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And with a transitory smile illume

The upper world is glad, and fresh and fair, The dim - discover'd depth of that damp But that black stone repels the dancing lightbreathless tomb. The beams of heaven must never enter there, Where by the mould'ring corpse in darkness

sits Despair! All hearts turn shuddering from that gulf

profound, And momentary solace vainly seek

| Where now those tears, smiles, motions, In gazing on the solemn objects round !

looks and tones, Those pictur'd saints with eyes uplifted meek That made our Vernon in his pride of place To the still heavens, how silently they speak So glorious and so fair! these sullen stones, Of faith untroubled, sanctity divine Like a frozen sea, lie o'er that beauteous face! While on the paleness of each placid cheek Soon will there be no solitary trace We seem to see a holy lustre shine Of him, his joys, his sadness, or his mirth! O'er mortal beauty breath'd from an im- Even now grows dim the memory of that mortal shrinc !

grace That halo-like shone round the soul of worth!

All fading like a dream! all vanishing from What though beneath our feet the earthly

earth. mould Of virtue, beauty, youth, and genius lie In grim decay! Yet round us we behold

Where now the fancies wild-the thoughts The cheering emblems of eternity.

benign What voice divine is theirs ! If soul may die,

That rais'd his soul and purified his heart! And nought its perishable glory save,

Where now have fled those impulses divine Unto yon marble face that to the sky

That taught that gifted youth the Poet's art, Looks up with humble hope, what feeling

Stealing at midnight with a thrilling start

Into his spirit, wakeful with the pain gave Those smiles that speak of heaven, though Of that mysterious joy! In darkness part kindling o'er a grave!

All the bright hopes, that in a glorious train
Lay round his soul, like clouds that hail the

morning's reign! O holy image of the Son of God! Bearing his cross up toilsome Calvary !

Ah me! can sorrow such fair image bring Was that stern path for sinful mortals trod ? | - Methinks from that calm cheek, and pity

Before a mourner's eyes! Methinks I see,

pils, Laden with all the glories of the spring,

ing eye. L'plifted to that grim and wrathful sky,

Balm, brightness, music, a resplendent tree, (Dim for our sakes with a celestial tear)

Waving its blossom’d branches gloriously

Over a sunny garden of delight! Falls a sweet smile where Vernon's relics lie

" A cold north-wind comes wrathful from the In mortal stillness on the unmoving bier!

sea, Seeming the bright spring-morn of heaven's

And there at dawn of day a rueful sight! eternal year. As winter brown and sere the glory once so

bright. -Down, down within oblivion's darksome brink

I look into the mist of future years, With lingering motion, as if every hand and gather comfort from the eternal law Were loth to let the mournful bürden sink, That yields up manhood to a host of fears, The coffin disappears! The weeping band, (To blinded passion, and bewildering awe! All round that gulf one little moment stand Th' exulting soul of Vernon never saw In mute and black dismay—and scarcely know Hope's ghastly visage by Truth laugh’d to What dire event has happen'd! the loose sand

scorn; From the vault-stone with dull drop sounds | Imagination had not paus'd to draw below,

The gorgeous curtains of Life's sunny morn, The grave's low hollow voice hath told the Nor show'd the scenes behind so dismal and tale of woe!

forlorn.

Look for the last time down that cold damp To thee, my Friend! as to a shining star gloom ;

Through the blue depths a cloudless course Of those bright letters take a farewell-sight!

was given; -Down falls the vault-stone on the yawning There smil'd thy soul, from earthly vapours

tomb, And all below is sunk in sudden night! Serenely sparkling in its native heaven! Now is the chapel-aisle with sunshine bright, No clouds at last were o'er its beauty driven

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But as aloft it burn'd resplendently,

Unto the darkness where we lately stood, At once it faded from the face of even, And still the image of that narrow room As oft before the nightly wanderer's eye Beneath the sunshine chills our very blood, A star on which he gaz'd drops sudden With the damp breathless air of mortal from the sky!

solitude.

