Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

Selections From " In Memoriam."

GRIEF UNSPEAKABLE.
SOMETIMES hold it half a sin

To put in words the grief I feel; For words, like Nature, half reveal And half conceal the soul within.

But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold;
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more.

DEAD, IN A FOREIGN LAND.

Fair ship, that from the Italian shore
Sailest the placid ocean-plains

With my lost Arthur's loved remains, Spread thy full wings, and waft him o'er !

So draw him home to those that mourn
In vain; a favorable speed
Ruffle thy mirrored mast, and lead
Through prosperous floods his holy urn!

All night no ruder air perplex

Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor. bright
As our poor love, through early light
Shall glimmer on the dewy decks!
Sphere all your lights around, above;
Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow;
Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now,
My friend, the brother of my love;

My Arthur, whom I shall not see
Till all my widowed race be run;
Dear as the mother to the son,
More than my brothers are to me!

TIME AND ETERNITY,

If Sleep and Death be truly one,
And every spirit's folded bloom
Through all its intervital gloom

In some long trance should slumber on;

Unconscious of the sliding hour,

Bare of the body, might it last,

And silent traces of the past Be all the color of the flower:

So then were nothing lost to man;
So that still garden of the souls
In many a figured leaf enrolls
The total world since life began;

And love will last as pure and whole
As when he loved me here in Time,
And at the spiritual prime
Rewaken with the dawning soul.

PERSONAL RESURRECTION.

That each, who seems a separate whole,
Should move his rounds, and fusing all
The skirts of self again, should fall
Remerging in the general soul,

Is faith as vague as all unsweet:
Eternal form shall still divide
The eternal soul from all beside;
And I shall know him when we meet:

And we shall sit at endless feast,

Enjoying each the other's good; What vaster dream can hit the mood Of Love on earth? He seeks at least Upon the last and sharpest height, Before the spirits fade away, Some landing place to clasp and say, "Farewell! We lose ourselves in light."

SPIRITUAL COMPANIONSHIP.

Do we indeed desire the dead

Should still be near us at our side?
Is there no baseness we would hide?
No inner vileness that we dread?
Shall he for whose applause I strove,
I had such reverence for his blame,
See with clear eye some hidden shame,
And I be lessened in his love?

I wrong the grave with fears untrue;
Shall love be blamed for want of faith?
There must be wisdom with great Death;
The dead shall look me through and through.

Be near us when we climb or fall;

Ye watch, like God, the rolling hours

And in the dark church, like a ghost, Thy tablet glimmers to the dawn.

With larger other eyes than ours, To make allowance for us all.

MOONLIGHT MUSINGS.

When on my bed the moonlight falls,
I know that in thy place of rest,
By that broad water of the west,
There comes a glory on the walls;

Thy marble bright in dark appears,
As slowly steals a silver flame
Along the letters of thy name,
And o'er the number oft hy years.

The mystic glory swims away;

From off my bea the moonlight dies; And, closing eaves of wearied eyes, I sleep till dusk is dipped in gray; And then I know the mist is drawn

A lucid vale from coast to coast,

DEATH IN LIFE'S PRIME.

So many worlds, so much to do,
So little done, such things to be,
How know I what had need of thee?
For thou wert strong as thou wert true.

The fame is quenched that I foresaw,

The head hath missed an earthly wreath: I curse not nature, no, nor death; For nothing is that errs from law.

We pass the path; that each man trod

Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds; What fame is left for human deeds In endless age? It rests with God. -Arthur Henry Hallam, ob. 1833.

[blocks in formation]

Footsteps of Angels.

WHEN the hours of day are numbered,

W

And the voices of the night
Wakes the bitter soul that slumbers
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight

Dance upon the parlor wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door-
The beloved ones, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more:

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the being beauteous
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noiseless footstep

Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,

Lays her gentle hand in mine; And she sits and gazes at me

With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies. Uttered not, yet comprehended,

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

[blocks in formation]

When the Lamp is Shattered.

[blocks in formation]

When hearts have once mingled,

Loves first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled

To endure what it once possest.

Oh Love! who bewailest

The fraility of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest

For yout cradle, your home, and your bier?

Its passions will rock thee

As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee,

Like the sun from from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter

Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley.

L

Man's Mortality.

IKE as the damask rose you see,

Or like the blossom on the tree, Or like the dainty flower in May, Or like the morning of the day, Or like the sun, or like the shade, Or like the gourd which Jonas had— E'en such is man; whose thread is spun, Drawn out, and cut, and so is doneThe rose withers, the blossom blasteth, The flower fades, the morning hasteth, The sun sets, the shaddow flies,

The gourd consumes-and man-he dies?

Like to the grass that's newly sprung,
Or like a tale that's new begun,

Or like the bird that's here to-day,
Or like the pearled dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the singing of the swan-
E'en such is man-who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life and death-
The grass withers, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended.
The hour is short the span is long,
The swan's near death- man's life is done!
-Simon Wastel

OF

Sleep.

"He giveth His beloved sleep."—Psalm cxxvi. 2.

F all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,

Among the Psalmist's music deep,
Now tell me if that any is,
For gift or grace surpassing this-
"He giveth his beloved sleep?"

What would we give to our beloved?
The heroe's heart to be unmoved-
The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep-
The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse-
The monarch's crown, to light the brows!
"He giveth his beloved sleep."

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

G

[blocks in formation]

RIEVE not that I die young-Is it not well
To pass away ere life hath lost its brightness?
Bind me no longer, sisters, with the spell
Of love and your kind words. List ye to me:
Here I am bless'd-but I would be more free;
I would go forth in all my spirit's lightness.
Let me depart!

Ah! who would linger till bright eyes grow dim,
Kind voices mute, and faithful bosoms cold?
Till carking care, and coil, and anguish grim,
Cast their dark shadows o'er this faëry world;

Till fancy's many-colored wings are furl'd,
And all, save the proud spirit, waxeth old?
I would depart!

Thus would I pass away-yielding my soul
A joyous thank-offering to Him who gave
That soul to be, those starry orbs to roll.
Thus thus exultingly would I depart,
Song on my lips, ecstasy in my heart:
Sisters-sweet sisters, bear me to my grave-
Let me depart!

-Lady Flora Hastings: Swan Song.

« AnteriorContinuar »