This truth may boast but little worth,
Enforced by rhet'ric's frigid powers ;—
But when it has its quiet birth
In contemplation's silent hours;
When Summer's brightly peopled bowers Bring HOME its teachings TO THE HEART, Then birds and insects, shrubs and flowers Its touching eloquence impart.
Then thou, delightful creature, who
Wert yesterday a sightly worm,
Becomest a symbol fair and true
Of hopes that own no mortal term;
In thy proud change we see the germ
Of man's sublimer destiny,
While holiest oracles confirm
The type of immortality!
A change more glorious far than thine,
E'en I, thy fellow-worm, may know,
When this exhausted frame of mine
Down to its kindred dust shall go :
When the anxiety and woe
Of being's embryo state shall seem
Like phantoms flitting to and fro
In some confused and feverish dream.
For thee, who flittest gaily now,
With all thy nature asks-supplied,
A few brief summer days, and thou
No more amid these haunts shalt glide,
As Hope's fair herald-in thy pride
The sylph-like genius of the scene,
But, sunk in dark oblivion's tide,
Shalt be-as thou hadst never been!
While Man's immortal part, when Time
Shall set the chainless spirit free,
May seek a brighter, happier clime
Than Fancy e'er could feign for thee:
Though bright her fairy bowers may be,
Yet brief as bright their beauties fade,
And sad Experience mourns to see
Each gourd Hope trusted in-decayed.
But in those regions, calm and pure,
To which our holiest wishes cling,
Joys, that eternally endure,
Shall bloom in everlasting Spring:
There seraph harps, of golden string,
Are vocal to the great I AM,
And souls redeemed their anthems sing Of grateful praises to THE LAMB!
Shall they who here anticipate,
Through Faith's strong vision, eagle-eyed, Those joys immortal that await
Angelic spirits purified,
Shall such, however deeply tried,
E'er cast their glorious hopes away
Oh! be those hopes their heavenward guide,
Their stedfast anchor, and their stay.
Though many a flower that sweetly decked
Life's early path, but bloomed to fade;
Though sorrow, poverty, neglect-
Now seem to wrap their souls in shade ;-
Let these look upward, undismayed,
From thorny paths, in anguish trod,
To regions where-in light arrayed,
Still dwells their Saviour, and their God.
Sport on then, lovely Summer-fly,
With whom began my votive strain :-
Yet purer joys THEIR hopes supply,
Who, by Faith's alchemy, obtain
Comfort in sorrow, bliss in pain,
Freedom in bondage, light in gloom,
Through earthly losses, heavenly gain,
And LIFE IMMORTAL through THE TOMB.
MARCELLUS'S SPEECH TO THE MOB.
WHEREFORE rejoice? that Cæsar comes in triumph! What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
Oh you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome!
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made a universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath his banks
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in his concave shores ?
And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone-
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plagues
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
FARE THEE WELL.
FARE thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well:
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.
Would that breast were bared before thee
Where thy head so oft hath lain,
While that placid sleep came o'er thee
Which thou ne'er canst know again:
Would that breast, by thee glanced over,
Every inmost thought could show !
Then thou wouldst at last discover
'Twas not well to spurn it so.
Though the world for this commend thee-
Though it smile upon the blow,
Even its praises must offend thee,
Founded on another's woe-
Though my many faults defaced me,
Could no other arm be found
Than the one which once embraced me,
To inflict a cureless wound?
Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not;
Love may sink by slow decay,
But by sudden wrench, believe not
Hearts can thus be torn away:
Still thine own its life retaineth
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat;
And the undying thought which paineth
Is that we no more may meet.
These are words of deeper sorrow
Than the wail above the dead;
Both shall live, but every morrow
Wake us from a widowed bed.
And when thou wouldst solace gather,
When our child's first accents flow,
Wilt thou teach her to say "Father!"
Though his care she must forego?
When her little hands shall press thee,
When her lip to thine is prest,
Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee,
Think of him thy love had blessed!
Should her lineaments resemble
Those thou never more may'st see,
Then thy heart will softly tremble
With a pulse yet true to me.
All my faults perchance thou knowest,
All my madness none can know;
All my hopes, where'er thou goest,
Wither, yet with thee they go.
Every feeling hath been shaken;
Pride, which not a world could bow,
Bows to thee-by thee forsaken,
soul forsakes me now:
But 'tis done-all words are idle-
Words from me are vainer still;
But the thoughts we cannot bridle
Force their way without the will.—
Fare thee well!—thus disunited,
Torn from every nearer tie,
Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted-
More than this, I scarce can die.
PROCRASTINATION.
By nature's law, what may be, may be now; There's no prerogative in human hours. In human hearts what bolder thought can rise, Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn? Where is to-morrow? In another world.
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