[Decoration]
LovedQueen of Scotia's bonnie braes!Of Erin's, England's homes;This day thy people speak thy praiseWhere'er the exile roams.By gorgeous India's ancient fanes;On Greenland's banks of snow;Where, o'er Columbia's boundless plains,Majestic rivers flow.On frozen seas, in balmy air,By forest's dusky greenAriseth up to heaven the prayer:—"God bless our gracious Queen!"God guide her through the evening lightTo where no shadows frown;Nor sorrow's pall, nor darksome nightWill dimthatlustrous crown.Let earthly glory sink in night;Life's record, without stain,Shall cast an ever-hallowed lightAcross Victoria's reign.'Tis not that Britain's martial prowIn every port appears;Nor that the flag which streameth nowHath waved a thousand years.'Tis not the sceptre, nor the sword,Nor gold, nor precious stone;True sympathy hath knit the cordThat binds us to the Throne.Thy sires, in siege and battle fieldFull bravely bore their part;But, without strife to thee doth yieldThe fortress of the heart.Not land from weakling nations rentShall keep thy memory green;But this—thy lasting monument—She wasthe peoples' Queen.
LovedQueen of Scotia's bonnie braes!Of Erin's, England's homes;This day thy people speak thy praiseWhere'er the exile roams.By gorgeous India's ancient fanes;On Greenland's banks of snow;Where, o'er Columbia's boundless plains,Majestic rivers flow.On frozen seas, in balmy air,By forest's dusky greenAriseth up to heaven the prayer:—"God bless our gracious Queen!"God guide her through the evening lightTo where no shadows frown;Nor sorrow's pall, nor darksome nightWill dimthatlustrous crown.Let earthly glory sink in night;Life's record, without stain,Shall cast an ever-hallowed lightAcross Victoria's reign.'Tis not that Britain's martial prowIn every port appears;Nor that the flag which streameth nowHath waved a thousand years.'Tis not the sceptre, nor the sword,Nor gold, nor precious stone;True sympathy hath knit the cordThat binds us to the Throne.Thy sires, in siege and battle fieldFull bravely bore their part;But, without strife to thee doth yieldThe fortress of the heart.Not land from weakling nations rentShall keep thy memory green;But this—thy lasting monument—She wasthe peoples' Queen.
LovedQueen of Scotia's bonnie braes!Of Erin's, England's homes;This day thy people speak thy praiseWhere'er the exile roams.
By gorgeous India's ancient fanes;On Greenland's banks of snow;Where, o'er Columbia's boundless plains,Majestic rivers flow.
On frozen seas, in balmy air,By forest's dusky greenAriseth up to heaven the prayer:—"God bless our gracious Queen!"
God guide her through the evening lightTo where no shadows frown;Nor sorrow's pall, nor darksome nightWill dimthatlustrous crown.
Let earthly glory sink in night;Life's record, without stain,Shall cast an ever-hallowed lightAcross Victoria's reign.
'Tis not that Britain's martial prowIn every port appears;Nor that the flag which streameth nowHath waved a thousand years.
'Tis not the sceptre, nor the sword,Nor gold, nor precious stone;True sympathy hath knit the cordThat binds us to the Throne.
Thy sires, in siege and battle fieldFull bravely bore their part;But, without strife to thee doth yieldThe fortress of the heart.
Not land from weakling nations rentShall keep thy memory green;But this—thy lasting monument—She wasthe peoples' Queen.
Seemsit yestreen since weFirst hailed thee, beautous bride!Sweet-smiling, by the sideOf Him, our king to be.Cheek of the pink sea-shell;Eyes of the summer blue,Locks of the brown-gold hue;Voice clear as silver bell.The myriads crowd the street;Glad music, nigh and far,Outsoundeth earthly jar;And tenders welcome meet.Once more thy form I see,Amid thy family bandSave one, on Scottish strand,And twain—where seraphs be.Nor fled thy winsome grace;Nor did thy beauty fade,Though sad bereavement's shadeHath paled thy peerless face.Still sway with gentle hand;Still live thy lovesome lifeFond mother! faithful wife!First princess of first land.
Seemsit yestreen since weFirst hailed thee, beautous bride!Sweet-smiling, by the sideOf Him, our king to be.Cheek of the pink sea-shell;Eyes of the summer blue,Locks of the brown-gold hue;Voice clear as silver bell.The myriads crowd the street;Glad music, nigh and far,Outsoundeth earthly jar;And tenders welcome meet.Once more thy form I see,Amid thy family bandSave one, on Scottish strand,And twain—where seraphs be.Nor fled thy winsome grace;Nor did thy beauty fade,Though sad bereavement's shadeHath paled thy peerless face.Still sway with gentle hand;Still live thy lovesome lifeFond mother! faithful wife!First princess of first land.
Seemsit yestreen since weFirst hailed thee, beautous bride!Sweet-smiling, by the sideOf Him, our king to be.
Cheek of the pink sea-shell;Eyes of the summer blue,Locks of the brown-gold hue;Voice clear as silver bell.
The myriads crowd the street;Glad music, nigh and far,Outsoundeth earthly jar;And tenders welcome meet.Once more thy form I see,Amid thy family bandSave one, on Scottish strand,And twain—where seraphs be.
Nor fled thy winsome grace;Nor did thy beauty fade,Though sad bereavement's shadeHath paled thy peerless face.
Still sway with gentle hand;Still live thy lovesome lifeFond mother! faithful wife!First princess of first land.
