Nestlings, in their grassy beds, Hearkening to the joyful sound, Heavenward point their little heads, Lowly twittering from the ground, Ere their wings are fledged to fly To the chorus in the sky.
Thus, fair Minstrels, while ye sing,
Teaching infant minds to raise
To the Universal King
Humble hymns of prayer and praise,
voice
your
O may all who hear
Look, and listen, and rejoice!
Faltering like the skylark's young,
While your numbers they record,
Soon may every heart and tongue
Learn to magnify the LORD;
And your strains divinely sweet,
Unborn millions thus repeat.
Minstrels! what reward is due
For this labour of your love?
-Through eternity may You,
In the Paradise above,
Round the dear Redeemer's feet,
All your infant readers meet!
Force, cunning, speed, which Nature gave
The various tribes throughout her plan,
Life to enjoy, from death to save, —
These are the lowest powers of Man.
From strength to strength he travels on :
He leaves the lingering brute behind;
And when a few short years are gone,
He soars, a disembodied mind:
Beyond the grave, his course sublime
Destined through nobler paths to run,
In his career the end of Time
Is but Eternity begun.
What guides him in his high pursuit,
Opens, illumines, cheers his way,
Discerns the immortal from the brute,
GOD's image from the mould of clay?
"Tis Knowledge:- Knowledge to the soul
Is power, and liberty, and peace;
And while celestial ages roll,
The joys of Knowledge shall increase.
Hail to the glorious plan, that spread
The light with universal beams,
And through the human desert led
Truth's living, pure, perpetual streams!
-Behold a new creation rise,
New spirit breathed into the clod,
Where'er the voice of Wisdom cries,
"Man, know thyself, and fear thy God."
ANNIVERSARY OF THE ROYAL BRITISH SYSTEM OF EDUCATION,
Held at Freemasons' Hall, May 16. 1812.
THE lion o'er his wild domains
Rules with the terror of his eye;
The eagle of the rock maintains
By force his empire in the sky;
The shark, the tyrant of the flood,
Reigns through the deep with quenchless rage:
Parent and young, unwean'd from blood,
Are still the same from age to age.
Of all that live, and move, and breathe,
Man only rises o'er his birth;
He looks above, around, beneath,
At once the heir of heaven and earth:
A DAUGHTER (C. M.) TO HER MOTHER.
ON HER BIRTH-DAY, NOV. 25. 1811.
THIS the day to me most dear
In the changes of the year:
Spring, the fields and woods adorning,
Spring may boast a gayer morning;
Summer noon with brighter beams
Gild the mountains and the streams;
Autumn, through the twilight vale,
Breathe a more delicious gale:
Yet, though stern November reigns
Wild and wintry o'er the plains,
Never does the morning rise
Half so welcome to mine eyes;
Love, that watch'd my early years With conflicting hopes and fears; Love, that through life's flowery May Led my childhood, prone to stray; Love, that still directs my youth With the constancy of Truth, Heightens every bliss it shares, Softens and divides the cares, Smiles away my light distress, Weeps for joy, or tenderness : -May that love, to latest age, Cheer my earthly pilgrimage! May that love, o'er death victorious, Rise beyond the grave more glorious! Souls, united here, would be One to all eternity.
When these eyes from native night First unfolded to the light, On what object, fair and new, Did they fix their fondest view? On my Mother's smiling mien; All the mother there was seen. When their weary lids would close, And she sang me to repose, Found I not the sweetest rest On my Mother's peaceful breast? When my tongue from hers had caught Sounds to utter infant thought, Readiest then what accents came? Those that meant my Mother's name. When my timid feet begun, Strangely pleased, to stand or run, 'Twas my Mother's voice and eye Most encouraged me to try, Safe to run, and strong to stand, Holding by her gentle hand.
Time since then hath deeper made Lines, where youthful dimples play'd;
Yet to me my Mother's face
Wears a more angelic grace;
And her tresses thin and hoary,
Are they not a crown of glory ?—
Cruel griefs have wrung that breast,
Once my Paradise of rest:
While in these I bear a part,
Warmer grows my Mother's heart,
Closer our affections twine,
Mine with hers, and hers with mine.
-Many a name, since hers I knew,
Have I loved with honour due,
But no name shall be more dear
Than my Mother's to mine ear.
Many a hand that friendship plighted
Have I clasp'd, with all delighted,
But more faithful none can be
Than my Mother's hand to me.
Thus by every tie endear'd,
Thus with filial reverence fear'd,
Mother! on this day 'tis meet
That, with salutation sweet,
I should wish you years of health,
Worldly happiness and wealth,
And, when good old age is past,
Heaven's eternal peace at last!
But with these I frame a vow
For a double blessing now;
One, that richly shall combine
Your felicity with mine;
One, in which with soul and voice
Both together may rejoice:
O what shall that blessing be?
Dearest Mother! may you see All your prayers fulfill'd for me!
Stanzas on reading the Verses entitled ' Resignation,' written
by Chatterton a few days before his melancholy end.
A DYING Swan of Pindus sings
In wildly mournful strains;
As Death's cold fingers snap the strings,
His suffering lyre complains.
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