And with a transitory smile illume The upper world is glad, and fresh and fair, The dim - discover'd' depth of that damp But that black stone repels the dancing lightbreathless tomb. The beams of heaven must never enter there, Where by the mould’ring corpse in darkness sits Despair! All hearts turn shuddering from that gulf profound, And momentary solace vainly seek Where now those tears, smiles, motions, In gazing on the solemn objects round ! looks and tones, Those pictur'd saints with eyes uplifted meek That made our Vernon in his pride of place To the still heavens, how silently they speak So glorious and so fair! these sullen stones, of faith untroubled, sanctity divine- Like a frozen sea, lie o'er that beauteous face! While on the paleness of each placid cheek Soon will there be no solitary trace We e seem to see a holy lustre shine Of him, his joys, his sadness, or his mirth! O’er mortal beauty breath'd from an im- Even now grows dim the memory of that mortal shrinc ! grace That halo-like shone round the soul of worth! All fading like a dream! all vanishing from What though beneath our feet the earthly earth. mould Of virtue, beauty, youth, and genius lie In grim decay! Yet round us we behold Where now the fancies wild—the thoughts The cheering emblems of eternity. benign What voice divine is theirs! If soul may die, That rais'd his soul and purified his heart! And nought its perishable glory save, Where now have fled those impulses divine Unto yon marble face that to the sky That taught that gifted youth the Poet's art, Looks up with humble hope, what feeling Stealing at midnight with a thrilling start gave Into his spirit, wakeful with the pain Those smiles that speak of heaven, though of that mysterious joy! In darkness part kindling o'er a grave! All the bright hopes, that in a glorious train Lay round his soul, like clouds that hail the morning's reign! O holy image of the Son of God! Bearing his cross up toilsome Calvary! Was that stern path for sinful mortals trod? Ah me! can sorrow such fair image bring - Methinks from that calm cheek, and pity-Laden with all the glories of the spring, Before a mourner's eyes! Methinks I see, ing eye l'plifted to that grim and wrathful sky, Balm, brightness, music, a resplendent tree, (Dim for our sakes with a celestial tear) Waving its blossom'd branches gloriously Falls a sweet smile where Vernon's relics' lie Over a sunny garden of delight! A cold north-wind comes wrathful from the And there at dawn of day a rueful sight! bright. I look into the mist of future years, With lingering motion, as if every hand And gather comfort from the eternal law Were loth to let the mournful búrden sink, That yields up manhood to a host of fears, The coffin disappears! The weeping band, To blinded passion, and bewildering awe! All round that gulf one little moment stand Th’ exulting soul of Vernon never saw In mute and black dismay—and scarcely know Hope's ghastly visage by Truth laugh'd to What dire event has happen'd! the loose sand scorn; From the vault-stone with dull drop sounds Imagination had not pays'd to draw below, The gorgeous curtains of Life's sunny morn, The grave's low hollow voice hath told the Nor show'd the scenes behind so dismal and tale of woe! forlorn. sea, Look for the last time down that cold damp To thee, my Friend! as to a shining star gloom ; Through the blue depths a cloudless course Of those bright letters take a farewell-sight! was given; -Down falls the vault-stone on the yawning There smild thy soul, from earthly vapours tomb, far, And all below is sunk in sudden night! Serenely sparkling in its native heaven! Now is the chapel-aisle with sunshine bright, No clouds at last were o'er its beauty driven But as aloft it burn'd resplendently, Unto the darkness where we lately stood, solitude. Who comes to break my dreams? The O band of rosy children shouting loud, chapel-door With Morris-dance in honour of the May ! Is opening slow, and that old Man appears Restrain that laughter ye delighted crowd, With his long floating locks so silvery-hoar! Let one sad hour disturb your holiday. His frame is crouching, as if twenty years Ye drop your flowers,and wonder who arethey Had pass’d in one short day! There are no tears With garb so black and cheeks of deadly hue! On his wan wrinkled face, or hollow eyes! With one consent then rush