Hesperus Part 21

V.

Blest Spirit of Calm that dwellest in these woods!

Thou art a part of that serene repose That ofttimes lingers in the solitudes Of my lone heart, when the tumultuous throes Of some vast Grief have borne me to the earth.

For I have fought with Sorrow face to face; Have tasted of the cup that brings to some A frantic madness and delirious mirth, But prayed and trusted for the light to come, To break the gloom and darkness of the place.

Through the dim aisles the sunlight penetrates, And nature's self rejoices; heaven's light Comes down into my heart, and in its might My soul stands up and knocks at G.o.d's own temple-gates.

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VI.

Through every sense a sweet balm permeates, As music strikes new tones from every nerve.

The soul of Feeling enters at the gates Of Intellect, and Fancy comes to serve With fitting homage the propitious guest.

Nature, erewhile so lonely and oppressed, Stands like a stately Presence, and looks down As from a throne of power. I have grown Full twenty summers backwards, and my youth Is surging in upon me till my hopes Are as fresh-tinted as the checkered leaves That the sun s.h.i.+nes through. All the future opes Its endless corridors, where time unweaves The threads of Error from the golden warp of Truth.

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VIII.

Our life is like a forest, where the sun Glints down upon us through the throbbing leaves; The full light rarely finds us. One by one, Deep rooted in our souls, there springeth up Dark groves of human pa.s.sion, rich in gloom, At first no bigger than an acorn-cup.

Hope threads the tangled labyrinth, but grieves Till all our sins have rotted in their tomb, And made the rich loam of each yearning heart To bring forth fruits and flowers to new life.

We feel the dew from heaven, and there start From some deep fountain little rills whose strife Is drowned in music. Thus in light and shade We live, and move, and die, through all this earthly glade.

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VIII.

Above where I am sitting, o'er these stones, The ocean waves once heaved their mighty forms; And vengeful tempests and appalling storms Wrung from the stricken sea portentous moans, That rent stupendous icebergs, whose huge heights Crashed down in fragments through the startled nights.

Change, change, eternal change in all but G.o.d!

Mysterious nature! thrice mysterious state Of body, soul, and spirit! Man is awed, But triumphs in his littleness. A mote, He specks the eye of the age and turns to dust, And is the sport of centuries. We note More surely nature's ever-changing fate; Her fossil records tell how she performs her trust.

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IX.

Another day of rest, and I sit here Among the trees, green mounds, and leaves as sere As my own blasted hopes. There was a time When Love and perfect Happiness did chime Like two sweet sounds upon this blessed day; But one has flown forever, far away From this poor Earth's unsatisfied desires To love eternal, and the sacred fires With which the other lighted up my mind Have faded out and left no trace behind, But dust and bitter ashes. Like a bark Becalmed, I anchor through the midnight dark, Still hoping for another dawn of Love.

Bring back my olive branch of Happiness, O dove!

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X.

Poor snail, that toilest at my weary feet, Thou, too, must have thy burden! Life is sweet If we would make it so. How vast a load To carry all its days along the road Of its serene existence! Christian-like, It toils with patience, seeking sweet repose Within itself when wearied with the throes Of its life-struggle. The low sounds that strike Upon the ear in wafts of melody, Are cruel mockeries, O snail, of thee.

The cricket's chirp, the gra.s.shopper's shrill tone, The locust's jarring cry, all mock thy lone And dumb-like presence. May this heart of mine, When tried, put on a resignation such as thine.

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XI.

Oh, that I were the spirit of these wilds!

I'd make the zephyrs dance for my delight, And lead a life as happy as a child's.

Echo should tremble with unfeigned affright, And mock its own weird answers. I would kiss Eliza's cheek, and touch her lips with dew Stol'n from the scented rose. And Carrie's laugh Should be a portion of the silver rills'

Sweet music, breathed mellifluously through The hearts of generations. She should quaff The nectar of inspired song, and thrills Of sweet remembrances of her should strew The woodland air, as sand-grains strew the sh.o.r.e; And these two hearts should be my joy for evermore.

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XII.

The moon shone down on fair Eliza's face, And made it beautiful. No fitter place Could she have chosen for her gracious smile; For as she sat there in the languid light, Methought I'd found a soul as free from guile As ever came from G.o.d. Oh, favored Night!

Oh, mild, impa.s.sioned moon and starry spheres!

To gaze upon her through the silent years Without rebuke. But I have looked within, And found the truest beauty; have laid bare A spiritual excellence as rare As ever mortal being hoped to win.

Heart, mind, and soul, I a.n.a.lysed them all, And saw where heaven kept divinest carnival.

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XIII.

I've almost grown a portion of this place, I seem familiar with each mossy stone; Even the nimble chipmunk pa.s.ses on, And looks, but never scolds me. Birds have flown And almost touched my hand; and I can trace The wild bees to their hives. I've never known So sweet a pause from labour. But the tone Of a past sorrow, like a mournful rill Threading the heart of some melodious hill, Or the complainings of the whippoorwill, Pa.s.ses through every thought, and hope, and aim.

It has its uses; for it cools the flame Of ardent love that burns my being up-- Love, life's celestial pearl, diffused through all its cup.

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