Awed by the silence, reverently ponder The ways of God, Your voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers,- Floral apostles! that in dewy splendour "Thou wert not, Solomon! in all thy glory, Arrayed," the lily cries," in robes like ours: "How vain your grandeur! ah! how transitory Are human flowers!" In the sweet-scented pictures, heavenly artist! Nor useless are ye, flowers, though made for pleasure, Blooming o'er field and wave, by day and night; From every source your sanction bids me measure Harmless delight. Ephemeral sages! what instructors hoary For such a world of thought could furnish scope; Each fading calyx a memento mori,” 66 Yet fount of hope? Posthumous glories! angel-like collection! And second birth. Were I, O God! in churchless lands remaining, it first listened to the Almighty Word, and responded with all its billows to the song of the morning stars. "Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now! EXERCISE CXXX. ODE TO THE FLOWERS. Horace Smith. DAY-STARS! that ope your eyes with man to twinkle, Ye matin worshippers! who bending lowly Ye bright mosaics! that with storied beauty 'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth, Not to the domes, where crumbling arch and column But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned,— To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamp the sun and moon supply; Its choir, the winds and waves; its organ, thunder. Its dome, the sky! There, as in solitude and shade I wander Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod, Thy song is sorrowful as winds And ask for summer's vanished flowers, Let others thank thee, — 'twas for them Thy soft leaves thou didst wreathe; it first listened to the Almighty Word, and responded with all its billows to the song of the morning stars. "Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now!" EXERCISE CXXX. ODE TO THE FLOWERS. Horace Smith. DAY-STARS! that ope your eyes with man to twinkle, Ye matin worshippers! who bending lowly Ye bright mosaics! that with storied beauty 'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth, A call to prayer, – Not to the domes, where crumbling arch and column But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned,— To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamp the sun and moon supply; Its choir, the winds and waves; its organ, thunder. Its dome, the sky! There, as in solitude and shade I wander Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod, stroke of the rowers, with the respectful standing position of the lieutenant at the helm, denote that the very highest in the realm are on board. The boatswain's shrill pipe called attention; and the words, "All hands, man ship," reëchoed by his mates through the different decks, instantly placed seven hundred men in our rigging, the light top-men, that were to ascend the dizzy height of the royal yards, in advance. 66 Away aloft!" and, like a flash of lightning, they ascend to their respective posts. The graceful toss of the bowman's oar, and the tune from the boatswain's call, gave the signal to "lay out;" and our well-squared yards were covered by sailors in their long-quartered shoes, check shirt, blue jacket, and trousers white as driven snow, with queues hanging down their backs; for cropping was not then in fashion; while three bold and active boys climbed the royal masts, and sat on the trucks apparently much at ease. "Turn out a captain's guard, summon all the officers! and six of the best-dressed midshipmen attend the side ropes, and plant the silk standard in the ladies' chair, into which the hero of England and the pride of the navy, awkwardly, (from the want of an arm,) assisted the Queen of Sicily and her three daughters. The daughter of Maria Theresa, with animated eyes and a quick step, advanced to the captain, who gallantly kissed her fair hand, while she, with great volubility, complimented and thanked him over and over again; and turning to the officers with inimitable grace, she and her daughters presented hands to be kissed by each and all of us. The band played a march; the guard presented arms; and the officers uncovered, as the descendant of Maria Theresa placed her foot on the deck of the conqueror's ship. The Sicilian royal standard superseded Lord Nelson's flag; and the unfolding of its banners roused the sleeping thunder of the squadron. A royal salute welcomed this energetic woman, whose slender and perfect form seemed to tread on air, while the tender animation of her sparkling eyes expressed the warmth of her heart. Very little time did she devote to the splendid collation prepared for her; but, with her amiable daughters, sought to soothe the anguish of pain, and alleviate the sufferings of the wounded. The drums beat to arms; and the court inspected the quarters, on their way to the different hospitals established in the ship with every wounded man and boy they shook |