All potent Fancy! deign to bend
One glance upon thy suppliant here!
Thy glowing car in kindness send,
And bear me to thy beauteous sphere.
Believe me, thou hast ever been
The cherish'd monarch of my heart!
There's not one thought, one hope, one scene,
In which thy vagaries have no part.
Then deign to look with pitying eye
Upon thy votary's bended form;
Disperse each cloud from yonder sky,
And clasp me in thy guardian arm.
INVOCATION TO SPRING.
BEND down from thy chariot, oh beautiful Spring,
Unfold like a standard thy radiant wing,
And beauty and joy in thy rosy path bring!
We long for thy coming, sweet goddess of love,
We watch for thy smile in the pure sky above,
And we sigh for the hour when the wood birds shall sing,
And nature shall welcome thee, beautiful Spring!
How the lone heart will bound as thy presence draws near,
As if borne from this world to some lovelier sphere!
How the fond soul to meet thee in raptures shall rise,
When thy first blush has tinted the earth and the skies.
Oh, send thy soft breath on the icy-bound stream,
'T will vanish, 't will melt, like the forms in a dream,
Released from its chains, like a child in its glee,
'T will flow in its beauty, all sparkling and free.
It will spring on in joy, like a bird on the wing,
And hail thee with music, oh beautiful Spring!
But tread with thy foot on the snow-cover'd plain,
And verdure and beauty shall smile in thy train.
Only whisper one word with thy seraph-like voice,
And nature to hear the sweet sound shall rejoice!
Oh, Spring! lovely goddess! what form can compare
With thine so resplendent, so glowing, so fair?
What sunbeam so bright as thy own smiling eye,
At whose glance the dark spirits of winter do fly?
A garland of roses is twined round thy brow,
Thy cheek like the pale blush of evening doth glow;
A mantle of green o'er thy soft form is spread,
And the zephyr's light wing gently plays round thy head.
Oh, could I but mount on the eagle's dark wing,
And rest ever beside thee, Spring, beautiful Spring!
Methinks, I behold thee! I hear thy soft voice!
And in fulness of heart I rejoice! I rejoice!
But the cold wind is moaning, the drear snow doth fall,
And naught but the shrieking blast echoes my call.
Oh, heed the frail offering an infant can bring!
Oh, grant my petition, Spring, beautiful Spring!
FROM THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM.
WHERE from thy presence shall I flee?
Where seek a hiding-place from thee?
If the pure breath of heaven I share,
Lo! I shall find thy spirit there!
If wandering to the depths of hell,
I trust in secresy to dwell,
Behold! in all thy power and might,
Thou, Lord, shalt pierce the veil of night.
If on the radiant wings of morn
To unknown lands I'm gently borne;
There, even there thy hand shall lead
Thy voice support my sinking head.
If to my inmost soul I say,
Darkness and night shall shroud my way,
That darkness shall dissolve in light,
And day usurp the throne of night.
No power can dim thy searching eye,
Or bid thy guardian spirit fly.
Thou knowest well each infant thought,
Which passion, pride, or sin has taught;
And doubts and fears, but half express'd,
To thee, Almighty, stand confess'd.
Plain as the waves of yonder sea,
Man's subtlest thoughts are known to thee.
From the small insect tribe, which plays
Within the sun's enlivening rays,
To the broad ocean waves, which rise
In heaving billows to the skies.
Or great or small, each work of thine,
It whispers of a hand divine.
Each breeze which fans the twilight hour,
Speeds onward, guided by thy power;
Each wind which wildly sweeps abroad,
Is teeming with the voice of God.
1835.
THE power of mind, the force of genius,
Oh, what human heart can tell,
Or the deep and stirring thoughts,
Which in the poet's bosom dwell!
The high and holy dreams of heaven,
Which raise the soul above
This world of care, this sphere of sin,
To realms of light and love.
Oh who can tell its energy?
The spirit's power and might,
When genius, with sublimest force,
Appoints its upward flight,—
And lifts the struggling soul above
The prison-house of clay,
To roam amid the fancied realms
Of glory and of day!
And breathes immortal vigour
To sustain it through this life,
The index of a higher world,
With power and beauty rife.
Oh, how sublime the very thought,
That this frail form of mine
Contains a spirit destined soon
In purer worlds to shine.
To unfold its infant energies,
In an immortal clime,
And far more glorious become
Each passing hour of time.
That it contains the heavenly germ
Of future being now,
Created there to beautify,
Where clearer waters flow.
And there expand the glowing bud,
'Mid worlds of light and love,
Through the bright realms of ether,
In glory still to rove.
