The seamew nestles, and the playful glee
Of winds and waters speak his dwelling free;
Dark is thy bosom, Ocean, and unknown
The creatures springing aye to life from thee!
Earth's farthestshores full proudly dost thou own
The cradle of thy waves, fromic'd to torrid zone!
“And thus I view thee, stretching far and wide
Thy sapphire sheet with brinyiips to kiss
The dim horizon where thy distant tide
Seems bounded:—Lo! a gorgeous sight is this
wh: sky
bliss
and wave unite!—No common
I feel while gazing on thy face sublime;
Thy Maker's image hail! sublime abyss I
Men perish ere they reach their human prime;
Thy brow is ever young, and mocketh wrinki'd
Time !

“Majestic is thy dread expanse, serene

As tho’ a wreck had never strewn its wave;
Lovely thou art, as yet had never been
Thy depths the mariner's remorseless grave,
And thou art glorious, for thou dost lave
Shores where bright freedom greets her native
sky!
And thou dost kiss far lands that bear the
slave
where Afrić's sons in galling bondage lie,
And to thy heedless flood their woes unceasing
sigh.
E.
50 THE SOLITARY.

“What armaments and fleets in ages past

Have cross'd thy wide and fathomless domain!
And still doth ride full many a stately mast
Upon the surges of thy boundless reign
With their long pennons floating o'er the
main,
Upon whose decks perchance as fade from view
The shores of Albion, with sudden pain
Some gazing mariner a tear or two
Oft sheds for parted friends, ere yet he sighs
“Adieu !’

“Oh! what are ages? they resemble the

Billows that tempest dasheth upon shore,
Which back recede to thine eternity
Of waters when their swell is burst and o'er !
Another wakes its momentary roar,
And lasheth the hoar cliff with silver spray,
Whose ire subsiding, having spent its store,
It fades within thy breast—and of its stay
No vestige doth remain — by others wash’d
away!

“Yon paly moon her beams of silver light

Sheds o'er the waveless waters as they sleep,
Surpassing beautiful! can this be night,
So wrapt in silence? not a breath doth creep
Of wandering zephyr o'er th’ extended deep:
Gentle as love is all the slumbering sea
Upon whose shores I my lone vigils keep,
None linger on the scene save only me,
Musing on hopes decay’d—onjoys of memory!
 THE SOLITARY. 51

“O Memory ! thou bane of happiness,

Why wilt thou ever round my heart entwine
Only to mock its wearisome distress,
And paint remember'd joys no longer mine? .
Bright visions of the past—I must resign
Realities for shadows, smiles for wo,
And with regretful sadness daily pine
That nought of bliss cheers the £ below,
No streams of rapture thro' life's dreary desert
flow !

“The world I love not, ’tis a place of care,

The world I love not, ’tis a scene of pain,
The world I love not, sorrow and despair
Have o'er its brightest scenes diffus’d their
reign -

And shrouded them with gloom; yet must

Tenna1n

Until resolved at length to soulless clay

Albeit reckless of its follies vain,
On Life’s dark shore, where nought is but decay,
And Death's unlovely form haunts all the
gloomy way !
“‘How wonderful is Death!"—a wakeless sleep
The dreamless slumber of Eternity:
Its couch the tomb, that rude inglorious heap
Of dust we fear yet know not rightly why;
Is it so hard to lay us down and die,
We would not banish pain for lasting rest?
Not free our bosoms from each bursting sigh,
So calmly to repose with the kind vest
Of darkness wrapt around, nor troubl’d, nor
distrest?

E 2
52 THE SOLITARY.

“When gazing on the reckless face of Death

So calm I mark'd each frigid feature there,
Death seem’d like sleep, save that there came
no breath
Tochase the mourner's hopeless,mute despair:
No more the heart beat with the pulse of care!
And silence on those lips had set its seal,
No longer words of joy or grief to share
In this cold world, where Life can but reveal
What Death will plunge in gloom—its apathy
not feel.

“And what is Life?—a breathing, fleshly being,

Wherein we eat, drink, sleep, love, hope,
despair!
Its ultimate continually seeing–
The marble sleep of Death!—How happy there
Its tranquil aspect shows beyond compare!
By aught unmov’d, solemnly beautiful,
Mark the chill bosom as the lily fair!
Alas! that foul decay should e'er annul
Such graces in the grave to skeleton and skull.
“And thou art gone to the unsated grave,
Friend of my early youth, to memory dear?
Couldst thou no longer ruthless Time outbrave
So laid thee down to rest upon the bier?
Mine eye is dim with the obsequious tear;
The earth-worm haunts thy chill and tainted
cell, -

Mocking with life the scenes which there

appear;
Thy fame was told thus by the passing bell,
‘He was, and is not l’ Lo! that dirge for all
shall swell.
 THE SOLITARY. 53

“But Time's rude hand had cloth'd thy brow

with snow,
And grav'd full many a furrow on thy cheek,
Death came, a long-expected guest, but lo!
Again he comes, and doth destruction wreak
Upon another ! nor doth stay to speak
His coming in the language of decay !
And snaps a thread I had not look’d would
break,
Fate gave the mandate, Death dar'd but obey,
And nipp’d a gentle flower, that scarce had
bloom'd a day !
“Thus gazewe on the lily's vestal hue;
A few short hours beholds it wither'd quite
Upon the stem where late admir’d it grew
In the cool shade it lov’d by envious blight
It's beauties ravish'd all; ungrateful sight !
Such life was thine, so transient and so pure,
On thee no more shall sorrow e'er alight
Which all who tread Life's pathway yet endure,
Nor ill in guise of good, thine eye deceiv'd
allure !

“Thou lov'd one! yes! by Nature's closest tie

Thy heart was join’d to mine, and must we
art 2
E’en at thy bridal Death stood waiting b
To sever hand from hand, and heart from heart;
Relentless tyrant! whose unerring dart
Spares never young, nor beautiful, nor brave!
The heart’s '# anguish or the soul’s keen
Smart
Availeth not, for those we love to save
A day, a fleeting hour, a moment from the grave!
E 3
54 THE SOLITARY.

“For thou, alas! wert borne in Life's fair spring

From thy fresh nuptial couch, alone to sleep
In the dull tomb, where Time's unweary wing
Brings thee no sadness, bids thee not to weep!
Sound is thy resting, and thy slumbers deep !
Forgetting all, but ne'er to be forgot,
Of thee doth memory a record keep;
And lingers ever o'er thy grave's lone spot
To mourn thy timeless doom, and weep that
thou art not.

“Thou wert a minister of love below,

And haply yet thy spirit lingers nigh!
The tears which bathe my cheek, thou mark'st
their flow
Perchance, and hearest each despairing sigh.
Lo! what ennobling scenes around me lie
Earth, Ocean, Space-dost thou inherit these ?
Wast, wond’rous, emblems of Eternity!
What shall this secret to the soul disclose?
This dark enigma solve? Ah ! only Death’s
repose!
“Farewell! there is a magic in the word
Which breathes a thrilling sadness o'er the
heart,
A sound it is that never may be heard
Without a hope—with those from whom we
art
TO ": again,—or else more keen the smart
The hour of £ brings:—Again farewell
Dies into silence ! But new thoughts will start
Of thee and thine e'en language fails to tell,
The soul !" can paint in her clay-moulded
cell.
 THE SOLITARY. 55

“Which is the spirit's temple? can it be

This animated matter now contains
Those “thoughts that wander thro’ eternity!”
Is this the throne whereon fair Reason reigns
Mystic, invisible 2 She who enchains
All faculties, uncomprehended still,
An immaterial essence man attains
Not to the knowledge of Death cannot kill,
Immortal, vast, intense, the mind, the human
Will !