Who comes to break my dreams? The O band of rosy children shouting lond,

chapel-door With Morris-dance in honour of the May ! Is opening slow, and that old Man appears Restrain that laughter ye delighted crowd, With his long floating locks so silvery-hoar! Let one sad hour disturb your holiday. His frame is crouching, as if twenty years Yedrop your flowers,and wonder who arethey Had pass'd in one short day! There are no tears With garb so black and cheeks of deadly hue! On his wan wrinkled face, or hollow eyes! With one consent then rush again to play, At last with pain his humbled head he rears, For what hath Sadness, Sorrow, Death to do, And asks, while not one grief-chok’d voice Beneath that sunny sky with that lightreplies,

hearted crew! Show me the very stone 'neath which my

Henry lies!

And now the Parents have left far behind

The gorgeous City with its groves and He sees the scatter'd dust—and down he falls

bowers, Upon that pavement with a shuddering groan; The funeral toll pursues them on the wind, And with a faltering broken voice he calls And looking back, a cloud of thunder lowers By that dear name upon his buried Son. In mortal darkness o'er the shining towers, Then dumb he lies! and ever and anon That glance like fire at every sunny gleam! Fixes his eye-balls with a ghastly glow Within that glorious scene, what hideous On the damp blackness of that hideous stone,

hours As if he look'd it through, and saw below Draggd their dire length! tower, palace, The dead face looking up as white as frozen

temple swim, snow! Before their wilder'd brain-a grand but

dreadful dream!

0 gently make way for that Lady fair! How calm she walks along the solemn aisle! Say who will greet them at their Castle-gate? Beneath the sad grace of that braided hair, A silent line in sable garb array'd, How still her brow! and what a holy smile! The ancient servants of the House will wait! One start she gives—and stops a little while, Up to those woe-worn visages afraid When bow'd by grief her husband's frame To lift their gaze! while on the tower appears,

displayed, With reverend locks which the hard stones A rueful scutcheon meets the Father's eye,

defile !

Hung out by death when beauty had decayed, Then with the only voice that mourner hears, And sending far into the sunless sky Lifts up his hoary head and bathes it in The mortal gloom that shrouds its dark her tears !

emblazonry.

At last the funeral party melts away, - Oh! black as death yon pine-grove on the And as I look up from the chapel-floor,

hill! No living object can my eyes survey, Yon waterfall hath now a dismal roar! Save these two childless Parents at the door, Why is that little lake so sadly still, Flinging back a wild farewell—then seen no So dim the flowers and trees along the shore!

more!

"Tis not in vernal sunshine to restore And now I hear my own slow footsteps sound Their faded beauty, for the source of light Along the echoing aisle—that tread is o'er That warm'd the primrose-bank doth flow And as with blinded eyes I turn me round,

no more! The Sexton shuts the gate that stune with Vain Nature's power! for unto Sorrow's sight thundering sound! No dewy flower is fair, no blossomy tree is

bright. How fresh and cheerful laughs the open air To one who has been standing by a tomb! -Five years have travell’d by-since side And yet the beauty that is glistening there

by side Flings back th'unwilling soul into the gloom. That aged pair were laid in holy ground! We turn from walls which dancing rays With them the very name of Vernon died,

And now it seemeth like an alien sound,

illume

Where once it shed bright smiles and bless Up! up to yon cliff! like a King to his throne!

ings round! O'er the black silent forest piled lofty and Another race dwell in that ancient Hall,

loneNor one memorial of that youth is found A throne which the eagle is glad to resign Save his sweet Picture-now unknown to Unto footsteps so fleet and so fearless as thine.

all

There the bright heather springs up in love That smiles, and long will smile neglected

of thy breaston the wall. Lo! the clouds in the depth of the sky arc

at rest;

And the race of the wild winds is o'er on But not forgotten in that lofty clime,

the hill! Where star-like once thy radiant spirit shone, In the hush of the mountains, ye antlers Art thou my Vernon! 'mid those courts

lie still sublime

Though your branches now toss in the The mournful music of thy name is known.

storm of delight, Orford still glories in her gifted Son, Like the arms of the pine on yon shelterless And gray-hair'd men who speak of days

height. gone by

One moment—thou bright Apparition ! Recount what noble palms by him were won,

delay! Describe his step, his mien, his voice, his eye, Then melt o'er the crags, like the sun from Till tears will oft rush in to close his eulogy.

the day.

face!

In the dim silence of the Chapel-aisle

Aloft on the weather-gleam, scorning the His Image stands ! with pale but life-like

earth,

The wild spirit hung in majestical mirth : The cold white marble breathes a heavenly In dalliance with danger, he bounded in bliss,

smile,

O'er the fathomless gloom of each moaning The still locks eluster with a mournful

abyss; grace.

