Chapter 7

Of late stood Time amid the scenes of life, With hoary locks and beard of silvery grey, And furrows deep upon his sage-like brow. Beside him was a dial of huge size, Whereby he shewed the minutes as they grew To hours, and days, and years in silent haste. He was in wistful mood, and, while I saw, Did point his finger to the midnight hour. 'Twas in a dream this wondrous scene appeared, Or in that stupor which is known between The rule of sleep and wake, when neither claim The power of holding a supreme command, Which may be call'd half slumber and half wake. Morpheus had drawn his stilly presence nigh, And hush'd all things into a calm profound. A thousand wondrous thoughts upon my mind, In order unaccounted, had gone by. Then as they passed a striking vision came; 'Twas bright and lucent as the early dawn, Which pays obeisance to a smiling morn. The stage of life was there before me set; The curtain rose, and on it I beheld A maiden fair, the foremost in the act. Her mien was noble, and she held erect A form which was in Beauty's garb arrayed. Her eye was sparkling as the morning dew, And full of language--full that it o'erflowed. Her teeth were white and pure as Winter snow; I saw them peer between her cherry lips, As these were moving in a gracious smile, Which traced her features like a silvery stream, And ran from view adown her dove-like neck. Her cheek was blooming as a new-blown rose; A modest flush came o'er it as she stood. Her voice was sweet like music on the air, Thrown from a harp touched by a fairy sprite; And in her look a happy tranquil dwelt. Bound with the crown of virtue which she wore Upon her brow (a diadem of gems) Were the sweet flowers of purity, which gave A charm more sweet than all the rest to see. In short, she was perfection's perfect choice, And Beauty's fairest child of all the group Of Eve's unnumbered daughters, who abide, Or have abode, amid these mingled scenes. 'Twas now the season of her noonday prime, Wherein she might have gloried if she would; But the calm spirit which within her moved Would not allow like vanities to rise. Amid the lucent streams of mellow light, Which showered its fullest softness down on her, She stood--the beauteous maiden stood adored. To see the gay perfection of her charms Came wonder, peering forth; for he was lured With an intense delight to see a form Clothed and adorned in such simplicity, Yet of unbounded elegance the while. And far her fame had spread throughout the land. Then soon from town and city numbers came, And from the quiet of their country homes, To cast their admiration at her feet; For they had longed with their own eyes to see Her nymph-like form, and with their ears to hear The music of her voice, and for themselves To read the language of her sparkling eye. And many sought to win her as his own; And to her shrine they brought rich offerings all, Each of the best and choicest of his stores. And she beheld the riches which they brought, And heard the words of flattery which they bore, And marked the attentions lavished unto her, But gave no heed to these, and deemed them all As idle and deluding vanities; For she beheld they sought the outward charms, But minded not the treasures of the heart, Which are more precious than all other gain. So she did make, in firm yet kindly words, An answer of refusal unto each, And held her from them in discreet reserve. Erewhile another came, whom she beheld Sought more the secret worth than outward charms, And that he was in every purpose fair, And just and honorable, true and good, And that he brought no dazzling gifts to tempt Her with, that he might win her heart and hand. And he in silent heed did note awhile Her nature and the ordering of her ways, And was much pleased to see them ordered well, And that the beauties of a virtuous mind Were not extinguished by her outward charms, As is, alas! the case too frequently. Then from this admiration yet awhile Did rise a love fair and reciprocal; And in due course he sought her heart and hand, And she did yield them gladly unto him. Thus they were in the bonds of wedlock joined, To mete the measure of their lives in one; And in their home was harmony and peace, And in all things they were together true. Time stood, and from his hand the hours, and days, Anon, and years dealt listlessly away; And, ere a while, she merged on ripened years, With many honors rising from her path, Had sons and daughters, and had trained them well, As it is fitting that a mother should, And had her mission filled in every way. Then was her act concluded, and she left The scenes of life and all the changes there, And came in gladness to a higher realm, And there abode together with the just, Who to their Maker give the glory due, And who in the affairs of life forget Not to ascribe Him praise and worship most. The curtain fell, and, lo! a clear, strange voice Broke from the hidden scenes, declaring thus, And with the words a thrilling power was borne, That every passer in amazement turned: "Blessed are they who walk in virtue's way! A maid of virtue is a precious gem, More priceless than the pearl of many seas. Her mind is pure as snow which Winter breathes, White and unspotted with the stains of time. Her memory is like the gorgeous sun, Which hath gone down behind the distant hills, Yet sends a stream of glory from its seat Upon the firmament where once it rode, Diffusing there a sweet and golden light. So shall the recollections of her shine Upon the hearts of men, who in her time Did know her worth and the fair fruits thereof." Scarce had these words been uttered, when again. The curtain rose, which hid the stage of life; And, lo! I saw the like fair scenes were there, Which in the former act had been