“Where such do now inhabit, worms will feed;

Eyes that now burn with rage, or beam with
bliss
Soon in their dwellings loathsome worms will
feed
"Mid tainted charnels; where, forget not this,
Must all ere long their common parent kiss.
The prince, the serf, the mother, and her child
There woo corruption none did ever miss,
The broken heart, breasts once with rapture
wild
There # in one dust, together calm and
mild !

“Life, like an iris made of various dyes,

Spans transiently the dark abyss of Time,
Love, friendship, hope, despair, deep enmities,
Hate, jealousy, suspicion, fraud, and crime,
Compose its hues' Death is a thing sublime
Partaking naught of these–Lethean wave
That sweeps o'er all; thus under Ocean's slime
Past wrecks lie buried : like a vortex’ cave
Life’s fragile bark it draws within its ruthless
grave.
56 THE SOLITARY.

“Life's scenes are sad, few happy of them all,

Death has but one, and that is still the same,
Unto whose level must the proudest fall,
Dust is but dust, change as ye will its name !
And yet how high will man's ambition aim :
A child of dust ! and some will sink how low,
To deepest depths of vile unblushing shame,
The midnight robber will some pity show,
But Plutus' worshippers, nor love, nor pity
know.

“How doth the squalid miser hoard his gold,

And gloat upon it with his sunken eyel
How doth his pale gaunt fingers clutch the cold
And sordid metal How his heart will sigh,
That Death, who haply then is lurking nigh,
May part him and his stores; poor worm of
earth ! -

Whose ear to pining Poverty's sad cry

Ne'er listen’d while young Pity sprung to birth;
Whose hand ne'er wip’d a tear, or brought his
fellow mirth.

“Wile mortal! let him clutch the glittering bane

Of his and others' joys,—hath he a heart?
What blacken'd deeds may not its depths con
tain; -

Compassion formeth not the smallest part

Of its whole structure; never yet did start
The tear of soft emotion from his ee;
Unmov’d he views his burthen’d brother
smart;
His breast is steel'd 'gainst sights of misery;
At Mammon’s venal shrine he bends the totter
ing knee. -
 THE SOLITARY. 57

“No tear is shed above his lifeless dust

When he lies mouldering in the silent tomb,
By all good men his memory is curst,
And the grave bless'd which wraps him in its
gloom!
There let him rest in foul corruption’s womb,
His fittest dwelling place, while others share
The pelf which hoarding did his life consume,
Squander'd as quickly by his spendthrift heir,
Who sneers when he is named—and mocks the
miser’s care.

“Where beats a heart made never Love its

guest?
That heart how happy, but alas! how cold,
Not Jealousy corrodes its envied rest,
Nor was it formed in Passion's glowing mould !
Albeit perchance the sordid love of gold,
The miser's vice, hath made that heart its shrine,
Sooner love’s sorrows would I bear untold
Than ‘delve for life in Mammon's dirty mine!’
Unworthy him whose form reflects the MOST
DIVINE.

“Even as sand doth new impressions take

From every footfall on the wave-wash’d shore,
Doth sorrow on the heart new traces make,
Whence Lethe's wave effaceth never more
Its deep-worn vestiges which gall full sore,
Time passing on in his incessant flight
Deep graven leaves their impress as before;
Morn comes at length to banish dismal night,
The heart thus plung'd in gloom knows not a
morrow's light
58 THE SOLITARY.

“Its sun is set while memory lingers on

Those scenes, once bright with his all-cheer
1ng ray.
Thus the lone pilgrim, when its sheen is gone,
Views the last relic of departing day,
Which leaveth him benighted on his way:
Adown his cheek a bright drop of regret
And sorrow findeth unimpeded way !
As ebon night her canopy of jet
O'er heaven's wide arch outspreads, his pathway
darkening yet.
“How blest the villager's contented life,
Who keeps the “even tenor of his way!”
Apart from busy scenes, and sounds of strife,
And views his children on the greensward play,
Disporting there blythe as the sunny ray
Whose clear effulgence gilds the summer stream;
For Oh! he feels, tho' life and health decay,
These are the relics of his youthful dream,
His night of age to cheer with smiles that filial
beam :

“And there is one beside him, from whose cheek,

Tho' time has chas’d the bloom, and dimm'd
- the eye,
Still in her gentle features, soft and meek,
Traces of beauty linger—loth to fly,
Like day's departing beams from western sky!
Wrecks of what hath been, – plainly which
avouch
Her rustic charms did vainer nymphs outvie.
Thou reed on which man leaneth, woman much
He owes '.
frail support. Life yields none other
Sulcin
 THE SOLITARY, 59

“Ocean thou liest tranquil as a child

Tasting sweet sleep within maternal arms,
Thy brow is beautiful, serene, and mild,
Kiss'd by the lips of Night! Now are thy
charms
Silence and solitude! no rude alarms
Of tempests frighten thee! I love thy shore
When the calm elements prove soothing balms
Unto the spirit, and the soul can soar
While Hope a floweret plucks from the full
future's store !

“Thou glorious firmament! on thee I gaze,

And at a glance unnumber'd worlds survey,
Fixing the soul in rapturous amaze,
Resplendent still as erst their radiant sway
Undimm'd the lustre of each fitful ray !
Ages have pass'd, and nations 'neath their ken
To dull Oblivion speedily away,
Yet smile they still upon the paths of men,
Illuming seas, and groves, where cities tri
umph’d then.
“And where the festal group was seen to smile
In those evanish’d days £ years,
While shouts of joyance shook each massive pile,
The frown of desolation now appears'
The blasting breath of Time the marble wears,
Crumbling gray battlement and rocky tower,
Which view no more a trampled nation’s
tears;
Rome, Greece they saw in glory's gilded hour,
Then crush'd, o'erthrown, enslav’d, by Fate's
opposing power !
60 ThE SOLITARY.

“The mariner upon the deep blue ocean,

From friends, from home, each scene belov’d
afar,
Borne onward by the vessel's winged motion,
Athwart the billow's foam, surveys each star,
That marks his progress from its crystal car,
And heaves a sigh for those he left behind;
Lov'd forms are thronging round him, and
thev are
Those which alone his manly bosom bind
Unto his natal home wherein his heart's en
shrin'd,—
“Where now are on their nightly couches laid,
To dream of him whose fancy views them
sleeping,
The hoary patriarch, and the lovely maid,
Whose image aye is in his bosom's keeping,
A sister! on whom beauties Time is heaping
With hand profuse, and prodigal of grace,
Whose cheek he prays may ne'er be dew’d
with weeping,
Nor sorrow on her £ow e'er stamp its trace
But in: and mirth blend on her virgin
ace!

