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look,

And, rare perfection! calm and sober sense But when our hearts have read Fate's mystic Combined with fancy's wild magnificence;

book, Struck with the pomp of Nature's wondrous On Heaven's gemm'd sphere we list a joyful

plan, I hail with joy the dignity of man, Hope turns to Faith, Faith glorifies the And soaring high above life's roaring sea,

gloom, Spring to the dwelling of my God and Thee. And life springs forth exulting from the

tomb! Short here thy stay! for souls of holiest birth

Oh, blest Eliza! though to me unknown Dwell but a moment with the sons of carth; Thine eye's mild lustre and thy melting tone; To this dim sphere by God's indulgence Though on this carth a part our lives were led,

given,

Nor my love found thee till thy soul was Their friends are angels, and their home is

fled; heaven.

Yet, can affection kiss thy silent clay, The fairest rose in shortest time decays;

And rend the glimmering veil of death away: The sun, when brightest, soon withdraws Fancy beholds with fixed, delighted eye,

his rays ;

Thy white-robed spirit gently gliding by; The dew that gleams like diamonds on the Deep sinks thy smile into my quiet breast,

thorn,

| As moonlight steeps the ocean-wave in rest! Melts instantaneous at the breath of morn;

While thus, bright shade! thine eyes of Too soon a rolling shade of darkness shrouds

mercy dwell The star that smiles amid the evening-clouds; | On that fair land thou lovedst of old so well, And sounds that come so sweetly on the ear, what holy raptures through thy being flow, That the soul wishes every sense could to see thi

To see thy memory blessing all below, hear,

Virtue rc-kindle at thy grave her fires, Are as the Light's unwearied pinions fleet, And vice repentant shun his low desires! As scarce as beauteous, and as short as sweet. This the true Christian's heaven! on earth

to sec

The sovereign power of immortality" Yet, though the unpolluted soul requires At war with sin, and in triumphant pride Airs born in Heaven to fan her sacred fires, Soreading the

res, Spreading the empire of the Crucified. And mounts to God exulting to be frec Fromn fleshly chain that binds mortality, .

The world is hallow'd by her blest sojourn,
And glory dwells for ever round her urn! oft 'mid the calm of mountain-solitude,
Her skirts of beauty sanctify the air Where Nature's loveliness thy spirit woo'd ;
That felt her breathings and that heard her Where lonely cataracts with sullen roar

prayer;

To thy hush'd heart a fearful rapture bore, Vice dies where'er the radiant vision trod, And caverns moaning with the voice of night, And there e'en Atheists must believe in God! Steep'd throngh the ear thy mind in strange Such the proud triumphs that the good

delightachieve!

| I feel thy influence on my heart descend Such the blest gift that sinless spirits leave! Like words of comfort whispered by a friend, The parted soul in god-given strength And every cloud in lovelier figures roll,

sublime,

Shaped by the power of thy presiding soul! Streams undimm'd splendour o'er anmeasured And when, slow-sinking in a blaze of light,

time;

The sun in glory bathes each radiant height, Still on the earth the sainted hues survive, Amid the glow thy form seraphic seems Dead in the tomb, but in the heart alive. To float refulgent with unborrow'd beams; In vain the tide of ages strives to roll For thou, like him, hadst still thy course A bar to check the intercourse of soul;

pursued, The hovering spirits of the good and great From thy own blessedness dispensing good; With fond remembrance own their former Brightly that soul in life's fair morn arose,

state,

And burn'd like him, more glorious at its And masing virtue often can behold

close. In vision high their plumes of wavy gold, And drink with tranced ear the silver sound Of seraphs hymning on their nightly round. But now, I feel my pensive spirit turn, By death untaught, our range of thought Where parents, brothers, sisters, o'er thec is small,

mourn. Bound by the attraction of this earthly ball. For though to all unconscious time supplies Our sorrows and our joys, our hopes and A strength of soul that stifles useless sighs;

fears,

| And in our loneliest hours of grief is given Ignobly pent within a few short years; To our dim gaze a nearer glimpse of heaven, Yet, human frailty pines in deep distress, Steal on thy memory, and though tears will Even when a friend has soar'd to happiness,

fall And sorrow, selfish from excess of love, O'er scenes gone by that thou wouldst fain Would glad recal the seraph from above!

