« SebelumnyaLanjutkan »
IKE the gale, that fighs along
Beds of oriental flowers,
Though the flowers have sunk in death; So, when pleasure's dream is gone,
Its memory lives in music's breath.
Music! oh how faint, how weak,
Language fades before thy spell! Why should Feeling ever speak,
When thou canst breathe her soul so well?
Love's are e'en more false than they ;
ND storied windows, richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light;
In service high and anthems clear,
S, one by one, stars on the Eastern space
Come forth, while daylight fades,
Thus, while death's deepening fhades Darken around thy steps in stranger lands, Sweet awful memories of thine own St. John Wake round thee; martyred Peter beckoning stands, And stirs again the Spirit's benison Given through his hands ; upon the self-fame road, Lo, the bright footsteps of the death-bound Paul! Thy soul is fanned to burning hardihood : We hear in thee the Bridegroom's warning call, And full of glowing life thy dying accents fall!
ITH age invested, thou didft mount
this be juft?
- In His mighty love, The Saviour laid thy body in the dust. That thou might'st rule thy flock a priest on high, And teach thy children to ascend the sky.
HE child of tears, the child of tears,
Think not that nought is well below,
Despair not of thy wayward fon,
He cannot, must not, shall not die ;
* The above lines are a sort of paraphrase from the confessions of St. Augustine, 1. iii. c. ult. by the late F. Mackenzie.
JIS sun went down in cloudless skies,
upon the morn to rise
To vanish back again to night;
In that eternal day.
JEEP no more, woful shepherds, weep no
more, For Lycidas your forrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery
flood; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore, Flames in the forehead of the morning sky; So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walked the