DESPONDENCY AND ASPIRATION.

Their vague wild symphony:

No power is theirs, and no abiding-place

In human hearts; their sweetness leaves no trace-
Born only so to die!

"Never shall aught but perfume, faint and vain,
On the fleet pinion of the changeful hour,
From thy bruised life again

A moment's essence breathe;

Thy life, whose trampled flower
Into the blessed wreath

Of household charities no longer bound,
Lies pale and withering on the barren ground.
"So fade, fade on! thy gift of love shall cling,
A coiling sadness, round thy heart and brain,
A silent, fruitless, yet undying thing,

All sensitive to pain!

And still the shadow of vain dreams shall fall
O'er thy mind's world, a daily darkening pall.
Fold, then, thy wounded wing, and sink subdued,
In cold and unrepining quietude!"

Then my soul yielded; spells of numbing breath
Crept o'er it heavy with a dew of death,

Its powers, like leaves before the night rain, closing;
And, as by conflict of wild sea-waves tosse'd
On the chill bosom of some desert coast,
Mutely and hopelessly I-lay reposing.

When silently it seem'd
As if a soft mist gleam'd

Before my passive sight, and, slowly curling,
To many a shape and hue

Of vision'd beauty grew,

Like a wrought banner, fold by fold unfurling.
Oh! the rich scenes that o'er mine inward eye
Unrolling then swept by,

With dreamy motion! Silvery seas were there
Lit by large dazzling stars, and arch'd by skies
Of southern midnight's most transparent dyes,
And gemm'd with many an island, wildly fair,
Which floated past me into orient day,
Still gathering lustre on th' illumin'd way,
Till its high groves of wondrous flowering trees
Color'd the silvery seas.

And then a glorious mountain-chain uprose,
Height above spiry height!

A soaring solitude of woods and snows,

All steep'd in golden light!

While as it pass'd, those regal peaks unveiling,
I heard, methought, a waving of dread wings
And mighty sounds, as if the vision hailing,

From lyres that quiver'd through ten thousand strings:

527

Or as it waters forth to music leaping,

From many a cave, the Alpine Echo's hall,
On their bold way victoriously were sweeping,
Link'd in majestic anthems! while through all
That billowy swell and fall,

Voices, like ringing crystal, fill'd the air
With inarticulate melody, that stirr'd

My being's core; then, moulding into word
Their piercing sweetness, bade me rise and bear
In that great choral strain my trembling part
Of tones, by love and faith struck from a human heart:

Return no more, vain bodings of the night!

A happier oracle within my

soul

Hath swell'd to power;-a clear unwavering light

Mounts through the battling clouds that round me roll,
And to a new control

Nature's fu" harp gives forth rejoicing tones,
Wherein my glad sense owns

The accordant rush of elemental sound
To one consummate harmony profound;
One grand Creation Hymn,

Whose notes the seraphim

Lift to the glorious height of music wing'd and crown'd.
Shall not those notes find echoes in my lyre,
Faithful though faint ?-Shall not my spirit's fire,
If slowly, yet unswervingly, ascend

Now to its fount and end?

Shall not my earthly love, all purified,
Shine forth a heavenward guide?

An angel of bright power?-and strongly bear
My being upward into holier air,

Where fiery passion-clouds have no abode,
And the sky's temple-arch o'erflows with God?

The radiant hope new-born
Expands like rising morn

In my life's life: and as a ripening rose,
The crimson shadow of its glory throws
More vivid, hour by hour, on some pure stream;
So from that hope are spreading

Rich hues, o'er nature shedding,

Each day, a clearer, spiritual gleam.

Let not those rays fade from me-once enjoy'd,
Father of spirits! let them not depart!
Leaving the chill'd earth, without form and void,
Darken'd by mine own heart!

Lift, aid, sustain me! Thou, by whom alone
All lovely gifts and pure

In the soul's grasp endure ;

Thou to the steps of whose eternal throne

THOUGHTS DURING SICKNESS.

All knowledge flows-a sea for evermore
Breaking its crested waves on that sole shore-
O consecrate my life! that I may sing
Of Thee with joy that hath a living spring,
In a full heart of music!-Let my lays

Through the resounding mountains waft thy praise,
And with that theme the wood's green cloisters fill,
And make their quivering leafy dimness thrill
To the rich breeze of song! Oh! let me wake

The deep religion, which hath dwelt from yore,
Silently brooding by lone cliff and lake,

And wildest river shore!

And let me summon all the voices dwelling
Where eagles build, and cavern'd rills are welling,
And where the cataract's organ-peal is swelling,
In that one spirit gather'd to adore!

Forgive, O Father! if presumptuous thought
Too daringly in aspiration rise!

Let not thy child all vainly have been taught
By weakness, and by wanderings, and by sighs
Of sad confession!-lowly be my heart,

And on its penitential altar spread

The offerings worthless, till Thy grace impart

The fire from Heaven, whose touch alone can shed Life, radiance, virtue !-let that vital spark

Pierce my whole being, wilder'd else and dark!