again to play, At last with pain his humbled head he rears, For what hath Sadness, Sorrow, Death to do, And asks, while not one grief-chok'd voice Beneath that sunny sky with that lightreplies, hearted crew! Show me the very stone 'neath which my Henry lies! And now the Parents have left far behind The gorgeous City with its groves and He sees the scatter'd dust-and down he falls bowers, Upon that pavement with a shuddering groan; The funeral toll pursues them on the wind, And with a faltering broken voice he calls And looking back, a cloud of thunder lowers By that dear name upon his buried Son. In mortal darkness o'er the shining towers, Then dumb he lies! and ever and anon That glance like fire at every sunny gleam! Fixes lois eye-balls with a ghastly glow Within that glorious scene, what hideous On the damp blackness of that hideous stone, hours As if he look'd it through, and saw below Dragg'd their dire length! tower, palace, The dead face looking up as white as frozen temple swim, snow! Before their wilder'd brain—a grand but dreadful dream! O gently make way for that Lady fair! displayed, With reverend locks which the hard stones A rueful scutcheon meets the Father's eye, defile ! Hung out by death when beauty had decayed, Then with the only voice that mourner hears, And sending far into the sunless sky Lifts up his hoary head and bathes it in The mortal gloom that shrouds its dark her tears ! emblazonry. At last the funeral party melts away, Oh! black as death yon pine-grove on the And as I look up from the chapel-floor, hill! No living object can my eyes survey, Yon waterfall hath now a dismal roar! Save these two childless Parents at the door, Why is that little lake so sadly still, Flinging back a wild farewell—then seen no So dim the flowers and trees along the shore! more! "Tis not in vernal sunshine to restore And now I hear my own slow footsteps sound Their faded beauty, for the source of light Along the echoing aisle—that tread is o'er- That warm'd the primrose-bank doth flow And as with blinded eyes I turn me round, no more! The Sexton shuts the gate that stuns with Vain Nature's power! for unto Sorrow's sight thundering sound! No dewy flower is fair, no blossomy tree is bright. How fresh and cheerful laughs the open air To one who has been standing by a tomb! -Five years have travellid by-since side And ; et the beauty that is glistening there by side Flings back th’unwilling soul into the gloom. That aged pair were laid in holy ground! We turn from walls which dancing rays With them the very name of Vernon died, illume And now it scemeth like an alien sound, Where once it shed bright smiles and bless- Up! up to yon cliff! like a King to his throne! ings round! O'er the black silent forest piled lofty and Another race dwell in that ancient Hall, loneNor one memorial of that youth is found A throne which the eagle is glad to resign Save his sweet Picture—now unknown to Unto footsteps so fleet and so fearless as thine. all There the bright heather springs up in love of thy breast- at rest; And the race of the wild winds is o'er on But not forgotten in that lofty clime, the hill! Where star-like once thy radiant spirit shone, In the hush of the mountains, ye antlers Art thou my Vernon! 'mid those courts lie stillsublinie Though your branches now toss in the The mournful music of thy name is known. storm of delight, Oxford still glories in her gifted Son, Like the arms of the pine on yon shelterless And gray-hair'd men who speak of days height. One moment—thou bright Apparition! Recount what noble palms by him were won, delay! Describe his step, his mien, his voice, his eye, Then melt o'er the crags, like the sun from Till tears will oft rush in to close his eulogy. the day. gone by 1 In the dim silence of the Chapel-aisle Aloft on the weather-gleam, scorning the His Image stands! with pale but life-like earth, face! The wild spirit hung in majestical mirth: The cold white marble breathes a heavenly In dalliance with danger, he bounded in bliss, smile, O'er the fathomless gloom of each moaning The still locks cluster with a mournful abyss; grace. O'er the grim rocko careering with prosperO ne'er may time that beauteous bust deface! ous motion, There may it smile through ages far away, Like a ship by herself in full sail o'er the On those, who, walking through that holy ocean! place, Then proudly he turn'd ere he sank to the dell, A moinent pause that Image to survey, And shook from his forehead a haughty And read with soften'd soul the monumental farewell, lay. While his horns in a crescent of radiance shone, Like a flag barning bright when the vessel is gone. IN THE POREST OP ARGYLLSHIRE. sea ADDRESS TO A WILD DEER The ship of the descrt hath pass'd on the DALNESS, GLEN - ETIVE, wind, And left the dark ocean of mountains behind! But my spirit will travel wherever she flee, MAGNIFICENT Creature! 