Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features! 141 Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbid den, By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade; Then say, what secret melody was hidden In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played? Perhaps thou wert a priest; if so, my struggles Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles! Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, Hath hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat; pass; Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled; For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled: Antiquity appears to have begun Thou couldst develop, if that withered tongue Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen, How the world looked when it was fresh and young, And the great deluge still had left it green; Or was it then so old that history's pages Contained no record of its early ages? Tell us, - for doubtless thou canst recol- Still silent!- Incommunicative elf! lect, To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame ? Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect Of either pyramid that bears his Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? Art sworn to secrecy? Then keep thy But, prithee, tell us something of thy self, Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house; Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumbered, What hast thou seen, what strange adventures numbered? THE day was dark, save when the beam Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy While there I sat, and named her name head, When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, — And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder? If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, The nature of thy private life unfold! A heart hath throbbed beneath that leathern breast, And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled; Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face? What was thy name and station, age and race? Who once sat there with me. I started from the seat in fear; I looked around in awe, Her joys cut off in early years, Like gathered flowers half blown. Again the bud and breeze were met, And e'en the rose, which she had set, FOREST WORSHIP. WITHIN the sunlit forest, Our roof the bright blue sky, Where fountains flow, and wild-flowers blow, We lift our hearts on high: Beneath the frown of wicked men Our country's strength is bowing; But, thanks to God! they can't prevent The lone wild-flowers from blowing! High, high above the tree-tops, The lark is soaring free; Where streams the light through broken clouds His speckled breast I see: Beneath the might of wicked men The poor man's worth is dying; But, thanked be God! in spite of them, The lark still warbles flying! REGINALD HEBER. The preacher prays, "Lord, bless us!" "Lord, bless us!" echo cries; "Amen!" the breezes murmur low; "Amen!" the rill replies: The ceaseless toil of woe-worn hearts The proud with pangs are paying, But here, O God of earth and heaven! The humble heart is praying. How softly, in the pauses Of song, re-echoed wide, The cushat's coo, the linnet's lay, The affrighted land is ringing; Hush hush the preacher preacheth: Speak low, thou heaven-paid teacher! On useful hands and honest hearts The base their wrath are wreaking; But, thanked be God! they can't prevent The storm of heaven from speaking. CORN-LAW HYMN. LORD! call thy pallid angel, The tamer of the strong! And bid him whip with want and woe The champions of the wrong! O, say not thou to ruin's flood, "Up, sluggard! why so slow?" But alone let them groan, The lowest of the low; And basely beg the bread they curse, Where millions curse them now! No; wake not thou the giant Who drinks hot blood for wine, And shouts unto the east and west, In thunder-tones like thine, Till the slow to move rush all at once, An avalanche of men, 143 While he raves over waves That need no whirlwind then; Though slow to move, moved all at once, A sea, a sea of men! REGINALD HEBER. [1783-1826.] IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE. If thou wert by my side, my love, If thou, my love, wert by my side, I miss thee at the dawning gray, I miss thee when by Gunga's stream I spread my books, my pencil try, But when of morn or eve the star I feel, though thou art distant far, Then on then on! where duty leads, My course be onward still; That course nor Delhi's kingly gates For sweet the bliss us both awaits Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, Across the dark-blue sea; But ne'er were hearts so light and gay As then shall meet in thee! |