BEHOLD the mountain peaks how sharply lined. Against the cloudless orient! while, serene, The silver Moon, majestic as a queen,
Walks 'mid thin stars, whose lustre has declined.
There is no breath of wind abroad: the trees
Sleep in their stilly leaflessness; while, lost
In the pale, sparkling labyrinths of frost,
The wide world seems to slumber, and to freeze.
'Tis like enchanted fairyland! A chill
Steals o'er the heart, as, gazing thus on night,
Life from our lower world seems pass'd away;
And, in the witchery of the faint moonlight,
Silence comes down to hold perpetual sway ;—
So breathless is the scene-so hush'd-so still!
O! SWEETLY beautiful it is to mark
The virgin vernal Snow-drop, lifting up,
Meek as a nun, the whiteness of its cup
From earth's dead bosom, desolate and dark!
Glorious is Summer, with its rich array
Of blossom'd greenery, perfume-glowing bowers,
Blue skies, and balmy airs, and fruits, and flowers,
Bright sunshine, singing birds, and endless day!
Nor glorious less brown Autumn's witchery,
As by her golden trees Pomona sits,
And Ceres, as she wanders, hears by fits
The reapers' chant, beneath the mellowing sky!
But thy blasts, Winter, hymn a moral lay,
And, mocking Earth, bid Man's thoughts point on high.
Sweet day! so calm, so pure, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky!
AFTER a week of restless care and coil,
How sweet unspeakably it is to wake,
And see, in sunshine, thro' the lattice break
The Sabbath morn's serene and saintly smile!
To hallowed quiet human stir is hushed;
'Twould almost seem that the external world
Felt God's command, and that the sea-waves curled
More blandly, making music as they rushed.
The flowers breathe fragrance; from the summer fields
Hark to the small birds singing, singing on
As 'twere an endless anthem to the throne
Of Nature for the boundless stores she yields:
Yea! to the Power that shelters and that shields,
All living things mute adoration own.
IF Earth hath aught that speaks to us of Heaven, 'Tis when, within some lone and leafy dell, Solemn and slow we list the Sabbath bell,
On Music's wings, thro' the clear ether driven :-
Say not the sounds aloud-" O men, 'twere well
Hither to come; walk not in sins unshriven;
Haste to this temple; tidings ye shall hear,
Ye who are sorrowful and sick in soul,
Your doubts to chase, your downcastness to cheer,
To bind affliction's wounds, and make you whole :
Hither-come hither; though, with Tyrian dye,
Guilt hath polluted you, yet, white as snow,
Cleansed by the streams that from this altar flow,
Home ye shall pass to meet your Maker's eye!"
SOOTHER of life, physician of all ail,
Thou, more than reputation, wealth, or power,
In the soul's garden the most glorious flower,
Earth's link to Heaven, Religion thee I hail !
Than Luxury's domes, where thou art oft forgot,
Life's aim and object quite misunderstood,
With thee how far more blest the lowliest cot,
The coarsest raiment, and the simplest food!
O! may not with the Heavenly, holy calm
Of Sabbath, from our hearts thine influence glide ;
But, thro' Earth's pilgrimage, whate'er betide,
May o'er our path thy sweets descend like balm ;
Faith telling that the Almighty light, "I Am,"
Is ever through Sin's labyrinth our guide.
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