For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall forever glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish; - be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
HE life of man has wondrous hours
Revealed at once to heart and eye,
When wake all being's kindled powers,
And joy, like dew on trees and flowers,
With freshness fills the earth and sky.
With finer scent and softer tone
The breezes wind through waving leaves;
By friendlier beams new tints are thrown
On furrowed stem and mouldering stone;
The gorgeous grapes, the jewelled sheaves,
To living glories turn;
And eyes that look from cottage-eaves,
Through shadows that the jasmine weaves,
With love and fancy burn.
The broad, smooth river flames with waves
Where floats the swan, an opal sprite;
And marble shapes on silent graves
Seem starting toward the light.
The distant landscape glows serene;
The dark old tower, with tremulous sheen,
Pavilion of a seraph stands.
The mountain, changed to steeps of gold,
With mists of ruby o'er them rolled,
Up toward the evening star expands.
The ocean streaks, in distance gray,
With sapphire radiance sparkling play,
And silver sails hold on their way
To unseen fairy-lands.
And those who walk within this sphere,
The plot of earth's transfigured green,
Like angels walk, so high, so clear !
With ravishment in eye and mien.
For this one hour, no breath of fear,
Of shame or weakness, wandering near,
Can trusting hearts annoy :
Past things are dead, or only live
The life that hope alone can give ;
And all is peace and joy.
'Tis not that beauty forces then
Her blessings on reluctant men;
But this great globe, with all its might,
Its awful depth and heavenward height,
Seems but my heart with wonder thrilling,
And beating in my human breast,
My sense with inspiration filling ; ·
Myself beyond my nature blest.
Well for all such hours who know,
All who hail, not bid them go,
If the spirit's strong pulsation
After keeps its nobler tone,
And no helpless lamentation
Dulls the heart when rapture's flown;
If the rocky field of Duty,
Built around with mountains hoar,
Still is dearer than the beauty
Of the sky-land's colored shore.
IS, by comparison, an easy task
Earth to despise; but to converse with heaven, — This is not easy: to relinquish all
We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,
And stand in freedom loosened from this world,
I deem not arduous; but must needs confess
That 'tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the soul's desires;
And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
OLDEN days — where are they?
Pilgrims east and west
Cry; if we could find them
We would pause and rest:
We would pause and rest a little
From our long and weary ways :
Where are they, then, where are they —
Golden days?
Where are they, then, where are they -
Golden days?
LOOKED upon a plain of green,
That some one call'd the land of prose, Where many living things were seen,
In movement or repose.
MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. 221
I look'd upon a stately hill
That well was named the inount of song,
Where golden shadows dwelt at will
The woods and streams among.
But most this fact my wonder bred,
Though known by all the nobly wise, —
It was the mountain streams that fed
The fair green plain's amenities.
MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.
Y heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of valor, the country of worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands forever I love.
Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
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