"Time, Faith, Energy-the three friends that God hath given the poor."-BULWER.
(Ut me collaudem) si vivo et carus amicis,
Causa fuit pater his."-HORACE.
NoT rightly with such thoughts, though they will
Tempting the mind at times like powers of Hell,
On my past lot or present may I dwell;
For every want from childhood hath a wise
Kind Providence supplied, and still supplies;
And though one heavy unexpected blow
Hath crush'd my perfect happiness below,
And half my heart with my dear Father lies,
And other links from the strong golden chain
Of daily intercourse are loos'ning fast,
How many blessings, undeserved, remain-
Hope, health, occasion! Sweeps upon my gaze
Honour, sure meed of life in labour past,
And sweeter far, a mother's pride and praise.
A Digression, arising out of the
Foregoing — My Father.
"They mourn the dead who live as they desire."-YOUNGE.
My Father! O my Father! not with tears
I mourn thy memory, though oft I check
The rising smile, as 'twere a sin to deck
The face with mirth, as in the happy years
When thou didst share my boyish hopes and fears;
Yet know I that thou wouldst not have me wreck
My buoyant spirit; for thy silent beck
Points forward, blessed spirit, while it cheers,
To true and lasting sorrow's surer test:
A heart of honour; hand of charity;
Temper that nought but other's wrongs may fire;
Devotion to the being thou lov'dst best;
A life spent like thine own-pure, holy, high;"Those mourn the dead who live as they desire."
"And Elisha saw it, and he cried, My father, my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof. And he saw him no more: and he took hold of his own clothes, and rent them in two pieces. He took up also the mantle of Elijah that fell from him, and went back, and stood by the bank of Jordan."-2 Kings ii. 12, 13.
As when the Prophet of old days was borne
On flaming-steeded chariots to the sky,
The mantle of his power and prophecy
Fell on his follower, and by him was worn;
So, Father, may thy spirit, while I mourn
Thee, from thy loving and thy loved ones torn,
Descend upon thy son, and sanctify.
Oh! glorious garb of human majesty !
In which commingled honour, golden-bright;
Pure sinlessness; affection's purple gleam;
The blush for other's wrongs; the stainless white
Of charity: mirth, like a cheerful beam
Of early sun; faith, shedding holy light
O'er all the glowing robe, without a seam.
Digression Christmas Day, 1843,
"Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis."-HORACE.
"Jamque dies, nisi fallor, adest, quem semper acerbum,
Semper honoratum, sic dî voluistis, habebo."
VIRGIL, Eneid.
A YEAR has vanish'd since the turban'd slave,
According to the custom of his clime,
Brought me his votive offerings: at that time,
Smiling, I look'd on what his service gave.
Why do I now, with aspect stern and grave,
Turn from his kindly action as a crime?
For the cool plantain and the gilded lime
Are beautiful as formerly, and wave
The flowers as freshly; kindlier than of yore
The hand that proffers. In myself the change.
Then, household joys bloom'd round me, never more
To flourish, and my Lost One smiled with me;
Now, while I gaze on names and faces strange,
My heart is on the waters of the sea.
[On Christmas day the Indian servants present their master with a tray of fruits and flowers, and one or more gilded limes.]
Digression-Heart-Yearnings.
“Απας μὲν αήρ αἴετῳ περάσιμος,
*Απασα δε χθών ἅνδρι γενναιῷ πάτρις.
AWAY, vain longings for my native land,
My home, my mother, and the thousand ties
That bind me to them with sweet sympathies
Of love and memory, a household band
Of natural yearnings, ere I be unmanned;
For here, mid the cold looks of stranger eyes,
My destin'd path to name or nothing lies.
And, therefore, here, resolv'd, I take my stand
With aim to die, or conquer; purpose stern
As his, the heroic Spaniard,* who could dare,
Mid hostile myriads, comrades for return
Half wavering, his little fleet to burn:
Wanting himself no spur, he with rash care
Cried, "Forward be our hope; behind, despair!"
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