THE WIDOW. SHE said she was alone within the world: How could she but be sad! She whisper'd something of a lad, With eyes of blue, and light hair sweetly curl'd; And yet his voice she heard, When at the lattice, calm and mild, The mother in the twilight saw the vine-leaves stirr'd. "Mother," it seem'd to say, "I love thee; When thou dost by the side of thy lone pillow pray, My spirit writes the words above thee; Mother, I watch o'er thee—I love thee." Where was the husband of that widow'd thing, A soldier dares a soldier's fire; The murderous ball brought death upon its wing, He fell in sunny Spain; The wife, in silence, saw him die, But the fond boy's blue eyes gave drops like summer rain. "Mother," the poor lad cried, "He's dying! We are close by thee, father-at thy bleeding side Dost thou not hear thy Arthur crying?— Mother, his lips are closed-he's dying!" It was a stormy time when the man fell; Consumption's worm his pulse entwined— Prepare his shroud," rung out the convent bell. Yet, through his pain he smiled, To soothe a parent's grief : Sad soul! she could not be beguiled: She saw the bud would leave the guardian leaf! "Mother," he faintly said, "Come near me Kiss me and let me in my father's grave be laid— HINDOO HYMN. TO THE SPIRIT OF GOD, CALLED NARAVENA, i. e. "MOVING ON THE WATER."-Gen. i. 2. SPIRIT of spirits! who, through every part Ere spheres beneath us roll'd, or spheres above, Ere earth in firmamental ether hung, Thou sat'st alone; till through thy mystic love Things unexisting to existence sprung, And grateful descant sung : What first impell'd thee to exert thy might? Thy power directed? Wisdom without bound. What proved it first? O! guide my fancy right. Oh, raise from cumbrous ground My soul, in rapture drown'd; That fearless it may soar on wings of fire, For thou who only know'st, thou only canst inspire. Omniscient Spirit! whose all-ruling power Bids from each sense bright emanations beam; Glows in the rainbow; sparkles in the stream; Smiles in the bud; and glistens in the flower, That crowns each vernal bower; Sighs in the gale; and warbles in the throat Of every bird that hails the bloomy spring, Whilst envious artists touch the rival string, Breathes in rich fragrance from the sandal grove, In dulcet juice from clustering fruit distils, Thy present influence fills; In air, in floods, in caverns, woods and plains, Blue crystal vault and elemental fires That in ethereal fluid blaze and breathe; Thou tossing main, whose snaky branches wreathe This pensile globe with intertwisted gyres; Mountains, whose radiant spires Presumptuous rear their summits to the skies, And blend their emerald hues with sapphire light ; Smooth meads, and lawns, that glow with varying dyes, Of dew-bespangled leaves and blossoms bright, Delusive pictures, unsubstantial shows! Hence planets learn their course :— THE TWINS. 'Twas summer, and a Sabbath eve, I saw a sight that made me grieve, And yet the sight was fair: Within a little coffin lay Two lifeless babes as sweet as May. Like waxen dolls which children dress, A look of placid happiness And in the coffin short and wide, A rose-bud nearly closed I found And many a pink was strow'd around And yet the flowers that round them lay Their mother, as a lily pale, Sat by them on the bed; And bending o'er them told her tale; Yet oft she cried amidst her pain, THE CHRISTIAN MOURNER'S PROSPECT OF DEATH. THE hour, the hour, the parting hour, How sweet, while on this broken lyre To feel it strung with chords of fire, To praise the immortal One, my soul! |