How men would mock her flaunting shows, Her golden promise, if they knew
What weary work she is to those
Who have no better work to do!
And He who still and silent sits
In closed room or shady nook,
And seems to nurse his idle wits
With folded arms or open book :-
To things now working in that mind,
Your children's children well may owe
Blessings that Hope has ne'er defined
Till from his busy thoughts they flow.
Thus all must work with head or hand,
For self or others, good or ill;
Life is ordained to bear, like land,
Some fruit, be fallow as it will :
Evil has force itself to sow
Where we deny the healthy seed,-
And all our choice is this,-to grow
Pasture and grain or noisome weed.
Then in content possess your hearts,
Unenvious of each other's lot,—
For those which seem the easiest parts
Have travail which ye reckon not:
And He is bravest, happiest, best,
Who, from the task within his span,
Earns for himself his evening rest
And an increase of good for man.
WHEN God built up the dome of blue,
And portioned earth's prolific floor,
The measure of his wisdom drew
A line between the Rich and Poor;
And till that vault of glory fall,
Or beauteous earth be scarred with flame,
Or saving love be all in all,
That rule of life will rest the same.
We know not why, we know not how,
Mankind are framed for weal or woe-
But to the' Eternal Law we bow;
If such things are, they must be so.
Yet, let no cloudy dreams destroy
One truth outshining bright and clear,
That Wealth abides in Hope and Joy,
And Poverty in Pain and Fear.
Behold our children as they play !
Blest creatures, fresh from Nature's hand;
The peasant boy as great and gay
As the young heir to gold and land
Their various toys of equal worth,
Their little needs of equal care,
And halls of marble, huts of earth,
All homes alike endeared and fair.
They know no better !—would that we
Could keep our knowledge safe from worse;
So Power should find and leave us free,
So Pride be but the owner's curse;
So, without marking which was which,
Our hearts would tell, by instinct sure,
What paupers are the' ambitious Rich!
How wealthy the contented Poor!
Grant us, O God! but health and heart,
And strength to keep desire at bay,
And ours must be the better part,
Whatever else besets our way.
Each day may bring sufficient ill;
But we can meet and fight it through,
If Hope sustains the hand of Will,
And Conscience is our captain too.
ABOVE LORD LYTTELTON'S HOUSE AT HAGLEY.
If you would mount the hill of Clent,
And read the fair expanse aright,
Mount ere the autumn moon has spent
Her lustre on the tepid night:
There on the dewless, close-shorn, grass,
Remain in vigil'ant repose,
Till objects cease to rise or pass,
But round your central spirit close.
The moony mist around diffused
Enlarges all the bounds of space,
And sight, delightfully abused,
Enjoys the new gigantic grace :
Though here delusion reigns in vain,
Where the full-bosomed trees combine
With wavy meads that still again
Meet the far mountain's wavy line.
No sound disturbs the torpid gleam:
Sleep, happy vales! sleep, honest souls!
While nature keeps her moonlight dream,
No darker your good rest controuls ;
Say, rather, meteor stars of hope
May flash your weary hearts within,
Enabling you at morn to cope
With day's God-guided discipline.
Yet Night can work as well as Day:
Behold the' horizon's northern line,
Where huge volcanic masses play
Red flame against the white moonshine;
We cannot hear the furnace-roar,
Nor see the watchful, earnest, hands
That feed the fire and tend the ore,
Yet feel we what the scene demands.
For it is thus, and thus alone,
By banded powers of calm and zeal,
By toil and silence blent in one,
That England shapes her common-weal;
Opening of the First Pleasure-Ground at Birmingham. 123
Thus to the reeking fires of earth
An elemental work is given,
in purpose, rich in worth, As glorifies the orbs of Heaven.
While our poor souls, by Adam's law,
Would madden with continuous strife,
Nightly from death's abyss we draw
Regenerate energies of life;
Oh! dawn the day, that night has none
That needs no sleep, and asks no rest,
When we may labour, like the sun,
In God's great work complete and blest!
OPENING OF THE FIRST PUBLIC PLEASUREGROUND AT BIRMINGHAM,
SOLDIERS of Industry! come forth :
Knights of the Iron Hand!
Past is the menace of the North
That frowned upon our land.
We have no will to count the cost,
No thought of what we bore
Now the last warrior's gaze has lost
The doomed Crimean shore !
|