Lays Of Ancient Virginia, And Other Poems Part 25

HYMN TO THE FATHER.

Heavenly father, G.o.d of mercy, Look upon a sinful soul; For, the waves of sad contrition, Now above me darkly roll.

Ah! my crimes are dark and grievous, The huge burthen hard to bear; All the day and night I'm sighing Whelm'd in grief and dark despair.

Ah! how deeply I have fallen From my high and happy state, Where, enrob'd in thy dear image, Once, in tranquil peace, I sate.

Black with sores, a loathsome leper, Lo! I wait before Thy throne; Cans't thou, Maker, wilt thou heal me, Make me whole and all thine own?

Oh! Thy grace is freely gus.h.i.+ng, Boundless is Thy wondrous Love; And for all Thy erring children, Lord, Thy tender bowels move.

Hail! Supreme, Exhaustless Mercy, Christ hath freed my soul from sin; And a holy calm comes o'er me, And a heavenly peace within.

O BIRDIE! SPEAK TO ME.

O Birdie! speak to me, Speak from thy silent grave; It doth not roll o'er thee, Death's dark and Stygian wave!

Sweet! speak, I'm sick, to hear The heaven of thy voice, Which wont, while life was dear, To thrill me and rejoice.

Speak, Birdie! speak to me!

Speak from the flowers which bloom, Beneath the cedar tree That hides thy dearest tomb!

Speak, angel! speak to me; I know thou art not dead, That the dear soul in thee But, bird-like, upward sped!

Yes! Birdie! speak to me, Maid most bright, most dear; Ask, if I'm true to thee, Ask if my grief's sincere?

Ask if the warm tears roll From my devoted heart?

O Birdie! then my soul In peace shall hence depart.

TO ONE.

I love thee, and my trembling lyre Will learn no other strain; I marvel if thy gentle heart Will ever cease disdain; I marvel if our future lives, Will mingle into one, And glitter like a happy stream, In an unclouded sun.

I see that mid a wooing throng, Thou art a central star, And vying youths, with n.o.ble pride, Have brought their gifts from far: I only think the smiles thou giv'st, So freely unto them, If given to me, would bless me more, Than thrones or diadem.

I love thee, and this throbbing heart, From thrall no longer free, Must heave in joy, or ache with wo, Till Death's dark hour, for thee.

I feel that I must know thy love, Or all of life will be One long, deep wail, one throb of pain, One speechless agony.

THE WANDERER.

With none to share my s.h.i.+p with me, A wand'rer o'er life's stormy sea, One brilliant star, like lamp of love, Smiles calmly from its throne above.

Oh! brightly o'er the surging wave, That l.u.s.tre s.h.i.+nes to bless and save; And on through billows thund'ring roll, Conducts me to my heavenly goal.

That star by gracious Love was placed, To look, in beauty uneffaced, Over the wildest wrath of storms, And scatter round its glittering charms: It is Religion, and its ray Is fed by angel hands alway: It beams with beauty so divine, The wand'rer smiles to see it s.h.i.+ne.

Hail, one bright star on all life's main; Though surf roll high, and cordage strain; And cowards, s.h.i.+p! may quake for thee; Thou walk'st victorious o'er the sea.

Oh! proudly, as an ocean-queen, Thy frame, majestic still is seen-- Until thou rest in heaven at last, Thy sailing done, thy anchor cast.

TO BETTIE.

Why, beauteous Bettie, longer shed Pearly showers of causeless grief, Why bend down that lovely head, Like the autumn's rain-wash'd leaf?

Though in weeping, sad distress, Thy dear charms have lovelier grown, As drench'd Nature o'er her dress, Wears the rainbow's splendid zone.

Yet why shed those beaded pearls From those eyes of softest blue, And why loose those auburn curls O'er that sweet neck's damask hue?

Every liquid, falling gem, Flas.h.i.+ng like the diamond's ray, In an eastern diadem, Let me kiss them all away.

Then, from out this stormy gloom, Thy dear smile shall brightly steal; O'er my heart's enliven'd bloom, O'er the joy thy thoughts reveal.

Why, beauteous Bettie! longer shed, Showers of pearls so bright to see?

Bid dark doubt be quickly sped, I am faithful still to thee.

BABY SONG.

Rock'd on Mamma's heaving breast, Heaving like the pearly deep, Hugg'd to that sweet, honey rest, Sleep, little baby, sleep, Baby sleep.

White like the new moon's falling beams, O'er the wooded, westward steeps, Falls the white throng of her dreams, While my baby sleeps, Oh, she sleeps.

Closed her soft and sparkling eyes, Oped her mouth like a tulip's cup, In a starry trance she lies, Like a bud at night shut up; Baby sleeps.

Around her scarcely parted lips, Now a smile--a laughter!--creeps, Losing all their sad eclipse-- Angels near! while baby sleeps Deeply sleeps.

Rock'd upon dear Mamma's breast, Heaving like the wild sea deeps, Joy hath brought Mamma sweet rest, While our baby sleeps, Softly sleeps.

MY OLD VIRGINIA HOME.