Recoiling Nature from their presence fled,

As though a thunderbolt had smote them dead;
Their cries pursued her with the thrilling plea,
"Give us a little earth for charity!"

She linger'd, listen'd, all her bosom yearn'd,
Through every vein the mother's pulse return'd;
Then, as she halted on this hill, she threw
Her mantle wide, and loose her tresses flew :
"Live!" to the slain, she cried, "My children, live!
This for an heritage to you I give ;

Had death consumed you by the common lot,
You with the multitude had been forgot,
Now through an age of ages shall ye not."

Thus Nature spake, and as her echo, I

Take up her parable, and prophesy :

-Here, as from spring to spring the swallows pass,
Perennial daisies shall adorn the grass;

Here the shrill sky-lark build her annual nest,

And sing in heaven while you serenely rest:

On trembling dew-drops morn's first glance shall shine,
Eve's latest beams on this fair bank decline,

And oft the rainbow steal through light and gloom,
To throw its sudden arch across your

On

tomb;

you the moon her sweetest influence shower, And every planet bless you in its hour.

With statelier honours still, in time's slow round,
Shall this sepulchral eminence be crown'd,
Where generations long to come shall hail
The growth of centuries waving in the gale,
A forest landmark on the mountain's head,
Standing betwixt the living and the dead;

Nor while your language lasts, shall traveller cease
To say, at sight of your memorial, "Peace!"
Your voice of silence answering from the sod,
"Whoe'er thou art, prepare to meet thy God!"'s

1832.

TO MARY.

MARY!-it is a lovely name,
Thrice honour'd in the rolls of fame,
Not for the blazonry of birth,

Nor honours springing from the earth,
But what evangelists have told

Of three, who bare that name of old :
-Mary, the mother of our Lord,

Mary, who sat to hear his word,
And Mary Magdalen, to whom

Christ came, while weeping o'er his tomb;
These to that humble name supply

A glory which can never die.

shall be,

Mary! my prayer for you -May you resemble all the three In faith, and hope, and charity.

SHORT-HAND.

STANZAS ADDRESSED TO E. P.

THESE lines and dots are locks and keys,
In narrow space to treasure thought,
Whose precious hoards, whene'er you please,
Are thus to light from darkness brought.

On the small tablet of your heart,

By heaven's own finger be engraved, Within, without, through every part,

The "words whereby you must be saved."

There the bright pages of God's book,
In secret characters may lie,

Where you alone have power to look,

While hid from man and angel's eye.

1828.

Could nature's mysteries all be found,
Unbosom'd, where the billows roll,
In flowers embroider'd o'er the ground,
By stars emblazon'd round the pole ;—
Less were the sum of truth reveal'd,

Through heaven, and earth, and sea express'd,
Than would be written, sign'd, and seal'd,
Once and for ever, in your breast.

TO MY FRIEND,

GEORGE BENNET, ESQ.,

OF SHEFFIELD,

On his intended visit to Tahiti, and other Islands of the South Sea, where Christianity had been recently established.

Go, take the wings of morn,

And fly beyond the utmost sea;
Thou shalt not feel thyself forlorn,
Thy GoD is still with thee;

And where his Spirit bids thee dwell,
There, and there only, thou art well.

Forsake thy father-land,

Kindred, and friends, and pleasant home;

O'er many a rude, barbarian strand,

In exile though thou roam,

Walk there with God, and thou shalt find

Double for all thy faith resign'd.

Launch boldly on the surge,

And in a light and fragile bark,

Thy path through flood and tempest urge,
Like Noah in the ark,

Then tread like him a new world's shore, Thine altar build, and GoD adore.

Leave our Jerusalem,

JEHOVAH's temple and his rest; Go where no Sabbath rose on them, Whom pagan gloom oppress'd, Till bright, though late, around their isles, The Gospel-dawn awoke in smiles.

Amidst that dawn, from far,

Be thine expected presence shown; Rise on them like the morning star

In glory not thine own,

And tell them, while they hail the sight, Who turn'd thy darkness into light.

Point where his hovering rays

Already gild their ocean's brim,
Erelong o'er heaven and earth to blaze;
Direct all eyes to Him,

-The sun of righteousness, who brings
Mercy and healing on his wings.

Nor thou disdain to teach

To savage hordes celestial truth,
To infant-tongues thy mother's speech,
Ennobling arts to youth,

Till warriors fling their arms aside,
O'er bloodless fields the plough to guide.

Train them, by patient toil,

To rule the waves, subdue the ground, Enrich themselves with nature's spoil, With harvest-trophies crown'd, Tiu coral-reefs, midst desert seas, Become the new Hesperides.

Thus then in peace depart,

And angels guide thy footsteps:-No!

There is a feeling in the heart,
That will not let thee go:
Yet go, thy spirit stays with me;
Yet go, my spirit goes with thee.
Though the broad world, between

Our feet, conglobe its solid mass;
Though lands and oceans intervene,
Which I must never pass;

Though day and night to thee be changed,
Seasons reversed, and climes estranged ;-
Yet one in soul,—and one

In faith, and hope, and purpose yet,
GOD's witness in the heavens, yon sun,
Forbid thee to forget

Those from whose eyes his orb retires,
When thine his morning beauty fires!
When tropic gloom returns,

Mark what new stars their vigils keep,
How glares the wolf,-the phoenix burns,
And on a stormless deep,

The ship of heaven,-the patriarch's dove,
The emblem of redeeming love.*

While these enchant thine eye,

Oh! think how often we have walk'd,

Gazed on the glories of our sky,

Of higher glories talk'd,

Till our hearts caught a kindling ray,
And burn'd within us by the way.

Those hours, those walks are past,

We part ;-and ne'er again may meet:

Why are the joys that will not last
So perishingly sweet?
Farewell, we surely meet again

In life or death;-farewell till then.

Sheffield, March 10, 1821.

* The cross, the dove, the phoenix, the wolf, are southern constellations.