Immortal Maid, I might invoke thy name: But thou wouldst not; nor wouldst thou be content To take this for my second year's true rent,1 Did this coin bear any other stamp than His That gave thee power to do, me to say this. Since His will is that to posterity
Thou shouldst for life and death a pattern be, And that the world should notice have of this, The purpose and th' authority is His: Thou art the proclamation; and I am
The trumpet, at whose voice the people came.
THERE was a lull in the rain, a lull In the wind too; the moon was risen, And would have shone out pure and full, But for the ramparted cloud-prison, Block on block built up in the west, For what purpose the wind knows best, Who changes his mind continually. And the empty other half of the sky Seemed in its silence as if it knew What, any moment, might look through A chance-gap in that fortress massy ;- Through its fissures you got hints
Of the flying moon, by the shifting tints, Now, a dull lion-colour, now, brassy Burning to yellow, and whitest yellow
Like furnace-smoke just ere the flames bellow,
1 He had written an elegy on her death a year before.
All a-simmer with intense strain
To let her through, then blank again, At the hope of her appearance failing.
The rain and the wind ceased, and the sky Received at once the full fruition
Of the moon's consummate apparition. The black cloud-barricade was riven, Ruined beneath her feet, and driven
Deep in the west; while, bare and breathless, North and South and East lay ready For a glorious Thing, that, dauntless, deathless, Sprang across them, and stood steady. 'Twas a moon-rainbow, vast and perfect, From heaven to heaven extending, perfect As the mother-moon's self, full in face. It rose, distinctly at the base
With its seven proper colours chorded, Which still, in the rising, were compressed, Until at last they cöalesced,
And supreme the spectral creature lorded In a triumph of whitest white,— Above which intervened the night. But above night too, like the next, The second of a wondrous sequence, Reaching in rare and rarer frequence, Till the heaven of heavens be circumflext, Another rainbow rose, a mightier, Fainter, flushier, and flightier,— Rapture dying along its verge!
HE sang of God-the mighty Source Of all things, the stupendous Force On which all strength depends;
From Whose right arm, beneath Whose eyes All period, power, and enterprise
Commences, reigns and ends:
Angels their ministry and meed,— Which to and fro with blessings speed, Or with their citterns wait 2
Where Michael with his millions bows, Where dwells the Seraph and his spouse, The Cherub and her mate:
-the semblance and effect Of God and Love, the saint elect
For infinite applause ;
To rule the land and briny broad,
To be laborious in His laud,
And heroes in His cause:
The world—the clustering spheres He made, The glorious light, the soothing shade,
Dale, champaign, grove and hill ;
The multitudinous abyss,
Where secrecy remains in bliss,
And wisdom hides her skill:
1 The poem (Song to David) from which these stanzas are taken was scratched on the walls of a madhouse, in which Smart was confined during an attack of insanity. 2 Cp. Milton's Sonnet on his Blindness, p. 120.
Trees, plants and flowers- Stem yielding blossom, yielding fruit,
Choice gums and precious balm : (Bless ye the nosegay in the vale, And with the sweetness of the gale Enrich the thankful psalm!)
Of fowl-e'en every beak and wing Which cheer the Winter, hail the Spring, That live in peace or prey; They that make music, or that mock, The quail, the brave domestic cock, The raven, swan, and jay:
Of fishes-every size and shape Which nature frames of light escape, Devouring man to shun :
The shells are in the wealthy deep, The shoals upon the surface leap, And love the glancing sun:
Of beasts-the beaver plods his task, While the sleek tigers roll and bask, Nor yet the shades arouse ;
Her cave the mining coney scoops; Where o'er the mead the mountain stoops The kids exult and browse:
Of gems their virtue and their price,— Which hid in earth from man's device, Their darts of lustre sheath; The jasper of the master's stamp, The topaz blazing like a lamp Among the mines beneath.
O David, scholar of the Lord! Such is thy science, whence reward And infinite degree.
O strength, O sweetness, lasting ripe! God's harp thy symbol, and thy type The lion and the bee!
LIFE a right shadow is;
For, if it long appear,
Then it is spent, and death's long night draws near. Shadows are moving light;
And is there aught so moving as is this?
When it is most in sight,
It steals away, and none knows how or where : So near our cradles to our coffins are.
FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate.
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