Verses of Feeling and Fancy

Sonnet to Shelley.

Divinely strong and beautiful in soul! With more than melody of mortal voice! The free thy spirit's majesty extol, When Liberty is made thy Muse's choice. And then how pure and pleasing is thy song, When Beauty--goddess of thy mind--its theme! But most to thee those sweet, sad strains belong, Where Truth we find through musing's fitful dream: And trace Uncertainty and how it gropes Through this and time to come with faltering feet, And vanity of Pleasure, and the Hopes Which Fear enfeebles and the Fates defeat: Strains oft as if at thy once-sung desire The wild west wind had ta'en thee for its lyre.

Hope.

Oh! why should sorrow wound the heart, And rob the soul of rest? Why is misfortune's bitter dart Allowed to pierce the breast?

We dare not ask; 'tis heaven's decree, While faring here below, Man's bark is tossed upon the sea Of trouble, grief and woe.

But Mercy holdeth forth a light Upon the waves to shine, And cheer him in the darkest night,-- The star of Hope divine.

Enabled thus, he looks before, And sees, Oh! joyful sight! The waves subside, the storm is o'er, The sky is clear and bright.

What comfort 'tis when cares annoy To know they are from One Whose hand dispenses peace and joy As well as grief and pain.

Then cherish hope, despondent heart, With strength renew the fight; And God will gladness yet impart, Thy darkness turn to light.

The dreary winter soon is done, And then--the month of May! The clouds, which now obscure the sun, Will soon have passed away.

Sonnet to Dr. Macvicar.

Stay of the church and pillar of the state! Who alway did'st to wrong thy voice oppose, And strong hast striven corruption to expose, And, jealous ever for thy country's fate, Her virtues to preserve inviolate. Much to thy power the platform, pulpit owes, Thy pen has held the Right and quelled her foes: A man withal thou art, and truly great. And, true to thy convictions, firm thou hast In these last troublous times maintained thy stand, And boldly at thy post hast faced the blast, That threatens still the ship of state to strand, And shown thy resolution to the last To serve thy God, thy sovereign, and thy land.

Ah! Happy was I Yesternight.

Ah! happy was I yesternight I trod the paths of love Within Elysian fields of bliss, Enchanted bowers above.

A heavenly maiden by my side, So wondrous fair that e'en Surrounding nature shared her charms, Imparted to the scene.

By smiling water-brooks we strolled, And joyous woods among, Whose every grove re-echoed tune From birds that gaily sung.

We breathed the breath of fragrant flowers, That filled the scented air; The gentle zephyr fanned our cheeks, And waved her silken hair.

We glided on through glassy glades, Where, in the golden glow, Fantastic forms by fancy framed Were flitting to and fro.

She seeming spake, but 'twas not speech, The words were notes of love,-- Soft, silver sounds, as though they fell Strains from the harps above.

The passing rapture of the hour 'Tis folly to recall; All, all around was paradise, And she was queen of all.

We parted: broken was the spell; The blissful dream was o'er; I stood upon the city street, Before her father's door.

What though I wildly walked the hills, Nor any respite found! My thoughts as ghastly and as dark As were the shades around.

What though since then in Stygian gloom My soul to grope is given! Can earth be else but dull to him, Who once has tasted heaven?

Sonnet to Asterie.

I was enveloped in black clouds of woe, Woven o'er my vision by dark-veiled Despair; I breathed the poison of the midnight air, And 'neath its dank oppression wasted low. I staggered wildly in the gloom at first; And prayed in anguish that it be removed; Then cursed the day I saw thee--saw and loved, And ceased to hope the clouds would be dispersed. At last that Heavenly Love that rules the night Removed thine orbit nearer to the earth, And filled my soul with rapturous delight; And in the place of that devouring dearth, When I can see, though distant still, thy light, Blest Happiness from Hope receives her birth.

Vain Transient World.

Vain transient World, what charms are thine? And what do mortals in thee see, That they should worship at thy shrine, And sacrifice their all to thee?

Thy brightest gifts, thy happiest hours Fly past on pinions of the wind; They fade like blooms upon the flowers, And leave a painful want behind.

Thou art a road, though not of space, Which rich and poor alike must tread; Thy starting point we cannot trace, Thine end--the country of the dead.

A pathway paved with want and woe, With pleasures painful, incomplete; Like stones upon the way below, Which wound the weary pilgrim's feet.

Thou'rt hedged with visions of despair, With words of hate, with looks of scorn; Like wayside thorns which pierce and tear The fainting traveller weak and worn.

Relentless odium's bitter ill, Cold disregard thy ways infest; Like wintry blasts that chill and kill The very heart within the breast.

Fragment of a Hymn.

God of mercy without measure! God of all-embracing love! Show'ring in Thy gracious pleasure Countless blessings from above; Bounteous benefits bestowing In a kind, continuous course, Favour from Thee ever flowing, As a stream from ocean source.

Grateful praise my aspiration; Pardon my presumptuous pen; And accept my poor oblation, And forgive its feeble strain; Thou to whom such praise is given, Too divine for mortal ears, In the angel choirs of heaven And the music of the spheres.

Prayer for Submission.

How often, Lord, when 'tis Thy will To use the chastening rod, My soul, possessed of passions ill, Rebels against its God! Denies that Justice reigns in heaven, Doth His decrees pervade; And loathes the blessings He hath given, The creatures He hath made!

Do thou the spirit me instil Of sweet submission, Lord, And teach me to Thy sovereign will In meekness to accord; Like Him who felt affliction's fire, But never did repine; And bore the cross at Thy desire, When harder far than mine.

Enough, it is my King's command! What more do I require? Yet what is from a father's hand Can but to good conspire. And all Thy workings are inwove In Thine eternal plan, Which wills the welfare in Thy love, And works the weal of man.

Sonnet to ------.