displayed; But she who stood the foremost in the act Was other maiden, yet as sweet and fair. Her every limb of beauty was adorned, And in her face did winning brightness shine. A manner gay she had, which unto men Was sweet and charmful, that whoe'er beheld Was at the sight of thrilling rapture filled; And all her mirth was gay and ever full, And all her laughter fraught of dancing fun. A roguish eye she had, from which went forth Glances askance, to plunder, as they wot, From simple hearts, which could not turn away The wily darts which she cast unto them. Her cheek was bright, and of a rosy hue, And wondrous was the fashion of her lips, And they did seem to speak soft tales of love In every motion which pervaded them. Which turned to rapture all who gazed thereon, So deep the passion which they pouted forth. Her locks were golden, and with braids entwined In such a magic manner, and they waved Upon the breezes in a sportive way. Her raiment was of Fashion's last design, And so arranged to shew her perfect form In all the fine proportions it displayed. Her soft white arms were bared unto the view, And scarce she needed other charm to hold, Than did the vesture sideward drawn reveal Of beauty lying in a tranquil sleep Upon a pillow of the sweetest form. And she was proud of graces like to these; And sadly well she did her beauty know. Forth from the ranks of town and city came A host of pert admirers, to gaze Upon her sweet and all-bewitching charms, And cull a little frolic from her hand. And she was free and open unto all, And held to each full gaiety and wit, And on her manner kept no check at all, And strove to seem more pleasing every hour, And loved the admiration which they gave. Time stood, and from his hand the hours, and days, Anon, and years dealt listlessly away; And one by one her charms were seen to go; For every year, as it sped on its course, Plucked from the flower of purity a leaf, And from her beauty took the brightest gem, Until all virtue had been torn away, And beauty shorn of every single germ. Thus was her ruin sealed, and day by day She sank into more hopeless depths of sin, And was more hardened unto evil ways. Her form grew haggard and uncouth to see, And in her eye a dark defiance frowned. Her soul turned black unto its very core, And was polluted as a mountain stream Drugged with the fluid from a bloody war. Her brow was stamped with hatred and revenge. Woe and distraction, from these loathsome fonts, Fierce as hell-torrents, burst upon her path; And she did spurn repentance. And I saw The Evil One from depths of darkness come; And in her way he set a fearful pit, And death appeared the entrance thereunto. Then it was opened wider in her way; I heard an awful shriek, and, lo! beheld That she was swallowed in its boundless depths. Thus was the act concluded, and again The curtain fell upon the stage of life; And all who saw it trembled at the scene, And deathlike was the calm which stood around, And every breath was held for very fear. Then the same voice was heard again which spoke Such words of wisdom in the former scene. And now the curtain was again withdrawn, And every form had vanished from the view, Save he who spake and hoary-headed Time; And Time still stood and dealt the hours away. And over all a mighty change had come; Old things had gone, and others held their place; And he who was the speaker stood upright, And was adorned with raiment pure and white. He stood surrounded by a dazzling light; More bright his presence was than gorgeous suns, Whereas he had an eye of wondrous power. Imposing was his presence to behold, And these the words in stirring force he spake: "Pause, all ye young, ye thoughtless ones who run In wild delight among the gay-borne paths, Which pleasure spreads enticingly around. O youth deluded! dwell not in the thought That they shall prosper for eternal years. Truth is profound, and this more deep than all-- That beauty is but like a passing charm, And youth a landmark by the way of Time-- A stage which soon his chariot rolls by, And leaves in dark obscurity behind, As it drives on to the eternal gates. Then pause, and be not blinded by the show Of such an idle vanity. Ye know An end awaits the sojourn here below." These were his warnings. Then methought I saw, One on each hand, the two eternal gates; Whereto he turned, and, opening one, disclosed Realms of most wondrous beauty, and therein Were beings of a loveliness untold; And all around appeared to give them joy, And in their midst dwelt unity and love, And they were clothed in raiments purely grand, With diadems of honor on their brows; And sweet the music was which hovered round, And this appeared an everlasting feast. Then he did close, without a word or sign, This gate, and to the other mutely went, And, opening which, disclosed to the view Such ghastly scenes of torture, and therein Were creatures seething in eternal flame; And loathsome was their presence to behold, And woe and agony were ever in their midst, And bitter were the strifes, in which they bore An angry hate to other wretches doomed Alike with them to welter in its toil. These were the scenes. Then, mutely as before, He closed the gate, and vanished from the view. And every gazer stood in wonder bound, Until upon the distance came the sound Of chariots and horsemen; and, erewhile, Came rolling up the chariots of Time In quick succession; and I saw therein, Beings conveyed to the eternal gates; Some unto that o'er which these golden words Were traced in figures ever bold and bright: "Enter, ye blessed, to eternal joy;" And others unto that o'er which I saw, "Enter, ye cursed, to eternal doom." Then fell the curtain on the scene, and, lo! I woke from slumber, and it was a dream.