O'er the grim rocks careering with prosperO ne'er may time that beauteous bust deface!

ous motion, There may it smile through ages far away, Like a ship by herself in full sail o'er the On those, who, walking through that holy

ocean! place,

Then proudly he turn'd ere he sank to the dell, A moment pause that Image to survey, And shook from his forehead a haughty And read with soften'd soul the monumental

farewell, While his horns in a crescent of radiance

shone, Like a flag barning bright when the vessel

is gone.

lay.

ADDRESS TO A WILD DEER

The ship of the descrt hath passid on the IN THE POREST OF DALNESB, GLEN - ETIVE,

wind, ARGYLLSHIRE.

And left the dark ocean of mountains behind !

But my spirit will travel wherever she flee, MAGNIFICENT Creature! 80 stately and And behold her in pomp o'er the rim of the bright!

seaIn the pride of thy spirit pursuing thy flight; Her voyage pursue-till her anchor be cast For what hath the child of the desert to dread, In some cliff-girdled haven of beauty at last. Wafting up his own mountains that far

beaming head; Or borne like a whirlwind down on the What lonely magnificence stretchesaround!

vale?

| Each sight how sublime! and how awful Hail! King of the wild and the beautiful!

each sound! hail!

All hush'd and serene, as a region of dreams, Hail! Idol divine-whom Nature hath borne The mountains repose 'mid the roar of the O'er a hundred hill-tops since the mists of

streams, the morn,

Their glens of black umbrage by cataracts Whom the pilgrim lone wandering on moun

riven, tain and moor, But calm their blue tops in the beauty of As the vision glides by him, may blameless

Heaven. adore;

Here the glory of nature hath nothing to For the joy of the happy, the strength of

fearthe free,

-Aye! Time the destroyer in power hath Are spread in a garment of glory o'er thee.

been here;

And the forest that hung on yon mountain Thou fling'st thy bold beauty, exulting and so high,

free, Like a black thunder-cloud on the arch of O'er a pit of grim blackness, that roars like the sky,

the sea. Hath gone, like that cloud, when the tem

pest came by. Deep sunk in the black moor, all worn and

His voyage is o'er!– As if struck by a

His voyage 18 0 decay'd,

spell Where the floods have been raging, the

He motionless stands in the hush of the dell,

limbs are display'a There softly and slowly sinks down on his of the Pine-tree and Oak sleeping vast in

breast, In the midst of his pastime enamour'd of rest.

the gloom, The kings of the forest disturb’d' in their

A stream in a clear pool that endeth its tomb.

raceA dancing ray chain'd to one sunshiny place

A cloud by the winds to calm solitude drivenE'en now, in the pomp of their prime. A hurricane dead in the silence of heaven!

behold O'erhanging the desert the forests of old ! So gorgeous their verdure, so solemn their Fit couch of repose for a pilgrim like thee!

shade,

Magnificent prison enclosing the free! Like the heavens above them, they never with rock-wall encircled—with precipice may fade.

crown'dThe sunlight is on them—in silence they Which, awoke by the sun, thou can'st clear sleep

at a bound. A glimmering glow, like the breast of the 'Mid the fern and the heather kind Nature deep,

doth keep When the billows scarce heave in the One bright spot of green for her favourite's calmness of morn.

sleep; -Down the pass of Glen-Etive the tempest And close to that covert, as clear as the skies

is borne,

When their blue depths are cloudless, & And the hill-side is swinging, and roars

little lake lies, with a sound Where the creature at rest can his image In the heart of the forest embosom’d profound.

behold Till all in a moment the tumult is o'er, Looking up through the radiance, as bright And the mountain of thunder is still as the

and as bold! shore

How lonesome! how wild! yet the wildness When the sea is at ebb; not a leaf nor a

is rife breath

With the stir of enjoyment—the spirit of life. To disturb the wild solitude, steadfast as The glad fish leaps up in the heart of the lake,

death.
Whose depths, at the sullen plunge, sullenly

quake!

Elate on the fern-branch the grasshopper * From his eyrie the eagle hath soar'd with

singe, a scream,

And away in the midst of his roundelay And I wake on the edge of the cliff from

springs; .. my dream;

Mid the flowers of the heath, not more bright - Where now is the light of thy far-bcam

than himself, ing brow?