recal, And, chief, to thee! on whose delighted Yet oft has faith with deeper bliss beguiled

breast,

A parent weeping her departed child, While, yet a babe, she play'd herself to Than love maternal, when her baby lay

rest,

Hush'd at her breast, or smiling in its play, Who rock'd her cradle with requited care, And, as some glimpse of infant-fancy came, And bless'd her sleeping with a silent prayer; Murmuring in scarce-heard lisp some broken To thee, who first beheld, with watchful eye,

name. From her flush'd cheek health's natural Thou feelst no more grief's palpitating start,

radiance fly, Nor the drear night hangs heavy on thy And, though by fate denied the power to save,

heart. Smooth'd with kind care her passage to the Though sky and star may yet awhile divide

grave,

Thy mortal being from thy bosom's pride, When slow consumption led with fatal bloom / Your spirits mingle--while to thine is given A rosy spectre smiling to the tomb; A loftier nature from the touch of heaven. The strain of comfort first to thee would

flow,

But thou hast comforts man could ne'er

bestow;
And e'en misfortune's long and gloomy roll EDITH AND NOR A.
Wakes dreams of glory in thy stately soul.
For reason whispers, and religion proves,

A PASTORAL POET'S DREAM.
That God by sorrow chasteneth whom he

loves;

SHE hath risen up from her morning-prayer, And suffering virtue smiles at misery'egloom, And chained the waves of her golden hair, Cheer'd by the light that burns beyond the Hath kissed her sleeping sister's cheek,

tomb.
And breathed the blessing she might not

speak,

Lest the whisper should break the dream All Nature speaks of thy departed child,

that smil'd The flowery meadow, and the mountain- Round the snow-white brow of the sinless wild;

child. Of her the lark 'mid sun-shine oft will sing, Her radiant Lamb and her parpling Dove And torrents flow with dirge-like murmuring! Have ta’en their food from the hand they The lake, that smiles to heaven a watery

love; gleam,

The low deep coo and the plaintive bleat Shows in the vivid beauty of a dream In the morning-calm, how clear and sweet! | Her, whose fine touch in mellowing hues Ere the Sun has warmed the dawning hours,

array'd

She hath watered the glow of her gardenThe misty summit and the woodland glade,

flowers, The sparkling depth that slept in waveless And welcomed the hum of the earliest Bee

rest,

In the moist bloom working drowsily; And verdant isles reflected on its breast. Then up the flow of the rocky rill As down the vale thy lonely footsteps stray, She trips away to the pastoral Hill; While eve stills dimly on retiring day, And, as she lifts her glistening eyes And the pale light that nameless calm in the joy of her heart to the dewy skies,

supplies,

She feels that her sainted Parents bless That holds communion with the promised The life of their Orphan Shepherdesa.

skies, When Nature's beauty overpowers distress, And stars soft-burning kindle holiness,

'Tis a lonely Glen! but the happy Child Thy lips in passive resignation move, | Hath friends whom she meets in the morning And peace broods o'er thee on the wings of

wild! love.

As on she trips, her native stream, The languid mien, the check of hectic dye, Like her hath awoke from a joyful dream, The mournful beauty of the radiant eye, And glides away by her twinkling feet, The placid smile, the light and easy breath With a face as bright and a voice as sweet Of nature blooming on the brink of death, In the osier-bank the Ouzel sitting, When the fair phantom breathed in twilight- Hath heard her steps, and away is flitting

balm

From stone to stone, as she glides along A dying vigour and deceitful calm,

Then sinks in the stream with a broken cons. The tremulous voice that ever loved to tell The Lapwing, fearless of his nest, Thy fearful heart, that all would soon be well, Stands looking round with his delicate cu

