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There woman's voice flows forth in
song, Or childhood's tale is told; Or lips move tunefully along
Some giorious page of old. The blessed homes of England,
How softly on their bowers, Is laid the holy quietness
That breathes from Sabbath hours ! Solemn, yet sweet, the church bells'
chime Floats through their woods at morn, All other sounds in that still time
Of breeze and leaf are born. The cottage homes of England
By thousands on her plains, They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet fanes. Through glowing orchards forth they
peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.
Long, long, in hut and hall,
To guard each hallowed wall.
And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God.
Have died in others, — yet to me they
come, Singing of boyhood back the voices
of my home! They call me through this hush of
woods reposing, In the gray stillness of the summer
morn; They wander by when heavy flowers
are closing, And thoughts grow deep, and winds
and stars are born; Even as a fount's remember'd gush
ings burst On the parch'd traveller in his hour
of thirst, E’en thus they haunt me with sweet
sounds, till worn By quenchless longings, to my soul I
say O for the dove's swift wings, that I
might flee away,
-I must bear
Just darkening in its course the lake's
bright wave, And sighing through the feathery
canes — hath power To call up shadows, in the silent
hour, From the dim past, as from a wizard's
cave! So must it be! these skies above
me spread, Are they my own soft skies ?- ye rest
not here, my dead!
THE VOICES OF HOME.
[The Forest Sanctuary.] The voices of my home! — I hear
them still! They have been with me through the
dreamy night The blessed household voices, wont
to fill My heart's clear depths with unal
loy'd delight! I hear them still, unchanged :
though some from earth Are music parted, and the tones of
mirth Wild, silvery tones, that rang through
days more bright!
EVENING RECOLLECTIONS OF
(The Forest Sanctuary.) I SEE a star -- eve's firstborn !- in
whose train Past scenes, woods, looks, come back.
The arrowy spire
Of the lone cypress, as of wood-girt
fane, Rests dark and still amidst a heaven
of fire; The pine gives forth its odors, and
the lake Gleams like one ruby, and the soft
winds wake, Till every string of nature's solemn
lyre Is touch'd to answer; its most secret
tone Drawn from each tree, for each hath
whispers all its own.
In such an hour are told the hermit's
beads; With the white sail the seaman's
hymn floats by: Peace be with all! whate'er their
varying creeds, With all that send up holy thoughts
on high! Come to me, boy !-- by Guadalquivir's
vines, By every stream of Spain, as day de
clines, Man's prayers are mingled in the rosy
sky. - We, too, will
pray; nor yet unheard, my child ! Of Him whose voice we hear at eve
amidst the wild.
And hark ! another murmur on the
air, Not of the hidden rills, nor quivering
shades ! - That is the cataract’s, which the
breezes bear, Filling the leafy twilight of the
glades With hollow surge-like sounds, as
from the bed Of the blue mournful seas, that keep
the dead : But they are far ! — the low sun here
pervades Dim forest-arches, bathing with red
gold Their stems, till each is made a marvel
At eve? - oh! — through all hours !
- from dark dreams oft Awakening, I look forth, and learn
the might Of solitude, while thou art breathing
soft, And low, my loved one! on the
breast of night: I look forth on the stars — the shadowy
sleep Of forests — and the lake, whose
gloomy deep Sends up red sparkles to the fire-flies'
light. A lonely world ! — ev'n fearful to
man's thought, But for His presence felt, whom here
my soul hath sought.
THE SONGS OF OUR FATHERS.
Gorgeous, yet full of gloom! - In
such an hour, The vesper-melody of dying bells Wanders through Spain, from each
gray convent's tower O'er shining rivers pour'd, and olive
dells, By every peasant heard, and muleteer, And hamlet, round my home : — and
I am here, Living again through all my life's
farewells, In these vast woods, where farewell
ne'er was spoken, And sole I lift to Heaven a sad heart
Sing them upon the sunny hills,
When days are long and bright,
Is loveliest to the sight.
Where ancient hunters roved,
The songs our fathers loved!
And who, with silent tread,
And songs on every wind! From thy Moved o'er the plains of waving As- bright shore phodel?