Minor Pieces.

WALTER. AN ACROSTIC.

While vigor lives, and youth's brief time is still, Apply thy mind to wisdom, and fulfil Life's noble purpose, which is "Good to all." Thus cull a favor which shall never fall; Enriched of labors, so enshrine thy name; Repose at last in peace with honored fame.

THE ARRIVAL IN LEITH DOCKS, ON A VISIT TO SCOTLAND.

The sun had risen but an hour, And spread his golden ray O'er sea, and land, and garden bower,-- Thus dawned a glorious day.

A stilly calm prevailed to rest On the surrounding scene; Scarce could upon the ocean's breast Be a faint ripple seen.

The soft, fresh air of Summer morn Stood peacefully around, When we, upon the ocean borne, In view of Leith were found.

I rose in haste to hail the sight Of Scotland's lovely shore, Which to my mind brought fancies bright And thoughts of days of yore.

The good old castle towering stood Majestic o'er the scene; Defiance from its rocky rood Was alway frowning seen.

I thought, had it the power to speak, What stories could it tell; What deeds of darkness could it break, Or mysteries dispel.

Around its seat, in hidden gore, Foul deeds of vengeance sleep, Which caused orphans to implore, And widows oft to weep.

And now, in close succession, see The smoky ringlets rise, From many a chimney-top set free, Ascending to the skies.

Then comes there to salute the ear Faint fragments of a sound; And mingled noises soon I hear,-- The bustle turns profound,

From slumber as the city wakes, And Duty gives her call, And for each man a mission makes,-- A duty gives to all;

Then set I foot upon the shore-- The shore I long to gain; It shall be dear for evermore, While memory I retain.

RECOLLECTIONS. _To Sarah_.

Let recollections, like the proud sun's ray, Illuminate and cheer each lonely day, Restore a peace, afford a tranquil rest, Create a joy in your oft troubled breast; And when kind slumber doth its tendance lend, And angels sweet around thy pillow bend, May dreams of happy hours thy spirit cheer-- Fond dreams of they who to thy heart are dear. But tell me, love, what is the lingering thought Which seeks a presence, from the distance brought, Far, far away, and which, with pleasing spells, Doth mingle here and there a word which tells-- Oh sadly true!--that ye shall meet no more The one you love? These thoughts are very sore; The spirit sinks in grief and sadness low, And thrilling shudders through the being flow. Farewell, farewell, my cup of earthly joy! I drain the dregs, and they are now alloy.

A STOLEN KISS.

The day had passed as other days do pass, With record made of all the deeds Performed by one, or two, or a whole mass,-- It matters not, for all concedes.

