« ForrigeFortsæt »
And hold in mother-passion,
Thy Blessed, in thy sight.
From the dark world he knew;
To mediate 'twixt the two; Into the sudden glory,
Out of the dark he trod, Departing from before thee
At once to light and GOD! For the first face, beholding
The Christ's in its divine;
And tideless hyaline;
That rock to tuneful sound,
Wrap a still smile around. Oh, in the blessed psalm, now,
His happy voice he tries, Spreading a thicker palm-bough,
Than others, o'er his eyes ; Yet still, in all his singing,
Thinks highly of thy song Which, in his life's first springing,
Sang to him all night long, And wishes it beside him,
With kissing lips that cool And soft did overglide him,
To make the sweetness full. Look up, O mourning mother,
Thy blind boy walks in light!
Before God's infinite!
Thou mother left below
Content that it be so, Until ye two give meeting
Where Heaven's pearl-gate is,
As once thou leddest his ! Wait on, thou mourning mother! (By permission of Messrs. Chapman and Hall.)
(A CHILD'S LIFE AND DEATH.)
Rev. DR. GEORGE ASPINALL.
Born upon a happy day,
Ne'er shall suckle more;
Plants on moisture thrive and climb,
From the healthful spring;
Lo! the christ'ning day hath come,
In the arms of mother;
Peerie mannie, babe of beauty,
In that bonnie child;
God doth need him; Charlie, boy,
Pale as driven snow?
Spare her youngest son!
Vain entreaty! tread with softness!
it little Charlie,
Very white and cold! White, as lilies of the spring, Still, as bird with broken wing!
Charlie! mother's fondest treasure,
Now at length is set ;
Little limbs, how still and quiet!
my Charlie, dead! Yet what knowledge on that brow, Child I thou'rt more than Man just now!
Courage! crush'd and stricken Rachel, Weeping blood-drops day and night, Recollect, the darkest storm-clouds
Have a lining bright!
And no cloud by Him is sent
What though yon small house is empty,
Hold no joyless place;
All His lambs to save!
A SCENE FROM THE HONEYMOON.
(John Tobin was born at Salisbury, in 1770. He was brought up to the law, but, Shakspeare proving more attractive to him than Blackstone, he adopted the stage as a profession, and wrote several dramas, of which “ The Curfew' and “The Honeymoon
are the most noteworthy : the latter, in some of the scenes, strongly resembles “ The Taming of the Shrew," but it was very successful. Tobin died 1804.]
Enter the Duke, leading in JULIANA, L. Duke. (Brings a chair forward, C., and sits down.) You are welcome home.
Jul. (Crosses, R.) Home ! You are merry; this
Would be a palace for an owl!
Duke. Tis ours.-
spoke of ! Jul. This! You are not in earnest, though you bear it With such a sober brow.—Come, come, you jest.
Duke. Indeed I jest not; were it ours in jest,
Jul. Are you serious, sir ?
Jul. Am I betray’d-Nay, do not play the fool!
Duke. You'll find it true.
you have no estate, sir ? No palaces, nor houses ?
Duke. None but this :-
Jul. Nor money, nor effects ?