I STAND upon the mountain's brow
I drink the cool fresh mountain breeze
I see thy little town below,*
Thy villas, hedge-rows, fields and trees,
And hail thee with exultant glow,
GEM OF THE ORIENTAL SEAS !
A cloud had settled on my heart—
My frame had borne perpetual pain-
I yearned and panted to depart
From dread Bengala's sultry plain-
Fate smiled,-Disease withholds his dart-
I breathe the breath of life again!
With lightened heart, elastic tread,
Almost with youth's rekindled flame,
I roam where loveliest scenes outspread
Raise thoughts and visions none could name,
Save those on whom the Muses shed
A spell, a dower of deathless fame.
I feel, but oh! could ne'er pourtray.
Sweet Isle thy charms of land and wave,
The bowers that own no winter day,
The brooks where timid wild birds lave,
The forest hills where insects gay+
Mimic the music of the brave!
I see from this proud airy height
A lovely Lilliput below!
Ships, roads, groves, gardens, mansions white,
And trees in trimly ordered row,*
Present almost a toy-like sight,
A miniature scene, a fairy show!
But lo! beyond the ocean stream,
That like a sheet of silver lies,
As glorious as a Poet's dream
The grand Malayan mountains rise,
And while their sides in sunlight beam
Their dim heads mingle with the skies.
Men laugh at bards who live in clouds-
The clouds beneath me gather now,
Or gliding slow in solemn crowds,
Or singly, touched with sunny glow,
Like mystic shapes in snowy shrouds,
Or lucid veils on Beauty's brow.
While all around the wandering eye
Beholds enchantments rich and rare,
Of wood, and water, earth, and sky
A panoramic vision fair,
The Dyal breathes his liquid sigh,
And magic floats upon the air!
Oh! lovely and romantic Isle !
How cold the heart thou couldst not please!
Nutmeg and Clove plantations.
Thy very dwellings seem to smile
Like quiet nests 'mid summer trees!
I leave thy shores-but weep the while-
GEM OF THE ORIENTAL SEAS !
ON RETURNING TO CALCUTTA AFTER A VOYAGE TO THE STRAITS OF
UMBRAGEOUS Woods, green dells, and mountains high,
And bright cascades, and wide cerulean seas,
Slumbering, or snow-wreathed by the freshening breeze,
And isles like motionless clouds upon the sky
In silent summer noons, late charmed mine eye,
Until my
soul was stirred like wind-touched trees,
And passionate love and speechless ecstasies
Up-raised the thoughts in spiritual depths that lie.
Dear scenes, ye haunt me still! Yet I behold
This sultry city on the level shore
Not all unmoved; for here our fathers bold
Won proud historic names in days of yore,
And here are living hearts that ne'er grow cold,
And many a friendly hand, and open door.
Calcutta, January, 1843.
BY A BRITISH-INDIAN EXILE TO HIS DISTANT CHILDREN.
My sad heart sickens in this solitude
Home is no longer home,-yet eloquent
Are these lone walls of by-gone merriment—
The noisy pranks of that small blithesome brood
That call me father! Memories sad intrude
Like silent ghosts, where late the air was rent
With shouts of joy-where merriest hours I spent
With merriest playmates in their merriest mood!
Dear human links that bind me to life's oar!
Sweet stars that pierce the dark cell of my heart!
Clearer than in a glass, e'en now before
Mine eyes ye come as when so grieved to part
I shed the bitter tear :-ah! Fancy's art
Transcends the wondrous skill of wizards hoar!
Not mirrored shapes-realities ye seem!
Sweet ones at this glad moment I behold
What never famed Italian painter old
Hath rivalled or the poet's printed dream
A living picture! She whose soft eyes gleam
With gentle love-who, coy, but ah, not cold,
Drops their fair lids when strangers' looks are bold-
Sits at the side of one whose bliss supreme
Is all maternal. To that mother's knee
The youngest girl, half-pleased, half-frightened, flies;
For lo! my cherub boy, with innocent glee,
Masks his frank features for a gay surprize!
Loud laughs the second-born :-her charms are three-
Rose cheeks, and cherry lips, and violet eyes!
I hear the waves upon the sad sea shore-
And ah! my visionary group hath fled!
To me those dear existences are dead;
For distance is a death that all deplore
Who part as we have parted, never more
To meet as we have met-alas! instead
Each with a sadder heart, a graver head—
So different, though the same!-Perchance before
Their cottage white my prattlers are at play!—
I hear the waves upon the sad sea-shore !
Those billows roll between us,-who shall say
They'll bear my treasures back-that they'll restore
A family to a father, weak and gray,
Who soon must sleep beneath earth's grassy floor? Calcutta, July 12, 1842.
THE thoughtful and the sensitive have hours
Of care unspeakable and mysterious gloom,
When like the gasp for breath within the tomb
Of buried life, a stifling pain o'erpowers
The struggling soul. On all things horror lowers,
And 'neath the deep sense of the hideous doom
Of death, of life the vanity and fume,
Of hope the guile, the bravest spirit cowers.
When thus our hearts despair and weep and quail
And feel all friendship vain, and seem alone,
Yet yearn for sympathies that nought avail,
Oh God of Heaven! from thine awful throne
Look down with pity, and forgive the groan,
As human fortitude begins to fail!
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