What Maro loved, shall we enfold? Can haughty Time be just!
That winds through secret wards;
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.
As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;
That smooths foregone distress, the lines
Of lingering care subdues,
Long-vanished happiness refines,
And clothes in brighter hues;
Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works
Those Spectres to dilate
That startle Conscience, as she lurks
Within her lonely seat.
O that our lives, which flee so fast,
In purity were such,
That not an image of the past Should fear that pencil's touch!
Retirement then might hourly look Upon a soothing scene,
Age steal to his allotted nook Contented and serene;
With heart as calm as lakes that sleep, In frosty moonlight glistening;
Or mountain rivers, where they creep Along a channel smooth and deep,
To their own far-off murmurs listening.
THIS Lawn, a carpet all alive
With shadows flung from leaves, to strive
In dance, amid a press
Of sunshine, an apt emblem yields
Of Worldlings revelling in the fields Of strenuous idleness;
Less quick the stir when tide and breeze Encounter, and to narrow seas
Forbid a moment's rest;
The medley less when Boreal Lights Glance to and fro, like aery Sprites To feats of arms addrest!
Yet, spite of all this eager strife, This ceaseless play, the genuine life That serves the steadfast hours Is in the grass beneath, that grows Unheeded, and the mute repose Of sweetly-breathing flowers.
[The Rocking-stones, alluded to in the beginning of the following verses, are supposed to have been used, by our British ancestors, both for judicial and religious purposes. Such stones are not uncommonly found, at this day, both in Great Britain and in Ireland.]
WHAT though the Accused, upon his own appeal To righteous Gods when man has ceased to feel, Or at a doubting Judge's stern command, Before the STONE OF POWER no longer stand, To take his sentence from the balanced Block, As, at his touch, it rocks, or seems to rock; Though, in the depths of sunless groves, no more The Druid-priest the hallowed Oak adore; Yet, for the Initiate, rocks and whispering trees Do still perform mysterious offices!
And functions dwell in beast and bird that sway
The reasoning mind, or with the fancy play, Inviting, at all seasons, ears and eyes To watch for undelusive auguries ;- Not uninspired appear their simplest ways; Their voices mount symbolical of praise,
To mix with hymns that Spirits make and hear; And to fallen man their innocence is dear. Enraptured Art draws from those sacred springs Streams that reflect the poetry of things!
Where Christian Martyrs stand in hues portrayed,
That, might a wish avail, would never fade, Borne in their hands the lily and the palm Shed round the altar a celestial calm;
There, too, behold the lamb and guileless dove Pressed in the tenderness of virgin love To saintly bosoms! - Glorious is the blending Of right affections climbing or descending Along a scale of light and life, with cares Alternate; carrying holy thoughts and prayers Up to the sovereign seat of the Most High; Descending to the worm in charity;
Like those good Angels whom a dream of night Gave, in the field of Luz, to Jacob's sight, All, while he slept, treading the pendent stairs Earthward or heavenward, radiant messengers, That, with a perfect will in one accord
Of strict obedience, serve the Almighty Lord; And with untired humility forbore
To speed their errand by the wings they wore.
What a fair world were ours for verse to paint, If Power could live at ease with self-restraint! Opinion bow before the naked sense
Of the great Vision, faith in Providence ; Merciful over all his creatures, just To the least particle of sentient dust; But, fixing by immutable decrees,
Seed-time and harvest for his purposes ! Then would be closed the restless oblique eye That looks for evil like a treacherous spy; Disputes would then relax, like stormy winds That into breezes sink; impetuous minds By discipline endeavor to grow meek As Truth herself, whom they profess to seek. Then Genius, shunning fellowship with Pride, Would braid his golden locks at Wisdom's side; Love ebb and flow untroubled by caprice; And not alone harsh tyranny would cease, But unoffending creatures find release From qualified oppression, whose defence. Rests on a hollow plea of recompense; Thought-tempered wrongs, for each humane respect Oft worse to bear, or deadlier in effect. Witness those glances of indignant scorn From some high-minded Slave, impelled to spurn The kindness that would make him less forlorn; Or, if the soul to bondage be subdued,
His look of pitiable gratitude!
Alas for thee, bright Galaxy of Isles,
Whose day departs in pomp, returns with smiles,
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