Ir the whole weight of what we think and feel, Save only far as thought and feeling blend With action, were as nothing, patriot Friend! From thy remonstrance would be no appeal; But to promote and fortify the weal Of her own Being is her paramount end; A truth which they alone shall comprehend Who shun the mischief which they cannot heal. Peace in these feverish times is sovereign bliss: Here, with no thirst but what the stream can slake, And startled only by the rustling brake, Cool air I breathe; while the unencumbered Mind, By some weak aims at services assigned To gentle Natures, thanks not Heaven amiss.
NOT Love, not War, nor the tumultuous swell Of civil conflict, nor the wrecks of change, Nor Duty struggling with afflictions strange,- Not these alone inspire the tuneful shell; But where untroubled peace and concord dwell, There also is the Muse not loth to range, Watching the twilight smoke of cot or grange, Skyward ascending from a woody dell. Meek aspirations please her, lone endeavor,
Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell.
Yet did the glowing west with marvellous power Salute us; there stood Indian citadel,
Temple of Greece, and minster with its tower Substantially expressed, a place for bell Or clock to toll from! Many a tempting isle, With groves that never were imagined, lay 'Mid seas how steadfast! objects all for the eye Of silent rapture; but we felt the while We should forget them; they are of the sky, And from our earthly memory fade away.
And from our earthly memory fade away."
THOSE words were uttered as in pensive mood We turned, departing from that solemn sight: A contrast and reproach to gross delight, And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed! But now upon this thought I cannot brood; It is unstable as a dream of night; Nor will I praise a cloud, however bright, Disparaging Man's gifts, and proper food. Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome, Though clad in colors beautiful and pure, Find in the heart of man no natural home: The immortal Mind craves objects that endure: These cleave to it; from these it cannot roam, Nor they from it: their fellowship is secure.
WHILE not a leaf seems faded; while the fields, With ripening harvest prodigally fair,
In brightest sunshine bask; this nipping air, Sent from some distant clime where Winter wields
His icy scymitar, a foretaste yields
Of bitter change, and bids the flowers beware; And whispers to the silent birds, "Prepare Against the threatening foe your trustiest shields." For me, who under kindlier laws belong To Nature's tuneful choir, this rustling dry Through leaves yet green, and yon crystalline sky, Announce a season potent to renew,
'Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song, And nobler cares than listless summer knew.
How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright, The effluence from yon distant mountain's head, Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can shed,
Uprisen, as if to check approaching Night, And all her twinkling stars. Who now would
If so he might, yon mountain's glittering head,- Terrestrial, but a surface by the flight
Of sad mortality's earth-sullying wing Unswept, unstained? Nor shall the aërial Powers Dissolve that beauty, destined to endure, White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure, Through all vicissitudes, till genial Spring Has filled the laughing vales with welcome flowers.
COMPOSED DURING A STORM.
ONE who was suffering tumult in his soul, Yet failed to seek the sure relief of prayer, Went forth, his course surrendering to the care Of the fierce wind, while midday lightnings prowl Insidiously, untimely thunders growl;
While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers, tear The lingering remnants of their yellow hair,
And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness, howl
As if the sun were not. He raised his eye Soul-smitten; for, that instant, did appear
Large space ('mid dreadful clouds) of purest sky, An azure disc, shield of tranquillity;
Invisible, unlooked-for minister
Of providential goodness ever nigh!
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