Lips of the morn embathed in dew,
And eyes of evening's starry blue ;
Of all who e'er enjoyed the sun,
Thou art the image of but one.

And who was she, in virgin prime

And May of wornanhood,
Whose roses here, unplucked by Time,

In shadowy tints have stood;
While many a winter's withering blast
Hath o'er the dark cold chamber passed,
In which her once-resplendent form
Slumbered to dust beneath the storm ?

Of gentle blood ;-upon her birth

Consenting planets smiled,
And she had seen those days of mirth

That frolic round the child;
To bridal bloom her strength had sprung,
Behold her beautiful and young !
Lives there a record, which hath told
That she was wedded, widowed, old ?

How long her date 't were vain to guess:

The pencil's cunning art
Can but a single glance express,

One motion of the heart;
A smile, a blush,-a transient grace
Of air, and attitude, and face ;
One passion's changing colour mix ;
One moment's Aight for ages fix.

Her joys and griefs, alike in vain,

Would fancy here recall;
Her throbs of ecstacy or pain

Lulled in oblivion all ;
With her, methinks, life's little hour
Passed like the fragrance of a flower,
That leaves upon the vernal wind
Sweetness we ne'er again may find.

Where dwelt she ?--Ask yon aged trec,

Whose boughs embower the lawn, Whether the birds' wild minstrelsy Awoke her here at dawn ;

Whether beneath its youthful shade,
At noon, in infancy she played ?
If from the oak no answer come,
Of her all oracles are dumb.

The Dead are like the stars by day:

Withdrawn from mortal eye,
But not extinct, they hold their way,

In glory through the sky:
Spirits, from bondage thus set free,
Vanish amidst immensity,
Where human thought, like human sight,
Fails to pursue their trackless fight.

Somewhere within created space,

Could I explore that round,
In bliss or woe there is a place,

Where she might still be found;
And oh! unless those eyes deceive,
I may, I must, I will believe,
That she, whose charms so meekly glow,
Is what she only seemed below;

An angel in that glorious realm

Where God Himself is King:
But awe and fear, that overwhelm

Presumption, check my wing;
Nor dare imagination look
Upon the symbols of that book
Wherein Eternity enrols
The judgments on departed souls.

Of her of whom these pictured lines

A faint resemblance form,
Fair as the second rainbow shines

Aloof amid the storm;
Of her, this “shadow of a shade,"
Like its original must fade,
And she, forgotten when unseen,
Shall be as if she ne'er had been.

[ocr errors]

Ah! then, perchance, this dreaming strain,

Of all that e'er ! sung,
A lorn memorial may remain,
When silent lies my tongue ;

When shot the meteor of my fame,
Lost the vain echo of my name,
This leaf, this fallen leaf, may be
The only trace of her and me.


The God of Nature and of grace

In all His works appears ; His goodness through the earth we tracc,

His grandeur in the spheres.

Behold this fair and fertile globe,

By Him in wisdom planned, 'T was He who girded, like a robe,

The ocean round the land.

Lift to the firmament your eye;

Thither his path pursue ;
His glory, boundless as the sky,

O'erwhelms the wondering view.

He bows the heavens—the mountains stand

A highway for their God;
He walks amidst the desert land,-

'Tis Eden where He trod.

The forests in His strength rejoice;

Hark! on the evening breeze,
As once of old, the LORD GOD's voice

Is heard among the trees.

Here on the hills He feeds His herds,

His flocks on yonder plains;
His praise is warbled by the birds ;-

Oh, could we catch their strains !

Mount with the lark, and bear our song

Up to the gates of light,
Or with the nightingale prolong
Our numbers through the night!

In every stream His bounty flows,

Diffusing joy and wealth;
In every breeze His spirit blows,

The breath of life and health.

His blessings fall in plenteous showers

Upon the lap of earth, That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers,

And rings with infant mirth.

If God hath made this world so fair,

Where sin and death abound, How beautiful beyond compare

Will Paradise be found !


Gen. xvi. 13.

O GOD unseen, but not unknown,

Thine eye is ever fixed on me;
I dwell beneath Thy secret throne,

Encompassed by Thy Deity.

Throughout this universe of space

To nothing am I long allied,
For flight of time and change of place

My strongest, dearest bonds divide.
Parents I had, but where are they?

Friends whom I knew, I know no more; Companions once that cheered my way

Have dropt behind or gone before. Now I am one amidst the crowd

Of life and action hurrying round ; Now left alone,-for like a cloud

They came, they went, and are not found.

Even from myself sometimes part,

Unconscious sleep is nightly death;
Yet surely by my bed Thou art,
To prompt my pulse, inspire my breath.

Of all that I have done or said

How little can I now recall ! Forgotten things to me are dead ;

With Thee they live, Thou know'st them all.

Thou hast been with me from the womb,

Witness to every conflict here;
Nor wilt Thou leave me at the tomb,

Before Thy bar I must appear.
The moment comes, the only one

Of all my time to be foretold, Though when, and where, and how, can none

Of all the race of man unfold.

That moment comes, when strength must fail,

When health, and hope, and comfort flown, I must go dow in the va

And shade of death, with Thee alone.

Alone with Thee;–in that dread strife,

Uphold me through mine agony, And gently be this dying life

Exchanged for immortality.

Then, when th' unbodied spirit lands

Where flesh and blood have never trod, And in the unveiled presence stands

Of Thee, my Saviour and my GOD; Be mine eternal portion this,

Since Thou wert always here with me, That I may view Thy face in bliss,

And be for evermore with Thee.


Zech. xiv. 7.
At evening-time let there be light:
Life's little day draws near its close;
Around me fall the shades of night,
The night of death, the grave's repose:

« 前へ次へ »