“A silvery wavelet dashing o'er the prow

Recals #. from his reverie, and straight
The vision flies with all 'twas its to show :
O Memory ! what can thy charm abate
To those who feel no envious hand of fate,
Sever for aye from the nigh bursting heart
Each scene beheld so beautiful of late?
Which of its past existence form’d a part,
The dearer : more keen the anguish and the
Smart
 THE SOLITARY. 61

“Yon moon hath clomb of night's still noon the

arch,
And silent as oblivion holds her way
On thro’ the heavens! far as the eye can search
The stars peep through their canopy of gray;
The sprinkled radiance of the milky way
Beams beautifully yon O gorgeous £1
Whose charms must fade before the garish
Day,
With £o wander lone is my delight,
As link'd in mutual love, which nought may
disunite.

“I snatch a rapture from thy solitude

The busy scenes of life cannot impart,
When not a human whisper doth intrude
To break the spell it flings across the heart
Silent and deep as thought I nor would depart
Again to mix in life's promiscuous crowd,
And join the motley group which shadows
start
In chase of some new object, vainly proud
Of petty joys, and fame as paltry as ’tis loud.

“We feel a gloomy vacuum of heart

Amid life's changes, something absent there
Which should be present, an essential part
Of mortal life,—philosophy to bear
Its evils with a calm, and placid air;
The tomb is not far off; why torture then
Our spirits musing on the griefs we share?
Tho' gazing on the world’s extended den
Its scenes make our hearts sick with sympathy
for men.
F
62 THE SOLITARY.

“Beneath the canopy of silent Night

What scenes are acting now?–Over his wine
The bacchante shouts, and drains the goblet
bright,
The fond wife for the loveless concubine
Forsakes, and her fair image doth resign,
Mi'ing domestic bliss—the only joy
That’s left to man of paradise divine, (1)
Who will with deeper wo life's cup alloy,
And exile the sole hope which fate would not
destroy.
“Around the bed of their expiring sire
Methinks I view a group of children met,
Pallid his brow, his eye hath lost its fire,
Their urchin cheeks with guileless tears are
wet, [debt,
Their mother weeps while he pays Nature's
Who soon shall leave them to the storms of life
Expos'd and friendless,—nor can he forget
The sorrows which await them: mark the strife
'Twixt death and love, and say which cuts with
keenest knife?

“Her hand is locked in his—he strives to speak

But lacks the power, for life is ebbing fast;
She sobs convulsively, the heart might break
With lesser pang—a change hath overcast
His lineaments; she marks it—it has pass'd;
The link is broken, she is left alone—
She and her orphans, naked to the blast;
She clasps them to her breast: a heart of stone
Might melt at such a scene, her anguish is
unknown |
 THE SOLITARY. 63

“Death, like a cloudy curtain o'er the sky,

Conceals the happy scenes which lie beyond
Its veil of envious gloom: Eternity
Sits smiling there! then why my soul despond?
Each happy spirit in that world hath donn’d
A robe unsoil’d by the rank breath of Time
Of unalloy'd delight. What potent bond
Detains me in this universe of crime,
Where sigh is link'd on sigh, from being so
sublime?

“The secret hand of changeless destiny,

Which guideth mortal wanderers from the
womb
Thro’ daedal mazes of mortalit
To the hush’d chamber of £e halcyon tomb :
What blight destroyeth man’s ephemeral
gloom?
What is the guerdon of ennobling deeds?
Where youth and age have found a kindred
doom,
Behold the fruit which springeth from such
seeds—(2)
Death—umpire of all doubts, and prover of all
creeds!

“Oh! who would tarry fetter'd by the chain

Of cold existence in this world of grief,
Loathing the links that bind him, while disdain
Curves the contemning lip ! A vain relief,
Yet mark of bitter detestation brief;
In thought I view a venerable sire,
Whose patriarchal locks proclaim him chief
Of Time's late wanderers, and whose spirit's fire
Stern and unquench'd burns on, while those
around expire !
F 2
64 THE SOLITARY.

“A life of many lives is his—a long

And weary tract his eye perceives behind,
Strewn with Death's trophies, with whom erst
his tongue
Held converse, social transfer of the mind;
Where are they now? The cooling evening
wind
Sweeps o'er their graves! the cypress and the yew
Wave their dark branches o'er those homes
design'd
For all who ever live;—how blest the few
Whose lives were love, and snapp'd ere love to
sorrow grew !
“A baseless phantasy, a fleeting dream,
Are all the evanescent hopes we prove,
Wrecks on Life's ocean's wild, and angry stream
Are the frail barks of early joy and love :
Yet onward still, and onward are we drove
By Time's rude tempest feeling not dismay;
An hour will come in which we shall not rove,
When immortality emits its ray,
And Earth shall shake her #p of our now
breathing clay.
“The past, however bright or murk its scenes,
We gaze back on but may return no more
Unto them,-Fate's dread barrier intervenes
Forbidding us to retrograde; before
Our pathway lies the future to explore,
Where Hope on wings of heavenly light hath fled,
Whose smile is daybreak on a dreary shore
And like that flame which wreath'd an infant's
head (3)
Ahalo of delight round Sadness brow doth shed!
 THE SOLITARY. 65

“The present moment buries all the past,

Youth, dimpl’d infancy, age, manhood's prime,
How sweet may be our joys not long they last,
Borne swiftly hence on the fleet wing of Time,
How high soe'er our aspirations climb,
Be it ambition's summit they would gain
Of conquest, glory, sovereignty, or crime,
A coming hour will prove such striving vain,
And wrap us in our shrouds, all that we can
retain.

“Pale Hecate! image of my soul thou art,

Lone wanderer where all is loneliness,
Parent of thought and feeling—which apart
From clamour doth th' amusing mind possess,
And people with bright phantasies, no less
Than speculations on its future state,
When is lain by life's mantle of distress,
Confirming or confuting moment great
Of man's imaginings, deciding hour of fate;

“When shall be drawn apart the veil that hides

From prying man the future's shadowy land!
Thro' whose dim vales oblivious Lethe glides?
Would we could taste that stream who tor
tur'd stand
By memories, on life's spectre-haunted strand!
Why from the draught are mortallips restrain’d
Since it were bliss?—withheld why from his
hand
The chalice of forgetfulness?—attain'd,
We wish we ne'er had pluck'd the fruit of
knowledge gain'd.
F 3
66 THE SOLITARY.

“What makes the misanthrope? to know no

Inore

Time can return what he hath borne away,

To view the lov’d pass to death's silent shore,
Mark desolation all his gloomy way,
Fair hope of fiend despair become the prey,
To view dead flowers on his pathway strewn,
Which blossom'd erst the ' of life's day!
Ken other's joys, a stranger to their tone,
Amidst a crowded world to feel himself alone.