Thine are all holy things-O make me Thine,
So shall I, too, be pure-a living shrine
Unto that Spirit, which goes forth from Thee,
Strong and divinely free,

Bearing thy gifts of wisdom on its flight,
And brooding o'er them with a dovelike wing,
Till thought, word, song, to Thee in worship spring,
Immortally endow'd for liberty and light.

THOUGHTS DURING SICKNESS.

I. INTELLECTUAL POWERS.

O THOUGHT! O Memory! gems for ever heaping
High in the illumined chambers of the mind,
And thou, divine Imagination! keeping

Thy lamp's lone star 'mid shadowy hosts enshrined;
How in one moment rent and disentwined,

At Fever's fiery touch, apart they fall,

-Your glorious combinations!-broken all,
As the sand-pillars by the desert's wind
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529

Scatter'd to whirling dust!-Oh, soon uncrown'd!
Well may your parting swift, your strange return,
Subdue the soul to lowliness profound,

Guiding its chasten'd vision to discern

How by meek Faith Heaven's portals must be pass'd
Ere it can hold your gifts inalienably fast.

II. SICKNESS LIKE NIGHT.

THOU art like Night, O Sickness! deeply stilling
Within my heart the world's disturbing sound,
And the dim quiet of my chamber filling
With low sweet voices by Life's tumult drown'd,
Thou art like awful Night!-thou gather'st round
The things that are unseen-though close they lie,-
And with a truth, clear, startling, and profound,
Givest their dread presence to our mental eye.
Thou art like starry, spiritual Night!
High and immortal thoughts attend thy way,
And revelations, which the common light
Brings not, though wakening with its rosy ray
All outward life-Be welcome then thy rod,
Before whose touch my soul unfolds itself to God.

III.--ON RETZSCH'S DESIGN OF THE ANGEL OF DEATH.* WELL might thine awful image thus arise

With that high calm upon thy regal brow,

And the deep, solemn sweetness in those eyes,

Unto the glorious Artist!-Who but thou

The fleeting forms of beauty can endow

For Him with permanency?-who make those gleams
Of brighter life, that color his lone dreams,
Immortal things?-Let others trembling bow,
Angel of Death! before thee.-Not to those,
Whose spirits with Eternal Truth repose,
Art thou a fearful shape!-and oh! for me,
How full of welcome would thine aspect shine,
Did not the chords of strong affection twine

So fast around my soul, it cannot spring to thee!

* This sonnet was suggested by the following passage out of Mrs Jameson's Visits and Sketches at Home and Abroad, in a description she gives of a visit paid to the artist Retzsch, near Dresden:-"After wards he placed upon his easel a wonderous face, which made me shrink back-not with terror, for it was perfectly beautiful,—but with awe, for it was unspeakably fearful: the hair streamed back from the pale brow-the orbs of sight appeared at first two dark, hollow, unfathomable spaces, like those in a skull; but when I drew nearer and looked attentively, two lovely living eyes looked at me again out of the depth of the shadow, as if from the bottom of an abyss. The mouth was divinely sweet, but sad, and the softest repose rested on every feature. This, he told me, was the ANGEL OF DEATH."

THOUGHTS DURING SICKNESS.

IV. REMEMBRANCE OF NATURE.

O, NATURE! thou didst rear me for thine own,
With thy free singing birds and mountain brooks;
Feeding my thoughts in primrose-haunted nooks,
With fairy fantasies and wood-dreams lone;
And thou didst teach me every wandering tone
Drawn from thy many-whispering trees and waves,
And guide my steps to founts and sparry caves,
And where bright mosses wove thee a rich throne
'Midst the green hills:-and now, that far estranged
From all sweet sounds and odors of thy breath,
Fading I lie, within my heart unchanged,
So glows the love of thee, that not for Death
Seems that pure passion's fervor-but ordain'd
To meet on brighter shores thy Majesty unstain'd.

V.--FLIGHT OF THE SPIRIT.

WHITHER, Oh! whither wilt thou wing thy way?
What solemn region first upon thy sight
Shall break, unveil'd for terror or delight?
What hosts magnificent in dread array?
My spirit! when thy prison-house of clay,
After long strife is rent?-fond, fruitless guest!
The unfledged bird, within his narrow nest
Sees but a few green branches o'er him play,
And through their parting leaves by fits reveal'd,
A glimpse of summer sky :-Nor knows the field
Wherein his dormant powers must yet be tried.
-Thou art that bird!of what beyond thee lies
Far in the untrack'd, immeasurable skies,

Knowing but this—that thou shalt find thy Guide!

VI.-FLOWERS.

WELCOME, O pure and lovely forms, again
Unto the shadowy stillness of my room!
For not alone ye bring a joyous train

Of summer-thoughts attendant on your bloom-
Visions of freshness, of rich bowery gloom,
Of the low murmurs filling mossy dells,
Of stars that look down on your folded bells
Through dewy leaves, of many a wild perfume
Greeting the wanderer of the hill and grove
Like sudden music; more than this ye bring-
Far more; ye whisper of the all-fostering love,
Which thus hath clothed you, and whose dove-like wing
Broods o'er the sufferer, drawing fever'd breath,
Whether the couch be that of life or death.