Birth of the First-Born.
Beloved Eva! fain would I impartThe fervent feelings of a poet’s heart,And in sweet-numbered melody make knownHow glad I hail thee, and thy first-born son!Thou art a mother! and thou now wilt shareAll the rich pleasures of a mother’s care;Wilt clasp thine infant to thy raptured breast,And know on earth the feelings of the blest.How kindly has the Author of our frameLit in our souls affection’s holy flame;Bound heart to heart by kindred’s golden ties,Fond links of love, delightful sympathies,Whence deeper, richer, purer pleasures flowThan all but those celestial joys bestow.Of all deep chords within the human breastOne sounds with harmonies beyond the rest,In sweeter music, more ecstatic tone,And dwells in woman’s gentle heart alone.Then first its thrilling melody was heard,Surpassing Eden’s most enchanting bird,When loving Eve, with silent rapture smiled,On smiles returned her by her infant child.Since that sweet hour what myriad hearts have glowedWith like soft gladness, and what eyes have flowedWith sparkling tears, that were by joy distilled,From minds maternal happiness hath filled.Such be thine ecstacy, such be thy joy,Thy tender pleasure o’er thine infant boy;Be it thy rich felicity to proveThe deepest raptures of maternal love.’Tis sweet to cultivate some simple flower,And watch its form expanding every hour,From the green bud that swells upon the sprayTill full-blown petals meet the sunny ray,Unfold bright tints, disclose surpassing bloom,And shed around their delicate perfume.But higher, nobler is the task assignedTo tend the first unfoldings of the mind,And cultivate the young expanding heart,The task which falls to every mother’s part.Such sacred duty thou canst well fulfil,Wake softest feeling, richest truth instil,Raise latent thought, and evil’s growth arrestWithin thine infant’s slowly opening breast;And as a flower erects its head on highTo meet the bright refulgence of the sky,And gain refreshment from the dewy morn,That fairer beauties may its form adorn,So wilt thou teach, unceasingly, thy childWith gentle precept and instruction mild,To look to heaven, fix its affections there,And raise the incense of aspiring prayer.From thy kind hand I know he will receiveAll that a mother’s tenderness can give,A ready help preventing every need,The fond intention, and the kindly deed;The watchful eye, the prompt protection share,And constant efforts of unwearied care.Thus taught by thee, to manhood may he rise,Through childhood’s innocent and simple guise;Through virtuous youth, improving year by year,In all perfections which the heart endear;Till strong in truth, of every good possessed,A generous spirit and a candid breast,A soul enlarged, a great and noble mind;With feelings fervent, delicate, refined,And that unspotted purity of heartWhich Heavenly blessing can alone impart,He shall thy cares abundantly repay,A constant solace to thy latest day:Yielding rich happiness, like grateful soilReturning harvest for the tillers toil,Fruitful and rich, inviting to his hand,In golden ripeness teeming o’er the land.
Beloved Eva! fain would I impartThe fervent feelings of a poet’s heart,And in sweet-numbered melody make knownHow glad I hail thee, and thy first-born son!Thou art a mother! and thou now wilt shareAll the rich pleasures of a mother’s care;Wilt clasp thine infant to thy raptured breast,And know on earth the feelings of the blest.How kindly has the Author of our frameLit in our souls affection’s holy flame;Bound heart to heart by kindred’s golden ties,Fond links of love, delightful sympathies,Whence deeper, richer, purer pleasures flowThan all but those celestial joys bestow.Of all deep chords within the human breastOne sounds with harmonies beyond the rest,In sweeter music, more ecstatic tone,And dwells in woman’s gentle heart alone.Then first its thrilling melody was heard,Surpassing Eden’s most enchanting bird,When loving Eve, with silent rapture smiled,On smiles returned her by her infant child.Since that sweet hour what myriad hearts have glowedWith like soft gladness, and what eyes have flowedWith sparkling tears, that were by joy distilled,From minds maternal happiness hath filled.Such be thine ecstacy, such be thy joy,Thy tender pleasure o’er thine infant boy;Be it thy rich felicity to proveThe deepest raptures of maternal love.’Tis sweet to cultivate some simple flower,And watch its form expanding every hour,From the green bud that swells upon the sprayTill full-blown petals meet the sunny ray,Unfold bright tints, disclose surpassing bloom,And shed around their delicate perfume.But higher, nobler is the task assignedTo tend the first unfoldings of the mind,And cultivate the young expanding heart,The task which falls to every mother’s part.Such sacred duty thou canst well fulfil,Wake softest feeling, richest truth instil,Raise latent thought, and evil’s growth arrestWithin thine infant’s slowly opening breast;And as a flower erects its head on highTo meet the bright refulgence of the sky,And gain refreshment from the dewy morn,That fairer beauties may its form adorn,So wilt thou teach, unceasingly, thy childWith gentle precept and instruction mild,To look to heaven, fix its affections there,And raise the incense of aspiring prayer.From thy kind hand I know he will receiveAll that a mother’s tenderness can give,A ready help preventing every need,The fond intention, and the kindly deed;The watchful eye, the prompt protection share,And constant efforts of unwearied care.Thus taught by thee, to manhood may he rise,Through childhood’s innocent and simple guise;Through virtuous youth, improving year by year,In all perfections which the heart endear;Till strong in truth, of every good possessed,A generous spirit and a candid breast,A soul enlarged, a great and noble mind;With feelings fervent, delicate, refined,And that unspotted purity of heartWhich Heavenly blessing can alone impart,He shall thy cares abundantly repay,A constant solace to thy latest day:Yielding rich happiness, like grateful soilReturning harvest for the tillers toil,Fruitful and rich, inviting to his hand,In golden ripeness teeming o’er the land.