Or a lovelike joy is in his cry,

So blithely to the dancing ringAs he wheels and darts and glances by. Or, in a fit of sorrowing, Is the Heron asleep on the silvery sand Sung mournful songs of other years of his little lake? Lo! his wings expand That filled his own dim eyes with tears. As a dreamy thought, and withouten dread, And then the Sabbath seemed to rise Cloudlike he floats o'er the Maiden's head. In stillness o'er the placid skies, She looks to the birch-wood-glade, and lo! And from the small Kirk in the Dell There is browzing there the mountain-roe, Came the clear chime of holy Bell, Who lifts up her gentle eyes, nor moves Solemnly ceasing, when appeared As on glides the form whom all nature loves. The gray-bajred Man beloved and fearedHaving spent in heaven an hour of mirth, The Man of God-whose eyes were filled The Lark drops down to the dewy earth, With visions in the heavens beheld, And as silence smoothis his yearning breast And rightfully inspired fear, In the gentle fold of his lowly nest, Whose yoke, like Love's, is light to bear. The Linnet takes up the hymn, unseen - And thus sole-sitting on the brae, In the yellow broom or the bracken green. From human voices far away, And now, as the morning-hours are glowing, Even like the flowers round Edith's feet, From the hillside-cots the cocks are crowing, Shone forth her fancies wild or sweet; And the Shepherd's Dog is barking shrill Some in the shades of memory From the mist fast rising from the hill, Unfolding out reluctantly, And the Shepherd's-self, with locks of gray, But breathing from that tender gloom Hath blessed the Maiden on her way! A faint-etherial-pure perfume; And now she sees her own dear flock Some burning in their full-blown pride, On a verdant mound beneath the rock, And by the Sun's love beautified ; All close together in beauty and love, None wither'd-for the air is holy, Like the small fair clouds in heaven above, Of a pure spirit's melancholy; And her innocent soul at the peaceful sight And God's own gracious eye hath smiled Is swimming o'er with a still delight. On the sorrows of this Orphan-Child;

Therefore, her Parents' Grave appears

Green, calm, and sunbright through her And how shall sweet Edith pass the day,

tears,
From her home and her sister so far away, Beneath the deep’ning hush of years.
With none to whom she may speak the while,
Or share the silence and the smile,
When the stream of thought flows calm and An Image of young Edith's Life,

deep,

This one still day-no noise-no strifeAnd the face of Joy is like that of Sleep? Alike calm--morning-noon—and evenFear not, the long, still Summer-day And Earth to her as pure as Heaven. On downy wings hath sailed away, And is melting unawares in Even, Like a pure cloud in the heart of Heaven, Now night comes wavering down the sky Nor Weariness nor Woe hath paid

The clouds like ships at anchor lie, One visit to the happy Maid

All gathered in the glimmering air, Sitting in sunshine or in shade.

| After their pleasant voyage: there For many a wild tale doth she know, One solitary bark glides on Framed in these valleys long ago

So slow, that its haven will ne'er be won. By pensive Shepherds, unto whom

| But a wandering wind hath lent it motion, The sweet breath of the heather-bloom And the last Sail hath passed o'er the Brought inspiration, and the sky

heavenly ocean. Folding the hill-tops silently,

Are these the hills so steeped by day, And airs so spirit-like, and streams

In a greenness that seemed to mock decay, Aye murmuring through a world of dreams. And that stole from the Sun so strong and A hundred plaintive tunes hath she

light, A hundred chaunts of sober glee

That it well might dare th' eclipse of night? And she hath sung them o'er and o'er, Where is the sound that filled the air As, on some solitary shore,

Around and above-and every where? "Tis said the Mermaid oft doth sing

Soft wild pipes hushed! and a world of wings Beneath some cliffs o'ershadowing,

All shut with their radiant shiverings! While melteth o'er the waters clear

The wild bees now are all at rest A song which there is none to hear ! In their earthen cell-or their mossy nestStill at the close of cach wild strain Save when some lated labourers come Hath gentle Edith lived again

From the far-off hills with a weary hum, O'er long-past hours - while smiles and sighs And drop down 'mid the flowers, till morn Obeyed their own loved melodies.

