Unless Thou show to us thine own true way By which such virtue may in me be bred XXVII. SURPRISED by joy, impatient as the Wind Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss!— That thought's re turn Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, Mataiteet I saw the footsteps of a throne With miss and vapors from mine eyes did szol Na view of who might sit thereon allowed; But all the steps and ground about were strown With sights the reefallest that flesh and bone Ever put on a miserable crowd, Sick, bale, cid, young, who cried before that -Thou art our king. O Death! to thee we groan." With her face up to heaven; that seemed to have XXIX. NOVEMBER, 1836. II. EVEN So for me a Vision sanctified The sway of Death; long ere mine eyes had seen Thy countenance, -the still rapture of thy mien,When thou, dear Sister! wert become Death's Bride: No trace of pain or languor could abide That change:-age on thy brow was smoothed, thy cold, Wan cheek at once was privileged to unfold A loveliness to living youth denied. Oh! if within me hope should e'er decline, And let my spirit in thy power divine XXX. Ir is a beauteous evening, calm and free, Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: And doth with his eternal motion make Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, XXVIII. I. METHOUGHT I saw the footsteps of a throne Which mists and vapors from mine eyes did shroud, Nor view of who might sit thereon allowed; But all the steps and ground about were strown With sights the ruefullest that flesh and bone Ever put on; a miserable crowd, Sick, hale, old, young, who cried before that "Thou art our king, O Death! to thee we groan." With her face up to heaven; that seemed to have XXIX. NOVEMBER, 1836. II. EVEN SO for me a Vision sanctified The sway of Death; long ere mine eyes had seen Thy countenance, -the still rapture of thy mien,When thou, dear Sister! wert become Death's Bride: No trace of pain or languor could abide That change:- age on thy brow was smoothed, thy cold, Wan cheek at once was privileged to unfold A loveliness to living youth denied. Oh! if within me hope should e'er decline, The lamp of faith, lost Friend! too faintly burn; Then may that heaven-revealing smile of thine, The bright assurance, visibly return: And let my spirit in thy power divine Rejoice, as, through that power, it ceased to mourn. XXX. Ir is a beauteous evening, calm and free, Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, |