In ev'ry clime-through ev'ry age,
Thy pitying hand bestows
The balm which other's griefs assuage,
The solace for their woes.
E'en now while o'er thy deadly foe,
Fell wars, dread horrors low'r;
The orphan's cry—the widow's woe,
Each truly British heart shall know,
And feel soft pity's power!
TEACH me, stern Fortitude, each shock to bear,
That wayward Fortune on my brow may heap;
To thee I'll breathe a silent fervent pray'r,
Nor scarce allow myself in woe to weep.
May thy firm arm uphold my shrinking frame,
Shield me from pallid fear and wild alarm;
Thy steady, kind protection I will claim,
And let thine influence each sorrow calm.
Though stern thy mien, most friendly is thine heart, Thy frown Despair appals and makes him flee; To my weak soul thy courage blest impart,
Thine aid will save,-Misfortune's dart must fail, For Truth and Fortitude will e'er prevail.
[The following Lines were written on the occasion of the death of SeniorCaptain Charles Lionel Showers, of the 19th Regiment Bengal Infantry, who, at the assault of the fortified heights of Mallown, on the 15th April 1815, led one of the principal columns to a separate attack, in the most gallant style, and gloriously fell at its head, just when, in personal conflict, he had, with his own hand, slain the chief of the enemy.]
ON Alpine heights a daring foe
His flag in stern defiance wav'd:
Proudly he viewed the bands below,
And long with scorn their valour brav'd.
To check that foe's insulting pride,
Those lofty heights in triumph gain,
The march of war with skill to guide,
Nor prove his country's summons vain,—
To Showers was given;—a chosen band
His dauntless spirit led to fight,
Up the rough cliffs now waves his brand,
Now on the mountain's rugged height.
And there unmov'd his standard flies,
While round him roars the storm of war,-
And there the gallant hero dies,
Far from his home-from friends afar!
Weep for the brave whose sun is set,-
Weep for the friend whom all deplore;
Danger and death he fearless met,
And comes to glad our eyes no more!
In glory's bed his manes rest,
In honour's breast his name's enshrined;
His Christian spirit speaks him blest,
Who join'd to faith a virtuous mind.
Hark! from his grave a warning voice,
Like him it bids us stand prepar'd;
Angels o'er him in heaven rejoice,
For whom on earth they greatly car'd.
And fir'd by his inspiring course,
Shall many a youthful hero rise,
And many a Christian learn the source,
Whence springs the bliss beyond the skies.
[OCCASIONED BY READING THE ADDRESS TO LOVE."]
Is Love or Fiend or Angel?—Ask the heart
Which glows with its impassion'd, fiercest throbs,
And it will tell thee-'tis a frenzy dire,
That makes the breast to ache with keenest pangs.
The mind is tost 'twixt Hope, and Doubt, and Fear:
For now Suspicion's deadly fangs assail,-
Then chased by Hope's bright visionary gleam,
The soul is cheer'd, and looks to sweetest bliss ;
When comes Suspense to overcloud the morn,
And leaves the mind again to Doubt a prey!
The agitated mind, thus whirl'd in storms,
Resigns to Passion ev'ry finer sense,
The soul's best impulse deaden'd,—soon of Love
Each trace is lost; and self alone prevails!
Ah! then-if cold disdain, or rival blest,
Meets the neglected lover's jaundiced view—
Farewell each softer passion; for his breast's
Insulted selfishness claims deep revenge!
Yes-but 'tis Love of earth-born kind, who oft
With sullied wings flits brooding o'er the world,
And changes man to demon.
But yonder see a beauteous form approach,
Heaven's offspring, who with gentlest feelings speaks,
And pours soft balm into the wounded heart;
See, playful Innocence and Purity, fair maids,
Attend his footsteps, and diffuse fresh charms
O'er ev'ry glowing feature, beaming bright,
And in resistless modesty array'd!
Blest pow'r! I'll woo thee, and enshrine my heart Beneath thy gentle and alluring sway:
For kind beneficence, and social ties,
From thee derive new charms, and make the soul
To sympathize with jocund nature round,
Whose joyous voice proclaims thy genial reign.
Each humble plant and beauteous flow'r that blows,
The winged insect, and the cheerful lark,
That carols forth the first gay note of morn;
The varied songsters of the spicy grove,
And scaly tribe that cleave the liquid wave,
With ev'ry animal that life enjoys,
Display the kind beneficence divine,
Which sheds o'er earth blest influence of Love!
But most on man the pure effulgence falls,
And blends the whole to harmony supreme.
Thou gracious pow'r ! whose genial warmth inspires Each gen'rous sentiment in man to man:
Guides calm benevolence, and fills the breast
With warmth of feeling t'wards the friends we love.
But oh! most sweet-when soft affections meet,
And soul communes with soul without disguise.
The open brow, with candour beaming bright,
And pleasing smiles, full confidence bestows,
Nor has a thought it e'er can wish to hide.
Away Suspicion! and each meaner art-
True Love disdains them all:-its tender balm
Can heal the sick'ning mind, where rudest pain,
And grief, have sought to fix their dire abode.
Nor can Misfortune's darkest frown relax
The steady pow'r of Love—whose mighty arm
Can snatch from wild Despair its keenest barb,
Soothe the deep murm'ring of the stricken heart,
And charm severest woe !-
Yes this is Love-ecstatic, heav'nly Love,
That raises man to angel!
|