Oh, 't was a wild and lovely spot, Where earth's rude blasts could never come. Within a broad and open glade, A tulip spread its gaudy hue, As the light zephyrs o'er them swept, 'Twas the gay tulip's fragrant breath, With proud and haughty mien, she spoke: "Away! frail trembling flower! nor dare To droop beside my glittering form! Behold how bright my garments are, And mark each sweetly varying charm! "Then hie thee to some lonely nook, Nor show thy pallid features here; Go, murmur to some babbling brook, Where like thyself each scene is drear! "Hast thou assurance thus to gaze On one who nature's self beguiles? Hence! haste thee hence! and hide that face, Where parent nature never smiles." She ceased- -a sad, sweet whispering rose, Which thrill'd the zephyrs list'ning ear; Soft as an angel's gentlest tone, Too heavenly for this mortal sphere. 'Twas the pale lily's silvery voice, Which rose in low and thrilling tone, Like breath of wild Eolian lyre, Moved by the wind-god's tenderest moan: "Great queen!" the lovely gem replied, "I view thy charms, I own their power, And void of envy, shame, or pride, Admire thy beauties of an hour. "Full well I know my pallid brow Can never match the hues of thine; Nor my white robes the colours wear, Which on thy dazzling garments shine. "But the same hand hath form'd us both; And heaven-born nature smiled as sweet As on thy form, when the low flower Was peeping from its green retreat. "Here was I planted! let me here And withering age thy pleasures cloy. The queen-like flow'ret soon replied, "Come hither, pure and lovely one, Of heavenly virtue's fairer form! While here I hush each wild alarm. "Let the proud tulip glitter still, Alone 'neath nature's eye we'll rest, Cheer'd by her smile, and nurtured by her dew." VERSIFICATION OF THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. My shepherd is the faithful Lord, 1831. I wander through the vale of death, Even in the presence of my foes He doth a meal of plenty spread; TO BROTHER L. THE Vessel lightly skims the wave, FOR MAMMA. THE rippling stream serenely glides, My thoughts, oh Lord, then turn to thee, Thy outstretch'd wings around me spread, And guard with love my hapless head. 1831. TO MAMMA. FAREWELL, dear mother, for awhile Remember, oh remember me,, Oh that my soul with thine could flee, Could tread with thee the courts of heaven, 1831 TO A FLOWER. THE blighting hand of winter Assumes a mournful mien. How like adversity's rude blast Upon the helpless one, When hope's gay visions all have passed, Yet winter has some beauties left, I see the sparkling snow; I view the mountain tops; That shine with azure brightness. And solitude, that friend so dear Her residence has chosen here STANZAS. ROLL on, roll on, bright orb of day; Roll on, until thy God's command Shall rend the sky and tear the earth; He spread the heavens as a scroll, He made the sea, he form'd the world; He form'd the lovely verdant green, But God in his glory, the God of the sky, ESSAY ON NATURE. How just, how pure, how holy is the great Creator of the universe! When I gaze upon all the wonders of nature, the rippling stream, the distant mountain, the rugged rock, or the gently sloping hill, my mind turns to the first Great Cause of all; the Author of this mingled beauty, grandeur, and simplicity. God made this beautiful world for us, that we might be happy, and why are we not so? Because we do not seek real happiness. We are striving to obtain worldly pleasure; but what is that, compared with the happiness of a child of God? He feels and knows that his Saviour is ever dear; he weeps over his past follies with a sweet consciousness that they are all forgiven; that the kind Shepherd has brought back his lost sheep to the fold. He trusts in the goodness of his Creator. His faith is firm in the blessed Saviour who died for him; he has charity for all, love for all. Such is the Christian! His earthly sorrows seem light, for his thoughts are continually upon his just Preserver. What is man, frail, feeble man, but a flower of the field, that fades away with the rude blast of the autumnal storm! How infinite the love which sustains him! Plattsburgh, 1832. |