No lovelier vision floated round his Who, call’d and sever'd from the count
head, less dead,
Thou wert for nobler dead! Amidst the shadowy Amaranth-bowers He heard the bounding steps which might dwell,
round him fell, And listen to the swell
And sigh'd to bid the festal sun fare, Of those majestic hymn-notes, and in
well! hale The spirit wandering in th' immortal
The slave, whose very tears gale?
Were a forbidden luxury, and whose
breast They of the sword, whose praise, Shut up the woes and burning thoughts With the bright wine at nation's feasts,
of years, went round!
As in the ashes of an urn compress'd; They of the lyre, whose unforgotten lays
He might not be thy guest! On the morn's wing had sent their No gentle breathings from thy distant mighty sound,
sky And in all regions found
Came o'er his parh, and whisperd Their echoes 'midst the mountains !
“ Liberty! and become
Calm, on its leaf : tewn bier, In man's deep heart, as voices of his home!
Unlike a gift of nature to decay,
Too rose-like still, too beautiful, too They of the daring thought !
dear, Daring and powerful, yet to dust allied; The child at rest before its mother lay; Whose fight through stars, and seas,
E'en so to pass away, and depths had sought
With its bright smile! — Elysium ! what The soul's far birth-place — but without
wert thou, a guide!
To her, who wept o'er that young slumSages and seers, who died,
berer's brow? And left the world their high mysterious dreams,
Thou hadst no home, green land! Born, ʼmidst the olive-woods by Grecian
For the fair creature from her besom streams.
With life's first flowers just opening in But they, of whose abode
her hand, 'Midst her green valleys earth retain'd And all the lovely thoughts and dreams no trace,
unknown, Save a flower springing from their Which in its clear eye shone burial-sod,
Like the spring's wakening ! - but A shade of sadness on some kindred
that light was pastface,
Where went the dew-drop, swept A void and silent place
before the blast? In some sweet home; thou hadst no wreaths for these,
Not where thy soft winds play'd, Thou sunny land! with all thy death
Not where thy waters lay in glassy less trees!
Fade, with thy bowers, thou land of The peasant, at his door
visions, fade! Might sink to die, when vintage-feasts From thee no voice came o'er the were spread,
And bade man cease to weep! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning Fade, with the amaranth-plain, the gold, myrtle-grove,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies. Which could not yield one hope to - Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and sorrowing love!
wrathful Main !
Earth claims not these again! For the most loved are they, Of whom Fame speaks not with her Yet more, the Depths have more! Thy clarion-voice
waves have rolled In regal halls! - the shades o’erhang Above the cities of a world gone by!
Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, The vale, with its deep fountains, is Sea-weed o’ergrown the halls of revelry! their choice,
Dash o'er them, Ocean! in thy scornAnd gentle hearts rejoice Around their steps ! — till silently they Man yields them to decay !
die, As a stream shrinks from summer's burning eye.
Yet more! the Billows and the Depths
High hearts and brave are gathered to And the world knows not then,
thy breast ! Not then, nor ever, what pure thoughts They hear not now the booming waters
roar, Yet these are they, that on the souls of
The battle-thunders will not break their
rest : Come back, when night her folding Keep thy red gold and gems, thou veil hath spread,
stormy grave The long-remember'd dead !
Give back the true and brave ! But not with thee might aught save glory dwell
Give back the lost and lovely! those - Fade, fade away, thou shore of As
for whom phodel !
The place was kept at board and hearth
The prayer went up through midnight's THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP.
And the vain yearning woke 'midst fesWHAT hidest thou in thy treasure-caves
tal song! and cells,
Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious o'erthrown, Main :
But all is not thine own! - Pale glistening pearls, and rainbowcolored shells,
To thee the love of woman hath gone Bright things which gleam unrecked
down, of, and in vain.
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's — - Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy noble head, Sea!
O’er youth's bright locks and beauty's We ask not such from thee.
- Yet must thou hear a voice - ReYet more, the Depths have more! What
store the Dead ! wealth untold
Earth shall reclaim her precious things Far down, and shining through their
from thee stillness lies!
Restore the Dead, thou Sea!