Classic Poem

XLI.

Nor there will wanton cruelty in peace,
Her woe-fraught strains allow her time to pour;
Crashes the bush, wide floats its flowery fleece,
As, aim'd at her, resounds the stony shower: —
Thus, oft the Bard in silence must endure
The prideful pelting of the ruffian throng;
Who spurn his holy flame, his feelings pure,
And arm'd in self-adoring maxims, strong,
Despise the charms of wit, and energies of song.

XLII.

Ye reckless ones, why will ye scatter pain,
And carry wailing into scenes so fair?
Let nature plead, the barbarous act refrain,
The toil-built nest, the little nestlings spare
The flood of song shall well reward your care,
While glide the life renewing months of spring;
Through summer leafy, many a grateful pair
Shall cheer your lonely walks with social wing;
Yea, there, through winter wild, the Red-breast sweet shall sing.

XLIII.

But now, at length, in view the church appears,
An ancient pile, with moss-grown turrets grey,
The venerable work of other years,
Which Time's swift lapse hath placid far away:
There, oft the sons, to prayer on such a day,
In troublous times, the fathers fond have led,
Who, peaceful now, beneath the silent clay,
Lie with the congregation of the dead,
Their feet for aye from toil, their eyes from sorrow hid.

XLIV.

How solemn to the eye the scene appears!
The yew — the porch, with pale Death's emblems crown'd,
And sable-rail'd, bedeck'd with pompous tears,
The rich men's tombs, that, gloomy rise around;
Of some, the smooth-hewn slab marks out the bound,
Preserving still the poor possessor's name,
Perhaps his years; while level with the ground,
Many, by friendship mourn'd, unknown to fame,
Beneath the grass-green sod, no frail memorial claim.

XLV.

Here, wrapt in thought, the poor man wanders wild,
And dark the days of other years return;
For underneath that turf, his darling child,
His first-born son, lies in the mould'ring urn.
He heaves a sigh, his heart begins to burn —
The rough grey stone still marks his fav'rite's head;
And o'er him, beauteous in the breath of morn,
To all her children, Nature's bounteous meed,
With scarlet gayly tipt, the lowly daisies spread.

XLVI.

" Child of my love, confess'd before my eye
Thou standest, fair in all thy blooming grace;
Wild on the wind thy sunny ringlets fly,
And dawning goodness brightens on thy face
I see, I see thee in the sportive race,
Lured by the bright son of the summer beam; —
I see thee, panting, drop the fruitless chase —
For, glittering, far adown the silver stream,
He floats on air away, as fades the nightly dream.

XLVII.

" So fadedst thou! for never sportive more,
Bloated, and black, upon thy bed of pain
I see thee laid: — thy short, short span is o'er —
A mournful proof, that earth-born hopes are vain.
Yet, let me never pour the tear profane —
Well hast thou 'scaped a wicked world of woe;
The spurn of pride — Misfortune's driving rain,
And creeping chill, the baleful blast of snow,
From poverty's cold sky, hath never laid thee low.

XLVIII.

" Thou hast not heard the child of deep distress
In bitterness pour forth the anguish'd groan;
Thou hast not seen, and yet couldst not redress,
Poor Misery, pining, friendless and alone.
Nor was it thine in sorrow to bemoan
A wandering childhood, and a wanton youth —
Ere sin had gather'd strength, lo, thou wert gone,
Devotion's first note trembling in thy mouth,
Raptures for aye to drink before the throne of truth. "

XLIX.

While thus he, meditative, pours the tear
Of pious resignation o'er his dead,
The rising psalm it swells upon his ear,
A psalm that made Israel's sweet singer glad:
Because to dwell in hades' dismal bed
His soul would not be left, he felt secure;
His flesh, besides, to rest in hope was made,
A joyful hope, even in death's darksome hour,
Placed far beyond the reach of foul corruption's power.

L.

Perhaps the song is of creative might,
How this huge mass in shapeless darkness rose,
And God said, Let light be, and there was light,
Till misty evening made the first day's close.
For thus, in wisdom infinite, He chose
To mark creation's age, the march of time,
While yet with life no creature living glows,
But over all the wide and watery clime,
Vast, on the shoreless sea, sat solitude sublime.