The wild-bee is busy, a musical elf Fleet son of the wilderness! where art thou Then starts from his labour, unwearied and now?

gay, -Again o'er yon crag thou returnst to my And, circling the antlers, booms far far away.

While high up the mountains, in silence Like the horns of the moon from a cloud

remote, of the night! | The cuckoo unseen is repeating his note, Serene on thy travel-as soul in a dream- And mellowing echo, on watch in the skies. Thou needest no bridge o'er the rush of Like a voice from some loftier climate the stream.

replies. With thy presence the pine-grove is fill’d, With wide-branching antlers a guard to his as with light,

breast, And the caves, as thou passest, one moment There lies the wild Creature, even stately are bright.

in rest! Through the arch of the rainbow that lies 'Mid the grandeur of nature, compos'd and

on the rock 'Mid the mist stealing up from the cataracts And proud in his heart of the mountainous shock,

sight,

scene,

serene,

He lifts his calm eye to the eagle and raven, When the clear depth of noon-tide, with At noon sinking down on smooth wings to

glittering motion, their haven,

O'crflows the lone glens—an aerial oceanAs if in his soul the bold Animal smil'd When the earth and the heavens, in union To his friends of the sky, the joint-heirs

profound, of the wild. Lie blended in beauty that knows not a

sound

As his eyes in the sunshiny solitude close Yes! fierce looks thy nature, ev'n hush'a 'Neath a rock of the desert in dreaming in repose

repose, In the depth of thy desert regardless of foes. He sees, in his slumbers, such visions of old Thy bold antlers call on the hunter afar As his wild Gaelic songs to his infancy told; With a haughty defiance to come to the war! O'er the mountains a thousand plum'd No outrage is war to a creature like thee!

hunters are borne, The bugle-horn fills thy wild spirit with glee, And he starts from his dream at the blast As thou bearest thy neck on the wings of

of the horn. the wind, And the laggardly gaze-hound is toiling

behind.

Yes! child of the desert! fit quarry were In the beams of thy forehead that glitter

thou with death, For the hunter that came with a crown on In feet that draw power from the touch of

his brow, the heath,

By princes attended with arrow and spear, In the wide-raging torrent that lends thee in their white-tented camp, for the warfare its roar,

of deer. In the cliff that once trod must be trodden In splendour the tents on the green summit no more,

stood, Thy trust-mid the dangers that threaten And brightly they shone from the glade in thy reign!

the wood, -But what if the stag on the mountain be And, silently built by a magical spell,

slain?

The pyramid rose in the depth of the dell. On the brink of the rock-lo! he standeth All mute was the palace of Lochy that day,

at bay

When the king and his nobles—a gallant Like a victor that falls at the close of the

arrayday

To Gleno or Glen-Etive came forth in their While hunter and hound in their terror

pride, retreat

And a hundred fierce stage in their solitude From the death that is spurn'd from his

died. furious feet: Not lonely and single they pass'd o'er the And his last cry of anger comes back from

heightthe skies,

But thousands swept by in their hurricaneAs nature's fierce son in the wilderness dies.

flight; And bow'd to the dust in their trampling

tread High life of a hunter! he meets on the hill Was the plumage on many a warrior's head. The new waken'd daylight, so bright and _“Fall down on your faces !- the herd is at 80 still;

hand!” And feels, as the clouds of the morning unroll, -And onwards they came like the sea o'er The silence, the splendour, ennoble his soul.

the sand; Tis his o'er the mountains to stalk like a Like the snow from the mountain when ghost,

loosen'd by rain, Enshrouded with mist, in which nature is And rolling along with a crash to the plain;

lost,

Like a thunder-split oak-tree, that falls in Thi he lifts up his eyes, and flood, valley,

one shock and height, With his hundred wide arms from the top In one moment all swim in an ocean of light;

of the rock, While the sun, like - a glorious banner Like the voice of the sky, when the black unfurla,

cloud is near, Seems to wave o'er a new, more magnificent So sudden, so loud, came the tempest of world.

Deer. *Tis his-by the mouth of some cavern his Wild mirth of the desert! fit pastime for

kings! The lightning of heaven to hold at his feet, which still the rude Bard in his solitude While the thunder below him that growls

sings. from the cloud, Oh reign of magnificence! vanish'd for ever! To him comes on echo more awfully loud. Like music dried up in the bed of a river,

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