LINES, WRITTEN ON VISITING A SCENE IN ARGYLESHIRE. Ar the silence of twilight's contemplative hour, On the wind-shaken weeds that embosom the bower, All ruined and wild is their roofless abode, And lonely the dark raven's sheltering tree: And travelled by few is the grass-covered road, Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode, To his hills that encircle the sea. Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk, One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race, From each wandering sun-beam, a lonely embrace, Sweet bud of the wilderness! emblem of all But patience shall never depart! Though the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright, In the days of delusion by fancy combined With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight, Be hushed, my dark spirit! for wisdom condemns Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems A thousand wild waves on the shore ! Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of disdain, Yea! even the name I have worshipped in vain THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. OUR bugles sang truce- for the night-cloud had lowered, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us, rest, thou art weary and worn; TO THE RAINBOW. TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art Still seem, as to my childhood's sight, A midway station given For happy spirits to alight Betwixt the earth and heaven. Can all that Optics teach, unfold Thy form to please me so, As when I dreamed of gems and gola When Science from Creation's face What lovely visions yield their place And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, When o'er the green, undeluged earth Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign! And when its yellow lustre smiled Each mother held aloft her child Methinks, thy jubilee to keep, Nor ever shall the Muse's eye Be still the prophet's theme! The earth to thee her incense yields, When glittering in the freshened fields How glorious is thy girdle cast As fresh in yon horizon dark, As when the eagle from the ark For, faithful to its sacred page, Nor lets the type grow pale with age ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, I saw a vision in my sleep, I saw the last of human mould, The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, Around that lonely man! Some had expired in fight, the brands Still rusted in their bony hands; In plague and famine some! Earth's cities had no sound nor tread; And ships were drifting with the dead To shores where all was dumb! |