Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

EVENING THOUGHTS.

ANON.

TWAS eve. The lengthening shadows of the oak And weeping birch swept far adown the vale; And nought upon the hush and stillness broke, Save the light whispering of the spring-tide gale At distance dying; and the measured stroke

Of wood-men at their toil; the feeble wail
Of some lone stock-dove, soothing, as it sank
On the lull'd ear, its melody that drank.

The sun had set; but his expiring beams
Yet linger'd in the west, and shed around
Beauty and softness o'er the wood and streams,
With coming night's first tinge of shade em-
brown'd.

The light clouds mingled, brighten'd with such
gleams

Of glory, as the seraph-shapes surround,
That in the vision of the good descend,
And o'er their couch of sorrow seem to bend.

There are emotions, in that grateful hour

Of twilight and serenity, which steal Upon the heart with more than wonted power, Making more pure and tender all we feel,Softening its very core, as doth the shower

The thirsty glebe of summer. We reveal More, in such hours of stillness, unto those We love, than years of passion could disclose. The heavens look down on us with eyes of love, And earth itself looks heavenly; the sleep

[ocr errors]

Of nature is around us, but above

Are beings that eternal vigils keep.

To sweet to dwell on such, and deem they strove
With sorrow once, and fled from crowds to weep
In loneliness, as we perchance have done;
And sigh to win the glory they have won!

Tis sweet to mark the sky's unruffled blue
Fast deepening into darkness, as the rays
Ofingering eve die fleetly, and a few

Stars of the brightest beam illume the blaze
Like woman's eye of loveliness, seen through
The veil, that shadows it in vain; we gaze
In mute and stirless transport, fondly listening
As there were music in its very glistening.

Tis thus in solitude; but sweeter far,

By those we love, in that all-softening hour,
To watch with mutual eyes each coming star,
And the faint moon-rays streaming through our
bower

Of foliage, wreathed and trembling, as the car
Of night rolls duskier onward, and each flower
And shrub that droops above us, on the sense
Seetas dropping fragrance more and more intense.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

ANON.

'TWAS eve. The lengthening shadows of the nak And weeping birch swept far adown the vale; And nought upon the hush and stillness broke Save the light whispering of the spring-tide gue At distance dying; and the measured strake Of wood-men at their toil; the feeble wail Of some lone stock-dove, soothing, as it sank On the lull'd ear, its melody that drank. The sun had set; but his expiring beams Yet linger'd in the west, and shed around Beauty and softness o'er the wood and streams, With coming night's first tinge of shade en

brown'd.

The light clouds mingled, brighten'd with such
gleams

Of glory, as the seraph-shapes surround,
hat in the vision of the good descend,

ad o'er their couch of sorrow seem to bend

here are emotions, in that grateful hour
Of twilight and serenity, which steal
pon the heart with more than wonted power,
Making more pure and tender all we feel-
Softening its very core, as doth the shower

The thirsty glebe of summer. We reveal
More, in such hours of stillness, unto those
We love, than years of passion could disclose.
The heavens look down on us with eyes of love
And earth itself looks heavenly; the sleep

Of nature is around us, but above

Are beings that eternal vigils keep. "Tis sweet to dwell on such, and deem they strove With sorrow once, and fled from crowds to weep In loneliness, as we perchance have done; And sigh to win the glory they have won!

'Tis sweet to mark the sky's unruffled blue Fast deepening into darkness, as the rays Of lingering eve die fleetly, and a few

Stars of the brightest beam illume the blaze
Like woman's eye of loveliness, seen through

The veil, that shadows it in vain; we gaze
In mute and stirless transport, fondly listening
As there were music in its very glistening.

'Tis thus in solitude; but sweeter far,

By those we love, in that all-softening hour, To watch with mutual eyes each coming star, And the faint moon-rays streaming through our bower

Of foliage, wreathed and trembling, as the car

Of night rolls duskier onward, and each flower And shrub that droops above us, on the sense Seems dropping fragrance more and more intense.

HYMN.

HEMAN S.

GREAT GOD! at whose "creative word, '
Arising Nature own'd her Lord;

At whose behest, from gloomy night
The earth arose in order bright!

To whom the poet swells the song,
And cherub's loftier notes belong:
To thee be glory, honour, praise;
Great GOD! who canst depress or raise.

Say, all ye learned, all ye wise,
What towering pillars prop the skies?
What massy chain suspends the earth?
'Tis His high power who gave it birth.
"Tis He who sends the grateful shower;
'Tis He who paints the glowing flower.
Let the loud anthem raise the strain,
While echo murmurs it again.

And ye who wander o'er the sheaf-crown'd fields,
Praise Him for all the plenty harvest yields;
Let harp and voice their swelling notes combine,
To praise all nature's GoD, the Architect divine.

