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THE FORCE OF PRAYER;
OR, THE FOUNDING OP BOLTON PRIORY.
“What is good for a bootless bene?”'
With these dark words begins my tale ; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring
When prayer is of no avail ? “What is good for a bootless bene ?”'
The falconer to the lady said ; And she made answer,
“ Endless sorrow!”. For she knew that her son was dead. She knew it by the falconer's words,
And from the look of the falconer's eye ;
For her youthful Romilly.
Is ranging high and low;
To let slip on buck or doe.
How tempting to bestride!
With rocks on either side.
A name which it took of yore :
THE FORCE OF PRAYER.
A thousand years it hath borne that name,
And shall a thousand more.
And what may now forbid
Shall bound across THE STRID ?
He sprang in glee, for what cared he
And check'd him in his leap. The boy is in the arms of Wharf,
And strangled by a merciless force, For never more was young Romilly seen,
Till he rose a lifeless corse.
Now there is stillness in the vale,
And deep, unspeaking sorrow : Wharf shall be to pitying hearts
A name more sad than Yarrow,
A solace she might borrow
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow.
Which was to be to-morrow;
And hers is a mother's sorrow.
He was a tree that stood alone,
And proudly did its branches wave ;
Was in her husband's grave!
And her first words were, “ Let there be
A stately priory.”
And Wharf, as he moved along,
Nor failed at even-song.
That looked not for relief;
And a patience to her grief.
That shall lack a timely end,
Of Him to be our Friend!
THE RAINBOW. Still young and fine! but what is still in view We slight as old and soiled though fresh and new; How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye Thy burning flaming arch did first descry;
When Zerah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot,
hour For thy new light, and trembled at each shower. When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and
fair, Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air; Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie Of thy Lord's hand, the object of His eye! When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Distant and low, I can in thine see Him Who looks upon thee from His glorious throne, And minds the covenant betwixt all and one.
AROUND, around flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the sun ;
Now mixed, now one by one.
I heard the skylark sing;
With their sweet jargoning!
And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute,
That makes the heavens be mute.
It ceased ; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon-
In the leafy month of June,
Singeth a quiet tune.
Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding guest ;
Both man and bird and beast :
All things both great and small;
A colloquial Poem.