The sun in turn had lit the eastern sky, Performed his circuit to the west, Diffusing light and heat below and high, And there had sunk his golden crest.

Monotony had likewise marked my course-- By that I mean that nothing rare Had happened at all, to cause recourse To friendly joy or cold despair.

A pleasant ramble by the ocean side-- May be it was the company That added joy when I did watch the tide Roll on the shore of the great sea.

This o'er, thought turned to urge a night's repose-- An old, though ever new, retreat-- To rest the weary body, and to close The mind awhile in tranquils sweet.

But, prior to this, I thought it might be well To store some food into the mind, And on the wonders of the day to dwell, There fitting nourishment to find.

The comic thoughts of famous "Punch" were read, Then something dry, but suited more As wholesome food--so some old fogies said-- "The Daily News," let none deplore.

For comfort's sake--which people always mind, Excepting ladies, when the book Of modes another pleasing style can find, And then they think more how they look.

An instance take of chignon (dead folk's hair)-- A lady, I know well, remarked, "I wish I was not forced those things to wear, But fashion must be always marked."

Again I say, for comfort's sake alone The couch I sought, and thought it best Awhile to rest my weary body on; The weary always seek for rest.

The chronicle of news a time was used, At first with understanding clear; It gave instruction, and sometimes amused, (A mixture there for any seer.)

A nod then came, and soon I winged my flight Away into the land of Nod; All earthly things were lost to sense and sight; A fairy land my footsteps trod.

The distance might have been an inch, a mile, Or thousands,--ten, for what I know; It seemed a pleasant place, for still a smile Was on my face; I liked it so.

Wrapt in those fairy dreams of pleasant lands, A gentle pressure on my lips, Of softest touch, like that of fairy hands, And sweet as though with honey tips,

Saluted me, and such a silvery sound Came with it, which as magic fell Upon my ear, so sweet and so profound. It is a stolen kiss I tell.

THE ORPHAN BOY.

See that poor, deserted, homeless boy, All lonely, sad, and weary; Nothing to cheer his wee heart to joy, All melancholy dreary. For his heart is heavy, and he sobs; Tear-drops trickle from his eye; As in solitude he sits and throbs, Gay people pass him by. The poor wee boy.

No mother has he, so kind and dear, To wipe his big tears away, His heavy heart to gladness cheer, Or soft words of kindness say; No father a home to provide, From the Winter's chilly blast; But anywhere he may abide,-- A deserted, poor outcast. The poor wee boy.

A BRIGHT DAY, AFTER A SEASON OF DULL WEATHER.

How smiling all the people seem! On every face behold a gleam; Each heart of joy must brimful teem, And thus send forth a cheering beam.

The gloomy clouds have passed away, And bright and glorious is the day; The sun gives forth a genial ray, And gentle breezes music play.

'Tis strange--but no more strange than true-- That cloudy weather can construe Unto our thoughts a gloomy view, That all things seem of dismal hue.

But with a clear, transparent sky, All gloomy thoughts as quickly fly, And bright and happy ones supply Their place, and raise our spirits high.

And thus we in the world shall find The rough and smooth will be combined, Ordained by One who meaneth kind, To brace the firmness of the mind.

MUSIC.

