Where far away the jasmines dwell, And where the myrrh-trees weep! Bless'd, on the sounding surge and foam, Are tidings of the citron's home! The sailor at the helm they meet, And hope his bosom stirs, Upspringing, 'midst the waves to greet The fair earth's messengers, That woo him, from the mournful main, Back to her glorious bowers again. They woo him, whispering lovely tales And fount's bright gleam in island-vales Across his lone ship's wake they bring And oh ye masters of the lay! Come not e'en thus your songs, That meet us on life's weary way Their power is from the brighter clime That in our birth hath part, Their tones are of the world which time Sears not within the heart; They call us with a voice divine Our vows of youth at many a shrine -Welcome, high thought and holy strain, * Written immediately after reading the "Remarks on the Character and Writings of Milton," in the Christian Examiner. TO ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S CHILDREN ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 27 AUGUST, 1825. THOU wak'st from happy sleep to play Thou hast no heavy thought or dream Yet ere the cares of life lie dim On thy young spirit's wings, Now in thy morn forget not Him From whom each pure thought springs! So in the onward vale of tears, Where'er thy path may be, When strength hath bow'd to evil years He will remember thee. TO A YOUNGER CHILD ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, 17 SEPTEMBER, 1825. WHERE sucks the bee now?-Summer is flying, With the cowslip-cups, where the fairies dwell; Yet happy, fair boy! is thy natal day. For love bids it welcome, the love which hath smil'd Ever around thee, my gentle child! Watching thy footsteps, and guarding thy bed, And pouring out joy on thy sunny head. Roses may vanish, but this will stay Happy and bright is thy natal day. AN HOUR OF ROMANCE. THERE were thick leaves above me and around, And low sweet sighs, like those of childhood's sleep, As of soft showers on water-dark and deep A tale of Palestine.*-Meanwhile the bee * The Talisman-Tales of the Crusaders. |