“Like music wild which on the ebbing wind

Hath died away, leaving the spirit bound
In extacy,–the faculties of mind
Will feign the past but well-remember'd sound
Of voices which still seem to echo round
The confines of mortality, and pour
A dying cadence on the ear profound,
E’en while the heart doth with a sigh deplore,
Those lips now cold and pale may murmur love
no more l

“Why gaze ye upon earth, ye steadfast stars

Which throng the dusk illimitable blue
Of heaven's eternity from your bright cars?
Are we the mutual mystery to you
Which ye are unto us? some zephyr thro'
Yon silent void th’ interrogation bear
To where those planets, musically true,
Perform their orbits; learn the secret there
What beings haunt those realms, what loves
and griefs they share !
 THE SOLITARY. 67

“Thy wing is far too weak for such a flight

As is the mind's a child of air art thou;
Content I’ll gaze on their beholding light,
Nor vainly curious further seek to know.
From knowledge, happiness doth seldom flow;
The village rustic by his humble hearth
Feels truer bliss within his bosom glow,
Than in the sage’s heart had ever birth,
Who in such fruitless search exhausts the lore
of earth!

“I hearthy pinions delicately soft

Waken the ripple which till now had slept;
Upon the lily thou reposest oft,
And in the rose's velvet couch hath crept,
Till waken'd by the bee forth thou hast
stepp’d,
Thy wings rich laden with its sweet perfume,
To greet the dews lamenting night had wept!
The vestal’s cheek to kiss thou dost presume,
Which o'er its damask sheds a more inviting
bloom.

“With airy ' advanceth vernal Spring,

And scatters flowers on ev'ry bank, eachgrove
And woodland green with her acclaim doth
ring!
Spring yields to Summer when the amorous
dove
Soothes his fond mate with liquid notes of
love:
Next Autumn enters, and with yellow grain
Ceres hath cloth'd the cornfield,—and above
The harvest moon delights the happy swain, .
Who kens on every hand the guerdon of his pain.
68 THE SOLITARY.

“Then tottering Winter comes with beard of

Snow,
An aged hermit from some northern cave,
All hung with icicles, whence cold winds blow,
And frost congealeth ocean’s briny wave,
Yclad in furs the surly storms to brave,
He wanders forth, and ev'ry tree is bare,
No foliage decks their spreading branches,
SaVe

Where solitary 'midst the chilling air

Some evergreen its form uplifteth here and
there!

“Thus pass the seasons of each changeful year!

Thus passeth human life youth is all fire,
But soon its genial glow doth disappear,
And its bright prospects one by one expire,
Leaving the heart a blank: fervent desire
Is chill’d by scorn, and Winter on the soul
Cometh apace. But cease my weary lyre
Man’s miseries to recount, whose moments roll
Embitter'd as they pass by drops of keenest dole.
“I have seen tempest when the lightning's
gleam
Rent the lit welkin to the astonish'd sight,
Waking the thunder from its silent dream,
In all its dread magnificence and might,
While startl’d Ocean gazed in wild affright,
Rous’d by its awful voice from sleep profound,
And #" lamp was quench'd amid the
night,
While # to cliff reverberated round
The language of the storm which shook the
trembling ground !
 THE solITARY. 69

“A calm ensu’d—the elements were still

Young Morn advanc'd with her resplendent
smile
Charming each valley green and beech-crown'd
III :

Thus man amid life's tempest roams awhile,

Those ills of life, distress, neglect, and toil,
Oppress his spirit, till it is set free
From earth’s immurements, where no joys
beguile
The fleeting moments as they onward flee,
Or if to others still they bring no bliss to me.
“Like to the silken rose whose lovely bloom
Charmeth the fairest, sweetest Summer hours
Pluck’d even while its fragrant rich perfume
Floats on the scented breeze—supreme of
flowers!
Thus would I perish. Not ambition’s towers
My name should bear in monumental stone,
For vain were ostentation’s gaudy powers,
They could not hide the follies life had shown
Once to have sway’d the heart then lifeless and
alone.

“Frown on thou rude, unthinking world, frown

On
Nor spare a smile for one who loves not thee!
I will not ask it since my hopes are gone;
Thy joys are but a dreamer's phantasy;
Yet life's no dream but sad reality |
, Let servile minions bask in fortune's rays,
I to possess them will not bend the knee;
Frown on till Time hath number'd out my days,
Then shall I calmly sleep, nor heed thy blame
or praise!
70 THE SOLITARY.

“Adieu, bright moments, never to return

When Hope's fair chaplet crown'd my joyous
brow,
Since wither'd long, whose faded flowers I
mourn,
Lovely and transient as the gorgeous bow
Which spans the arch of heaven, based below !
My spirit clings unto the past, I view
n thought's true mirror all 'twas wont to
show,
While with regret my heart yet bleeds anew,
And with a sigh, twin-born, steals forth; loved
scenes, adieu !”

Here ceased his lay, the quivering chords grew

mute,
And silence once more closed her spell around,
No murmur did whose awful reign dispute,
All nature seem’d in its soft magic bound,
Only the wavelet's low complaining sound
Was h: ;—and thus he watch'd the stars grow
alle
Till 'm new wak'd, her dewy tresses
With £
£, when
h rosV beams!
h h pering, “Dav
whispering, ‘D
“Day

He rose and sought his home in some se

quester'd vale!
 THE SOLITARY. 71

N O 'T E S.

(1) “Domestic happiness, thou only bliss

Of Paradise, that hast surviv'd the fall!”
COWPER.

(2) “I should have known what fruit would spring from such a
seed.”
BYRoN.

(3) It is said of one of the Roman Emperors (I forget which),

that, while a child in his cradle, a lambent flame was observed
to play about his head, which was considered by those about
him as ominous of future greatness.

END OF THE SOLITARY,

 S O N N E T S.

I.

NoT from her natal wave the Paphian queen

More of immortal beauty did disclose,
To whom in homage glancing billows rose,
Then faded sparkling in the blue serene
Awed by her graceful majesty of mien,
And loveliness immaculate:—with train
Of nymphs and tritons on the prideful main
Attendant,-as in rosy fiction seen—
To charm the fancy of the bards of eld
And fire the limner's or the sculptor's soul
With the Promethean spark from heaven stole
Of godlike genius, not to be withheld !
Than thou to thrill my bosom with the whole
Of Love's dear anguish, first by me beheld.
 SONNETS. 73

II.

WHAT gazing eloquence pervades those eyes,

Where love speaks well—yet uttereth no
word?
Alanguage mute, express'd—but never heard,
Within their radiant orbs serenely lies!
Unutter'd love—that teacheth e'en the wise
Its potent spell as sages have averr'd
When those delightsome pangs they had in
curr'd,
Which from the heart wring oft reluctant sighs!
Such tortures haunt my breast, yet can I not
Turn from thy brow my ardent eyes away,
Nor could the fatal magic be forgot
Which wakens ev’ry pulse to madd’ning play,
E’en should I seek some wild and desert grot,
And hide me from thy face—and that of day !
74 SONNETS.

III.

WHEN purple Morning from her eastern cave

Each orient billow tipp'd with liquid flame!
While rose the sun, day's empire wide to claim,
His brilliant banner o'er the world to wave,
And waken forest melodies l—which gave
To echo, question—whence reply there came,
An imitative melody—the same !
Such as th’ entranced soul would ever crave,
When none were near—to rove the mountain’s
brow
Oft have I rose and wander'd out by stealth,
While airs Hygerian ting'd my cheek with
health !
Those times are sped—by memory colour'd
nOW,

My day of life—albeit in its dawn

Is murkier far than e'er was nature’s morn!
 SONNETS. 75

IV.