Come, music sweet; come, music, to me here; In softest strains of melody appear; Pour on this wounded heart thy healing balm, Prepared to soothe, and troubled spirits calm. E'er since the time that on this mouldy ball Man held a place, and that before the fall, The youthful world was held in no reserve; For thy enchanting strains did pleasure serve The young creation, and they hailed the sound. But then the Author's work did all rebound With perfect mirth, and music in it all, Till evil spirits caused man to fall. But when the fruit was tasted and thought good, First by the woman, then the man, as food, Though the condition was at first so placed, That they might use or all the produce taste Of the fair garden, save alone one tree, Which in the centre stood, and there to be Untouched; but, notwithstanding these commands, The rosy fruit looked tempting in Eve's hands, Where it was by the cunning serpent placed. Her watering teeth the dimpled apple traced It suited well her palate when she ate; She gave to man, and then was sealed their fate. When in the book of record was inscribed This scene so sad, as man to evil bribed, Music still came, but with it came alloy, For sounds of sadness came with sounds of joy. At first the music was but nature's own; Yet who will not in ready justice own That nature's notes in beauty far excel All sounds that art's production can impel? Who this can question, if they lend an ear Unto the lark that, pouring music clear, Makes all the sphere for many miles around With his gay song re-echo and resound; Or, pausing, marks the sweet, melodious lay The nightingale at stilly night doth lay; Or listens to the morn or evening praise, As the wild warblers blended chorus raise, The hum of bee, as duty it fulfils, The rippling stream that sports among the hills, The constant murmur of the mighty seas, Or pensive sighing of the Summer breeze, Which, rambling, rustles through the leafy trees, The choice of favor it may well command? Yet art's production may in honor stand, And hear the praises which her lover tells. Who doth not love to hear the Sabbath bells? Or who attend, without an inward sigh, The gentle song which maidens' lips supply, While on the harp with skilful touch is played Responsive song, in harmony conveyed? Or who can hear the noble martial strain, And not be moved to long the sounds again? The deep, grand notes of noble organ who Can mutely tend, as they go thrilling through, From aisle to aisle of some cathedral old, And, rising, still their richer sounds unfold? The love of music in the bud appears First in the child of sweet and early years; Then in the youth its early leaves unfold; The fruit it bears in manhood's time behold; Until the Autumn comes, old age enthrals, Decay sets in, and then the leaflet falls.

THE EVIL ONE.

The Devil is out unfettered; His dens lie deep in hell; His power is scarcely bettered; Who can his cunning tell?

He roams in raving hunger; The world is his course; He's dreadful more than thunder Where'er he has recourse.

Destruction wanders with him, And death is in his hand; A mighty host is with him; Well armed is his band.

He lies in ambush for thee; He hovers near thy path; He follows ever by thee; An aim on thee he hath.

Then haste thee, haste thee; surely Ye soon will feel his power. Be watchful, be not weary; Let not thy spirit cower.

The path is steep and narrow; 'Tis rugged, rough, and torn; A harsh, a testing harrow, Beset with many a thorn.

There yawns a mighty chasm; The fearful pit is deep; 'Tis terror but to see them; It makes the spirit creep.

No guide but One is able To lead thee safely through; All others are unstable, Unfit, untried, untrue.

Fly to the rock for safety-- The rock he cannot climb! Fly! fly! nor think it hasty; And trust not fickle time.

FRIENDSHIP.

And friendship is the sacred name-- The name I love to hear; Gives to my heart a sacred flame, And music to my ear.

Yes, friendship is a joy indeed, A peaceful, fragrant bower; To which doth many a soul recede In tribulation's hour;

And there its load of sorrow lays, Feels conscious of relief, Soothed by the balm which it displays For healing wounds of grief.

Its paths are pleasant and serene; They lie in pleasure's way; It is true pleasure--there is seen No base, no false array.

'Tis there true joy is to be found, And anger lays her down Amid the placid scenes around, To bask away her frown.

And there that childhood oft is seen To spread its purest glee, And hold its dimpled arms in ween To friendship pure and free.

'Tis there that riper manhood goes And feeble age reclines; For it the genial sunshine knows, Which on her pathway shines.

True friendship's fervour ne'er grows cold; Its lamp doth alway burn; Its beauty never waxeth old; Its shadows never turn.

The waters are both sweet and pure, Which through its courses flow; Such as would souls of trouble lure; 'Tis they who try them know.

Were old and young together joined, In friendship's paths to tread, What blessings would thereby rebound On many a sorrowing head!

TO THE SPIRIT OF POETRY.

Hail, spirit of poetic flame! Thine is the theme for me; Thine are the realms--the glorious realms My fancy longs to see.

What seraph on the wings of light Can bear a charm like thee? And where, in fancy's wide domain, Can fitter grandeur be?

Behold thy shadows on the sky, Thy glory in the sun; And o'er the earth, as light as air, Thy fairy footsteps run.

I see thee in the smiling morn And in the glowing noon, Thy sparkling brightness in the stars, Thy beauties in the moon.