Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coasts, (The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed) Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay;
So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the
"Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar," And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life, long since has anchored by thy side. But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, Always from port withheld, always distressed- Me, howling blasts drive devious, tempest-tossed; Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost, And day by day some current's thwarting force Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. Yet, O the thought, that thou art safe, and he! That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth, But higher far my proud pretensions rise- The son of parents passed into the skies.
And now, farewell! Time unrevoked has run His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, I seem t' have lived my childhood o'er again; To have renewed the joys that once were mine, Without the sin of violating thine; And while the wings of Fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his theft- Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
Imaginary Evils.
LET to-morrow take care of to-morrow; Leave things of the future to fate; What's the use to anticipate sorrow? Life's troubles come never too late. If to hope overmuch be an error, 'Tis one the wise have preferred;
And how often have hearts been in terror Of evils that never occurred!
Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee; Permit not suspicion and care With invisible bonds to enchain thee, But bear what God gives thee to bear. By his Spirit supported and gladdened, Be ne'er by "forebodings" deterred; But think how oft hearts have been saddened, By fear of what never occurred!
Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow; Short and dark as our life may appear, We may make it still darker by sorrow, Still shorter by folly and fear. Half our troubles are half our invention; And often from blessings conferred, Have we sunk, in the wild apprehension Of evils that never occurred.
GOD might have made the earth bring forth Enough for great and small,
The oak tree and the cedar tree,
Without a flower at all.
We might have had enough, enough For every want of ours, For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have had no flowers.
The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow;
Nor doth it need the lotus flower, To make the river flow.
The clouds might give abundant rain; The nightly dews might fall; And the herb that keepeth life in man Might yet have drunk them all.
Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light, All fashioned with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night?
Springing in valleys green and low; And on the mountain high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passes by?
Our outward life requires them not; Then wherefore have they birth? To minister delight to man,
To beautify the earth;
To comfort man, to whisper hope, Whene'er his faith is dim; For whoso careth for the flowers,
Will much more care for him.
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