THE ivied ruin mouldering to its fall,

The prostrate column from its basement
thrown,
The moss which greenly mantles tree and
stone,
The crumbling arches of each antique hall,
The overthrow of empires great and small,
The form of death, which darkens ev'ry zone,
The finding continents as yet unknown,
The chains to forge which shall their sons en
thrall !
The bitter cup on genius oft bestow'd,
The cold neglect that virtue still must bear,
The hopes attain’d not whelm'd in irksome care,
The “fardels of the heart,” a weary load,
The future prospect, hope or sorrow sees;
These are thy works, O Time! nor only these.

G 2
76 SONNETS.

W.

I HAD a vision on a Summer's eve

What time the glowworm his nocturnal sheen
Displays beneath the hedge-row's arching
green,
And Night her dusky web began to weave
O'er universal nature—and his leave
The Sun had taken with refulgent mien
Of the far Occident;—the glorious scene
Which of him nightly doth the world bereave.
I had a vision in that languid hour—
A dream of love—and beauty—and of thee!
In sleep thine image came, its brilliant dower,
The genii of my slumbers,—soon to flee:
But waking had a more entrancing power,
For Lesbia's self was looking down on me!
 SONNETS. 77

VI.

Written in Westminster Abbey.

MAJESTIC fane! rear'd in the days of eld !

Mausoleum of greatness—and of worth,
And buried dignities of mortal earth !
Within thy walls be ev'ry thought expell’d
Save that of awe l—and ev'ry sense compell’d
To solemn musings, far remov’d from mirth,
Here Time hath raised a temple, where the
birth
And death of centuries are chronicl’d
Here the dim, dubious daylight faintly streams
Thro' antique windows, on each marble bust,
Whose great originals repose in dust,
Yet often rise upon our nightly dreams!
And here the hallow'd tone of holy prayer
Now meets the ear—now dies in quiet air.
78 SONNETs.

VII.

On Reading the Remains of Henry Kirke White.

WHITE! to thy name posterity shall pay

The homage genius ever must command,
From whatsoever region sprung—or land !
Thy name unnotic’d shall not fade away,
Nor with the hind's pass surely to decay,
But 'mongst the great in virtue take its stand;
Nor with the least that in the noble band
Of genius shines, to Time's remotest day !
And which a constellation, pure and bright,
Its eve shall gild with ever-grateful beams,
Refreshing to the classic student's sight,
Emitting to his ken empyreal gleams :
Till closes on him Death’s drear starless night,
Which to the weary soul so welcome seems.
 SONNETS. 79

VIII.

To thee I turn for refuge–friendly thought,

Who in this lonely breast hast made thy cell,
My soul and thee are wed l—and jointly dwell
Communing aye : — tho’ sadness thou hast
brought,
The stoic's firmness thou hast also taught
The partner of thy being:—It is well,
Feeling the tide of sorrow fiercely swell,
To calm the bosom with its tempest fraught
With a resign’d composure:—such to me
Has been thy lesson, and I own its worth !
Friends change—grow cold—e'en love is first
to flee
The mortal doom of its too mortal birth:
To whom then shall I turn but unto thee,
Companion of my pilgrimage on earth?
80 SONNETS.

IX.

WHY weep we for the dead, and wish them back

Within the world's inhospitable bourne?
Again with us to suffer, sigh, and mourn!
Love, friendship, hope, and sympathy to lack,
Which should illume its sad and dreary track,
And in their stead, endure the sneer of scorn,
On the fool worldling's lip—of folly born,
Malice disguis’d—and envy's dark attack!
Why weep we for the dead? They slumber calm;
No weary morn shall break their dreamless
rest,
The spell that binds them, nought can break its
charm,
It is Eternity's! At Fate's behest
Time crushes worlds—or nips the tender flower,
That move thro’ space,—or blooms in summer’s
bower!
 SONNETS, 81

X.

THE steel-clad warrior in the ranks of war

Invests himself with hauberk, helm, and brand,
Chivalry's panoply in ev'ry land,
And proudly shows each seamed gash and scar,
Achiev’d in battle’s front—and victory’s car,
When valiant hearts resign'd life's latest sand!
Beneath ambition’s foot—oppression’s hand,
Beneath the rays obscur'd of eve's soft star!
Ambition' on thy sanguinary name,
The tears of widows, orphans, still attend,
And curses deep, and wailings without end?
Yet monarchs, heedless, love war's gory game,
And still pursue—regardless of the groans
Of broken hearts,—their sport with human
bones!

16 March 1843.
82 SONNETS.

XI.

On this day I complete my Twenty-fourth year,

13 December 1844.

WHY have I liv'd throughout these changeful

years
Ofjoy and sadness? What remains to me
Of them? What pearl from Truth's reluctant
Sea,

Have I recover'd? For what have the tears

Of youth flow'd freely'mid its hopes and fears?
What treasure have I gather'd from the past
That is not transient, but shall ever last
While winged hours succeed their short com
peers?
Nothing remains but memory of hours
That might have been—but may not be im
prov’d,
And wither'd leaves of brightly tinted flowers
That Hope erst gather'd, and that fancy lov’d,
And memory of friends in Death's dark bowers
For ever hid,—by Time and change unmov’d 1
 [ 83 ]

MISCELLANIES.

KÖRNER.

FAIR is the chaplet thy fatherland weaves thee,

Star of its chivalry, hero, and bard,
To hang on the tomb where all weeping she
leaves thee
To honour, and fame, and undying regard!
Fair was thy morn till fate clouded its shining,
Fair was the flower that beside thee is lain",
Fair was thy wreath till the cypress entwining,
Darken'd its sheen to revive not again |
Sad—that a spirit which eagle-like soaring
Could gaze with firm eye upon victory's sun,
Should fall in the hour #its noble adoring,
And die ere the struggle of glory were won 1
Bright are thememories where thou artsleeping,
Lingering round the far spot of thy grave,
Bright are the tears of thy fatherland’s weeping
For him who that fatherland perish'd to
save!

* His sister, Emma Sophia Louisa, who was subsequently

buried in the same grave with him.
84 SERENA DE.

II.

SERENADE.

GAILY, love, the stars are gleaming,

Merrily the waves are flowing,
Silently the world is dreaming,
Farewell, love, I must be going!

I must seek my wonted pillow,

Dearest, on the ocean deep,
Till Aurora gilds the billow,
In my bark I'll hence and sleep !
Bright the vesper star is beaming
Far above on things below,
Like the world I would be dreaming,
Fare thee well, for I must go!
 HARK, THE MERRY CHIME! 85

III.

HARK, THE MERRY CHIME!

HARK I the merry chime
Gaily sounds on the ear,
In the pleasant evening time,
At the close of the year !

Listen to its tone

As it falls now and swells,
While echo sits alone
And replies from the dells!

But night cometh on

Like the shadow of fear,
And the merry chime is gone
Like a spell, from the ear !

The spring of our time

Has its music as clear,
And which fades like the chime
At the close of the year!
 [ 86 |

THE SPIRIT LOVER :

A FRAGMENT OF AN UNFINISHED DRAMA.