[Decoration]
Timewas when tyrants reigned,When law was law for naught;When man, with mind distraught,Knelt with allegiance feigned.Now, in these ampler daysWhen dews of peace distil,When all may climb who will,Just souls may justly praise.Ours was thine earlier sorrow;Ours is thy later joy;No base, unmeet alloy;No faithless, vague to-morrow.But tender, soulful, true;O'er leagues of greening plain,From east to western main,'Neath all our brightening blue.Knit by love's kindred tie,Heart wafteth unto heartWeal, time nor space may part:Best gift from low or high.Best gifts, Oh Prince! be thineIn whom our hopes repose;Thine, and thy English Rose;Till crowned of crown divine.
Timewas when tyrants reigned,When law was law for naught;When man, with mind distraught,Knelt with allegiance feigned.Now, in these ampler daysWhen dews of peace distil,When all may climb who will,Just souls may justly praise.Ours was thine earlier sorrow;Ours is thy later joy;No base, unmeet alloy;No faithless, vague to-morrow.But tender, soulful, true;O'er leagues of greening plain,From east to western main,'Neath all our brightening blue.Knit by love's kindred tie,Heart wafteth unto heartWeal, time nor space may part:Best gift from low or high.Best gifts, Oh Prince! be thineIn whom our hopes repose;Thine, and thy English Rose;Till crowned of crown divine.
Timewas when tyrants reigned,When law was law for naught;When man, with mind distraught,Knelt with allegiance feigned.
Now, in these ampler daysWhen dews of peace distil,When all may climb who will,Just souls may justly praise.
Ours was thine earlier sorrow;Ours is thy later joy;No base, unmeet alloy;No faithless, vague to-morrow.
But tender, soulful, true;O'er leagues of greening plain,From east to western main,'Neath all our brightening blue.
Knit by love's kindred tie,Heart wafteth unto heartWeal, time nor space may part:Best gift from low or high.
Best gifts, Oh Prince! be thineIn whom our hopes repose;Thine, and thy English Rose;Till crowned of crown divine.
Vainbe the rare genius of sage or of scholar,Philosophy's nursling, or gifted of song;Vain, minds of rich culture, with tones of choice music,If cradled in falsity, nurtured in wrong.But cloudless the intellect sunned of fair Freedom;Full lofty the soul which, with feelings refined,Doth lift up a voice for the weal of the nations;Ennobling with sympathy all of his kind.Fair Freedom! thou star in the night of the ages!Thou radiant in fervor! thou essence divine!He! highest in soul-height, doth build up thine altars;While devotees faithful, bend low at thy shrine.The far-seeing wisdom of mercy which hailed thee,Hath wooed thee to listen the suppliant's song;Hath wooed and hath won thee through love, lit of reason;—Heaven's benison laurel the healer of wrong!
Vainbe the rare genius of sage or of scholar,Philosophy's nursling, or gifted of song;Vain, minds of rich culture, with tones of choice music,If cradled in falsity, nurtured in wrong.But cloudless the intellect sunned of fair Freedom;Full lofty the soul which, with feelings refined,Doth lift up a voice for the weal of the nations;Ennobling with sympathy all of his kind.Fair Freedom! thou star in the night of the ages!Thou radiant in fervor! thou essence divine!He! highest in soul-height, doth build up thine altars;While devotees faithful, bend low at thy shrine.The far-seeing wisdom of mercy which hailed thee,Hath wooed thee to listen the suppliant's song;Hath wooed and hath won thee through love, lit of reason;—Heaven's benison laurel the healer of wrong!
Vainbe the rare genius of sage or of scholar,Philosophy's nursling, or gifted of song;Vain, minds of rich culture, with tones of choice music,If cradled in falsity, nurtured in wrong.
But cloudless the intellect sunned of fair Freedom;Full lofty the soul which, with feelings refined,Doth lift up a voice for the weal of the nations;Ennobling with sympathy all of his kind.
Fair Freedom! thou star in the night of the ages!Thou radiant in fervor! thou essence divine!He! highest in soul-height, doth build up thine altars;While devotees faithful, bend low at thy shrine.
The far-seeing wisdom of mercy which hailed thee,Hath wooed thee to listen the suppliant's song;Hath wooed and hath won thee through love, lit of reason;—Heaven's benison laurel the healer of wrong!
Dimmedthy bright eyes, Oh Canada!Bedimmed with the incense of woe;Hushed thy young joy-peals of laughter;Whose heart beat to thine lieth low.Great heart! which, in truest devotion,Kept faith to its earliest shrine;Great land! widely girthed of each ocean;His lifetime of service was thine.Well mays't thou weep, yet not repine;Rude wert thou, an untutored child,When first his strong, firm hand clasped thine,And led thee o'er thy boundless wild,And cleared the mists from thy young eyes,As with magician's gifted wand;Till Hope's bright dawn illumed thy skies,And glorified this boundless land.The mind astute discerned thy force;The springs of plenty watered dearth;Then rose, from infound, ample source,The mightiest structure on this earth:The home where freeborn souls are free;Where, 'neath blue skies, o'er rich green sodNo worship bends the humble knee,Save homage to fair Freedom's God.Though sore thy heart, Oh Canada!Grudge not thy Chief his well-earned rest;The veteran who hath braved the strifeMay fold his arms o'er peaceful breast.Droop banners o'er his honored bier!Strewimmortellesof every clime!His larger life, in nobler sphere,Is bounded not with hedge of time.
Dimmedthy bright eyes, Oh Canada!Bedimmed with the incense of woe;Hushed thy young joy-peals of laughter;Whose heart beat to thine lieth low.Great heart! which, in truest devotion,Kept faith to its earliest shrine;Great land! widely girthed of each ocean;His lifetime of service was thine.Well mays't thou weep, yet not repine;Rude wert thou, an untutored child,When first his strong, firm hand clasped thine,And led thee o'er thy boundless wild,And cleared the mists from thy young eyes,As with magician's gifted wand;Till Hope's bright dawn illumed thy skies,And glorified this boundless land.The mind astute discerned thy force;The springs of plenty watered dearth;Then rose, from infound, ample source,The mightiest structure on this earth:The home where freeborn souls are free;Where, 'neath blue skies, o'er rich green sodNo worship bends the humble knee,Save homage to fair Freedom's God.Though sore thy heart, Oh Canada!Grudge not thy Chief his well-earned rest;The veteran who hath braved the strifeMay fold his arms o'er peaceful breast.Droop banners o'er his honored bier!Strewimmortellesof every clime!His larger life, in nobler sphere,Is bounded not with hedge of time.
Dimmedthy bright eyes, Oh Canada!Bedimmed with the incense of woe;Hushed thy young joy-peals of laughter;Whose heart beat to thine lieth low.Great heart! which, in truest devotion,Kept faith to its earliest shrine;Great land! widely girthed of each ocean;His lifetime of service was thine.
Well mays't thou weep, yet not repine;Rude wert thou, an untutored child,When first his strong, firm hand clasped thine,And led thee o'er thy boundless wild,And cleared the mists from thy young eyes,As with magician's gifted wand;Till Hope's bright dawn illumed thy skies,And glorified this boundless land.
The mind astute discerned thy force;The springs of plenty watered dearth;Then rose, from infound, ample source,The mightiest structure on this earth:The home where freeborn souls are free;Where, 'neath blue skies, o'er rich green sodNo worship bends the humble knee,Save homage to fair Freedom's God.
Though sore thy heart, Oh Canada!Grudge not thy Chief his well-earned rest;The veteran who hath braved the strifeMay fold his arms o'er peaceful breast.Droop banners o'er his honored bier!Strewimmortellesof every clime!His larger life, in nobler sphere,Is bounded not with hedge of time.
Drawnigh with reverence, Canada!Beyond all strain of mortal toilHe lieth, with unstainèd crestCalm-sleeping on his chosen soil.No higher boon may patriot craveThan grateful country's honest tear;Whilst Faith, outreaching 'yond the grave,With stainless emblem decks the bier.Rare mind! firm as the granite stoneFrom out thy much-loved Scottish hills;Soul! clear as sunlight's upper zoneWhen smiling o'er Canadian rills.Oh! well for thee, belovèd land!That, ripening to thy golden prime,Stout hearts, and faithful held thine handAnd led thee on to ampler time.Embalm his memory, Canada!Nor taint with ill his honored nameWho loved thee dearer than his life;Who, serving thee, rejected fame.Not now, through many an after year;In cool, calm retrospect of time,Shall all his sterling worth appear,In grandeur fitting and sublime.Though stilled the aims of lofty end;Though leaders in the field lie low;Heaven's purposes shall onward tend,As ocean wavelets shoreward flow.Wail not!hewalketh in the lightHis work, imbued with high intent,Doth magnify a country's might,And build his fairest monument.
Drawnigh with reverence, Canada!Beyond all strain of mortal toilHe lieth, with unstainèd crestCalm-sleeping on his chosen soil.No higher boon may patriot craveThan grateful country's honest tear;Whilst Faith, outreaching 'yond the grave,With stainless emblem decks the bier.Rare mind! firm as the granite stoneFrom out thy much-loved Scottish hills;Soul! clear as sunlight's upper zoneWhen smiling o'er Canadian rills.Oh! well for thee, belovèd land!That, ripening to thy golden prime,Stout hearts, and faithful held thine handAnd led thee on to ampler time.Embalm his memory, Canada!Nor taint with ill his honored nameWho loved thee dearer than his life;Who, serving thee, rejected fame.Not now, through many an after year;In cool, calm retrospect of time,Shall all his sterling worth appear,In grandeur fitting and sublime.Though stilled the aims of lofty end;Though leaders in the field lie low;Heaven's purposes shall onward tend,As ocean wavelets shoreward flow.Wail not!hewalketh in the lightHis work, imbued with high intent,Doth magnify a country's might,And build his fairest monument.
Drawnigh with reverence, Canada!Beyond all strain of mortal toilHe lieth, with unstainèd crestCalm-sleeping on his chosen soil.No higher boon may patriot craveThan grateful country's honest tear;Whilst Faith, outreaching 'yond the grave,With stainless emblem decks the bier.
Rare mind! firm as the granite stoneFrom out thy much-loved Scottish hills;Soul! clear as sunlight's upper zoneWhen smiling o'er Canadian rills.Oh! well for thee, belovèd land!That, ripening to thy golden prime,Stout hearts, and faithful held thine handAnd led thee on to ampler time.
Embalm his memory, Canada!Nor taint with ill his honored nameWho loved thee dearer than his life;Who, serving thee, rejected fame.Not now, through many an after year;In cool, calm retrospect of time,Shall all his sterling worth appear,In grandeur fitting and sublime.
Though stilled the aims of lofty end;Though leaders in the field lie low;Heaven's purposes shall onward tend,As ocean wavelets shoreward flow.Wail not!hewalketh in the lightHis work, imbued with high intent,Doth magnify a country's might,And build his fairest monument.
Falling! all noiselessly falling!Dim-golden, and russet and grey;Leaves of the Autumn soul telling,Earth's loveliness passeth away.Herethe rich strains of rare music,Borne upwards of summer's soft gale,Are lost in the sigh of earth's sorrows,Or sunk in bereavement's sad wail.Thereshall dear households long severedRejoice in the anthem sublime;Hosannas of spirits unitedShall echo o'er dirges of time.Sickness and pain shall evanish;The years, with their sorrow shall cease;—O'er the glad souls of the ransomedEternity rolleth in peace.
Falling! all noiselessly falling!Dim-golden, and russet and grey;Leaves of the Autumn soul telling,Earth's loveliness passeth away.Herethe rich strains of rare music,Borne upwards of summer's soft gale,Are lost in the sigh of earth's sorrows,Or sunk in bereavement's sad wail.Thereshall dear households long severedRejoice in the anthem sublime;Hosannas of spirits unitedShall echo o'er dirges of time.Sickness and pain shall evanish;The years, with their sorrow shall cease;—O'er the glad souls of the ransomedEternity rolleth in peace.
Falling! all noiselessly falling!Dim-golden, and russet and grey;Leaves of the Autumn soul telling,Earth's loveliness passeth away.
Herethe rich strains of rare music,Borne upwards of summer's soft gale,Are lost in the sigh of earth's sorrows,Or sunk in bereavement's sad wail.Thereshall dear households long severedRejoice in the anthem sublime;Hosannas of spirits unitedShall echo o'er dirges of time.
Sickness and pain shall evanish;The years, with their sorrow shall cease;—O'er the glad souls of the ransomedEternity rolleth in peace.
OnCanaan's border land,By Jordan's watery gates,The host of Israel waits;—They mourn the Guiding-Hand.With firm, free step he trodOn Pisgah's mountain crest;He laid him down to rest;Alone! save with his God.He sighed no faint farewell;No murmuring refrainsOut-echoed angel strains;Nor tolled dull funeral knell.Thus, as in days gone byGreat leader! careful guide!God called thee hence, aside;We might not see thee die.Yet we have seen—may seeThy work of nobler life;The courage through the strife;Deeds testify of thee.Rest well! Oh silvered head!Voice ever prone to bless,To soothe the soul's distress,Peace to thy lowly bed!Though next thy heart, thine own;Thy sympathies, world wideFlowed, with unstinted tide;Bedewed each mortal zone.Rest well! ye feet which trodThat straight and narrow wayIllumed of purer ray;Quintessence of our God.Soul! which hath soared afar,Beyond the flight of time;In calm, congenial clime,No ills thy joys may mar.Fair spirit! just and wise;Kind heart of largess love!Christ-life, all creeds above;Rest thou in kindred skies.More glorious eve's bright sun,More dull seems dolesome night;So, lost thy glorious light;And yet—Heaven's will be done.
OnCanaan's border land,By Jordan's watery gates,The host of Israel waits;—They mourn the Guiding-Hand.With firm, free step he trodOn Pisgah's mountain crest;He laid him down to rest;Alone! save with his God.He sighed no faint farewell;No murmuring refrainsOut-echoed angel strains;Nor tolled dull funeral knell.Thus, as in days gone byGreat leader! careful guide!God called thee hence, aside;We might not see thee die.Yet we have seen—may seeThy work of nobler life;The courage through the strife;Deeds testify of thee.Rest well! Oh silvered head!Voice ever prone to bless,To soothe the soul's distress,Peace to thy lowly bed!Though next thy heart, thine own;Thy sympathies, world wideFlowed, with unstinted tide;Bedewed each mortal zone.Rest well! ye feet which trodThat straight and narrow wayIllumed of purer ray;Quintessence of our God.Soul! which hath soared afar,Beyond the flight of time;In calm, congenial clime,No ills thy joys may mar.Fair spirit! just and wise;Kind heart of largess love!Christ-life, all creeds above;Rest thou in kindred skies.More glorious eve's bright sun,More dull seems dolesome night;So, lost thy glorious light;And yet—Heaven's will be done.
OnCanaan's border land,By Jordan's watery gates,The host of Israel waits;—They mourn the Guiding-Hand.
With firm, free step he trodOn Pisgah's mountain crest;He laid him down to rest;Alone! save with his God.
He sighed no faint farewell;No murmuring refrainsOut-echoed angel strains;Nor tolled dull funeral knell.
Thus, as in days gone byGreat leader! careful guide!God called thee hence, aside;We might not see thee die.
Yet we have seen—may seeThy work of nobler life;The courage through the strife;Deeds testify of thee.
Rest well! Oh silvered head!Voice ever prone to bless,To soothe the soul's distress,Peace to thy lowly bed!
Though next thy heart, thine own;Thy sympathies, world wideFlowed, with unstinted tide;Bedewed each mortal zone.
Rest well! ye feet which trodThat straight and narrow wayIllumed of purer ray;Quintessence of our God.
Soul! which hath soared afar,Beyond the flight of time;In calm, congenial clime,No ills thy joys may mar.
Fair spirit! just and wise;Kind heart of largess love!Christ-life, all creeds above;Rest thou in kindred skies.
More glorious eve's bright sun,More dull seems dolesome night;So, lost thy glorious light;And yet—Heaven's will be done.
Why, with uncovered headStand they upon that fleece of snowMute-stricken, as of sudden woe?Silent they wait the dead.Comes there some hero slainUpon the blood-red field of war?With soldier-guarded funeral car,And glittering martial train.No gun with sullen roar;No flaunting emblems from the fightTo spread his fame, to tell his might;Who died, to die no more.With reverend tread, and slow,All noiselessly the footsteps fall;As sombre garb, and plume and pallPass o'er the soft, white snow.'Mid Love's choice offeringOf sweet, rare flowers, whose tender breathSpeak brightest life, serenest death,He lies, affection's king.Triumph of Christian faithO'er spurious sophistries of time;The sinless walk; the end sublime,No ghastly fears to scathe.Pass on unto thy restThou generous heart! thou rich in lore!Thou whom all creeds and castes deplore;—God knoweth what is best.
Why, with uncovered headStand they upon that fleece of snowMute-stricken, as of sudden woe?Silent they wait the dead.Comes there some hero slainUpon the blood-red field of war?With soldier-guarded funeral car,And glittering martial train.No gun with sullen roar;No flaunting emblems from the fightTo spread his fame, to tell his might;Who died, to die no more.With reverend tread, and slow,All noiselessly the footsteps fall;As sombre garb, and plume and pallPass o'er the soft, white snow.'Mid Love's choice offeringOf sweet, rare flowers, whose tender breathSpeak brightest life, serenest death,He lies, affection's king.Triumph of Christian faithO'er spurious sophistries of time;The sinless walk; the end sublime,No ghastly fears to scathe.Pass on unto thy restThou generous heart! thou rich in lore!Thou whom all creeds and castes deplore;—God knoweth what is best.
Why, with uncovered headStand they upon that fleece of snowMute-stricken, as of sudden woe?Silent they wait the dead.
Comes there some hero slainUpon the blood-red field of war?With soldier-guarded funeral car,And glittering martial train.
No gun with sullen roar;No flaunting emblems from the fightTo spread his fame, to tell his might;Who died, to die no more.
With reverend tread, and slow,All noiselessly the footsteps fall;As sombre garb, and plume and pallPass o'er the soft, white snow.
'Mid Love's choice offeringOf sweet, rare flowers, whose tender breathSpeak brightest life, serenest death,He lies, affection's king.
Triumph of Christian faithO'er spurious sophistries of time;The sinless walk; the end sublime,No ghastly fears to scathe.
Pass on unto thy restThou generous heart! thou rich in lore!Thou whom all creeds and castes deplore;—God knoweth what is best.
Ife'er from holier heights there spedOne attribute divine,To rest upon a mortal head,—That head, dear love! was thine.True worth beyond expression towers;Excess in language mars;—What artist e'er inspired the flowers,Or lighted up the stars?
Ife'er from holier heights there spedOne attribute divine,To rest upon a mortal head,—That head, dear love! was thine.True worth beyond expression towers;Excess in language mars;—What artist e'er inspired the flowers,Or lighted up the stars?
Ife'er from holier heights there spedOne attribute divine,To rest upon a mortal head,—That head, dear love! was thine.
True worth beyond expression towers;Excess in language mars;—What artist e'er inspired the flowers,Or lighted up the stars?
Clear-shining, evening star!We make no moan for theeWho sightest, 'yond the bar,Blest immortality!Yet, at thy farewell tone,Thou glorious poet-king!The tears unbidden springFrom peoples of each zone.So long, from loftier sphere,Thy pure and lustrous raysHave lit earth's sombre ways:—No sky may own thy peer.Oh, never-dying song!Oh, princely legacy!Till life shall living beThou'lt thrill, the years along.Mist wreathe, or ocean foam;The beacon shineth clear,The joy-bells sound anear,Beyond the bar is—Home!Clear-shining, evening star!We make no moan for theeWho sightest 'yond the bar,Blest immortality.
Clear-shining, evening star!We make no moan for theeWho sightest, 'yond the bar,Blest immortality!Yet, at thy farewell tone,Thou glorious poet-king!The tears unbidden springFrom peoples of each zone.So long, from loftier sphere,Thy pure and lustrous raysHave lit earth's sombre ways:—No sky may own thy peer.Oh, never-dying song!Oh, princely legacy!Till life shall living beThou'lt thrill, the years along.Mist wreathe, or ocean foam;The beacon shineth clear,The joy-bells sound anear,Beyond the bar is—Home!Clear-shining, evening star!We make no moan for theeWho sightest 'yond the bar,Blest immortality.
Clear-shining, evening star!We make no moan for theeWho sightest, 'yond the bar,Blest immortality!
Yet, at thy farewell tone,Thou glorious poet-king!The tears unbidden springFrom peoples of each zone.
So long, from loftier sphere,Thy pure and lustrous raysHave lit earth's sombre ways:—No sky may own thy peer.
Oh, never-dying song!Oh, princely legacy!Till life shall living beThou'lt thrill, the years along.
Mist wreathe, or ocean foam;The beacon shineth clear,The joy-bells sound anear,Beyond the bar is—Home!
Clear-shining, evening star!We make no moan for theeWho sightest 'yond the bar,Blest immortality.
