THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. No Hermits now the wanderer sees, Yet lives the lesson of that day; "Why wait to see in thy brief span "Midst soulless forms, and false pre tence Of spiritual pride and pampered sense, A voice saith, 'What is that to thee? Be true thyself, and follow Me!' "In days when throne and altar heard The wanton's wish, the bigot's word, And of state and ritual show pomp Scarce hid the loathsome death below, "Midst fawning priests and courtiers foul, The losel swarm of crown and cowl, White-robed walked François Fenelon, Stainless as Uriel in the sun! "Yet in his time the stake blazed red, "Alas! no present saint we find; "Trust not in man with passing breath, But in the Lord, old Scripture saith; The truth which saves thou mayst not blend With false professor, faithless friend. "Search thine own heart. What paineth thee In others in thyself may be ; Be thou the true man thou dost seek! 193 Where now with pain thou treadest, trod The whitest of the saints of God! "The footprints of the life divine, Which marked their path, remain in thine; And that great Life, transfused in theirs, A lesson which I well may heed, We rose, and slowly homeward turned, While down the west the sunset burned; And, in its light, hill, wood, and tide, The village homes transfigured stood, Then spake my friend: "Thy words are true; Forever old, forever new, same Which over Eden's sunsets came. "To these bowed heavens let wood and hill Lift voiceless praise and anthem still; Fall, warm with blessing, over them, Light of the New Jerusalem ! "Flow on, sweet river, like the stream Of John's Apocalyptic dream! This mapled ridge shall Horeb be, Yon green-banked lake our Galilee ! "Henceforth my heart shall sigh nc more For olden time and holier shore; God's love and blessing, then and there, Are now and here and everywhere." MISCELLANEOUS. QUESTIONS OF LIFE. And the angel that was sent unto me, whose name was Uriel, gave me an answer, and said, Thy heart hath gone too far in this world, and thinkest thou to comprehend the way of the Most High?" Then said I," Yea, my Lord." Then said he unto me, "Go thy way, weigh me the weight of the fire, or measure me the blast of the wind, or call me again the day that is past."-2 Esdras, chap. iv. A BENDING staff I would not break, The error which some truth may stay, And yet, at times, when over all I raise the questions, old and dark, I am how little more I know! A shadow-birth of clouds at strife Thorough the vastness, arching all, This conscious life, is it the same How feels the stone the of birth, The wonder which it is TO BE? In vain to me the Sphinx propounds THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES. Alas! the dead retain their trust; The voice of priest and hierophant ; On Aztec ruins, gray and lone, He sees at noon the stars, whose light Here let me pause, my quest forego; Enough for me to feel and know 195 - That he in whom the cause and end, Guards not archangel feet alone, But whispers in my spirit's ear, I come, an over-wearied child, Of power, impersonal and cold, The Eternal Beauty new and old! THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES. I HAVE been thinking of the victims bound In Naples, dying for the lack of air And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain, Where hope is not, and innocence in vain Appeals against the torture and the chain ! Unfortunates! whose crime it was to share Our common love of freedom, and to dare, In its behalf, Rome's harlot triple crowned, And her base pander, the most hateful thing Who upon Christian or on Pagan ground Makes vile the old heroic name of king. O God most merciful! Father just and kind! Whom man hath bound let thy right hand unbind. Or, if thy purposes of good behind Their ills lie hidden, let the sufferers find Strong consolations; leave them not to doubt Thy providential care, nor yet without The hope which all thy attributes inspire, That not in vain the martyr's robe of fire Is worn, nor the sad prisoner's fretting chain; Since all who suffer for thy truth send forth, Electrical, with every throb of pain, Unquenchable sparks, thy own baptismal rain Of fire and spirit over all the earth, Making the dead in slavery live again. Let this great hope be with them, as they lie Shut from the light, the greenness, and the sky, From the cool waters and the pleasant breeze, The smell of flowers, and shade of summer trees; Bound with the felon lepers, whom disease And sins abhorred make loathsome; let them share Pellico's faith, Foresti's strength to bear Years of unutterable torment, stern and still, As the chained Titan victor through his will! Comfort them with thy future; let them see The day-dawn of Italian liberty; For that, with all good things, is hid with Thee, And, perfect in thy thought, awaits its time to be! I, who have spoken for freedom at the cost Of some weak friendships, or soma paltry prize Of name or place, and more than I have lost Have gained in wider reach of sym. pathies, And free communion with the good and wise, May God forbid that I should ever boast Such easy self-denial, or repine That the strong pulse of health no more is mine; That, overworn at noonday, I must yield To other hands the gleaning of the field, A tired on-looker through the day's decline. For blest beyond deserving still, and knowing That kindly Providence its care is showing In the withdrawal as in the bestowing, Scarcely I dare for more or less to pray. Beautiful yet for me this autumn day Melts on its sunset hills; and, far away, For me the Ocean lifts its solemn psalm, To me the pine-woods whisper; and for me Yon river, winding through its vales of calm, By greenest banks, with asters purplestarred, And gentian bloom and golden-rod made gay, Flows down in silent gladness to the sea, Like a pure spirit to its great reward! Nor lack I friends, long-tried and near and dear, Whose love is round me like this atmosphere, Warm, soft and golden. For such gifts to me What shall I render. C my God, to thee? |