SACRED HARMONY.

And, where the blossoms fall in showers,
The spirit, like a meteor, flits.

If, where the waves are bounding dark
Adventurous, to my boat I flee,
Beside me, in the shadowy bark,
It tails upon the tumbling sea.

If, when the night clouds roll away,
I look upon those worlds afar,
White as the whitest cloud of day
I see it fit from star to star.

207

I hear it in the breeze that wails Around the abbey's mouldering walls; I hear it in the softest gales That ever sigh'd through marble halls.

Its voice is ever in my ear

Its hand is often on my brow,-
Its shriek, its thrilling shriek, I hear-
I feel its icy fingers now.

CONSCIENCE.

ANON.

A SPIRIT Sits with me by day-
A spirit sits with me by night;
In the warm sun's refulgent ray-
In the cold moon's unclouded light.

It whispers where the wild winds sigh-
It glitters in the dewy glade;

If to the forest's depths I fly,

It blackens in the blackest shade.

It lies with me on banks of flowers; With me beside the stream it sits;

[blocks in formation]

To whom the poet swells the song, And cherub's loftier notes belong: To thee he glory, honour, praise; Great GOD! who canst depress or raise. Say, all ye learned, all ye wise, What towering pillars prop the skies! What massy chain suspends the earth? 'Tis His high power who gave it birth. 'Tis He who sends the grateful shower; 'Tis He who paints the glowing flower. Let the loud anthem raise the strain, While echo murmurs it again.

And ye who wander o'er the sheaf-crown'd fields Praise Him for all the plenty harvest yields; Let harp and voice their swelling notes combine. To praise all nature's GOD, the Architect divine

CONSCIENCE

ANON.

A SPIRIT sits with me by day-
A spirit sits with me by night;
In the warm sun's refulgent ray-
In the cold moon's unclouded light.

It whispers where the wild winds sigh-
It glitters in the dewy glade;
If to the forest's depths I fly,

It blackens in the blackest shade.

It lies with me on banks of flowers;
With me beside the stream it sits;

And, where the blossoms fall in showers,
The spirit, like a meteor, flits.

If, where the waves are bounding dark
Adventurous, to my boat I flee,
Beside me, in the shadowy bark,
It toils upon the tumbling sea.

If, when the night clouds roll away,
I look upon those worlds afar,
White as the whitest cloud of day
I see it flit from star to star.

I hear it in the breeze that wails
Around the abbey's mouldering walls;
I hear it in the softest gales

That ever sigh'd through marble halls.

Its voice is ever in my ear

Its hand is often on my brow,-
Its shriek, its thrilling shriek, I hear-
I feel its icy fingers now.

THE BRIDAL WREATH.

W. B. COLLYER, D.D.

OH! ask me not the wreath to twine! 'Tis not for fingers such as mine,

The Bridal Coronal to weave; Chill'd by the dark and dripping dew, Distill'd from cypress and from yew, On roses or on lilies laid,

The brightest, loveliest, they would fade, And stains upon the fairest leave.

P 410

Let them thy Bridal Chaplet twine,
Whose hands are skilful to combine

The buds of hope and flowers of joy; Whose happier lot hath let them know The bowers of Eden where they grow; From whom they shrink not at the touchThe pastime sweet, and meet for such,

Would heart and fancy both employ.

But ask not me the wreath to twine, In whom both grief and sickness join To render for the task unfit; The cloud hath blotted out my day, My dreams of bliss have fled away; My pleasures, scatter'd to the wind, Have left but loneliness behind,

Where gladness promised once to sit.

And yet for thee a wreath I'll twineSome flowers unfading still are mine ;

The proffer'd garland thou must tie: 'Midst the abundance that she yields, I glean them not from nature's fields; Nor soar aloft on fancy's wings, To crop them from Parnassian springs; For both are doomed to fade and die

Come, then, a chaplet I'll prepare,
To crown thy heart, not deck thy hair-
Approach-and take the gift divine;
See Sharon's Rose, whose sweets exhale,
The lowly Lily of the vale,

The flowers of Life's immortal Tree,
And Gilead's balm, all tender'd thee-

Bind them with faith-the wreath is thine.

[blocks in formation]

HEMANS.

On! thou Creator, Father, Friend,
Source of all blessings mortals prize,
Let nature's praise to thee ascend,
In swelling chorus to the skies.

Most high, ineffable, supreme,
Celestial, awful, brightest, bright;
The cherubim's inspiring theme,
Enrob'd in glory, crown'd with light!
When solemn thunders distant roll,

And when the vivid lightnings dart,
They strike upon th' astonish'd soul,
And speak thy pow'r to ev'ry heart.

[blocks in formation]
« НазадПродовжити »