[Decoration]
Thinewas no faith of pulseless form,Of actor, acting well hisrole;Or deeming, through mere solemn rites,To nourish the immortal soul,Nor thine that bare and stunted growth,To limits of a sect confined;Expanding not in broader realmThan atmosphere by man defined.Nor thine that crude philosophyWhose meteor-flash hath oft beguiledThe traveller from clear mountain heights,To perish on the misty wild.No gloomy cypress wreath for thee!Oh brow unkenned of bigot frown!Fair coronet of laurel leaves;Meet emblem of thy fadeless crown.Bright as the pure, cerulean arch,Thyfaith all creeds and rites doth spanAnd sees, through Love's refining lens,The Deity in brother man.With active, humanizing power,Uplifts the soul, low sunk in sin;Till, yielding to its tender touch,The chains unbar—God enters in.
Thinewas no faith of pulseless form,Of actor, acting well hisrole;Or deeming, through mere solemn rites,To nourish the immortal soul,Nor thine that bare and stunted growth,To limits of a sect confined;Expanding not in broader realmThan atmosphere by man defined.Nor thine that crude philosophyWhose meteor-flash hath oft beguiledThe traveller from clear mountain heights,To perish on the misty wild.No gloomy cypress wreath for thee!Oh brow unkenned of bigot frown!Fair coronet of laurel leaves;Meet emblem of thy fadeless crown.Bright as the pure, cerulean arch,Thyfaith all creeds and rites doth spanAnd sees, through Love's refining lens,The Deity in brother man.With active, humanizing power,Uplifts the soul, low sunk in sin;Till, yielding to its tender touch,The chains unbar—God enters in.
Thinewas no faith of pulseless form,Of actor, acting well hisrole;Or deeming, through mere solemn rites,To nourish the immortal soul,Nor thine that bare and stunted growth,To limits of a sect confined;Expanding not in broader realmThan atmosphere by man defined.Nor thine that crude philosophyWhose meteor-flash hath oft beguiledThe traveller from clear mountain heights,To perish on the misty wild.No gloomy cypress wreath for thee!Oh brow unkenned of bigot frown!Fair coronet of laurel leaves;Meet emblem of thy fadeless crown.
Bright as the pure, cerulean arch,Thyfaith all creeds and rites doth spanAnd sees, through Love's refining lens,The Deity in brother man.With active, humanizing power,Uplifts the soul, low sunk in sin;Till, yielding to its tender touch,The chains unbar—God enters in.
Theorgan grandly pealed;Still rose the peaceful hymn;The lights, though waxing dim,A beauteous sight revealed.From off the busy streetInto the sacred pile,Adown the shadowy aisleCame little wandering feet.Secure from fear of harm,With eager, upturned face,The lone ones rest a space;Joy-filled of music's charm.Forgot their hapless fate;Forgot cold, worlding scorn;Unseen the life forlorn;Seems nigh heaven's golden gate.Upriseth from his seatHe of a world-wide fame;He of the lustrous name,Those nameless ones to greet.The mightiest orb on highDoth kiss the meanest flower;True love, in bounteous shower,Doth rift earth's formal sky.Stoops low the silvered headTo kiss the smooth young brow,To seal the sacred vowWhich life-long fragrance shed.And tenderly his armsThose boyish forms enfold;As if, o'er life's drear wold,He'd shield from rude alarms.Thus pass they from the sight,From out the vaulted door;—Hewalks the pearly floor,Theygrope through dismal night.Oh scene surpassing fair!Soul-filling, all sublime;Undimmed of dark'ning time,Unlit of earthly glare.Fair soul of tenderness!Unselfish, meek and mild,The waif, the outcast childThou deignest to caress.Sweet, humanizing love!Beyond choice gifts of mind,'Yond culture most refined;Bright essence from above!Columbia! brave young land!Long is thy scroll of fame;Full many a deathless nameHath led thee by the hand.High on that scroll of fame,Whilst hero echoes ring,Whilst votaries pause to sing,Shall glow thy Beecher's name.
Theorgan grandly pealed;Still rose the peaceful hymn;The lights, though waxing dim,A beauteous sight revealed.From off the busy streetInto the sacred pile,Adown the shadowy aisleCame little wandering feet.Secure from fear of harm,With eager, upturned face,The lone ones rest a space;Joy-filled of music's charm.Forgot their hapless fate;Forgot cold, worlding scorn;Unseen the life forlorn;Seems nigh heaven's golden gate.Upriseth from his seatHe of a world-wide fame;He of the lustrous name,Those nameless ones to greet.The mightiest orb on highDoth kiss the meanest flower;True love, in bounteous shower,Doth rift earth's formal sky.Stoops low the silvered headTo kiss the smooth young brow,To seal the sacred vowWhich life-long fragrance shed.And tenderly his armsThose boyish forms enfold;As if, o'er life's drear wold,He'd shield from rude alarms.Thus pass they from the sight,From out the vaulted door;—Hewalks the pearly floor,Theygrope through dismal night.Oh scene surpassing fair!Soul-filling, all sublime;Undimmed of dark'ning time,Unlit of earthly glare.Fair soul of tenderness!Unselfish, meek and mild,The waif, the outcast childThou deignest to caress.Sweet, humanizing love!Beyond choice gifts of mind,'Yond culture most refined;Bright essence from above!Columbia! brave young land!Long is thy scroll of fame;Full many a deathless nameHath led thee by the hand.High on that scroll of fame,Whilst hero echoes ring,Whilst votaries pause to sing,Shall glow thy Beecher's name.
Theorgan grandly pealed;Still rose the peaceful hymn;The lights, though waxing dim,A beauteous sight revealed.
From off the busy streetInto the sacred pile,Adown the shadowy aisleCame little wandering feet.
Secure from fear of harm,With eager, upturned face,The lone ones rest a space;Joy-filled of music's charm.
