How shall we mourn thee?—With a lofty trust, And one high tone of triumph o'er thy bier, Not to decay, but unto death, hast bow'd; In those bright regions of the rising sun, Where victory ne'er a crown like thine had won. Praise for yet one more name with power endow'd, To cheer and guide us, onward as we press; Yet one more image, on the heart bestow'd, To dwell there, beautiful in holiness! Thine, Heber, thine! whose memory from the dead, Shines as the star which to the Saviour led. ST. ASAPH, Sept. 1826. THE ADOPTED CHILD. "WHY wouldst thou leave me, oh! gentle child? Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild, A straw-roof'd cabin with lowly wall Mine is a fair and a pillar'd hall, Where many an image of marble gleams, "Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play, Thro' the long bright hours of the summer-day; They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme, And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know Lady, kind lady! oh! let me go." "Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell, Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well; Harps which the wandering breezes tune; And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard.” "Oh! my mother sings, at the twilight's fall, 66 Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest, She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou wouldst meet her footstep, my boy, no more, Nor hear her song at the cabin door. Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye." "Is my mother gone from her home away?— But I know that my brothers are there at play. I know they are gathering the foxglove's bell, Or the long fern-leaves by the sparkling well; Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow, Lady, kind lady! oh! let me go." "Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, They sport no more on the mountain's brow, They have left the fern by the spring's green side, And the streams where the fairy barks were tried. Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot." "Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill?But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still; And the red-deer bound in their gladness free, And the heath is bent by the singing bee, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow,Lady, kind lady! oh! let me go." L INVOCATION. I called on dreams and visions, to disclose Eternity, as men constrain a ghost To appear and answer. WORDSWORTH. ANSWER me, burning stars of night! Where is the spirit gone, That past the reach of human sight, As a swift breeze hath flown?— And the stars answer'd me-" We roll Ask that which cannot die." |