To an unforgiving judgment from just Heaven. O, he was good, if e'er a good Man lived!
From a reflecting mind and sorrowing heart Those simple lines flowed with an earnest wish,
Though but a doubting hope, that they might serve Fitly to guard the precious dust of him
Whose virtues called them forth. That aim is missed; For much that truth most urgently required Had from a faltering pen been asked in vain : Yet, haply, on the printed page received, The imperfect record, there, may stand unblamed As long as verse of mine shall breathe the air Of memory, or see the light of love.
Thou wert a scorner of the fields, my Friend, But more in show than truth; and from the fields, And from the mountains, to thy rural grave Transported, my soothed spirit hovers o'er Its green untrodden turf, and blowing flowers; And taking up a voice shall speak (tho' still Awed by the theme's peculiar sanctity
Which words less free presumed not even to touch) Of that fraternal love, whose heaven-lit lamp From infancy, through manhood, to the last Of threescore years, and to thy latest hour, Burnt on with ever-strengthening light, enshrined Within thy bosom.
'Wonderful' hath been The love established between man and man, 'Passing the love of women'; and between Man and his help-mate in fast wedlock joined Through God, is raised a spirit and soul of love Without whose blissful influence Paradise Had been no Paradise; and earth were now A waste where creatures bearing human form, Direst of savage beasts, would roam in fear, Joyless and comfortless. Our days glide on; And let him grieve who cannot choose but grieve That he hath been an Elm without his Vine, And her bright dower of clustering charities,
That, round his trunk and branches, might have clung Enriching and adorning. Unto thee, Not so enriched, not so adorned, to thee Was given (say rather thou of later birth Wert given to her) a Sister-'tis a word Timidly uttered, for she lives, the meek,
The self-restraining, and the ever-kind; In whom thy reason and intelligent heart Found-for all interests, hopes, and tender cares, All softening, humanising, hallowing powers, Whether withheld, or for her sake unsought— More than sufficient recompense!
(What weakness prompts the voice to tell it here?) Was as the love of mothers; and when years, Lifting the boy to man's estate, had called
The long-protected to assume the part
Of a protector, the first filial tie
Was undissolved; and, in or out of sight,
Remained imperishably interwoven
With life itself. Thus, 'mid a shifting world, Did they together testify of time
And season's difference-a double tree
With two collateral stems sprung from one root;
Such were they-such thro' life they might have been In union, in partition only such;
Otherwise wrought the will of the Most High; Yet, thro' all visitations and all trials,
Still they were faithful; like two vessels launched From the same beach one ocean to explore With mutual help, and sailing-to their league True, as inexorable winds, or bars
Floating or fixed of polar ice, allow.
But turn we rather, let my spirit turn With thine, O silent and invisible Friend! To those dear intervals, nor rare nor brief, When reunited, and by choice withdrawn From miscellaneous converse, ye were taught That the remembrance of foregone distress, And the worse fear of future ill (which oft Doth hang around it, as a sickly child Upon its mother) may be both alike Disarmed of power to unsettle present good So prized, and things inward and outward held In such an even balance, that the heart Acknowledges God's grace, his mercy feels, And in its depth of gratitude is still.
O gift divine of quiet sequestration! The hermit, exercised in prayer and praise, And feeding daily on the hope of heaven, Is happy in his vow, and fondly cleaves
To life-long singleness; but happier far
Was to your souls, and, to the thoughts of others, A thousand times more beautiful appeared, Your dual loneliness. The sacred tie
Is broken; yet why grieve? for Time but holds His moiety in trust, till Joy shall lead
To the blest world where parting is unknown.
EXTEMPORE EFFUSION UPON THE
DEATH OF JAMES HOGG
THEN first, descending from the moorlands, I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide Along a bare and open valley,
The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.
When last along its banks I wandered, Through groves that had begun to shed Their golden leaves upon the pathways, My steps the Border-minstrel led.
The mighty Minstrel breathes no longer, 'Mid mouldering ruins low he lies; And death upon the braes of Yarrow, Has closed the Shepherd-poet's eyes:
Nor has the rolling year twice measured, From sign to sign, its steadfast course, Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source;
The rapt One, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
Like clouds that rake the mountain-summits, Or waves that own no curbing hand, How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
Yet I, whose lids from infant slumber Were earlier raised, remain to hear A timid voice, that asks in whispers, 'Who next will drop and disappear?'
Our haughty life is crowned with darkness, Like London with its own black wreath, On which with thee, O Crabbe! forth-looking, I gazed from Hampstead's breezy heath.
As if but yesterday departed, Thou too art gone before; but why, O'er ripe fruit, seasonably gathered, Should frail survivors heave a sigh?
Mourn rather for that holy Spirit, Sweet as the spring, as ocean deep; For Her who, ere her summer faded, Has sunk into a breathless sleep.
No more of old romantic sorrows,
For slaughtered Youth or love-lorn Maid!
With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten,
And Ettrick mourns with her their Poet dead.
FOR A MONUMENT IN CROSTHWAITE CHURCH, IN THE VALE OF KESWICK
E vales and hills whose beauty hither drew
The poet's steps, and fixed him here, on you His eyes have closed! And ye, lov'd books, no more Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore,
To works that ne'er shall forfeit their renown,
Adding immortal labours of his own
Whether he traced historic truth, with zeal For the State's guidance, or the Church's weal, Or Fancy, disciplined by studious art, Inform'd his pen, or wisdom of the heart, Or judgments sanctioned in the Patriot's mind By reverence for the rights of all mankind. Wide were his aims, yet in no human breast Could private feelings meet for holier rest. His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud From Skiddaw's top; but he to heaven was vowed Through his industrious life, and Christian faith Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death.
́INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY
FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
The Child is Father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
HERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe'er I may,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong:
« AnteriorContinuar » |