Dying upon it; or as if the
Of some lov'd countenance on which we gaze,
Were lit up by no unseen light behind;
So dark a cloud the thoughtless eye doth blind!
This comes of seeing and of tracing on,
Cause after cause, in wondrous union
Concentrating, combining to a whole,
And owning not the Maker. For the Soul
At every step when she around her cell
Sees and adores not the Adorable,
More faint and faint the gleams, which with Him dwell,
Break out on her, more feebly His dear voice,
That which alone bids Nature to rejoice,
More faint and faint she hears, till all alone
From scene to scene of doubt she wanders on
Along a dreary waste, starless and long,
Starless and sad a dreary waste along,
Uncheer'd-unsatisfied-for evermore,
Companionless, and fatherless, and poor.
Enough is given that they who would adore
Might find their Maker, ever more and more
Himself disclosing to the pure in heart,
He leads them in Himself to have a part.
Else it were sad indeed thro' things of sense,
Or sweet scenes form'd by sportive elements,
To range on sick at heart, for sad and lone
Was Youth in all its freshness, tho' when gone
So seeming fair; beneath a vernal sky,
'Mid flowers and singing birds it heaved the sigh,
But as it flew, it turn'd, and cast behind
Longing, regretful looks, and seem'd most kind,
When lost for ever,—from the things of sight
A bird of golden wing hath ta'en his flight,
And left us desolate; o'er gathering years
Silent and cold Winter her head uprears.
Far otherwise when hopes of better Love
Fill all with sacred breath,-rays from above
Light up the cloud—then toilsome nights and days,
To rise, to sleep, to live o'er weary ways
In lonelines, to wed with solitude,
To go out, and return, and find no good,
These all are by a holy Presence warm;
In each dark shade there stands a living Form,
By the way side, by lonely shore, in feast
Else wearisome,-beside the well, nor least
In the holy Temple that dread Form doth stay,
He who from them that sought ne'er turned away;
His sheltering mantle rests upon the Earth,
'Neath whose bright folds we have our second birth
Be we content awhile therein to lie,
Until the storm and whirlwind have past by.
'Tis better that thus dimly we should scan
His steps, disclosed as meet for sinful man,
For but suppose that Heav'n's familiar door
O'erarching, and the star-indented floor
Flew open, and disclosed the Towers afar,-
As fishes ranging 'neath their watery bar
Know nought of tower or city, grove or glen,
Green mantled earth, and singing bird, and men,
So rove we in this vapoury prison pent,—
Emerging in ethereal element
We should see that which would our hearts appal
With wonder, more than all this varied ball,
Yea, more than blind men dream of untried light,
But in the amazement of th' o'erwhelming sight
How should we love Him? rather for awhile
Let us with prayer this winding cave beguile,
And lowlier thoughts more meet for earthly bond,
For fearfully the glory shines beyond
This twilight-rapidly 'tis onward borne,
And we have much to do and much to mourn.
In these I linger not, for thus to dream,
And meditate, and choose the learned theme,
For these we have no leisure-bound for far
We loiter, while we talk the leading star
Is setting, yonder breaks on distant lawn
The skirt of day-the trees are in the dawn.
THE RECOGNITION OF ULYSSES.
Oft as I read how great Ulysses stood, In his own kingly hall, a beggar poor, With tatter'd garb and leathern wallet rude, I would unravel the "good" Poet's store, And all the golden argument explore; Caught in the maze of his melodious wiles I linger, and suspend the passing oar, E'en as that hero by those syren isles, At whose surpassing sounds the sullen ocean smiles.
But his no syren's soul-enfeebling song,
He lifted up the dull earth to the skies,
Then wander'd forth in healthful virtue strong,
Seeing all earth as with an Angel's eyes,
Thick-peopled with immortal Deities.
It is no more the haunt where wrongs prevail,
But in each act of life the Godhead lies,
From sight withdrawn awhile; while ne'er to fail
Stern Retribution holds, but half conceals the scale.
In nature's stores, and in "the gift" of sleep, In viands of slain beeves, in cheering wine, In wafting gales that o'er the Ocean sweep, In birds in heav'n, or on the surging brine, In darts that pass or miss the destin❜d line, In every thought which human conduct guides, In morn, in eve, earth, sea, and air divine, The ever-varying God his presence hides, And sways of mortal things the deeply rolling tides,
Wrapping mankind around, serene and still; And oft the good to see him are allowed, While 'mid the revellers all bent on ill Good Theoclymenus beholds the cloud Peopled with Stygian shapes, a blackening shroud, And heads all ghastly with portentous sign, Going before destruction; from the crowd He springs aloof, discerning wrath Divine, While they heed nor hear, in surfeit lost and wine.
Or as he thence the royal arms conveys,
Telemachus, beside that beggar old,
Beholds the playing of the unharming blaze
O'er all the inner house, rays which enfold
Pillar and tier and arch in flaming gold,
And far within celestial Power confest;
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