And O that look, that soft upbraiding look! And the shrill clarion gave th' appointed sound, And drew a silent shower of bitter tears Down Peter's blushing cheek, late pale with coward fears. Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure sport, And thoughtless Folly keeps her court,Crouching midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen; Slumbering the festal hours away, While Youth disports in that enchanting scene; Till on some fated day Thon with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey, And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelm'd, with wild dismay. Mark that poor wretch with clasped hands! Pale o'er his parent's grave he stands,The grave by his ingratitude prepared ; Ah then, where'er he rests his head, On roses pillow'd or the softest down, Though festal wreaths his temples crown, He well might envy Guatimozin's bed, With burning coals and sulphur spread, And with less agony his torturing hour have shared. For Thou art by to point the keen reproach; Thou draw'st the curtains of his nightly couch, Bring'st back the reverend face with tears bedew'd, That o'er his follies yearn'd; His stubborn breast that failed to move, When in the scorner's chair he sat, and wholesome counsel spurn'd. Lives there a man whose labouring breast Midst savage rocks and cloisters dim and drear, In vain untold his crime to mortal ear, Silence and whisper'd sounds but make thy voice more clear. Lo. where the cowled monk with frantic rage Lifts high the sounding scourge, his bleeding shoulders smites! Penance and fasts his anxious thoughts engage, See o'er the bleeding corse of her he loved, Down his pale cheek no tear will flow, "Twas phantoms summon'd by thy power Round Richard's couch at midnight hour, That scared the tyrant from unblest repose; With frantic haste, "To horse! to horse!" he cries, While on his crowned brow cold sweat-drops rise, And fancied spears his spear oppose; But not the swiftest steed can bear away From thy firm grasp thine agonizing prey, Thou wast the fiend, and thou alone, That stood'st by Beaufort's mitred head, With upright hair and visage ghastly pale: Thy terrors shook his dying bed, Past crimes and blood his sinking heart assail, His hands are clasp'd,-hark to that hollow groan! See how his glazed, dim eye-balls wildly roll, "Tis not dissolving Nature's pains; that pang is of the soul. Where guilty souls are doom'd to dwell, Long eras of uncounted years, And every stain is wash'd in soft repentant tears. Servant of God--but unbeloved-proceed, Against th' unrighteous deed, Till thine accursed mother shall expire, And a new world spring forth from renovating fire O! when the glare of day is fled, And calm, beneath the evening star, Reflection leans her pensive head, And calls the passions to her solemn bar; Reviews the censure rash, the hasty word, The purposed act too long deferr'd, Of time the wasted treasures lent, And fair occasions lost, and golden hours mispent: When anxious Memory numbers o'er Each offer'd prize we failed to seize; Or friends laid low, whom now no more Our fondest love can serve or please, And thou, dread power! bring'st back, in terrors drest, Th' irrevocable past, to sting the careless breast; O! in that hour be mine to know, While fast the silent sorrows flow, And wisdom cherishes the wholesome pain, No heavier guilt, no deeper stain, Than tears of meek contrition may atone, Shed at the mercy-seat of Heaven's eternal throne. ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. YES, Britain mourns, as with electric touch, In grief spontaneous, and hard hearts are moved, And urge and dry the tear.-Yet one there is Nor deem him hard of heart; for awful, struck Think then, O think of him, and breathe one prayer, From the full tide of sorrow spare one tear, THE WAKE OF THE KING OF SPAIN.* ARRAY'D in robes of regal state, The portal opens-hark, a voice! Again the sounding portals shake, In vain the voice of pleasure calls: HYMNS. HYMN I. JEHOVAH reigns: let every nation hear, He rules with wide and absolute command He saw the struggling beams of infant light Shoot through the massy gloom of ancient night; His spirit hush'd the elemental strife, And brooded o'er the kindling seeds of life: Seasons and months began their long procession, And measured o'er the year in bright succession. The joyful sun sprung up th' ethereal way, Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay; And the pale moon diffused her shadowy light Superior o'er the dusky brow of night; Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning, Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of morning Earth's blooming face with rising flowers he drest, And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breast; Then from the hollow of his hand he pours The circling water round her winding shores, The new-born world in their cool arms embracing, And with soft murmurs still her banks caressing. At length she rose complete in finish'd pride, All fair and spotless, like a virgin bride; Fresh with untarnish'd lustre as she stood, The kings of Spain for nine days after death are Her Maker bless'd his work, and call'd it good; placed sitting in robes of state with their attendants around them, and solemnly summoned by the proper The morning stars with joyful acclamation officers to their meals and their amusements, as if living. | Exulting sang, and hail'd the new creation. Yet this fair world, the creature of a day, Though