WHERE IS THY FAVORED HAUNT? WHERE is thy favored haunt, eter- | No sounds of worldly toil ascending nal voice, The region of thy choice, there, Mar the full burst of prayer; Where undisturbed by sin and earth, Lone Nature feels that she may free ly breathe, And round us and beneath 'Tis on the mountain's summit dark Are heard her sacred tones: the fit the soul Owns thy entire control? and high, When storms are hurrying by: ful sweep Of winds across the steep, 'Tis 'mid the strong foundations of Through withered bents — romantic the earth, Where torrents have their birth. note and clear, Meet for a hermit's ear,- the way, WHY SHOULD WE FAINT AND FEAR TO LIVE ALONE? WHY should we faint and fear to live alone, Since all alone, so heaven has willed, we die ? Not even the tenderest heart, and next our own, Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh. Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart, Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow Hues of their own, fresh borrowed from the heart. And well it is for us our God should feel Alone our secret throbbings: so our prayer Lest thou should'st faint or May readier spring to heaven, nor stray? spend its zeal On cloud-born idols of this lower air. What shapeless form, half lost on high, Half seen against the evening sky, Where in her shadow, fast asleep, With half-closed eye a lion there Or prowls in twilight gloom. Sprang from rough ocean's womb. But where are now his eagle wings, That sheltered erst a thousand kings, Hiding the glorious sky SINCE ALL THAT IS NOT HEAVEN From half the nations, till they own No holier name, no mightier throne? That vision is gone by. Quenched is the golden statue's ray, The breath of heaven has blown away What toiling earth had piled, Scattering wise heart and crafty hand, As breezes strew on ocean's sand, Divided thence through every age Thrice only since, with blended might The nations on that haughty height Now the fierce Bear and Leopard keen Are perished as they ne'er had been, Oblivion is their home: Ambition's boldest dream and last Must melt before the clarion blast That sounds the dirge of Rome. WHAT shall I do with all the days I'll tell thee; for thy sake I will lay and hours hold Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee, In worthy deeds, each moment that is told While thou, beloved one! art far from me. For thee I will arouse my thoughts to try All heavenward flights, all high and holy strains; For thy dear sake I will walk patiently Through these long hours, nor call their minutes pains. I will this dreary blank of absence make A noble task-time; and will therein strive To follow excellence, and to o'ertake More good than I have won since yet I live. So may this doomèd time build up in me A thousand graces, which shall thus be thine; So may my love and longing hallowed be, And thy dear thought an influence divine. |