I Am fond of the swallow ;-I learn from her flight,

Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love :
How seldom on earth do we see her alight !

She dwells in the skies, she is ever above.
It is on the wing that she takes her repose,

Suspended and poised in the regions of air;
'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows,

It is winged like herself, 'tis ethereal fare.
She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays,

And, dreading the cold, still follows the sun :
So, true to our Love, we should covet his rays,

And the place where he shines not, immediately shun.
Our light should be Love, and our nourishment prayer;

It is dangerous food that we find upon earth :
The fruit of this world is beset with a snare,

In itself it is hurtful, as vile in its birth.
'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,

And only when building a nest for her young ;
Were it not for her brood, she would never bestow

A thought upon anything filthy as dung.
Let us leave it ourselves ('tis a mortal abode)

To bask every moment in infinite Love;
Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the road

That leads to the Dayspring appearing above.





'Twas my purpose, on a day,
To embark and sail away :
As I climbed the vessel's side,
Love was sporting in the tide;
“Come,” he said, "ascend! make haste,
“ Launch into the boundless waste."
Many mariners were there,
Having each his separate care ;
They that rowed us held their eyes
Fixed upon the starry skies;
Others steered, or turned the sails
To receive the shifting gales.

Love, with power divine supplied,
Suddenly my courage tried;
In a moment it was night,
Ship and skies were out of sight;
On the briny wave I lay,
Floating rushes all my stay.
Did I with resentment burn
At this unexpected turn ?
Did I wish myself on shore,
Never to forsake it more ?
No:-“My soul," I cried, “ be still !
“ If I must be lost, I will."

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Next he hastened to convey Both my frail supports away ; Seized my rushes; bade the waves Yawn into a thousand graves : Down I went, and sunk as lead, Ocean closing o'er my head. Still, however, life was safe ; And I saw him turn and laugh : “ Friend,” he cried, “ adieu ? lie low “ While the wintry storms shall blow; “When the spring has calmed the main, “You shall rise and float again.” Soon I saw him, with dismay, Spread his plumes and soar away ; Now I mark his rapid flight, Now he leaves my aching sight ; He is gone whom I adore, 'Tis in vain to seek him more. How I trembled then and feared, When my Love had disappeared ! “ Wilt thou leave me thus,” I cried, “ Whelmed beneath the rolling tide ?”. Vain attempt to reach his ear ! Love was gone, and would not hear.

Yet he leaves me, -cruel fate ! Leaves me in my lost estate ! “Have I sinned? Oh say wherein ? “Tell me, and forgive my sin ! . “King and Lord, whom I adore, “Shall I see thy face no more? “Be not angry; I resign, “ Henceforth, all my will to thine : “I consent that Thou depart, “ Tho' thine absence breaks my heart; “ Go then, and for ever too; “ All is right that Thou wilt do." This was just what Love intended, He was now no more offended ; Soon as I became a child, Love returned to me and smiled ; Never strife shall more betide 'Twixt the bridegrooin and his bride.


THERE's not an echo round me,

But I am glad should learn How pure a fire has found me,

The love with which I burn. For none attends with pleasure

To what I would reveal ; They slight me out of measure,

And laugh at all I feel.

The rocks receive less proudly

The story of my flame ; When I approach, they loudly

Reverberate His name.
I speak to them of sadness,

And comforts at a stand ; They bid me look for gladness,

And better days at hand. Far from all habitation,

I heard a happy sound, Big with the consolation

That I have often found :

I said, “ My lot is sorrow,

“My grief has no alloy ;" The rocks replied—“ To-morrow,

“ To-morrow brings thee joy.' These sweet and secret tidings

What bliss it is to hear ! For, spite of all my chidings,

My weakness and my fear, No sooner I receive them,

Than I forget my pain, And, happy to believe them,

I love as much again. I fly to scenes romantic,

Where never men resort ; For in an age so frantic

Impiety is sport; For riot and confusion

They barter things above, Condemning, as delusion,

The joy of perfect love.

In this sequestered corner,

None hears what I express; Delivered from the scorner,

What peace do I possess ! Beneath the boughs reclining,

Or roving o'er the wild, I live as undesigning

And harmless as a child.

