At one short gust of that close air The sickening cheek grew pale; We turn'd away-'t was all our care, Heaven's sweet breath to inhale. "'Mid howl and yell, and shuddering moan, "Soon in smooth Martinico's coves Our welcome bark shall moor, Or underneath the citron-groves That wave on Cuba's shore. "Twas strange, ere many days were gone, How still grew all below, The wailing babe was heard alone, "Into the dusky hold we gazed, In heaps we saw them lie, And dim, unmeaning looks were raised From many a blood-red eye. And helpless hands were groping round Or at some voice's well-known sound, "And still it spread, the blinding plague That seals the orbs of sight; The eyes were rolling, wild and vague; "They dared not move, they could not weep, They could but lie and moan; Some, not in mercy, to the deep, Like damaged wares, were thrown. "We cursed the dire disease that spread, Those goldless men did quake with dread And so we drank, and drank the more, Here's better luck, from Gambia's shore, "Till I, the only man, the last "I felt it film, I felt it grow, The dim and misty scale, The wandering wild-fire damp. That would not let us drown. "And some began to pray for fear, "And some would fondly speak of home, "And some I heard plunge down beneath, "We heard the wild and frantic shriek Of starving men below, We heard them strive their bonds to break, And burst the hatches now. "We thought we heard them on the stair, And trampling on the deck, I almost felt their blind despair, Wild grappling at my neck. "Again I woke, and yet again, With throat as dry as dust, And famine in my heart and brain, And,-speak it out I must,— "A lawless, execrable thought, That scarce could be withstood, Before my loathing fancy brought Unutterable food. "No more, my brain can bear no more,— Nor more my tongue can tell; I know I breathed no air, but bore "And all, save I alone, could die- "At length, when ages had pass'd o'er, Ages, it seem'd, of night, There came a shock, and then a roar Of billows in their might. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. "I know not how, when next I woke, The numb waves wrapp'd me round, And in my loaded ears there broke A dizzy, bubbling sound. "Again I woke, and living men Stood round-a Christian crew; The first, the last, of joy was then, That since those days I knew. "I've been, I know, since that black tide, Where raving madmen lay, Above, beneath, on ev'ry side, And I as mad as they. "And I shall be where never dies The worm, nor slakes the flame, When those two hundred souls shall rise, The judge's wrath to claim. "I'd rather rave in that wild room Than see what I have seen; I'd rather meet my final doom. Than be-where I have been. "Priest, I've not seen thy loathing face, THE LOVE OF GOD. TWO SONNETS. LOVE Thee!-oh, Thou, the world's eternal Sire! Time, space, height, depth, oh God! are full of Thee, Love Thee!-oh, clad in human lowliness, The blind their eyes, that laugh with light, unclose; They chose new gods: War was in all their gates! My soul is yours, ye chiefs of Israel! Ye that ride upon the snow-white asses; He hath pluck'd up his garden-hedge, He hath destroy'd His Temple; Jehovah hath forgotten made the solemn feast and Sabbath; Then stamp'd the clattering hoofs of prancing horses And in the heat of ire He hath rejected King and At the flight, at the flight of the mighty. Priest. The Lord his altar hath disdain'd, abhorred his Holy place, And to the adversary's hand given up his palace walls; Our foes shout in Jehovah's house, as on a festal day. ii. 7, 8. Her gates are sunk into the earth, he hath broke through her bars; Her Monarch and her Princes are now among the Heathen; The Law hath ceased; the Prophets find no vision from Jehovah. ii. 10. My eyes do fail with tears; and troubled are my bowels; My heart's blood gushes on the earth, for the daughter of my people; Children and suckling babes lie swooning in the squares They say unto their Mothers, where is corn and wine! They swoon as they were wounded, in the city squares; While glides the soul away into their Mother's bosom. ii. 11, 12. Even dragons, with their breasts drawn out, give suck unto their young; But cruel is my people's daughter, as the ostrich in the desert; The tongues of sucking infants to their palates cleave with thirst. Young children ask for bread, and no man breaks it for them; Those that fed on dainties are desolate in the streets Those brought up in scarlet, even those embrace the dunghill. iv. 3, 4, 5 Behold, Jehovah, think to whom thou e'er hast deal'd From the sea, from the land, from the south and the thus! Have women ever eat their young, babes fondled in their hands? Have Priest and Prophet e'er been slain in the Lord's Holy place? In the streets, upon the ground, lie slain the young and old; My virgins and my youth have fallen by the sword; In thy wrath thou'st slain them, thou hast had no mercy. Thou hast summon'd all my terrors, as to a solemn feast; None 'scaped, and none was left in Jehovah's day of wrath ; All that mine arms have borne and nursed, the enemy hath slain. ii. 20. 