Shall awaken to life each tiny horn. Now rose to sight the hawthorn-glade, Dew sprinkles sleep on every flower, Where that old blind Musician played And each bending stalk has lost its power

No toils have they, but in beauty blest, And Happiness alone doth weep,
They seem to partake in Nature's resto And nought but Bliss doth breathe our sleep.
Sleep calms the bosom of the Earth, Wilt thou come with us to the Land of
And a dream just moves it in faintest mirth.

Dreams ?”
-A kiss as soft as moonlight seems

To fall on Edith's brow and cheek -
The slumber of the hills and sky

As that voice no more is heard to speak; Hath hushed into a reverie

And bright before her half-closed eyes The soul of Edith--by degrees,

Stand up these Shapes from Paradise, With balf-closed eyes she nothing sees Breathing sweet fear into her heart! But the glimmer of twilight stretched afar, --She trembleth lest their beauty part, And one bright solitary star,

Cloudlike, ere she be full awake, That comes like an angel with his beams, And leave her weeping for their sake, To lead her on through the world of dreams. An orphan Shepherdess again, She feels the soft grass beneath her head, Left all by herself in that lonely glen! And the smell of flowers around her shed, Breathing of Earth,-as yet, she knows Whence is the sound that past her flows, "Fear not, sweet Edith! to come along (The flowery fount in its hillside-cell) With us, though the voice of the Fairy's But a beauty there is which she cannot tell

Song To her soul that beholds it, spread all around; Sound strange to thy soul thus murmuring And she feels a rapture, oh! more profound

nearThan e'er by a dream was breathed, or Fear not, for thou hast nought to fear!

driven

Oft hast thou heard our voice before, Through a bosom, all suddenly filled with Hymnlike pass by thy cottage-door

heaven.

When thou and thy sister were at prayers,
Oft hast thou heard it in wild lov airs,

Circling thy couch on the heathery hill,-
Oh! come ye from heaven ye blessed And when all the stars in heaven were still,

Things,

As their images in the lake below, So silent with your silvery wings

That was our voice that seemed to flow, Folded in moonlight-glimmeringe ?

Like softest waters through the night, - They have dropt like two soft gleams of The music breathed from our delight.

light,

Then, come with us, sweet Edith! come Those gracious Forms, on the verdant height And dwell in the Lake-Fairy's home; Where Edith in her slumber lies,

And happier none can be in heaven,
With calm face meeting the calm skies, | Than we in those green vallies, given
Like one whose earthly course is o'er, By Nature's kind beneficence
And sleepeth to awake no more!

To us, who live in innocence;
Gazing upon the Child they stand,

And on our gentle missions go,
Till one with small soft silent hand

Up to the human world of woe,
Lifts from that brow the golden hair To make by our music mortal Elves
Was ever mortal face so fair?

For a dream as happy as ourselves;
God gives to us the sleeping maid!

All flitting back ere the morn arise, And scarcely are the kind words said, To our own untroubled Paradise." Than Edith's lovely neck is wreathed With arms as soft as zephyrs breathed O'er sleeping lilies,—and slowly raised "0 waft me there, ere my dream is gone. The still form of the child, amazed

For dreams have a wild world all their own! To see those visages divine,

And never was vision like to this And eyes so filled with pity, shine

() waft me away ere I wake from bliss! On her, a simple Shepherdess,

But where is my little sister? Where An orphan in the wilderness! .

The child whom her mother with dying

prayer

Put into my bosom, and bade us be “O, happy child! who livest in mirth True to each other, as on the sca And joy of thine own on this sinful Earth, Two loving birds, whom a wave may divide, Whose heart, like a lonely stream, keeps But who float back soon to each other's singing,

side! Or, like a holy bell, is ringing :: Bring Nora here, and we two will take So sweetly in the silent wild

Our journey with you deep down the Lake. Wilt thou come with us, thou happy child, And let its waters for ever close And live in a land where woc and pain O'er the upper world of human woes, Are heard but as a far-off strain

For young though we bc, and have known Of mournful music, where the breath

no strife, Of Life is murmuring not of Death ; | Yct we start at the shadows of wortal life:

And many a tear have we two shed Nor sound of terror on the breeze,
In each other's arms, on an orphan bed,- E'er startled you up from your humble knees,
So let Nora to my heart be given,

When on the dewy daisied sod,
And with you will we fly, and trust in In heaven ye worshipp'd your Father's God,

Heaven."