80 stately and And behold her in pomp o'er the rim of the bright! In the pride of thy spirit pursuing thy flight; Her voyage pursue-till her anchor be cast For what hath the child of the desert to dread, In some cliff-girdled haven of beauty at last. Wafting up his own mountains that far beaming head; Or borne like a whirlwind down on the What lonely magnificence stretchesaround! vale? Each sight how sublime! and how awful Hail! King of the wild and the beautiful!— each sound ! hail! Al hush'd and serene, as a region of dreams, Hail! Idol divine!--whom Nature hath borne The mountains repose 'mid the roar of the O'er a hundred hill-tops since the mists of streams, the morn, Their glens of black unbrage by cataracts Whom the pilgrim lone wandering on moun riven, tain and moor, But calm their blue tops in the beauty of As the vision glides by him, may blameless Heaven. adore; Here the glory of nature hath nothing to fearFor the joy of the happy, the strength of the free, been here; Are spread in a garment of glory o’er thee. 29 race E'en now, may fade. And the forest that hung on yon mountain | Thou fling'st thy bold beauty, exulting and 80 high, free, Like a black thunder-cloud on the arch of O’er a pit of grim blackness, that roars like the sky, the sea. Hath gone, like that cloud, when the tem pest came by. Deep sunk in the black moor, all worn and His voyage is o'er!- As if struck by a decay'd, spell Where the floods have been raging, the He motionless stands in the hush of the dell, limbs are display'a There softly and slowly sinks down on his breast, Of the Pine-tree and Oak sleeping vast in the gloom, In the midst of his pastime enamour'd of rest. The kings of the forest disturbid in their A stream in a clear pool that endeth its tomb. A dancing ray chain'd to onc sunshiny place A hurricane dead in the silence of heaven! in the pomp of their prime, I behold O'erhanging the desert the forests of old! So gorgeous their verdure, 80 solemn their Fit couch of repose for a pilgrim like thee! shade, Magnificent prison enclosing the free! Like the heavens above them, they never With rock-wall encircled—with precipice crown'dThe sunlight is on them-in silence they Which, awoke by the sun, thou can'st clear sleep at a bound. A glimmering glow, like the breast of the 'Mid the fern and the heather kind Nature deep, doth keep When the billows scarce heave in the One bright spot of green for her favourite's calmness of morn. sleep; -Down the pass of Glen-Etive the tempest And close to that covert, as clear as the skies is borne, When their blue depths are cloudless, & And the hill-side is swinging, and roars little lake lies, with a sound Where the creature at rest can his image In the heart of the forest embosom'd profound. behold Till all in a moment the tumult is o'er, Looking up through the radiance, as bright And the mountain of thunder is still as the and as bold ! shore How lonesome! how wild! yet the wildness When the sea is at ebb; not a leaf nor a is rife breath With the stir of enjoyment—the spirit of life. To disturb the wild solitude, steadfast as The glad fish leaps up in the heart of the lake, death. quake! Elate on the fern-branch the grasshopper From his eyrie the eagle hath soar'd with sings, a scream, And away in the midst of his roundelay And I wake on the edge of the cliff from springs; my dream; 'Mid the flowers of the heath, not more bright - Where now is the light of thy far-beam than himself, ing brow? The wild-bee is busy, a musical elfFleet son of the wilderness! where art thou Then starts from his labour, unwearied and now? gay, - Again o'er yon crag thou returnst to my And, circling the antlers, booms far far away. sight, While high up the mountains, in silence Like the horns of the moon from a cloud remote, of the night! The cuckoo unseen is repeating