LI.

Or how, at the same word, rock-ribb'd the hills,
Inlaid with iron and brass, with gems and gold,
Upheav'd their heads, sparkling with silver rills,
And splinter'd pinnacles abrupt and bold;
While at their feet smooth spreading vales unfold
Their ample bosoms, as the waters blue,
Beneath th' impress divine together roll'd,
And toiling many a tortuous winding through,
Into the vast abyss, their destined path pursue.

LII.

Another word adorns the naked scene
With herbage green, and flowers of every dye,
Trees full of fruit, and of the stateliest mien,
Tall forests nodding o'er the mountains high.
He said again, and, glowing from the sky,
Majestic shone the ruler of the day;
And, all her bright attendants standing by,
Right opposite, the moon, with paler ray,
Of sober-suited night the sceptre soft to sway.

LIII.

And now th' omnific word is on the floods,
That pregnant all with life prolific teem,
With fowl of every kind, to cheer the woods,
Or, hid in clouds, from mountain tops to scream;
And fish disporting in the crystal stream,
Freckled with silver, crimson dropt and gold;
Or, huge, laid slumberous in the noontide beam,
On far sea depths, in many a winding fold,
Sea monsters vast, whose names by man have ne'er been told.

LIV.

Once more He said, and from the womb of earth,
Minute and vast most wondrously combined,
All living things exultingly came forth,
Each fully grown and perfect in its kind.
But still there wanted, in the Almighty mind,
Th' extreme of power and wisdom shown in one,
Matter with spirit, soul with body join'd,
A somewhat to complete th' eternal plan —
" Come, let us make, " He said, and the result was MAN .

LV.

Man, framed of dust, but by Jehovah's hand
Compounded, and thy soul a breath divine,
Such as the love of angels to command,
How high and holy was that place of thine!
Thou wast of this magnificent design, —
That in the bosom of the Triune God
Lay forming from an unbeginning line, —
The consummation. Now He pausing stood,
Review'd the glorious whole, and all was very good.

LVI.

He rested and refresh'd beheld, well pleased,
His own Eternal Godhead thus display'd;
And now, His vast idea realized,
He ceased from making all that He had made.
And let the day be holiness, He said,
A weekly witness how the world began —
A bulwark to religion — reason's aid,
What time creation's dawn she aims to scan —
A blest seventh day's release to labour-laden man.

LVII.

Or, mediately, they sing, by laws imprest
On nature, how He worketh out His will;
Each element, beneath His high behest,
Awake and active, or inert and still.
And, how for promised good or threaten'd ill,
The ready means in order rank'd they stand —
The rain, the dew, the air have powers to kill,
Death points the sunbeam, and if He command,
A breeze, a worm, a fly, shall waste the wealthiest land.

LVIII.

Or, if need be, with all his world of waves,
The sea upon the sinful land shall rise,
The solid earth shall gape with open graves
Before Rebellion's fury-flashing eyes
From its broad base, o'erturn'd the mountain lies,
Deep burying every monument of man;
Or shoots an arch of fire o'er half the skies,
That terror blanch'd through all their signs look wan,
While rueful ruin smokes beneath its awful span.

LIX.

Or sweeter, and with holier ecstacy,
They sing how glorious all His name above
Expands His mercy's vast infinity,
The boundless riches of redeeming love;
The flood of joy which all His creatures prove
In instincts, passions, habits, feelings fine,
When peaceful each in course the seasons move,
And, all exultant in their breath divine,
The vales flow out with milk, the hills with oil and wine.

LX.

Or, how they joy, in meek humility,
Once more to stand within the house of God,
Where flows the stream of life, out-welling free,
And He himself delights to make abode —
Gracious from him, worn out in life's rough road,
His hope, it may be, ready to expire,
To lift insensibly the galling load,
Rewaken faith, draw out the strong desire,
Till warm'd his bosom glows intense with heavenly fire.