After the simple way approved
By men whom God and Angels loved.

Dark--dark days come_when holy prayers
A sound of parting wings is heard, Are sinful held, and snow-white hairs
As when at night some wandering bird By ruffian hands are torn and strewed,
Flits by us, absent from its nest

Even where the Old Man bows to God! Beyond the hour of the Songsters' rest. Sabbath is heavy to the soul, For, the younger Fairy away hath flown, When no kirk-bell is heard to toll, And hath Nora found in her sleep alone, Struck dumb as ice-no bridal show Hath raised her up between her wings, Shines cheerful through these days of woe; And lulled her with gentlest murmurings, Now are the blest baptismal rites And borne her over plain and steep

Done by lone streams, in moonless nights ; With soft smooth glide that breaks not sleep, Now every lover loves in dread; And laid her down as still as death

Sleep flies from cradle and from bed; By Edith's side on the balmy heath, The silent meal in fear is blest; And all ere twice ten waves have broke In fear the mother gives her breast On the Lake's smooth sand, or the aged oak To the infant, whose dim eyes can trace Hath ceased to shiver its leaves so red A trouble in her smiling face. Beneath the breeze that just touched its head. The little girl her hair has braided, The heath-flowers all are shining bright, Over a brow by terror shaded; And every star has it own soft light, And virgins, in youth's lovely years, And all the quiet clouds are there,

Who fear not death, have far worse fears. And the same sweet sound is in the air, Wailing is heard o'er all the land, From stream and echo mingling well For, by day and night, a bloody hand In the silence of the glimmering dell, A bloody sword doth widely wave, But no more is seen the radiant fold And peace is none, but in the grave. Of Fairy-wings bedropt with gold, Nor those sweet human faces! They Have melted like the dew away,

But Edith and Nora lead happy hours And Edith and Nora never more

In the Queen Lake-Fairy's palace-bowers, Shall be sitting seen on the earthly shore! Nor troubles from the world of ill For they drift away with peaceful motion, E’er reach that kingdom calm and still, Like birds into the heart of ocean,

A dream-like kingdom sunk below,
Some silent spot secure from storins-

The fatal reach of waking woe!
Who float on with their soft-plumed forms There, radiant water-drops are shed,
Whiter than the white sea-foam,

Like strings of pearl round each Orphan's Still dancing on from home to home;

head, Fair Creatures! in their lonely glee

Glistening with many a lovely ray, Happier than Stars in Heaven or Sea. · Yet, all so light, that they melt away,

Unfelt by the locks they beautify

The flowers that bloom there never die, Long years are past-and every stone Breathing for ever through the calm Of the Orphans'cot is with moss o'ergrown, A gentle breath of honeyed balm ; And wild-stalks beautiful and tall

Nor ever happy Fairy grieves Hang o'er the little garden-wall,

O'er the yellow fall of the forest-leaves And the clear well within the rock

Nor mourns to hear the rustling dry Lies with its smiling calm unbroke

of their faded pride in the frosty sky; By dipping pitcher! There the hives! For all is young and deathless there, But no faint feeble hum surviveg

All things unlike-but all things fair. Dead is that Cottage once so sweet, Nor is that saddest beauty known Shrouded as in a winding-sheet

That lies in the thoughts of pleasure flown; Nor even the sobbing of the air

Nor doth joy ever need to borrow Mouras o'er the life that once was there! A charın to its soul from the smiles of

sorrow.

O happy ye! who have flown afar
From the sword of those ruthless men of Nor are the upper world and skies

war,

Withheld, when they list, from these That, for many a year, have bathed in blood

Orphans' eyesScotland's green glens of solitude!

| The shadow of green trees on earth Orphans were ye but your lips were calm Falls on the Lake --- and the small bird's When together ye sang the evening-psalm ;l

mirth

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