Bear witness, ye who seldom passed What spirit-stirring power it gained Blest is that ground, where, o'er the springs Yet earth is wide, and many a nook It was in sooth a happy thought Of coming good; the charm is fled; Which one harsh day has broken. Alas for him who gave the word! Derived from earth or heaven, Which here was freely given? Where, for the love-lorn maiden's wound, Will now so readily be found A balm of expectation? Anxious for far-off children, where Shall mothers breathe a like sweet air Of home-felt consolation! And not unfelt will prove the loss Though the most easily beguiled If still the restless change we mourn, A reconciling thought may turn To harm that might lurk here, Ere judgment prompted from within Fit aims, with courage to begin, And strength to persevere. Not Fortune's slave is Man: our state So taught, so trained, we boldly face Trust in that sovereign law can spread New glory o'er the mountain's head, Fresh beauty through the vale. That truth informing mind and heart, Ungrieved, with charm and spell; XLIII. THE PRIMROSE OF THE ROCK. A ROCK there is whose homely front Yet there the glowworms hang their lamps, And one coy Primrose to that Rock The vernal breeze invites. What hideous warfare hath been waged, What kingdoms overthrown, Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft And marked it for my own; A lasting link in Nature's chain The flowers, still faithful to the stems, *See Note at the end of this Volume. The stems are faithful to the root, Close clings to earth the living rock, So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads * Here closed the meditative strain; The hoary mountain-heights were cheered, I sang, Let myriads of bright flowers, Like thee, in field and grove Revive unenvied ;- mightier far Than tremblings that reprove Our vernal tendencies to hope, Is God's redeeming love; That love which changed, for wan disease, For sorrow that had bent O'er hopeless dust, for withered age, Their moral element, And turned the thistles of a curse Sin-blighted though we are, we too, Our threescore years and ten. To humbleness of heart descends And makes each soul a separate heaven, XLIV. 1831. PRESENTIMENTS. PRESENTIMENTS! they judge not right Who deem that ye from open light Retire in fear of shame; All heaven-born Instincts shun the touch Of vulgar sense, and, being such, |