"An universal influence, From thine own influence free;A principle of life--intense--
Lost to mortality.
"Thus truly, when that breast is cold, Thy prisoned soul shall rise;The dungeon mingle with the mould--
The captive with the skies.
Nature's deep being, thine shall hold, Her spirit all thy spirit fold, Her breath absorb thy sighs.
Mortal! though soon life's tale is told;Who once lives, never dies!"
LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.
Love is like the wild rose-briar;Friendship like the holly-tree.
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air;Yet wait till winter comes again, And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now, And deck thee with the holly's sheen, That, when December blights thy brow, He still may leave thy garland green.
THE ELDER'S REBUKE.
"Listen! When your hair, like mine, Takes a tint of silver gray;When your eyes, with dimmer shine, Watch life's bubbles float away:
When you, young man, have borne like me The weary weight of sixty-three, Then shall penance sore be paid For those hours so wildly squandered;And the words that now fall dead On your ear, be deeply pondered--
Pondered and approved at last:
But their virtue will be past!
"Glorious is the prize of Duty, Though she be 'a serious power';Treacherous all the lures of Beauty, Thorny bud and poisonous flower!
"Mirth is but a mad beguiling Of the golden-gifted time;Love--a demon-meteor, wiling Heedless feet to gulfs of crime.
"Those who follow earthly pleasure, Heavenly knowledge will not lead;Wisdom hides from them her treasure, Virtue bids them evil-speed!
"Vainly may their hearts repenting.
Seek for aid in future years;Wisdom, scorned, knows no relenting;Virtue is not won by fears."
Thus spake the ice-blooded elder gray;The young man scoffed as he turned away, Turned to the call of a sweet lute's measure, Waked by the lightsome touch of pleasure:
Had he ne'er met a gentler teacher, Woe had been wrought by that pitiless preacher.
THE WANDERER FROM THE FOLD.
How few, of all the hearts that loved, Are grieving for thee now;And why should mine to-night be moved With such a sense of woe?
Too often thus, when left alone, Where none my thoughts can see, Comes back a word, a passing tone From thy strange history.
Sometimes I seem to see thee rise, A glorious child again;All virtues beaming from thine eyes That ever honoured men:
Courage and truth, a generous breast Where sinless sunshine lay:
A being whose very presence blest Like gladsome summer-day.
O, fairly spread thy early sail, And fresh, and pure, and free, Was the first impulse of the gale Which urged life's wave for thee!
Why did the pilot, too confiding, Dream o'er that ocean's foam, And trust in Pleasure's careless guiding To bring his vessel home?
For well he knew what dangers frowned, What mists would gather, dim;What rocks and shelves, and sands lay round Between his port and him.
The very brightness of the sun The splendour of the main, The wind which bore him wildly on Should not have warned in vain.
An anxious gazer from the shore--
I marked the whitening wave, And wept above thy fate the more Because--I could not save.
It recks not now, when all is over:
But yet my heart will be A mourner still, though friend and lover Have both forgotten thee!
WARNING AND REPLY.
In the earth--the earth--thou shalt be laid, A grey stone standing over thee;Black mould beneath thee spread, And black mould to cover thee.
"Well--there is rest there, So fast come thy prophecy;The time when my sunny hair Shall with grass roots entwined be."
But cold--cold is that resting-place, Shut out from joy and liberty, And all who loved thy living face Will shrink from it shudderingly, "Not so. HERE the world is chill, And sworn friends fall from me:
But THERE--they will own me still, And prize my memory."
Farewell, then, all that love, All that deep sympathy:
Sleep on: Heaven laughs above, Earth never misses thee.
Turf-sod and tombstone drear Part human company;One heart breaks only--here, But that heart was worthy thee!
LAST WORDS.
I knew not 'twas so dire a crime To say the word, "Adieu;"
But this shall be the only time My lips or heart shall sue.
That wild hill-side, the winter morn, The gnarled and ancient tree, If in your breast they waken scorn, Shall wake the same in me.
I can forget black eyes and brows, And lips of falsest charm, If you forget the sacred vows Those faithless lips could form.
If hard commands can tame your love, Or strongest walls can hold, I would not wish to grieve above A thing so false and cold.
And there are bosoms bound to mine With links both tried and strong:
And there are eyes whose lightning shine Has warmed and blest me long:
Those eyes shall make my only day, Shall set my spirit free, And chase the foolish thoughts away That mourn your memory.
THE LADY TO HER GUITAR.
For him who struck thy foreign string, I ween this heart has ceased to care;Then why dost thou such feelings bring To my sad spirit--old Guitar?
It is as if the warm sunlight In some deep glen should lingering stay, When clouds of storm, or shades of night, Have wrapt the parent orb away.
It is as if the glassy brook Should image still its willows fair, Though years ago the woodman's stroke Laid low in dust their Dryad-hair.
Even so, Guitar, thy magic tone Hath moved the tear and waked the sigh:
Hath bid the ancient torrent moan, Although its very source is dry.
THE TWO CHILDREN.
Heavy hangs the rain-drop From the burdened spray;Heavy broods the damp mist On uplands far away.
Heavy looms the dull sky, Heavy rolls the sea;And heavy throbs the young heart Beneath that lonely tree.
Never has a blue streak Cleft the clouds since morn;Never has his grim fate Smiled since he was born.
Frowning on the infant, Shadowing childhood's joy Guardian-angel knows not That melancholy boy.
Day is passing swiftly Its sad and sombre prime;Boyhood sad is merging In sadder manhood's time:
