Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey Part 51

The numerous proofs adduced of Chatterton's pa.s.sion for fict.i.tious statements; of his intimate acquaintance with antiquated language; of the almost preternatural maturity of his mind; of the dissimilitude of Rowley's language to contemporaneous writers; and of the obviously modern structure of all the compositions which the young bard produced, as the writings of Rowley and others, form, it is presumed, a ma.s.s of Anti-Rowleian evidence, which proves that Chatterton possessed that peculiar disposition, as well as those pre-eminent talents, the union of which was both necessary and equal to the great production of Rowley...."

J. C.

THE WEARY PILGRIM

Weary Pilgrim, dry thy tear, Look beyond these realms of night; Mourn not, with redemption near, Faint not, with the goal in sight.

Grief and pain are needful things, Sent to chasten, not to slay; And if pleasures have their wings, Sorrows quickly pa.s.s away.

Where are childhood's sighs and throes?

Where are youth's tumultuous fears?

Where are manhood's thousand woes?

Lost amidst the lapse of years!

There are treasures which to gain, Might a seraph's heart inspire; There are joys which will remain When the world is wrapt in fire.

Hope, with her expiring beam, May illume our last delight; But our trouble soon will seem, Like the visions of the night.

We too oft remit our pace, And at ease in slumbers dwell; We are loiterers in our race, And afflictions break the spell.

Woe to him, whoe'er he be, Should (severest test below!) All around him like a sea, Health, and wealth, and honors, flow!

When unclouded suns we hail, And our cedars proudly wave; We forget their tenure frail, With the bounteous hand that gave.

We on dangerous paths are bound, Call'd to battle and to bleed; We have hostile spirits round, And the warrior's armour need.

We, within, have deadlier foes, Wills rebellious, hearts impure; G.o.d, the best physician, knows What the malady will cure.

Earth is lovely! dress'd in flowers!

O'er her form luxuriant thrown, But a lovelier world is ours, Visible to faith alone.

Here the balm and spicy gales, For a moment fill the air; Here the mutable prevails, Permanence alone is there.

Heaven to gain is worth our toil!

Angels call us to their sphere; But to time's ign.o.ble soil We are bound, and will not hear.

Heaven attracts not! On we dream; Cast like wrecks upon the sh.o.r.e Where perfection reigns supreme, And adieus are heard no more.

What is life? a tale! a span!

Swifter than the eagle's flight; What the boasted age of man?

Vanishing beneath the sight.

Yet, our ardours and desires Centred, circ.u.mscribed by earth; Whilst eternity retires-- As an object nothing worth!

Oh, the folly of the proud!

Oh, the madness of the vain!

After every toy to crowd, And unwithering crowns disdain!

Mighty men in grand array, Magnates of the ages past, Kings and conquerors, where are they?

Once whose frown a world o'ercast?

Faded! yet by fame enroll'd, With their busts entwined with bays; But if G.o.d his smile withhold, Pitiful is human praise.

With what sadness and surprise, Must Immortals view our lot;-- Eager for the flower that dies, And the Amaranth heeding not.

May we from our dreams awake, Love the truth, the truth obey; On our night let morning break-- Prelude of a n.o.bler day.

Harmony prevails above, Where all hearts together blend; Let the concords sweet of love, Now begin and never end.

Have we not one common sire?

Have we not one home in sight?

Let the sons of peace conspire Not to sever, but unite.

Hence, forgetful of the past, May we all as brethren own, Whom we hope to meet at last-- Round the everlasting throne.

Father! source of blessedness, In thy strength triumphant ride; Let the world thy Son confess, And thy name be magnified!

Let thy word of truth prevail, Scattering darkness, errors, lies; Let all lands the treasure hail-- Link that binds us to the skies.

Let thy spirit, rich and free, Copious shed his power divine, Till (Creation's Jubilee!) All Earth's jarring realms are thine!

Saints who once on earth endured-- Beating storm and th.o.r.n.y way, Have the prize they sought secured, And have enter'd perfect day.

Wiser taught,--with vision clear, (Kindled from the light above) Now their bitterest woes appear-- Charged with blessings, fraught with love:--

For, as earthly scenes withdrew, In their false, but flattering guise, They, rejoicing, fix'd their view-- On the mansions in the skies.

Art thou fearful of the end?

Dread not Jordan's swelling tide; With the Saviour for thy friend!

With the Spirit for thy guide!

Why these half subdued alarms-- At the prospect of thy flight?

Has thy Father's house no charms?-- There to join the Saints in Light?

Terrors banish from thy breast, Hope must solace, faith sustain; Thou art journeying on to rest, And with G.o.d shalt live and reign.

Then, fruition, like the morn, Will unlock her boundless store;-- Roses bloom without a thorn, And the day-star set no more.

But, an ocean lies between-- Stormy, to be cross'd alone; With no ray to intervene-- O'er the cold and dark unknown!

Lo! a soft and soothing voice Steals like music on my ears;-- "Let the drooping heart rejoice; See! a glorious dawn appears!"

"When thy parting hours draw near, And thou trembling view'st the last; Christ and only Christ can cheer, And o'er death a radiance cast!"

Weary Pilgrim, dry thy tear, Look beyond these shades of night; Mourn not with Redemption near, Faint not with the goal in sight.