1, 2. Remember, Lord what hath befallen, Look down on our reproach. Our heritage is given to stangers, Our home to foreigners, Our water have we drank for money, Our fuel hath its price-v. 1, 2, 3. We stretch our hands to Egypt, To Assyria for our bread. From the sword of desert robbers. Virgins in Judah's cities. Princes were hung up by the hand, And age had no respect. Young men are grinding at the mill, Boys faint 'neath loads of wood. The Elders from the gate have ceased, The young men from their music. The crown is fallen from her head, Woe! woe! that we have sinn'd. "Tis therefore that our hearts are faint, Therefore our eyes are dim. For Sion's mountain desolate, The foxes walk on it. HYMNS FOR CHURCH SERVICE. SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. THE chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll on fire The glory! the glory! by myriads are pour'd north, The vast generations of men are come forth. The judgment! the judgment! the thrones are all set, Where the Lamb and the white-vested Elders are met! Oh mercy! oh mercy! look down from above, FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. LORD! Thou didst arise and say To the troubled waters "Peace," Down they sank, the foamy seas; Lord! Thy gracious word repeat To the billows of the proud! Quell the tyrant's martial heat, Quell the fierce and changing crowd! Then the earth shall find repose From its restless strife and foes; And an imaged Heaven appear On our world of darkness here! FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. THE angel comes, he comes to reap Wide waves his flamy sword. . And who are they, in sheaves to bide And who are they, reserved in store O King of Mercy! grant us power QUINQUAGESIMA. LORD! we sit and cry to Thee, Like the blind beside the way: Make our darken'd souls to see The glory of thy perfect day! Lord! rebuke our sullen night, And give Thyself unto our sight! Lord! we do not ask to gaze On our dim and earthly sun; But the light that still shall blaze When every star its course hath run: The light that gilds thy blest abode, The glory of the Lamb of God! SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. OH help us, Lord! each hour of need Thy heavenly succour give; Help us in thought, and word, and deed, Each hour on earth we live. Oh help us, when our spirits bleed And when our hearts are cold and dead, O help us, through the prayer of faith For still the more the servant hath, If strangers to Thy fold we call, Imploring at Thy feet The crums that from Thy table fall, "Tis all we dare entreat. But be it, Lord of Mercy, all, So Thou wilt grant but this; The cruins that from Thy table fall Are light, and life, and bliss. Oh help us, Jesus! from on high, We know no help but Thee; Oh! help us so to live and die As thine in Heaven to be. SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT. RIDE on! ride on in majesty! Ride on! ride on in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die! Oh Christ! Thy triumphs now begin Ride on! ride on in majesty! Ride on! ride on in majesty! Then take, oh God! Thy power, and reign! GOOD FRIDAY. BOUND upon th' accursed tree, Bound upon th' accursed tree, Lord! our suppliant knees we bow, Bound upon th' accursed tree, By the last and bitter cry Bound upon th' accursed tree, SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. LORD! have mercy when we strive To save through Thee our souls alive' When the pamper'd flesh is strong, When the strife is fierce and long; When our wakening thoughts begin, First to loathe their cherish'd sin, And our weary spirits fail, And our aching brows are pale, Oh then have mercy! Lord! Lord! have mercy when we lie On the restless bed, and sigh, Sigh for Death, yet fear it still, From the thought of former ill; When all other hope is gone; When our course is almost done: |