And the waving corn-tops seem to dance Thou hast strewn the lordly palace In ruin o'er the ground, And the dismal screech of the owl is heard Where the harp was wont to sound ; "T is true, thy progress layeth Thou hast caused our tears to flow; And the breath of thy departing wing THE MYSTERY OF SONG. WHENCE Come ye, saddening chords? Art thou a prince, O Song? Like to the wind-god, or the lightning-king? Of wayward gentleness, of fierceness strongAn infant's cry, a seraph's sweeping wing? Or art thou God's own voice, Echoing afar through Earth's majestic halls; Now caught in whisperings low, when men rejoice, Now pealed in thunder-bolts and water-falls? Poor instruments of Earth Catch the stray voices circling round the spheres, ANONYMOUS. Hark! distant swells of song Steal o'er the moon-lit waters to my ear; Hope, that, o'er moon-lit seas, Our inner life may catch sweet lingering strains: Where fly yc, touching chords, Thus speaking tones of heavenly harmony? Have ye some cloistered home which Earth affords, Or course ye back to far Infinity? Or haply are ye sent To sink and dwell in hearts of god-like mould? To give the bright imagination vent, To regions vast, of melody untold? I call-but ye are gone! A slight vibration moans along the sky, And seems to whisper, as it circles on, These saddening words: "Like all things else, we die!" Yet, stay! Can Beauty die? Can golden life from Purity be riven? List! list! the answering strains come floating by: "The home of all sweet melody is Heaven!" THE BANNER OF THE CROSS. In hoc signo vinces. HIGH above the conquering march, Where the Roman cohorts stride; High above triumphal arch, Under which crowned Caesars ride ;— Cresting standard, spear and boss, Mystic sign, but mighty spell, Now thy blood-red gonfalon, ANONYMOUS. ODE TO DUTY. STERN daughter of the voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe; From vain temptations dost set free; And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them; who, in love and truth, Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work and know it not; Oh! if through confidence misplaced WORDSWORTH. They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed; Yet find thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried; No sport of every random gust, Yet being to myself a guide, Too blindly have reposed my trust: And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferred The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: may. My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same. Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear As is the smile upon thy face: Flowers laugh before thee on their beds; And fragrance in thy footing treads; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour; Oh, let my weakness have an end! The spirit of self-sacrifice; And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live! I GIVE MY SOLDIER BOY A BLADE. I GIVE my soldier boy a blade, In fair Damascus fashioned well; Who first the glittering falchion swayed, I know not, but I hope to know Cool, calm, and clear, the lucid flood As calm, as clear, as cool of mood, MAGINN. |