A Romantic Country. A Castellated Mansion

descried in the distance. HoRIMERG discovered
reclining on a bank. Time—sunset.
HoRIMERG (singing, and accompanying his voice
with his guitar).
WHEN Sol’s noontide beam
On the flashing cascade,
Flings the light of its gleam,
And the fir-tree its shade;
I hear that such are,
But I know not their form:
The ray of the star,
And the frown of the storm,
Never cheer me with light,
Or appal me with dread,
All around me is night,
Like the night of the dead!
When the pale moon appears
In her splendour above,
Whose beauty endears
Hours sacred to love,
While false hearts dissemble
Beneath her cold beam,
And fair bosoms tremble
With hope's fickle dream—
 THE SPIRIT LOVER. 87

Unchang'd is my plight,
Whence no mortal can save,
Still around me ’tis night
Like the night of the grave!
(Solus.) There is some being near me,—for
I feel
A tepid vapour mantling o'er my face,
Such as my mother in my infant years
Breath'd on my cheek,—when with a parent's
kiss
She bless'd me fondly l—but alas! alas !
I have no mother now,-nor friend to guide,
Save one, a vassal:—All is silent, still,
'Twas but my feverish fancy, yet methought
I felt the breath of —
(A Voice.) Horimerg, attend 1
There is one near thee, of superior essence
To earth-born creatures,—who from year to year,
Which with their wonted seasons have elaps’d—
And multitudinous changes—saw thee still
In virtue far transcending thy compeers
Of frail mortality,—and buoy’d in mind
Above the sea of sorrows that hath toss'd thee,
Resign'd to fate, whose awful fiat still
Hath to thV soul awarded nought but woe.
I am not of thy world, nor of thy race,
But viewing thee companionless,—cast out
Even by thy kindred,—from my spirit home
I come to soothe thy griefs and share them too!
Friendless as thou art here.
Horimerg. Could I but see thee!
(The Voice.) That couldst thou not, were
mortal vision thine; *

To gaze upon creation, and its charms,

Of mountain, flood, and fell—majestic all !
H 2
88 THE SPIRIT LOVER.
-

Rob'd in the sheen of day, or pall of night,

Or even's dusky shades, and sober hour;
I am not palpable to mortal eye,
Or carnal ken—
Horimerg. , Nor touch, or I would clasp thee!
Say who art thou?
(The Voice.) A creature of another sphere,
bevond
The reach of pain, or sorrow, which afflicts
Humanity like thine! Thou hast heard of such
As me.
Horimerg. But ne'er held converse with so
much
Of heaven, for from that world thou needs must
come,
Since pity is thy errand,—heaven alone
Retains the sympathy, -none feel it here ! . .
Cold as the clod whence they deriv'd their
forms
Are earth’s inhabitants l—unlike to thee,
Who cam'st to cheer my loneliness,—I care
No more for man—since I can pour my soul
And tell my sorrows forth to such as thee!
Who hast no part with mortals.
(The Voice.) Yes! a part,
Or I should ne'er have left my distant home
In the blue ether, where eternal spring,
More genial than the summer, and more bright
Of this creation, ever smiles around !
O'er scenes more fair than fabled Eden knew !
When earth 'tis said was young, and circling
SunS
Had scarce began their evolutions—yes!
I bear a part with mortals,—tho' forbidden!
Like the fam'd fruit, which on the inhibited tree
In Eden grew l—a part—which to my frame
 THE SPIRIT LOWER. 89

Inseparably clings!—as unto theirs

Did curiosity and wish to know,
A passion is the torture of my being
Harder to strive against than curious thought,
Which if it conquer,-to it yielding, I
Am rendered like thee, mortal,—
Horimerg. Can it be?
Mortal!—and not corporeal?—then what part
Of thee must die?—can spirit be extinguish'd :
(The Voice.) I must become as thou art!
Horimerg. What, incarnate !
And bear the clog of clay, in which the soul
Is coop’d, and hid 2–and made to suffer wo,
And all the ills entail'd on mortal life,
With death at last to close it?
(The Voice.) Even so !
Horimerg. What passion could reduce thy
frame to this?
What worm, what canker, what malicious
power,
Is planted in the bosom of all kind,
To be its own destroyer?—Is it evil?
Or good at war with universal ill?
(# Voice.) Is love or good or evil?
Horimerg. Doubtless good !
Being an heavenly attribute of God.
(The Voice.) But source of many sorrows, and
of mine !
Horimerg. Is it not lawful that ye love each
other?
For I have heard such beings were all love:
(The £)
alaS :
'Tis not my kind I love, but thine,
And would much rather be a daughter of
Mankind and Death, lov’d by the sons of earth,
Than ofmy kindred spirits!—To repose
H 3
90. TO DESPAIR.

# head upon thy bosom, in the form

Of mortal woman—and belov’d of thee—
I’dHorimera.
barter immortality! My bosom !
(The Voice.) Thine ! none other.
Horimera. I who ne'er
The face of man or woman yet beheld,
And know not beauty from deformity!
*k * 3% sk *

# * # :k *

TO DESPAIR.

1.
WHO art thou that within the human breast
Usurp'st the throne where happiness should
reign'
Tyrant to peace, and foe to gentle rest—
Neglect, and want, thy ministers of pain!
Dread power that in my bosom long hast lain;
What’s canker to the rose, art thou to life.
Around the heart thou twin'st a buring chain,
Making each passing hour with torture rife;
Who art thou, potentate–dark child of care?
Thou hear'st my bitter call, and answerest back,
“Despair!”
2

Why do I wander—heedless of the charms,

Which Nature's prodigality hath shed
O'er ev'ry scene?--No more my bosom warms
To view the flowrets deck the vernal mead,
 TWILIGHT. 9I

Hear the gay lark sing gladness overhead,

Or unseen cuckoo's note £ the breeze;
Why do I joyless meet a nightly bed?
Why do I weep, and what is my disease?
Tell me, grim potentate–dark child of care,
Thou hear'st my bitter call—I hear thy voice,
“Despair!”

TWILIGHT.

“Soft hour that wakes the wish and melts the heart.”
BYRON.

1.

THE solemn hour of twilight gently steals

O'er the dusk landscape-dim descried afar,
And Phoebus laves his chariot's burning wheels
While Hesper yonder guides her paly car.
2.
Adown the vales, along the public roads,
Groups of tir’d labourers wander pensive
home,
And view at distance their endear'd abodes,
From whence diurnal duties bade them roam.

3.

There the aged mother waits her son's return,

The new-made bride her husband welcomes
nigh,
The virgin's heart (a lesson sweet to learn)
Breathes fond anticipation's sweetest sigh!
92 TWILIGHT.

4.

The prattling infant, “miniature of life,”

Attains its place upon the wonted knee,
Nor dreams '' earth with future cares is rife,
But artless smiles its father's face to see :

5.

The willow drooping o'er the dimpled stream,

Kisseth its current as it flows away,
Deep, stainless, taciturn, as peaceful dream,
When wrapt in slumber, life's tir'd pilgrim
lay.
6.