No troubles here surprise me ;

I innocently play,
While Providence supplies me,

And guards me all the day :
My dear and kind Defender

Preserves me safely here,
From men of pomp and splendour,

Who fill a child with fear.


My heart is easy, and my burthen light;
I smile, though sad, when Thou art in my sight :
The more my woes in secret I deplore,
I taste Thy goodness, and I love Thee more.
There, while a solemn stillness reigns around,
Faith, Love, and Hope within my soul abound;
And while the world suppose me lost in care,
The joys of angels, unperceived, I share.
Thy creatures wrong Thee, O Thou Sovereign Good !
Thou art not loved, because not understood;
This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguile
Ungrateful men, regardless of Thy smile.
Frail beauty and false honour are adored ;
While Thee they scorn, and trifle with Thy Word;
Pass, unconcerned, a Saviour's sorrows by ;
And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die.


My Spouse ! in whose presence I live,

Sole object of all my desires,
Who knowest what a fame I conceive

And canst easily double its fires;
How pleasant is all that I meet !

From fear of adversity free,
I find even sorrow made sweet ;

Because 'tis assigned me by Thee.
Transported I see Thee display

Thy riches and glory divine ; . I have only my life to repay,

Take what I would gladly resign. Thy will is the treasure I seek,

For Thou art as faithful as strong ; There let me, obedient and meek,

Repose myself all the day long.

My spirit and faculties fail ;

On finish what love has begun !
Destroy what is sinful and frail,

And dwell in the soul Thou hast won!
Dear theme of my wonder and praise,

I cry, who is worthy as Thou !
I can only be silent and gaze :

'Tis all that is left of me now.
O glory in which I am lost,

Too deep for the plummet of thought! On an ocean of deity tossed,

I am swallowed, í sink into nought. Yet lost and absorbed as I seem,

I chant to the praise of my King : And, though overwhelmed by the theme,

Am lappy whenever I sing.


Thou hast no lightnings, O Thou Just! |

Or I their force should know;
And if Thou strike me into dust,

My soul approves the blow.
The heart, that values less its ease

Than it adores Thy ways,
In Thine avenging anger sees

A subject of its praise.
Pleased I could lie, concealed and lost,

In shades of central night ;
Not to avoid Thy wrath, Thou knowest,

But lest I grieve Thy sight.
Smite me, O Thou, whom I provoke ;

And I will love Thee still ;
The well-deserved and righteous stroke

Shall please me, though it kill.

Am I not worthy to sustain

The worst Thou canst devise ?
And dare I seek Thy throne again,

And meet Thy sacred eyes ?
Far from afflicting, Thou art kind;

And in my saddest hours
An unction of Thy grace I find,

Pervading all my powers.
Alas! Thou sparest me again ;

And when Thy wrath should move, Too gentle to endure my pain,

Thou sooth'st me with Thy love,

I have no punishment to fear ;

But, ah ! that smile from Thee Imparts a pang far more severe

Than woe itself would be.


Ah! reign, wherever man is found,

My Spouse, beloved and divine !
Then I am rich, and I abound,

When every human heart is Thine.
A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

To think that all are not Thine own :
Ah ! be adored from pole to pole ;

Where is Thy zeal ? arise ; be known!

All hearts are cold, in every place,

Yet earthly good with warmth pursue ;
Dissolve them with a flash of grace,

Thaw these of ice, and give us new !


O Love, of pure and heavenly birth!
( simple Truth, scarce known on earth !
Whom men resist with stubborn will ;
And, more perverse and daring still,
Smother and quench, with reasonings vain,
While error and deception reign.

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Whence comes it, that, your power the same
As His on high, from whence you came,
Ye rarely find a listening ear,
Or heart that makes you welcome here ? —
Because ye bring reproach and pain,
Where'er ye visit, in your train.
The world is proud, and cannot bear
The scorn and calumny ye share ;
The praise of men the mark they mean,
They fly the place where ye are seen;
Pure Love, with scandal in the rear,
Suits not the vain ; it costs too dear.
Then, let the price be what it may,
Though poor, I am prepared to pay ;
Come shame, come sorrow ; spite of tears,
Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears;
One soul, at least, shall not repine,
To give you room ; come, reign in mine !

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