Below there lay a far-extended sea, Rolling in feathery waves. The wind blew o'er it, And toss'd it round the high-ascending rocks, And swept it through the half-hidden forest tops, spar Till, like an ocean waking into storm, A tincture from the mist that there dissolved I had no words to tell the mingled thoughts ocean With its unnumber'd islands there encircled Hovering above his prey, and yon tall pines, earth, At once there ran along the level line Even with a furnace heat, on to the point Pour'd over them in surges, and then rush'd And they were gone, as if the touch of fire At once dissolved them. Then I found myself Midway in air; ridge after ridge below, The soft, blue sky of June, and the cool air, Stole with such gentle meanings to my heart, But heighten'd, and made glorious, as became That where I stood seem'd heaven. Such pomp and splendour. Who can tell the brightness, That every moment caught a newer glow, Bright as the arch that bent above the throne In Patmos! who can tell how it ascended, And flow'd more widely o'er that lifted ocean, Till instantly the unobstructed sun SERENADE. SOFTLY the moonlight Trees cast a mellow shade Over the vale, Sweetly the serenade Breathes in the gale, Gaily and cheerily - See the light pinnace At the heave of the oar, On its buoyant car, Now the wind rises And high on the stern Stands the young and the brave, As love-led he crosses The star-spangled wave, Of water and grove The tones of the night, That are sacred to love. JOHN G. C. BRAINARD. THE SWEET-BRIER. Born 1796. Died 1828. OUR Sweet autumnal western-scented wind Robs of its odours none so sweet a flower, In all the blooming waste it left behind, As that the sweet-brier yields it; and the shower Wets not a rose that buds in beauty's bower One half so lovely; yet it grows along The poor girl's pathway, by the poor man's door. Such are the simple folks it dwells among: And humble as the bud, so humble be the song. And hung his bow upon thine awful front; And spoke in that loud voice, which seem'd to him Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake, ,The sound of many waters;" and had bade Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, And notch his cent'ries in the eternal rocks. THE angel of the flowers, one day, 'Twas but a moment o'er the rose Yea, what is all the riot man can make In his short life, to thy unceasing roar! ters far Above its loftiest mountains? a light wave, might. They are but earthly sounds, that tell How little of the sea-nymph's shell, That sends its loud, clear note abroad, Or winds its softness through the flood, Echoes through groves, with coral gay, And dies, on spongy banks, away. There's music in the deep. There's quiet in the deep: Above, let tides and tempests rave, And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave; THE SEA-BIRD'S SONG. On the deep is the mariner's danger, Lone looker on despair, The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, The only witness there. Who watches their course, who so mildly Who hovers on high o'er the lover, And her who has clung to his neck? Whose wing is the wing that can cover, With its shadow, the foundering wreck? 'Tis the sea-bird, etc. My eye in the light of the billow, My wing on the wake of the wave, My foot on the iceberg has lighted, When hoarse the wild winds veer about, Lone looker on despair; Thou dost not set Though plunged our globe beneath, Thou shinest yet. Thou wilt, like Him once slain, Yes, even now, O'er realms, to thee revealed, From our small view concealed, Bendeth thy brow. Thou seest, from pole to pole, Blue gleaming at thy feet With many a shore and fleet, Atlantic roll. Beneath thy eye, And Indian valley lie; Smiles in thy ray. And so, when I, Life's weary travel o'er, Reach that black, fatal shore, At length, to die, Almighty God! Teach me, As earth's brief phantoms fade, To follow, undismayed, Trusting in Thee. Beyond Death's night, Let nobler prospects rise, New fields and fairer skies Break on my sight; And so, my tired race run, May my last moments shine, Radiant and calm, like thine, O setting Sun! THE TWO PRAYERS. BESTOW upon me wealth and power, Almighty God, I pray! Preserve me from misfortune's hour, and poverty's dark way: Upon my path let glory stream, let joy and splendor fall, O God! Thy Holy Spirit grant, whate'er my fate may be! Preserve my soul from sin, and set my only hope in Thee! If from Misfortune's heavy hour Thy wisdom may not spare, Accord me patience, calm to meet, and fortitude to bear: What though obscurity and want my painful lot decreed, Along the lowliest paths of life my weary steps Thou lead: In mercy teach me to obey, to follow, to adore, Still let me mark Thy cloud by day, at night Thy fire before! Mate me, O Father! with the high, the learned, the refined; Where reigns the quiet elegance that speaks the polished mind: Surrounded there by wise and fair, in honor let me move; With admiration circle me, with deference and love Inspire my lips with eloquence, to dazzle all who hear, And let the murmur of applause awake when I appear: Oh, grant me strength to mount untired ambition's lofty height, And Genius crown me with her rich and everlasting light; Until my name, wide blown by Fame, pass to the farthest sky, Wherever language reaches, and the whitewinged vessels fly. Grant me, O God! humility, submission and content, And thoughts above this passing world, on true repentance bent: Teach me my ignorance, my sin; inspire a temper sweet; |