Forgot their hapless fate;Forgot cold, worlding scorn;Unseen the life forlorn;Seems nigh heaven's golden gate.
Upriseth from his seatHe of a world-wide fame;He of the lustrous name,Those nameless ones to greet.
The mightiest orb on highDoth kiss the meanest flower;True love, in bounteous shower,Doth rift earth's formal sky.
Stoops low the silvered headTo kiss the smooth young brow,To seal the sacred vowWhich life-long fragrance shed.
And tenderly his armsThose boyish forms enfold;As if, o'er life's drear wold,He'd shield from rude alarms.
Thus pass they from the sight,From out the vaulted door;—Hewalks the pearly floor,Theygrope through dismal night.
Oh scene surpassing fair!Soul-filling, all sublime;Undimmed of dark'ning time,Unlit of earthly glare.
Fair soul of tenderness!Unselfish, meek and mild,The waif, the outcast childThou deignest to caress.
Sweet, humanizing love!Beyond choice gifts of mind,'Yond culture most refined;Bright essence from above!
Columbia! brave young land!Long is thy scroll of fame;Full many a deathless nameHath led thee by the hand.
High on that scroll of fame,Whilst hero echoes ring,Whilst votaries pause to sing,Shall glow thy Beecher's name.
Nomore upon Parnassus' hillThou'lt string thy patriot lyre;To tell those feats which nations thrill,Which youthful spirits fire.How, on the blood-red battle fieldGreat heroes fall, but never yield;True courage is the only shieldThy whole-souled Briton owns.No more thou'lt sing thy graceful laysOf rock, and mount, and stream;Or cause the light from Heaven's pure raysO'er nature's face to beam.We heard the rustle of the tree,The humming of the busy bee,When nature waked to life with theeIn joyous harmony.But though thy harp is silent now,And hearts may mourn thee long;Where halos crown the victor's browThou sing'st the angels' song.Dust mingles with its kindred dust,Soul joins the army of the just;—Their Leader was thy hope and trustThrough life's long pilgrimage.
Nomore upon Parnassus' hillThou'lt string thy patriot lyre;To tell those feats which nations thrill,Which youthful spirits fire.How, on the blood-red battle fieldGreat heroes fall, but never yield;True courage is the only shieldThy whole-souled Briton owns.No more thou'lt sing thy graceful laysOf rock, and mount, and stream;Or cause the light from Heaven's pure raysO'er nature's face to beam.We heard the rustle of the tree,The humming of the busy bee,When nature waked to life with theeIn joyous harmony.But though thy harp is silent now,And hearts may mourn thee long;Where halos crown the victor's browThou sing'st the angels' song.Dust mingles with its kindred dust,Soul joins the army of the just;—Their Leader was thy hope and trustThrough life's long pilgrimage.
Nomore upon Parnassus' hillThou'lt string thy patriot lyre;To tell those feats which nations thrill,Which youthful spirits fire.How, on the blood-red battle fieldGreat heroes fall, but never yield;True courage is the only shieldThy whole-souled Briton owns.
No more thou'lt sing thy graceful laysOf rock, and mount, and stream;Or cause the light from Heaven's pure raysO'er nature's face to beam.We heard the rustle of the tree,The humming of the busy bee,When nature waked to life with theeIn joyous harmony.
But though thy harp is silent now,And hearts may mourn thee long;Where halos crown the victor's browThou sing'st the angels' song.Dust mingles with its kindred dust,Soul joins the army of the just;—Their Leader was thy hope and trustThrough life's long pilgrimage.
Herethe pain, and gloom and sorrow,Here the household lone and sad;Therethe ever-bright to-morrow,There the youthful spirit glad.Herethe parents vigil keepingO'er the beauteous head laid low;Therethe eyes which know no weepingShall with rapture ever glow.Bright as were the sunny tressesCurling o'er the fair, young brow,Richer far the crown that pressesRound his seraph forehead now.Clear and chaste as crystal seemeth,Worthless is it 'side the gem;So, howe'er earth's beauty gleameth,Pales its 'fore Heaven's diadem.Now, his gracious word believing,Who on earth with woe did weep,Mingle trustful joy with grievingO'er the loved, who rests in sleep.For, where groups of children gather,He hath joined the choir of praiseWhich, around our Heavenly Father,Chants the hymn of deathless days.
Herethe pain, and gloom and sorrow,Here the household lone and sad;Therethe ever-bright to-morrow,There the youthful spirit glad.Herethe parents vigil keepingO'er the beauteous head laid low;Therethe eyes which know no weepingShall with rapture ever glow.Bright as were the sunny tressesCurling o'er the fair, young brow,Richer far the crown that pressesRound his seraph forehead now.Clear and chaste as crystal seemeth,Worthless is it 'side the gem;So, howe'er earth's beauty gleameth,Pales its 'fore Heaven's diadem.Now, his gracious word believing,Who on earth with woe did weep,Mingle trustful joy with grievingO'er the loved, who rests in sleep.For, where groups of children gather,He hath joined the choir of praiseWhich, around our Heavenly Father,Chants the hymn of deathless days.
Herethe pain, and gloom and sorrow,Here the household lone and sad;Therethe ever-bright to-morrow,There the youthful spirit glad.Herethe parents vigil keepingO'er the beauteous head laid low;Therethe eyes which know no weepingShall with rapture ever glow.