Beloved Eva! fain would I impartThe fervent feelings of a poet’s heart,And in sweet-numbered melody make knownHow glad I hail thee, and thy first-born son!Thou art a mother! and thou now wilt shareAll the rich pleasures of a mother’s care;Wilt clasp thine infant to thy raptured breast,And know on earth the feelings of the blest.How kindly has the Author of our frameLit in our souls affection’s holy flame;Bound heart to heart by kindred’s golden ties,Fond links of love, delightful sympathies,Whence deeper, richer, purer pleasures flowThan all but those celestial joys bestow.Of all deep chords within the human breastOne sounds with harmonies beyond the rest,In sweeter music, more ecstatic tone,And dwells in woman’s gentle heart alone.Then first its thrilling melody was heard,Surpassing Eden’s most enchanting bird,When loving Eve, with silent rapture smiled,On smiles returned her by her infant child.Since that sweet hour what myriad hearts have glowedWith like soft gladness, and what eyes have flowedWith sparkling tears, that were by joy distilled,From minds maternal happiness hath filled.Such be thine ecstacy, such be thy joy,Thy tender pleasure o’er thine infant boy;Be it thy rich felicity to proveThe deepest raptures of maternal love.’Tis sweet to cultivate some simple flower,And watch its form expanding every hour,From the green bud that swells upon the sprayTill full-blown petals meet the sunny ray,Unfold bright tints, disclose surpassing bloom,And shed around their delicate perfume.But higher, nobler is the task assignedTo tend the first unfoldings of the mind,And cultivate the young expanding heart,The task which falls to every mother’s part.Such sacred duty thou canst well fulfil,Wake softest feeling, richest truth instil,Raise latent thought, and evil’s growth arrestWithin thine infant’s slowly opening breast;And as a flower erects its head on highTo meet the bright refulgence of the sky,And gain refreshment from the dewy morn,That fairer beauties may its form adorn,So wilt thou teach, unceasingly, thy childWith gentle precept and instruction mild,To look to heaven, fix its affections there,And raise the incense of aspiring prayer.From thy kind hand I know he will receiveAll that a mother’s tenderness can give,A ready help preventing every need,The fond intention, and the kindly deed;The watchful eye, the prompt protection share,And constant efforts of unwearied care.Thus taught by thee, to manhood may he rise,Through childhood’s innocent and simple guise;Through virtuous youth, improving year by year,In all perfections which the heart endear;Till strong in truth, of every good possessed,A generous spirit and a candid breast,A soul enlarged, a great and noble mind;With feelings fervent, delicate, refined,And that unspotted purity of heartWhich Heavenly blessing can alone impart,He shall thy cares abundantly repay,A constant solace to thy latest day:Yielding rich happiness, like grateful soilReturning harvest for the tillers toil,Fruitful and rich, inviting to his hand,In golden ripeness teeming o’er the land.
Beloved Eva! fain would I impart
The fervent feelings of a poet’s heart,
And in sweet-numbered melody make known
How glad I hail thee, and thy first-born son!
Thou art a mother! and thou now wilt share
All the rich pleasures of a mother’s care;
Wilt clasp thine infant to thy raptured breast,
And know on earth the feelings of the blest.
How kindly has the Author of our frame
Lit in our souls affection’s holy flame;
Bound heart to heart by kindred’s golden ties,
Fond links of love, delightful sympathies,
Whence deeper, richer, purer pleasures flow
Than all but those celestial joys bestow.
Of all deep chords within the human breast
One sounds with harmonies beyond the rest,
In sweeter music, more ecstatic tone,
And dwells in woman’s gentle heart alone.
Then first its thrilling melody was heard,
Surpassing Eden’s most enchanting bird,
When loving Eve, with silent rapture smiled,
On smiles returned her by her infant child.
Since that sweet hour what myriad hearts have glowed
With like soft gladness, and what eyes have flowed
With sparkling tears, that were by joy distilled,
From minds maternal happiness hath filled.
Such be thine ecstacy, such be thy joy,
Thy tender pleasure o’er thine infant boy;
Be it thy rich felicity to prove
The deepest raptures of maternal love.
’Tis sweet to cultivate some simple flower,
And watch its form expanding every hour,
From the green bud that swells upon the spray
Till full-blown petals meet the sunny ray,
Unfold bright tints, disclose surpassing bloom,
And shed around their delicate perfume.
But higher, nobler is the task assigned
To tend the first unfoldings of the mind,
And cultivate the young expanding heart,
The task which falls to every mother’s part.
Such sacred duty thou canst well fulfil,
Wake softest feeling, richest truth instil,
Raise latent thought, and evil’s growth arrest
Within thine infant’s slowly opening breast;
And as a flower erects its head on high
To meet the bright refulgence of the sky,
And gain refreshment from the dewy morn,
That fairer beauties may its form adorn,
So wilt thou teach, unceasingly, thy child
With gentle precept and instruction mild,
To look to heaven, fix its affections there,
And raise the incense of aspiring prayer.
From thy kind hand I know he will receive
All that a mother’s tenderness can give,
A ready help preventing every need,
The fond intention, and the kindly deed;
The watchful eye, the prompt protection share,
And constant efforts of unwearied care.
Thus taught by thee, to manhood may he rise,
Through childhood’s innocent and simple guise;
Through virtuous youth, improving year by year,
In all perfections which the heart endear;
Till strong in truth, of every good possessed,
A generous spirit and a candid breast,
A soul enlarged, a great and noble mind;
With feelings fervent, delicate, refined,
And that unspotted purity of heart
Which Heavenly blessing can alone impart,
He shall thy cares abundantly repay,
A constant solace to thy latest day:
Yielding rich happiness, like grateful soil
Returning harvest for the tillers toil,
Fruitful and rich, inviting to his hand,
In golden ripeness teeming o’er the land.