LETTER TO A POETICAL CORRESPONDENT,
WRITTEN DURING MY ILLNESS, IN ANSWER TO ONE IN WHICH SHE DE-
SCRIBES PEGASUS AS BLIND, HALT, AND LAME, AND ENDEAVOURS TO
CHEER ME WITH THE PROSPECT OF SPEEDY RECOVERY.
Now, my dear Cousin Maggy, behold me again,
Relieved in a measure from sickness and pain ;
With a well-sharpen'd phiz, and a cap on my head,
Just bidding farewell to the irksome sick bed,
And endeavouring to tune my enfeebled young lyre
To a theme which was wont its wild notes to inspire.
'Tis long since the muse to my aid has descended,
Or smiling and pleased, her poor votary befriended;
Now tired of entreaties, I'll court her no more,
But alone and unaided her realms I'll explore;
So, dear cousin Maggy, condemn not my muse,
If my verse all its rhyme and its harmony lose,
For, vex'd with refusals so frequent and long,
Without her I've dared to engage in a song;
And shielded and guided by Clio no more,
To meet thy Pegasus I tremblingly soar.
While confined by the shackles of sickness and pain,
For many a day on my couch I had lain,
And in seeking for rest, to my weak frame denied,
Was tossing fatigued on each sore, aching side,
There came down a tall spirit of light (as it were,)
From the realms of the sky and the regions of air;
He dispell'd from my bosom its gloom and its dread,
And kindled the torchlight of hope in their stead.
Ah! then, my dear friend, so great was his power,
He could lighten my pain, and soothe solitude's hour;
Ah why then, my cousin, thus brand him with shame
Ah why then describe him as "sightless and lame?"
All noble and lovely he seem'd to mine eye,
And when ceasing to view him I ceased with a sigh!
His wings were expanded, his eyebeam was fire!
And that heart had been old he could fail to inspire.
But alas! I should fail, did I strive to portray
But one half of the graces which round him did play,
And held captive my soul with their wildering sway;
So no more I'll contemplate his charms or thine own,
But try to inform you how we're getting on.
Dear mother still sits on her old rocking-chair,
Either thinking, or smiling, or silent with care;
Then plying her needle with industry still,
Or scribbling and wearing some tarnish'd goosequill.
Dear Matty is thinking of railroads again,
And longs to get hold of the rod and the chain.
He talks of embankments, canals, and high-bridges,
Of steam-cars and tunnels, of swamps and of ditches.
While dear little Kent, with his well-finger'd book,
Sits gazing around him with complacent look;
But alas! my dear coz, the poor fellow has lost
The frequent amusement he valued the most;
For know, in the midst of our sickness and cares,
The glass in our parlour was carried up stairs,
(Other furniture changed-here was station'd a bed,)
So a mirror much smaller was placed in its stead,
And my hapless young brother is able no more
To admire his own beauty and grace as before;
He looks at the tempter all rueful and sad,
And in vain the attempt to attain it is made,
And with long, disappointed, and sorrowful mien,
He retires from the spot to conceal his chagrin.
Oh! join, my dear cousin, with me, and bewail
That his sources of pleasure thus early should fail.
Old Leo, tired out with his frolic and play,
Lies quietly sleeping the rest of the day;
While pussy is purring contentedly near,
Devoid of all care and unconscious of fear.
But enough of this nonsense! I fain would request
That my cousin again may be honour'd and blest
By receiving thy musical Nag as a guest:
His arrival I'll welcome with heartfelt delight,
And gaze on his beauties from morning till night.
Dear uncle and cousins I ne'er can forget,
With sweet little Georgie, his Aunty, and Kate,
Give our love to them all, and yourself must receive
My warm and my lasting affection. Believe,
I shall ever remain as I now am to thee,
Your dear little cousin, and
Though nought but life's sunshine has spread o'er my path,
Though no real distress has e'er clouded my brow:
Though the storms of affliction around me have past,
And shed o'er me nought save the rainbow's bright glow;
Though nursed from the cradle with tenderest care,
Though shelter'd from all that might grieve or distress; Though life's pathway has blush'd with the fairest of flowers, And my heavenly Father has ceased not to bless;
Though the chillness of want and the darkness of woe
From my joyous young spirit have rapidly fled :
Though the presence of all whom I cherish and love
Has not fail'd its sweet influence around me to shed;
Still, still there are moments of darkness and grief,
Which steal o'er my soul like the spirit of woe;
I know not their coming, I feel not their cause,
But o'er my rapt spirit they silently flow.
I feel for a while as some terrible blow
Had deprived me of comfort, of friends, and of home;
Then depart they as silent, and leave my freed soul
Again in the bright path of pleasure to roam.
Like clouds in the sky of enjoyment they pass,
And shed o'er my heart a sensation of sadness;
Like clouds do they glide o'er the surface of light,
And leave me again to the spirit of gladness.
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