his note, Serene on thy travel—as soul in a dream- And mellowing echo, on watch in the skies, Thou needest no bridge o'er the rush of Like a voice from some loftier climate the stream. replies. With thy presence the pine-grove is fill’d, With wide-branching antlers a guard to his as with light, breast, And the caves, as thou passest, one moment There lies the wild Creature, even stately are bright. in rest! Through the arch of the rainbow that lies 'Mid the grandeur of nature, compos'd and on the rock serene, 'Mid the mist stealing up from the cataract's And proud in his heart of the mountainous shock, scene, He lifts his calm eye to the eagle and raven, When the clear depth of noon-tide, with At noon sinking down on smooth wings to glittering motion, their haven, O'crflows the lone glens-an aerial oceanAs if in his soul the bold Animal smild When the earth and the heavens, in union To his friends of the sky, the joint-heirs profound, of the wild. Lie blended in beauty that knows not a sound As his eyes in the sunshiny solitude close Yes! fierce looks thy nature, ev’n hush'd | ’Neath å rock of the desert in dreaming in repose repose, In the depth of thy desert regardless of foes. He sees, in his slumbers, such visions of old Thy bold antlers call on the hunter afar As his wild Gaelic songs to his infancy told; With ą haughty defiance to come to the war! O'er the mountains a thousand plum'd No outrage is war to a creature like thee! hunters are borne, The bugle-horn fills thy wild spirit with glee, And he starts from his dream at the blast As thou bearest thy neck on the wings of of the horn. the wind, And the laggardly gaze-hound is toiling behind. Yes! child of the desert! fit quarry were In the beams of thy forehead that glitter thou with death, For the hunter that came with a crown on In feet that draw power from the touch of his brow, the heath, By princes attended with arrow and spear, In the wide-raging torrent that lends thee in their white-tented camp, for the warfare its roar, of deer. In the cliff that once trod must be trodden In splendour the tents on the green summit no inore, stood, Thy trust—'mid the dangers that threaten And brightly they shone from the glade in thy reign! the wood, -But what if the stag on the mountain be And, silently built by a magical spell, slain? The pyramid rose in the depth of the dell. On the brink of the rock-lo! he standeth All mute was the palace of Lochy that day, at bay When the king and his nobles-a gallant Like a victor that falls at the close of the arrayday To Gleno or Glen-Etive came forth in their While hunter and hound in their terror pride, retreat And a hundred fierce stage in their solitude From the death that is spurn'd from his died. furious feet: Not lonely and single they pass’d o'er the And his last cry of anger comes back from heightthe skies, But thousands swept by in their hurricaneAs nature's fierce son in the wilderness dies. flight; And bow'd to the dust in their trampling tread High life of a hunter! he meets on the hill Was the plumage on many a warrior's head. The new waken'd daylight, so bright and —“Fall down on your faces!-the herd is at so still; hand!” And feels, as the clouds of the morning unroll, -And onwards they came like the sea o'er The silence, the splendour, ennoble his soul. the sand; Tis his o'er the mountains to stalk like a Like the snow from the mountain when ghost, loosen'd by rain, Enshrouded with mist, in which nature is And rolling along with a crash to the plain; lost, Like a thunder-split oak-tree, that falls in Till he lifts up his eyes, and food, valley, one shock and height, With his hundred wide arms from the top In one moment all swim in an ocean of light; of the rock, While the sun, like - a glorious banner Like the voice of the sky, when the black unfurl'd, cloud is near, Seems to wave o'er a new, more magnificent So sudden, so loud, came the tempest of world. Deer. 'Tis his-by the mouth of some cavern his Wild mirth of the desert! fit pastime for seat kings! The lightning of heaven to hold at his feet, which still the rude Bard in his solitude While the thunder below him that growls sings. from the cloud, Oh reign of magnificence! vanish'd for ever! To him comes on echo more awfully loud. Like music dried up in the bed of a river, |
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