Bright as were the sunny tressesCurling o'er the fair, young brow,Richer far the crown that pressesRound his seraph forehead now.Clear and chaste as crystal seemeth,Worthless is it 'side the gem;So, howe'er earth's beauty gleameth,Pales its 'fore Heaven's diadem.
Now, his gracious word believing,Who on earth with woe did weep,Mingle trustful joy with grievingO'er the loved, who rests in sleep.For, where groups of children gather,He hath joined the choir of praiseWhich, around our Heavenly Father,Chants the hymn of deathless days.
[Decoration]
I sitme down at eventideDay's cares receding far,When sweet! a whisper at my side,"Mama, come see my star!""The only one in all the skyAway up—Oh, so far!And yet it shines so beautiful,My own, dear, lovely star!"Oh! child of many hopes and fears;Of many an anxious thought;Oh life! with parents' prayers and tears,So oft from Heaven besought.If spared to pass the tender yearsOf infancy and truth;God keep thee through the slippery pathOf boyhood, and of youth.And guide thee by His own right handIn wisdom's pleasant way;And never in foul vice's snaresPermit thy feet to stray.And when that love which gazeth nowInto thy sunny eyesCan only come, at God's good willIn message from the skies.Oh! should the tempter's net be spread,Look upward! do not fear;From 'yond thy star, a mother's loveWill shine thy way to cheer.If e'er thou reachest manhood's prime,'Mid pleasures of this worldLet ever, in truth's sacred causeThy banner be unfurled.May all the graces which adornGreat minds in thee excel;May't long be said of thee "he servedHis generation well."Thy emblem be yon evening star;Aye steady in its light;Calm-peering o'er a world of change;Ne'er stooping from its height.When darkness deepens all around,And rivals fill the field;Let faith and courage arm thy soul,And form thy radiant shield.Then, when thy golden hue of mornGives place to sober grey;And years which never-ending seemHave fled like one short day.Relying on that Mighty OneWho raised the starry frame;Who through life's changes, toils and tears,Abideth still the same.Thy feet shall out the swelling flood,Step safe upon the strand;And mayhap then, a mother's loveAgain shall clasp thy hand,And lead thee, 'yond thy shining star,Into the deathless land.
I sitme down at eventideDay's cares receding far,When sweet! a whisper at my side,"Mama, come see my star!""The only one in all the skyAway up—Oh, so far!And yet it shines so beautiful,My own, dear, lovely star!"Oh! child of many hopes and fears;Of many an anxious thought;Oh life! with parents' prayers and tears,So oft from Heaven besought.If spared to pass the tender yearsOf infancy and truth;God keep thee through the slippery pathOf boyhood, and of youth.And guide thee by His own right handIn wisdom's pleasant way;And never in foul vice's snaresPermit thy feet to stray.And when that love which gazeth nowInto thy sunny eyesCan only come, at God's good willIn message from the skies.Oh! should the tempter's net be spread,Look upward! do not fear;From 'yond thy star, a mother's loveWill shine thy way to cheer.If e'er thou reachest manhood's prime,'Mid pleasures of this worldLet ever, in truth's sacred causeThy banner be unfurled.May all the graces which adornGreat minds in thee excel;May't long be said of thee "he servedHis generation well."Thy emblem be yon evening star;Aye steady in its light;Calm-peering o'er a world of change;Ne'er stooping from its height.When darkness deepens all around,And rivals fill the field;Let faith and courage arm thy soul,And form thy radiant shield.Then, when thy golden hue of mornGives place to sober grey;And years which never-ending seemHave fled like one short day.Relying on that Mighty OneWho raised the starry frame;Who through life's changes, toils and tears,Abideth still the same.Thy feet shall out the swelling flood,Step safe upon the strand;And mayhap then, a mother's loveAgain shall clasp thy hand,And lead thee, 'yond thy shining star,Into the deathless land.
I sitme down at eventideDay's cares receding far,When sweet! a whisper at my side,"Mama, come see my star!"
"The only one in all the skyAway up—Oh, so far!And yet it shines so beautiful,My own, dear, lovely star!"
Oh! child of many hopes and fears;Of many an anxious thought;Oh life! with parents' prayers and tears,So oft from Heaven besought.
If spared to pass the tender yearsOf infancy and truth;God keep thee through the slippery pathOf boyhood, and of youth.
And guide thee by His own right handIn wisdom's pleasant way;And never in foul vice's snaresPermit thy feet to stray.
And when that love which gazeth nowInto thy sunny eyesCan only come, at God's good willIn message from the skies.
Oh! should the tempter's net be spread,Look upward! do not fear;From 'yond thy star, a mother's loveWill shine thy way to cheer.
If e'er thou reachest manhood's prime,'Mid pleasures of this worldLet ever, in truth's sacred causeThy banner be unfurled.
May all the graces which adornGreat minds in thee excel;May't long be said of thee "he servedHis generation well."
Thy emblem be yon evening star;Aye steady in its light;Calm-peering o'er a world of change;Ne'er stooping from its height.
When darkness deepens all around,And rivals fill the field;Let faith and courage arm thy soul,And form thy radiant shield.
Then, when thy golden hue of mornGives place to sober grey;And years which never-ending seemHave fled like one short day.
Relying on that Mighty OneWho raised the starry frame;Who through life's changes, toils and tears,Abideth still the same.
Thy feet shall out the swelling flood,Step safe upon the strand;And mayhap then, a mother's loveAgain shall clasp thy hand,And lead thee, 'yond thy shining star,Into the deathless land.
RHYMES OF ANCIENT ROME.