The Water-Lilies, that are serene in the calm clear water, but no less serene among the black and scowling waves. and Shadows of Scottish Life.
OH! beautiful thou art,
Thou sculpture-like and stately River-Queen! Crowning the depths, as with the light serene Of a pure heart.
Bright lily of the wave!
Rising in fearless grace with every swell, Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave Dwelt in thy cell:
Of placid beauty, feminine yet free, Whether with foam or pictured azure spread The waters be.
What is like thee, fair flower,
The gentle and the firm? thus bearing up To the blue sky that alabaster cup, As to the shower?
Oh! Love is most like thee,
The love of woman; quivering to the blast Through every nerve, yet rooted deep and fast, 'Midst Life's dark sea.
And Faith-O, is not faith
Like thee too, Lily, springing into light, Still buoyantly above the billows' might, Through the storm's breath?
Yes, link'd with such high thought, Flower, let thine image in my bosom lie! Till something there of its own purity And peace be wrought:
Something yet more divine ́
Than the clear, pearly, virgin lustre shed Forth from thy breast upon the river's bed, As from a shrine.
RECORDS OF THE SPRING OF 1834.
These Sonnets, written in the months of April, May, and June, were intended, together with the Records of the Autumn of 1834, to form a continuation of the series, entitled "Sonnets, Devotional and Memorial."
O FESTAL Spring! 'midst thy victorious glow, Far-spreading o'er the kindled woods and plains, And streams, that bound to meet thee from their chains,
Well might there lurk the shadow of a woe For human hearts, and in the exulting flow Of thy rich songs a melancholy tone, Were we of mould all earthly; we alone,
Sever'd from thy great spell, and doom'd to go Farther, still farther, from our sunny time, Never to feel the breathings of our prime, Never to flower again!-But we, O Spring! Cheer'd by deep spirit-whispers not of earth, Press to the regions of thy heavenly birth,
As here thy flowers and birds press on to bloom and sing.
FAR from the rustlings of the poplar bough, Which o'er my opening life wild music made, Far from the green hills with their heathery glow And flashing streams whereby my childhood play'd; In the dim city, 'midst the sounding flow
Of restless life, to thee in love I turn,
O thou rich sky! and from thy splendours learn How song-birds come and part, flowers wane and blow. With thee all shapes of glory find their home, And thou hast taught me well, majestic dome! By stars, by sunsets, by soft clouds which rove Thy blue expanse, or sleep in silvery rest, That Nature's God hath left no spot unbless'd With founts of beauty for the eye of love.
III.-ON RECORDS OF IMMATURE GENIUS.1
OH! judge in thoughtful tenderness of those, Who, richly dower'd for life, are called to die, Ere the soul's flame, through storms, hath won repose In truth's divinest ether, still and high! Let their mind's riches claim a trustful sigh! Deem them but sad sweet fragments of a strain, First notes of some yet struggling harmony, By the strong rush, the crowding joy and pain
1 Written after reading Memorials of the late Mrs. Tighe.
Of many inspirations met, and held
From its true sphere:-Oh! soon it might have swell'd Majestically forth!-Nor doubt, that He,
Whose touch mysterious may on earth dissolve Those links of music, elsewhere will evolve
Their grand consummate hymn, from passion-gusts made free!
IV.-ON WATCHING THE FLIGHT OF A SKY-LARK.
UPWARD and upward still!-in pearly light The clouds are steep'd; the vernal spirit sighs With bliss in every wind, and crystal skies Woo thee, O bird! to thy celestial height; Bird piercing Heaven with music! thy free flight Hath meaning for all bosoms; most of all For those wherein the rapture and the might Of poesy lie deep, and strive, and burn, For their high place: O heirs of genius! learn From the sky's bird your way!-No joy may fill Your hearts, no gift of holy strength be won To bless your songs, ye children of the sun! Save by the unswerving flight-upward and upward still!
My earliest memories to thy shores are bound, Thy solemn shores, thou ever-chanting main!
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