built by God's right hand, must pass away; And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things, The fate of empires, and the pride of kings: Eternal night shall veil their proudest story, And drop the curtain o'er all human glory. The sun himself, with weary clouds opprest, Shall in his silent, dark pavilion rest; His golden urn shall broke and useless lie, Amidst the common ruins of the sky; The stars rush headlong in the wild commotion, And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean But fix'd, O God! for ever stands thy throne; Jehovah reigns, a universe alone; Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame, Collected, or diffused, is still the same. He dwells within his own unfathom'd essence, And fills all space with his unbounded presence. But O! our highest notes the theme debase, And silence is our least injurious praise; Cease, cease your songs, the daring flight control, Revere him in the stillness of the soul; With silent duty meekly bend before him, And deep within your inmost hearts adore him. HYMN II. PRAISE to God immortal praise,* For the blessings of the field, Flocks that whiten all the plain, All that Spring with bounteous hand These to thee, my God, we owe ; Yet should rising whirlwinds tear Should the vine put forth no more, Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat, the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.-HAE. iii. 17, 18. Though the sickening flocks should fall, And the herds desert the stall; Should thine alter'd hand restrain The early and the latter rain; Blast each opening bud of joy, And the rising year destroy: Yet to thee my soul should raise Grateful vows, and solemn praise; And, when every blessing's flown, Love thee-for thyself alone. HYMN III. FOR EASTER SUNDAY. AGAIN the Lord of life and light O what a night was that, which wrapt This day be grateful homage paid, Ten thousand differing lips shall join Jesus the friend of human kind, To save the souls he loved. The powers of darkness leagued in vain Not long the toils of hell could keep And now his conquering chariot wheels Ascend the lofty skies; While broke beneath his powerful cross, Death's iron sceptre lies. Exalted high at God's right hand, Through him is pardoning love dispensed, And still for erring, guilty man, To thee, my Saviour and my King, E HYMN IV. BEHOLD, where breathing love divine, His weeping followers gathering round, From that mild teacher's parting lips "Blest is the man whose softening heart To whom the supplicating eye Whose breast expands with generous warmth And bleeds in pity o'er the wound "He spreads his kind supporting arms His secret bounty largely flows, And brings unask'd relief. "To gentle offices of love His feet are never slow: He views through mercy's melting eye "Peace from the bosom of his God, My peace to him I give; And when he kneels before the throne, "To him protection shall be shown, Descend on those who thus fulfil HYMN V. AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes, Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground, "Come then, my soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal shield;" Put on the armour from above Of heavenly truth and heavenly love. The terror and the charm repel, And powers of earth, and powers of hell; The Man of Calvary triumph'd here; Why should his faithful followers fear? Thou, who houseless, sole, forlorn, Long hast borne the proud world's scorn, Ye, who toss'd on beds of pain, Ye, by fiercer anguish torn, Sinner, come! for here is found HYMN VIII. "The world is not their friend, nor the world's law." Lo where a crowd of pilgrims toil Yon craggy steeps among! Strange their attire, and strange their mien, Their eyes with bitter streaming tears And hark! a voice from 'midst the throng Cries," Stranger, wouldst thou know Our name, our race, our destined home, Our cause of joy or wo? "Our country is Immanuel's land, We seek that promised soil; "Oft do our eyes with joy o'erflow, And oft are bathed in tears: Yet naught but heaven our hopes can raise, And naught but sin our fears. "The flowers that spring along the road, We scarcely stoop to pluck; We walk o'er beds of shining ore "We tread the path our Master trod, "Our powers are oft dissolved away In ecstasies of love; And while our bodies wander here, "We purge our mortal dross away, Refining as we run; But while we die to earth and sense, Our heaven is begun." HYMN IX. Joy to the followers of the Lord! Tis the joy of pardon'd sin, When conscience cries, "Tis well within; "Tis the joy that fills the breast When the passions sink to rest : "Tis the joy that seated deep, Leaves not when we sigh and weep; "Keep yon right-hand path with care, Though crags obstruct, and brambles tear; You just discern a narrow track, Enter there and turn not back." "Say where that pleasant pathway leads, Winding down yon flowery meads? Songs and dance the way beguiles, Every face is drest in smiles." "Shun with care that flowery way; Pilgrim, he who runs may read." "Is the way that I must keep, Cross'd by waters wide and deep?" "Did it lead through flood and fire, Thou must not stop-thou must not tire. "Till I have my journey past, Tell me will the daylight last? Will the sky be bright and clear Till the evening shades appear?" Though the sun now rides so high, Clouds may veil the evening sky; Fast sinks the sun, fast wears the day, Thou must not stop, thou must not stay: God speed thee, pilgrim, on thy way!" |