And in your harmony sublime I read the doom of distant time; And reason on his mortal clime Immortal dawn. What 's hallowed ground? "T is what gives birth And your high priesthood shall make earth CAMPBELL. The Lost Wife. LONE, by my solitary hearth, Whence peace hath fled, And home-like joys, and innocent mirth Are banished; Silent and sad, I linger to recall The memory of all In thee, dear partner of my cares, I lost; Cares, shared with thee, more sweet than joys the world can boast. My home-why did I say my home! Now have I none, Unless thou from the grave again couldst come, Beloved one! My home was in thy trusting heart, Where'er thou wert; My happy home in thy confiding breast, Where my worn spirit refuge found and rest. I know not if thou wast most fair And best of womankind; Or whether earth yet beareth fruits more rare TO ME, I know, thou wert the fairest, Kindest, dearest, That heaven to man in mercy ever gave, And more than man from heaven deserved to have. Never from thee, sweet wife, Came word or look awry, Nor peacock pride, nor sullen fit, nor strife Calm and controlled thy spirit was, and sure My friend, protectress, guide, whose gentle will Compelled my good, withholding from me ill. No art of selfishness Thy generous nature knew; Thy life all love, thy bliss the power to bless; Content, if to thy lot the world should bring Unhappy, if permitted but to share Part of my griefs, wouldst both our burthens bear. My joy, my solace, and my pride I found thee still: Whatever change our fortunes might betide Of good or ill, Worthier I was life's blessing to receive While thou didst live; All that I had of good in others' sight Reflected shone thy virtue's borrowed light. The lute unstrung-the meals in silence ate The widowed bed-the chamber desolate, The tear at parting, and the greeting kiss, Endearments fond, and solaced hours, and all Oh! mayst thou, if permitted, from above Encompass me with ever-during love, As thou didst here: Still be my guardian spirit, lest I be Unworthy thee; Still, as on earth, thy grace celestial give, So GUIDE MY LIFE AS THOU WOULDST HAVE ME LIVE. JOHN FISHER MURRAY. To Mary in Heaven. THOU lingering star, with lessening ray, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hearst thou the groans that rend his breast. That sacred hour can I forget, Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah! little thought we 't was our last! Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy blissful place of rest? Hearst thou the groans that rend his breast? Maidenhood. MAIDEN! with the meek brown eyes, Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Standing with reluctant feet, Gazing, with a timid glance, BURNS. |