The distant rapid from the village mill,

The mellow hum of voices on the gale,
Blend drowsily;—the £i hill
Gracefully swells from the surrounding vale.
7.

Afar—the church, and churchyard's silent awe,

O'er which mortality, a spectre, frowns,
There human pride awaits corruption’s maw,
And memory of fame oblivion drowns !
8

Hail, holy Twilight! welcome thrice the charm

Thou breathest
Emblem of £ unto man's deep-musing
all is calm,
soul,
Ere death's dark night casts shadow o'er the
whole.
 STANZAS. 93

STANZAS.

1.

MY heart! why shrink, or turn

In sadness and despair
From yonder simple urn,
Which tells—what once was fair
Hath pass'd away
Like fleeting day?
The cheek once smiles adorn’d now mantles
dull decay.
2.

Is life so sweet a thing

I would resign it never?
Or an envenom'd sting
Which galls, and that for ever?
If so, why fear
The friendly bier?
Though death impart no bliss, he cannot cause
a tear !

Oblivion's pall is spread

O'er man’s forgotten dust,
When with the silent dead
(As ev'ry mortal must)
He takes his rest,
A pallid guest,
Where not a sign disturbs his bosom's pensive
rest.
94 STANZAS.

4.

Corruption holds her sway

Within the darksome tomb,
Where sleeps he with decay,
Whose kisses chase the bloom
From cheeks more fair
Than wither there,
While life is warm and young—and mocks at
our despair.
5.

Hope feigneth lovelier scenes

Beyond Time's narrow bound,
The hope that intervenes
To cast a spell around
The path of life,
With sorrows rife,
But her illusion fades perchance, when ends its
strife.

6.

Life's fairest flower is love,

Which blooms within the breast,
And round the heart is wove
Alas! a fading guest,
A fragile chain,
Soon rent in twain,
Whose links of joy, alas! may ne'er unite again.
 MEDITATION. 95

MEDITATION.
MEDITATION | from above,
Come on pinions swift with love!
Wander with my pensive soul
Thro' gay summer's perfum’d bowers,
Where Flora sleeps on couch of flowers!
And young zephyrs fan her sleeping,
And violets gentle dews are weeping,
Beauty breathing o'er the whole!
While the lark aloft is soaring,
Nature's bounteous God adoring,
In heaven’s cerulean vault afar!
And the merry winds are sighin
Thro' groves where no leaf is dying!
Haste thee in thy airy car.
Where soft £ gently glide
Thro' fairy glens by mountain's side,
In which Phoebus laves his beam,
As sleep is gilded by a dream !
Come, O come with me!
Link’d with thee I love to wander,
O'er creation's charms to ponder
And man's destiny.
Hark! the breezes die away,
Thus the hopes of man decay,
Like they fade to noiseless breath—
Life is lost in silent death !
See the autumn leaves fall sere,
Harbinger of winter near,
Leaving bare the sylvan reign;
Thus daily some corroding pain
Comes our pleasures to destroy,
Withering love, and blighting joy!
Leaving stript the lonely heart
Of all save life—that constant smart!
96 FRIENDSHIP.

Life, thou art an empty name,

When thou hast not left an aim /
When we have outliv'd the charm
That did once our bosoms warm.
Was it love, or hope, or pleasure,
Or ambition's lofty measure?
'Twas to us thy only treasure!
'Twas our iris o'er £ flood
Which beneath dash'd wild and rude,
Which no more doth brightly beam,
Spirit of the gloomy stream :
And we trace our unknown way,
To death, to darkness, and decay.

FRIENDSHIP.
1.
THE world were but a dreary scene
If friendship's sun illum’d it not,
And dead to love the heart had been,
For love by friendship is begot.
©

E’en as the bud, which on its stem

Bursts forth a rose some future hour,
Fairest of summer's diadem,
From friendship springs love's peerless
flower.
3.
When ruthless pain, or slow disease
£ the suffering soul with gloom,
The hand of friendship lightens these
And cheers the pathway to the tomb.
 STANZAS. 97

STANZAS.

1.

I SIGH when I think of her name

Who sleeps in the sepulchre lone,
Altho’ never spoken by fame,
Altho’ to the world ’tis unknown.

2.

I fancy I hear her sad voice,

Albeit 'tis silent for aye,
Which erst bade my bosom rejoice,
And chas'd all my sorrows away.
3.

Her eyes which once beam'd with delight,

Doth memory brighten anew !
Tho' clos'd 'mid death’s morrowless night
Eternally hid from my view.
4.

Her lips, mine delighted to press,

Unto my soul’s ken reappear,
Alas! they no longer can bless,
And I start from the trance with a tear.
98 ANTICIPATION.

ANTICIPATION:
A FRAGMENT.

AGAIN I touch thy spirit-soothing strings

My lowly harp ! while Philomela sings
Within the umbrage of yon verdant wood,
A plaintive strain to listening solitude.
Here in the stillness of this midnight scene,
Where splendour tempts not with her tinsel'd
In 1611
Norvice attracts with fair voluptuous gaze
And serpent eye the soul to folly's ways,
Nor discord jars with harsh unwelcome strife,
But all harmonious as the springs of life,
Night, thought, and feeling reign with equal
sway
And lift the soul above its cell of clay.
“O thou dull god!” who on the shepherd's eyes
Hath set thy seal, while he forgetful lies
Of all his toils, the future, and the past,
Or in false dreams illusive hopes doth taste,
Which morning's dawn shall chase, with night's
dark shades,
When the lark soaring, wakes the tuneful glades
To harmony and song, and Phoebus smiles,
From ocean's wave, o'er fair Britannia's isles,
Approach not me, but o'er the sick man's bed
Unfurl thy pinions—lull his aching head,
Hold thy sweet vigils by the couch of care,
And snatch a moment's respite from despair
For the worn wretch, around whose burning
brain
Entwines unseen oppression's galling chain;
 ANTICIPATION. 99

Or where dissolv’d in beauty's languid arms

Sinks manly vigour melted by her charms,—
Moment of love’s endearing transport sweet,
When two fond hearts in thrilling union meet!
And taste soft bliss love can alone bestow,
The only sweet in life's sad cup of wo !
There o'er the couch hymeneal gently prest
By true love's votaries, wave the wand of rest,
And from their fancies chase ungrateful dreams
Till Sol awakes them with his garish beams,
And thou, a spectre of obsequious night,
Steal'st to some gloomy vault from hostile light,
Where with the owl and bat thou may’st abide
Till sunset's iris decks the western tide
Qf burnish’d ocean, and departing day
Resigns the world to Luna's pensive sway.
Hail, God of Nature! vast creation sprung
Forth from thy hand ere lisp'd a human tongue,
Whence doth arise to thy eternal throne,
Great nature’s incense throughout every zone;
For every bliss thou hast on man bestow'd
With reverend gratitude each bosom load,
And when they flee at thy commanding will
Anticipation lingers fondly still,
Her brow embound with amaranthine flowers
Unwithering, gather'd in Hope’s fadeless bowers,
By whom inspir’d, we pierce the clouds that roll,
To intercept the vision of the soul,
And heedless of the gloom that girds us round
Ken brightest scenes beyond the dark profound.

I 2
100 STANZAS.

STANZAS.

