« AnteriorContinuar »
But soon as approaching the land
In Glory's circling arms the hero bled, That goddess-like woman he viewed, While Victory bound the laurel on his head; The scourge he let fall from his band, At once immortal, in both worlds, became
With blood of his subjects imbrued. His soaring spirit and abiding name: I saw him both sicken and die,
-She thought of Pitt, heart-broken, on bis And the moment the monster expired, bier ; Heard shouts, tbat ascended the sky, And “O my Country!" echoed in her ear: From thousands with raptore inspired. -She thought of Fox;--sbe heard him
faintly speak, Awaking how could I but muse
His parting breath grew cold upon her cheek, At what such a dream should betide? His dying accents trembled into air ; But soon my ear caught the glad news, “Spare injared Africa! the Negro spare !” Which served my weak thought for a She started from her trance !-and, ronnd guide
the shore, That Britannia, renowned o'er the waves | Beheld her sapplicating sons once more,
For the hatred, she ever has shown, Pleading the suit so long, so vajoly tried, To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves, Renew'd, resisted, promised, pledged, de Resolves to have done of her own.
claim, THE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY.
Sorrow had soften'd it, and love o'ercame; MONTGOMERY.
Shame flush'd her noble cheek, her bosom
burn'd; High on her rock, in solitary state,
To helpless, hopeless, Africa she turn’d; Sublimely musing, pale Britannia sate;
She saw her sister in the Mourner's face, Her awful forehead on her spear reclined,
And rush'd with tears into her dark embrace. Her robe and tresses streaming with the
“All bail!” exclaim'd the Empress of the sea, wind;
“ Thy chains are broken, Africa be free!” Chill through her frame foreboding tremors
“All bail!” replied the Muurner, “She crept;
who broke The mother thought upon her sons, and wept:
| My bonds, shall never wear a stranger's -She thought of Nelson in the battle slain, And his last signal beaming o'er the main ; !
And roam along, the world's tired denizen, I would not be a leaf to die,
bless ; Minions of splendour sbrinking from dis. The woods and winds, with sudden wail, tress!
Tell all the same unvaried tale; None that, with kindred consciousness I've none to smile when I am free, endued,
And, when I sigh, to sigh with me. If we were not, would seem to smile the less,
Yet in my dreams a form I view, Of all that Aatter'd, follow'd, sought, and That thinks on me, and loves me too; sued ;
I start, and when the vision's Mown, This is to be alone ; this, this is solitude! | 1 weep that I am all alone.
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
Doth God exact day-labour, ligbt denied,
That marmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: bis state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
They also serve who only stand and wait.
LINES BY A LADY BORN BLIND.
Earth and seas, and varying skies
If this delicious, grateful flower,
Not for them the bliss to trace Which blows but for a little hour,
The chisel's animating grace : Should to the sight so lovely be,
Nor on the glowing canvass find
The poet's soul, the sage's mind.
Not for them the heart is seen
| Speaking through the expressive mien; Born just to soothe, and then,-to die! Not for them are pictured there
Friendship, pity, love sincere.
Helpless as they slowly stray,
Faltering steps, where Fear presides. I felt it, and my heart was warm ; And sure the gem to me most dear,
Yet for them has Genius kind Was a kind father's pitying tear.
Humble pleasure here assigned ;
Here with unexpected ray
| Reached the soul that felt no day.
Lonely blindness here can meet
Kindred woes, and converse sweet ; STRANGER, pause !—for thee the day
Torpid once, can learn to smile
Gladly o'er its useful toil.
He who deign'd for man to die,
Oped on day the darkened eye; Stranger, pause !-with softened mind Humbly copy—thou canst feel ! Learn the sorrows of the blind :
Give thine alms-thou canst not heal !
But with a soul that ever felt the sting
Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing:
Not to molest, or irritate, or raine Look where he comes in this embowered A laugh at his expense, is slender praise; alcove
He, that bas not usurped the name of inan, Stand close concealed, and see a statue move: Does all, and deems too little, all be can, Lips busy, and eyes fixt, foot falling slow, | Tassuage the throbbings of the festered Army banging idly down, hands clasped be- | part, low,
And stanch the bleedings of a broken heart, Interpret to the marking eye distress, T'is not, as heads that never ache suppose, Such as its symptoms can alone express. Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes ; That tongue is silent now; that silent tougue Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight, Could argue once, could jest or join the song, 1 Each yielding harmony disposed aright; Could give advice, could censure or com- The screwsreversed (a task which if he please mend,
God in a moment executes with ease,) Or charm the sorrow of a drooping friend. Ten thousand thousand strings at once go Renounced alike its office and its sport, ce and its sport.
loose, Its brisker and its graver strains fell short; Lost, till he tune them, all their power and Both fail'd bepeatb a fever's secret sway,
use. And like a summer-brook are past away. Then neither beathy wilds, nor scenes as fair This is a sight for pity to peruse,
As ever recompensed the peasant's care, Til she resemble taintly wbat she views, Nor soft declivities with tufted hills, Till sympathy contract a kindred pain, Nor view of waters turning busy mills, Pierced with the woes that she laments in Parks in which art preceptrens nature weds, vain.
Nor gardens interspersed with flowery beds, This, of all maladies that man infest,
Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming Claims most compassion, and receives the groves, least :
And waft it to the mourner as he roves, Job felt it, when he groaned beneath the rod Can call up life into his faded eye, And the barbed arrows of a frowning God; That passes all he sees unheeded by: And much emollients as his friends could No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, spare,
No cure for such, till God who makes them, Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. beals, Blest, rather curst, with hearts that never And thou, sad sufferer under nameles ill, feel,
That yields not to the touch of human skill, Kept snug in caskets of clone hammered Improve the kind occasion, understand steel,
A Father's frown, and kiss his chastening With mouths made only to grin wide and hand: eat,
To thee the day-spring, and the blaze of noon, And minds, that deem derided pain a treat, | The purple evening, and resplendent moon, With limbs of Britisb oak,and nerves of wire, The stars, tbat sprinkled o'er the vault of And wit, that pupper prompters might in: night, spire,
Seem drops descending in a shower of light, Their sovereign postrom is a clumsy joke Shine not, or undesired and hated shine, On pangs enforced with God's severest Seen through the medium of a cloud like stroke.
Yet seek him, in his favour life is found, But fancy paints some spirit nigh,
Whose music charms in lonely hour.
Could mortal voice so sweetly sing,
A strain so soft, a breath so light;
But what was tuned by airy sprite;
Some seraph wanderer of the sky,
In vesper bour no requiem swell,
To a more peaceful way,-a nobler love! E'er threw around such magic power, Guide thou a wanderer to that bless'd retreat, Or breath'd more sweet in lonely hour. The clouds and cares of this dark world above.
That song is o'er; the breeze of night For l'hou, my Lord, hast seen year after year Shall sweep in silence o'er the strings ;
Roll on in sadness, since this heart of mine | And, ah ! that breath, so soft, so light,
Bow'd to that yoke alike on all severe; Shall mourn no more on zephyrs' wings ; Now, weak and faint, I ask thy hand divine Thy trembling chords no more shall sigh, To fix each rebel thought, and vagrant tear, No fairy midstrel hover nigh. Saviour of all! upon that cross of tbine !
Farewell, sweet harp; for damp decay
Upon thy mouldering chords shall dwell,
And thou shalt breathe no future lay,
And thou shalt raise no future swell;
The breeze flits by, the music's o'er,
The fairy sounds can charm no more.
Borne on the trembling zephyrs' wings,
That staring eye of soulless ray,
I'd sooner see within that eye
It is a fearful thing to see