II. When joy no longer soothes or cheers, Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom, Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright WEEP NOT FOR THOSE. AIR-Avison. I. WEEP not for those whom the veil of the tomb And but sleeps, till the sunshine of heaven has unchain'd it, Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb In life's happy morning hath hid from our eyes, Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies, II. Mourn not for her, the young bride of the vale,' Ere life's early lustre had time to grow pale And the garland of love was yet fresh on her brow; 1 This second verse, which I wrote long after the first, alludes to the fate of a very lovely and amiable girl, the daughter of the late Colonel Bainbrigge, who was married in Ashbourne Church, October 31, 1815, and died of a fever in a few weeks after. The sound of her marriage-bells seemed scarcely out of our ears, when we heard of her death. During her last delirium, she sang several hymns in a voice even clearer and sweeter than usual, and among them were some from the present collection (particularly "There's nothing bright but Heaven"), which this very interesting girl had often heard during the sum mer. Oh! then was her moment, dear spirit, for flying From this gloomy world, while its gloom was unknown;And the wild hymns she warbled so sweetly, in dying, Were echo'd in heaven by lips like her own! Weep not for her,-in her spring-time she flew To that land where the wings of the soul are unfurl'd, And now, like a star beyond evening's cold dew, Looks radiantly down on the tears of this world. THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SHRINE. AIR-Stevenson. I. THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine; II. My choir shall be the moonlight waves, E'en more than music, breathes of Thee! III. I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown, IV. Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, V. I'll read thy anger in the rack That clouds awhile the day-beam's track; Of sunny brightness, breaking through! 1 Pii orant tacitè. "How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken. And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave."-P. 272. VI. There's nothing bright, above, below, VII. There's nothing dark, below, above, SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL. AIR-Avison.1 "And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances." -Exod. xv. 20. I. SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave, II. Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord, Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride? 1 I have so altered the character of this air, which is from the beginning of one of Avison's old-fashioned concertos, that, without this acknowledgment, it could hardly, I think, be recognised. 2 "And it came to pass, that in the morning watch, the Lord looked unto the host of the Egyptians through the pillar of fire and of the cloud, and troubled the host of the Egyptians."-Exod. xiv. 24. |