I KNEw a youth whose glowing soul

Was with the fire of genius fraught,
His heart ne'er knew the base control
Of an unhallow'd selfish thought.
2.
Yet care was grav'd upon his brow
Whose poison drank his life's young tide,
He mourn’d not woman’s broken vow,
For woman’s love he ne'er had tried.

3.

He gaz'd upon the world around

And nature’s face saw £ fair,
And music's holy charm he found
To raise his spirit from despair.
4.

He watch'd the stars at midnight's noon,

When with their bright and silent spheres
His kindred spirit could commune,
And tear the veil from by-gone years.
5.

He mus’d by ocean's wond’rous flood,

Like his own thoughts—deep, dread, and vast,
Found joy while rag'd the tempest rude,
And pleasure when its wrath was past.
 STANZAS. 101

6.

Why sought he solitude's abode

here “nature’s charms” her hands unfold?
'Twas that no kindred bosom glow’d—
'Twas that the hearts of men were cold.

TO

1.

AND can it be that we must part,

Perchance to meet on earth no more ?
Can fate thus tear thee from my heart?
Then let that fate her curses pour!
She cannot give a feller stroke,
She cannot deal a deadlier blow;
Thy name my trembling lips have spoke,
t sounded like a knell of wo.

2.

It was the dirge of hope and bliss,

Whose smiles no longer I may prove;
But what can quench, resolve me this,
The fervour of my faithful love?
Nay! while this throbbing heart doth beat,
Its pulse shall still retain the fire
Which is of life and love the heat,
Nor can it die till I expire!

I 3
102 MoRNING.

MORNING.

1.

FROM out yon lovely east blythe Morning

springs,
Smiling in beauty thro' her misty veil,
And from her beamy censer forth she flings
Ethereal incense over hill and dale.
The blue and fragrant violet
Is with crystal dew-gems wet,
Tuneful birds on every spray
Hail with songs the rising day,
And the lark in yonder sky
Pours his matin melody
Amid the boundless azure lost to sight
Still singing as he soars the requiem of Night.

2.

Aurora's breath floats o'er the silvery stream,

Chasing the mist which canopies its flow,
Diffusing health, of which sloth does not dream,
And life the sluggard’s heart may never know.
Morning ! # thy rosy hours!
Hail thy green and dewy bowers!
Hail the note of chanticleer !
Thy unerring harbinger;
Hail thy cheek with blush o’erspread!
Hail the joy thy smile doth shed
O'er wide creation’s vast and wond’rous frame,
While ev'ry grove resounds with thy divine
acclaim!
 TO THE PAST YEAR. 103

TO THE PAST YEAR.

1.

THE old year is sped—by the rude arm of Time

To the grave of Eternity hurl’d—
The wintry blast sounds his funereal chime
In the ear of a desolate world!

2.

The forest is bare, and its sere leaves appear

In the root-hollows noisome and dead,
Like the pleasures which bloom'd 'neath a
heaven as clear
As that which them verdant o’erspread.
3.

But spring will come back with its greenness

again,
And summer her blossoms will bring !
Her emerald mantle will cover the plain,
And the bee gather sweets on the wing !
4.

Could the dead live anew, my heart's spring

might return,
My summer of bliss again bloom,
'' expir’d lamp of love would a second time
burn,
Could affection recal from the tomb 1
104 SUNSET.

SUNSET.

1.

THou bright-beaming orb which illumin'd the

day
Now sinkest in glory to rest,
Thy task is accomplish'd, thou hastest away
£ the purple-dy’d waves of the west.
2.

Thou fadest in splendour—I gaze on thee now,

But, ah! 'tis through sight-dimming tears'
'Tis this which hangs gloom on my sorrowful
brow
Thou settest on happier years!
3.

The dusk pall of even o’ershadows with gloom

Rude mountain, deep forest, and sea,
The groves are all hush'd, and the songsters are
dumb,
As if in mute homage to thee!
4.

Thou leavest a world unto darkness and gloom,

Which to-morrow thy glory shall see,
But the hopes which have set in the shade of
the tomb
Shall never more smile upon me.
f
 STANZAS. 105

STANZAS.

1.

I MoURN for the past with a sigh of regret,

It is gone with its lovely and rainbow-like
years!
They were stamp'd on my heart, and I ne'er can
forget
Their aspect of beauty-unsadden’d with
tearS.

2.
Oh! well I remember their visions delusive
Which painted the future—all glory and
light!
But ah! like to dreams, they were false and
illusive,
And I wake to the shades of deep sorrow’s
dark night.
3.

The grave hides for ever once love-beaming

faces,
Whose smiles were the rays which illumin’d
my home !
Now fancy alone fills their sad vacant places,
When memory turns to the past as I roam.
106 SERENADE.

ON A BEAUTIFUL GIRL
AT THE TOMB OF HER FATHER.

O’ER the grave of her sire, a fair maiden was

weeping !
Her tears they fell fast on the grass-cover'd
mound,
Beneath which for aye he was placidly sleeping;
The sere leaves of autumn lay scatter'd around.

More hallow’d his grave with those tears it

bedeving,
Than the proud tombs of princes emblazon’d
with gold,
Affection's warm fount, still those bright drops
renewing,
While the monarch's with splendour, like
splendour, is cold !

SERENADE.
1.
OH ! sweetly sad is the dusky hour,
When Cynthia beams from her azure throne,
And Hesper smiles through the leafy bower
Where the minstrel pours his plaint alone.
2.
And sweetly sad is the stilly hour,
When his music dies on the list’ning air,
If one fair breast confess its power,
And feels the thrill of its sweetness there.
 LAMENT FOR CHILDHOOD. 107

LAMENT FOR CHILDHOOD.

1.

OH ! what can emulate the joys

My careless happy childhood knew?
The syren, Pleasure, peace destroys,
And love is a deceiver too!

2.

Can boist’rous mirth, that transient zest

Which flows from the empurpl’d bowl,
When saturnalia fires the breast,
And stamps disgrace upon the soul?

3.

Can friendship weave a wreath so fair

Tho' pure esteem embound the flowers?
Nay, in thy heart the twain compare,
Most sweet the joys of childhood's hours.
108 ANACREONTIC.

ANACREONTIC.

1.

ADoRN thy cheek with smiles!

Forbid the tear to flow !
Laugh at dull Sorrow's wiles,
And chase each thought of wo!
'Tis ourselves make or mar all the pleasures of
soul,
And Pleasure's a syren that dwells in the bowl.

2.

The sun will set at eve,

Whv cloud his beams at noon?
Why bid our bosoms grieve,
Since grief will come too soon?
'Tis £ive make or mar all the pleasures of
SOUl

And Pleasure's a syren that dwells in the bowl.

THE END.

Printed by w: edford-row.
Bedford-street,
 PRICE FIVE SHILLING S.

In August will be published, in small 4to, cloth,

gilt edges, embellished with Outline Illustrations
by an eminent London Artist,

THE PLEASURES OF POESY.

A POEM,

IN TWO CAN TO S.

BY

HENRY W. HAYNES,
*
(AUTHOR of “JoB,” “THE solITARY,” ETc)

Orders received by all Booksellers.

C. MITCHELL, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
-