Lays Of Ancient Virginia, And Other Poems Part 11

The sum of universal charms, The sun of beauty-beams, Appear to deck that form of forms, And face I see in dreams.

TO ELOQUENCE.

Ah Eloquence! thou G.o.d-like power; That swayest the human heart, We still must call thee, rarest dower, In the high gift of Art; And still thou shalt be styled a queen, To brighten earth's grief-shaded green.

When thou dost falter sorrow's tale, With trembling accents low, The plaintive breezes of the vale, With mingled pathos, flow; The melting eye is bathed in tears, And grief, in every face, appears.

When thou dost stand in mortal's view, And breathe thy thoughts of flame, The conscious soul, conceives them, too, And breathes and burns the same;-- And when, in fancy, thou dost soar, 'Tis like Niag'ra's thundering roar.

When thou dost tell of living joys Far up in heaven above, The rapturous music of thy voice, Is like the Voice of Love-- The entranced spirit flits away To bathe in seas of whitest day.

NEAR YONDER BANKS AT EVEN.

Near yonder banks at even, We whispered words most dear, Till love's sweet star in Heaven, Was shining, bright and clear.

We saw the river glancing Beneath the planet's light, Its ripples seemed, while dancing, To mock the gloom of night.

But soon the star in Heaven, By rising mists was hid, And, by us, dark and even, The river's current slid.

So shone our love's sweet river Beneath Hope's radiant star; But soon, in darkness, ever, It swept, in silence, far.

AN HYMN.

To him whose soul is locked and bolted fast, By l.u.s.t and guilt against the entrance there, Of heavenly light; whose soul is over-cast By mists of sin and fogs of black despair;

The meaning of these worlds, not understood, Becomes a dark and cabalistic book; He not perceives that He who made, is good, And that, His love was writ in every nook.

Dark, dark his every view of actual things, The diamond shines with faint, unmeaning ray; What use or beauty hath the bird's gay wings?

What glory, worlds that sweep through s.p.a.ce away?

His ear is barred against the glorious song, Which Nature chants, ne'er wearying, to her G.o.d; The planetary paeans, borne along Through G.o.d's high vault, descend upon a clod.

Oh fool of fools, and wretched man is he, Who breathes his life in this untutored state; And, in that world to come, how dread will be His startled soul's at last awakened fate.

But, unto him, whose scales have fallen away, Whose deafness has been healed by Love Divine; A flood of music gushes in foraye, And all G.o.d's works, with deathless l.u.s.tre, shine.

The diamond hath a beam that, conquering, vies; The bird's gay wings a.s.sume yet gayer hues; Brighter become the rainbow's gorgeous dyes, Purer the evening and the morning dews.

Sweeter the choral song of groves and founts, Grander the anthem of the starry spheres; From G.o.d's vast universe, forever, mounts A strain that charms his own and seraphs' ears.

Undaunted, he surveys the ocean rage, With placid face, he feels the earthquake's shock, He knows his Lord the fury will a.s.suage, His soul is safe, though earth's foundations rock.

The Omnipotent yet liveth! He will bear The humble soul, on His parental breast; And, when the last great throe the sky shall tear, This soul upon His arm shall surely rest.

TO P.S. WHITE.

What is the gilded chaplet worth, That decks a conqueror's brow?

There is no conqueror on earth Of n.o.bler kind, than thou, For bloodless victories are thine, Whose splendor never shall decline.

The thanks of men redeemed from shame, The smiles of womanhood, The praise of great ones wed to fame, And of the humble good, A victor's monument, shall be, Through coming ages, unto thee.

MONTPELIER, ORANGE COUNTY, VA.

Where'er the great have lived or died, A charm pervades the very air; And generous spirits, pausing, oft Will pour the heart's deep homage there.

Thus, thou, sequestered, simple spot!

Where dwelt a mighty one of yore, Becomest a shrine, where pilgrims kneel, From earth's remotest, every sh.o.r.e.

Whose fame, where'er a patriot breathes A thought of freedom, has been heard; And fallen on tyrant's startled souls, Like coming fate's prophetic word.

Yet, shame upon this senseless age, Which blindly worships guilty gold, No votive marble shows the tomb, Whose vault received his ashes cold.

Alas! that this should be our shame!

For which even yet our eyes shall weep; _Nought points the world's admiring eye, To where its friend's sad relics sleep._

THE HEAVENLY FLOWER.

Now the final stroke is over!

And the heart hath ceased its beat; And that form so palely beauteous, In a ghastly winding sheet.

She has pa.s.s'd the gloomy portal, She has reached the realm of light;-- And there is a heavy silence, While we sit and muse to-night.

She was a flower, fading quickly, From before our wistful eyes, Giving back her spirit fragrance, Early to the eager skies.

But she parted all so lovely, Growing brighter day by day, That our souls could scarce regret her, Pa.s.sing, like a dream, away.