Even there-beneath that light-house tower— In the tumultuous evil hour
Ere peace with Sara came,
Time was, I should have thought it sweet To count the echoings of my feet,
And watch the storm-vexed flame.
And there in black soul-jaundiced fit A sad gloom-pampered Man to sit, And listen to the roar:
When mountain surges bellowing deep With an uncouth monster leap Plunged foaming on the shore.
Then by the lightning's blaze to mark Some toiling tempest-shattered bark: Her vain distress-guns hear; And when a second sheet of light Flash'd o'er the blackness of the night- To see no vessel there!
But Fancy now more gaily sings; Or if awhile she droop her wings As sky-larks 'mid the corn, On summer fields she grounds her breast: The oblivious poppy o'er her nest
Nods, till returning morn.
O mark those smiling tears, that swell The opened rose! From heaven they fell, And with the sun-beam blend.
Blest visitations from above,
Such are the tender Woes of Love
Fostering the heart they bend!
When stormy Midnight howling round Beats on our roof with clattering sound, To me your arms you'll stretch: Great God! you'll say-To us so kind, O shelter from this loud bleak wind The houseless, friendless wretch!
The tears that tremble down your cheek Shall bathe my kisses chaste and meek In Pity's dew divine;
And from your heart the sighs that steal Shall make your rising bosom feel The answering swell of mine!
How oft, my Love! with shapings sweet I paint the moment, we shall meet! With eager speed I dart—
I seize you in the vacant air, And fancy, with a husband's care I press you to my heart!
'Tis said, in Summer's evening hour Flashes the golden-colored flower A fair electric flame:
And so shall flash my love-charged eye When all the heart's big ecstasy
Shoots rapid through the frame!
LINES TO A FRIEND,
IN ANSWER TO A MELANCHOLY LETTER.
AWAY, those cloudy looks, that laboring sigh, The peevish offspring of a sickly hour!
Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power, When the blind gamester throws a luckless die.
Yon setting sun flashes a mournful gleam Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train; To-morrow shall the many-colored main In brightness roll beneath his orient beam!
Wild as the autumnal gust, the hand of Time Flies o'er his mystic lyre; in shadowy dance The alternate groups of Joy and Grief advance Responsive to his varying strains sublime!
Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate; The swain, who, lull'd by Seine's wild murmurs, led His weary oxen to their nightly shed,
To-day may rule a tempest-troubled State.
Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile Survey the sanguinary despot's might, And haply hurl the pageant from his height Unwept to wander in some savage isle.
There shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown, Round his tired limbs to wrap the purple vest; And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food the jewels of his crown.
A DESULTORY POEM, WRITTEN ON THE CHRISTMASEVE OF 1794.
THIS is the time, when most divine to hear,
The voice of adoration rouses me,
As with a Cherub's trump: and high upborne, Yea, mingling with the choir, I seem to view
The vision of the heavenly multitude,
Who hymned the song of peace o'er Bethlehem's
Yet thou more bright than all the angel blaze, That harbingered thy birth, Thou, Man of Woes! Despised Galilean! For the great Invisible (by symbols only seen)
With a peculiar and surpassing light
Shines from the visage of the oppressed good man, When heedless of himself the scourged Saint Mourns for the oppressor. Fair the vernal mead, Fair the high grove, the sea, the sun, the stars; True impress each of their creating Sire! Yet nor high grove, nor many-colored mead, Nor the green Ocean with his thousand isles, Nor the starred azure, nor the sovran Sun, E'er with such majesty of portraiture Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate, As thou, meek Saviour at the fearful hour When thy insulted anguish winged the prayer Harped by Archangels, when they sing of mercy! Which when the Almighty heard from forth his throne
Diviner light filled Heaven with ecstasy!
Heaven's hymnings paused: and Hell her yawning mouth
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power He on the thought-benighted Sceptic beamed Manifest Godhead, melting into day
What floating mists of dark idolatry
Broke and misshaped the omnipresent Sire:
And first by Fear uncharmed the drowsed Soul.
'Till of its nobler nature it 'gan feel
Dim recollections; and thence soared to Hope, Strong to believe whate'er of mystic good The Eternal dooms for his immortal sons. From Hope and firmer Faith to perfect Love Attracted and absorbed and centred there God only to behold, and know, and feel, Till by exclusive consciousness of God All self-annihilated it shall make God its identity: God all in all!
We and our Father one!
Who in this fleshly World, the elect of Heaven, Their strong eye darting through the deeds of men, Adore with steadfast unpresuming gaze
Him Nature's essence, mind, and energy! And gazing, trembling, patiently ascend Treading beneath their feet all visible things As steps, that upward to their Father's throne Lead gradual-else nor glorified nor loved. They nor contempt embosom nor revenge: For they dare know of what may seem deform The Supreme Fair sole operant: in whose sight All things are pure, his strong controlling Love Alike from all educing perfect good.
Theirs too celestial courage, inly armed— Dwarfing Earth's giant brood, what time they muse On their great Father, great beyond compare ! And marching onwards view high o'er their heads His waving banners of Omnipotence.
Who the Creator love, created might
Dread not within their tents no terrors walk.
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