Till the rapt thoughts have caught the fountain's
And gently move in music like its own.
Whether we mark the thunder's awful sound,
With whose dread roll the vaults of heav'n resound,
Watch the fork'd flash precede the frequent peal,
And ever and anon the gloom reveal;
Or wander pleas'd, when calmer hours arise,
Beneath the radiance of the summer skies,
When the gay sky-lark tunes her liveliest lays
And ether cool'd in softer breezes plays;
Still let each change our Maker's pow'r recall,
While we behold His providence in all.
Where shade yon yews the churchyard's lonely bound
What lessons speak from every stone around,
Where by the mould'ring shrine or greensward heap
O'er worth departed mem'ry seems to weep,
And friends belov'd on earth in silence sleep!
When last I wander'd 'neath this hallow'd shade,
Life, as a distant view, I pleas'd survey'd ;
And as the trav'ller, who with toil distrest
At length has gain'd the mountain's lofty breast,
Viewing some town which veiling mist conceals,
Whose shadowy spires his journey's end reveals,
In weary prospect eyes the length'ning way,
And dreads the distant labours of the day;
THE RETURN TO MY NATIVE VILLAGE.
His journey ended and his labour o'er,
Back on that mount, as on a distant shore,
He turns to gaze: so, when in youth I play'd
Near this lov'd spot, if ere the aged stray'd
With tott'ring limbs the rural pathway by,
On their worn forms I gaz'd with earnest eye,
And thought what lapse of years must pass away
Ere I should thus be feeble, old, and grey;
Yet now all vanish'd, as a distant dream
Childhood and youth to fading memʼry seem.
Oh! when these early scenes recall to mind
Their joys and sorrows long since left behind,
What vague sensations crowd upon my heart,
And pensive pleasure mix'd with grief impart!
Once more, lov'd friends, once more I come to shed
Tears o'er your honour'd dust on which I tread;
Once more I seem to hear the funeral knell
Which bade me give a long, a last, farewell
To those departed. Now of all bereft,
And in the busy world a stranger left,
I stand alone, though time has sooth'd my grief;
Like as on pendant stalk the ling'ring leaf
Hangs on the tree with all its honours cast,
Save this alone which quivers in the blast.
may I look to meet you once again, Where there is no more parting, no more pain, May wait th' appointed hour with mind serene
While Hope's soft smile illumes the closing scene,
And, on the confines of another world,
Dread not to view eternity unfurl'd,
But unto God resign my latest breath,
And feel the blessing of my Saviour's death,
Whose holy Word the promis'd bliss has given
Of pardon here and endless joy in Heaven.
Note.-Perhaps it is right to observe that in a Memoir of Dr. Brown of Edinburgh, there are some lines of his which have been thought to resemble the opening of this poem; but the Authoress did not see those lines till three years after the "Return" was written.
ON THE ANNIVERSARY
OF THE DEATH OF A FRIEND".
COM'ST thou again, thou flowery Spring,
To cheer the drooping earth once more?
Eager to taste the honey'd store
Thy vagrant bees are on the wing;
The careless birds thy welcome sing
In notes of joy from every tree.
Why do thy varied pleasures bring
Delight to all, but not to me?
Ye early flow'rs that bloom and fade,
For me in vain your colours glow ;
Ye birds that cheer the silent shade
To me ye utter notes of woe.
Yon tree with op'ning buds array'd
Stands as in mockery of my grief;
Wilt thou, O Spring, renew its leaf,
Yet not the dear-lov'd life restore
Of her whom we may see no more?
Written as in the character of her Husband.
Wilt thou thy scents and sounds renew,
Which gently touching mem'ry's string,
One moment sweet delusion bring,
And make my sorrow seem untrue?
'Tis past!—a long, a last adieu
Sounds in thy gale's low murm'ring breath;
Thy scented flow'rs are pluck'd to strew
The pale, the silent, couch of death.
Dear happy saint! where dost thou dwell?
Dost thou behold us sorrowing here?
Dost thou o'er those thou lov'dst so well
On earth, now shed a pitying tear ?—
A tear so sweet 'twould not dispel
Thy tranquil thoughts, nor wound thy bliss:
Dost thou unseen e'er stoop to kiss
Thy babes, and point their devious feet
Where thou and they one day shall meet?
Than earthly love a holier tie,
Perhaps their charge to thee is given, Their guardian angel now in heaven. Then let me check the heaving sigh, While oft I mark them sporting by,
All smiling through forgotten tears, And view in sorrowing Fancy's eye
The ills that wait their future years.
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