Revealing dimly, with grey moss o'ergrown,
The faint-worn impress of its glory's day,
Can trace their once-free heritage; though dreams
Fraught with its picture, oft in startling gleams
Flash o'er their souls.-But One, oh! One alone,
For us the ruin'd fabric may rebuild,
And bid the wilderness again be fill'd,
With Eden-flowers-One, mighty to atone !
For this corrected chronology of these sonnets, we are indebted to the Rev. R. P. Graves, Bowness.
RECORDS OF THE AUTUMN OF 1834.
ONCE more the eternal melodies from far,
Woo me like songs of home: once more discerning
Through fitful clouds the pure majestic star,
Above the poet's world serenely burning,
Thither my soul, fresh-wing'd by love, is turning,
As o'er the waves the wood-bird seeks her nest,
For those green heights of dewy stillness yearning,
Whence glorious minds o'erlook this earth's unrest.
Now be the spirit of Heaven's truth my guide Through the bright land!—that no brief gladness, found
In passing bloom, rich odour, or sweet sound,
May lure my footsteps from their aim aside:
Their true, high quest-to seek, if ne'er to gain,
The inmost, purest shrine of that august domain.
September 9.
II. TO SILVIO PELLICO, ON READING HIS "PRIGIONE."
THERE are who climb the mountain's heathery side,
Or, in life's vernal strength triumphant, urge
The bark's fleet rushing through the crested surge,
Or spur the courser's fiery race of pride
Over the green savannas, gleaming wide
By some vast lake; yet thus, on foaming sea,
Or chainless wild, reign far less nobly free,
Than thou, in that lone dungeon, glorified
By thy brave suffering.-Thou from its dark cell
Fierce thought and baleful passion didst exclude,
Filling the dedicated solitude
With God; and where His Spirit deigns to dwell,
Though the worn frame in fetters withering lie,
There throned in peace divine is liberty!
III. TO THE SAME, RELEASED.
How flows thy being now?-like some glad hymn,
One strain of solemn rapture?—doth thine eye
Wander through tears of voiceless feeling dim,
O'er the crown'd Alps, that, 'midst the upper sky
Sleep in the sunlight of thine Italy?
Or is thy gaze of reverent love profound,
Unto those dear parental faces bound,
Which, with their silvery hair, so oft glanced by,
VOL. VII.-
Haunting thy prison-dreams?-Where'er thou art,
Blessing be shed upon thine inmost heart,
Joy, from kind looks, blue skies, and flowery sod,
For that pure voice of thoughtful wisdom sent
Forth from thy cell, in sweetness eloquent,
Of love to man, and quenchless trust in God!
IV. ON A SCENE IN THE DARGLE.'
'Twas a bright moment of my life when first, O thou pure stream through rocky portals flowing! That temple-chamber of thy glory burst
On my glad sight!-thy pebbly couch lay glowing With deep mosaic hues; and, richly throwing. O'er thy cliff-walls a tinge of autumn's vest,
High bloom'd the heath-flowers, and the wild wood's
Was touch'd with gold.-Flow ever thus, bestowing
Gifts of delight, sweet stream! on all who move
Gently along thy shores; and oh! if love,
-True love, in secret nursed, with sorrow fraught-
Should sometimes bear his treasured griefs to thee,
Then full of kindness let thy music be,
Singing repose to every troubled thought!
1 A beautiful valley in the county of Wicklow.
V.-ON READING COLERIDGE'S EPITAPH
"Stop, Christian passer-by! stop, child of God!
And read with gentle breast;- Beneath this sod
A Poet lies, or that which once seem'd he;
Oh! lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.!
That He, who once in vain, with toil of breath,
Found death in life, may here find life in death!
Mercy, for praise; to be forgiven, for Fame,
He ask'd and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same!"
SPIRIT! So oft in radiant freedom soaring,
High through seraphic mysteries unconfined,
And oft, a diver through the deep of mind,
Its caverns, far below its waves, exploring;
And oft such strains of breezy music pouring,
As, with the floating sweetness of their sighs,
Could still all fevers of the heart, restoring
Awhile that freshness left in Paradise;
Say, of those glorious wanderings what the goal?
What the rich fruitage to man's kindred soul
From wealth of thine bequeathed? O strong and
high,
And sceptred intellect! thy goal confess'd
Was the Redeemer's Cross-thy last bequest
One lesson breathing thence profound humility!
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