Page images
PDF
EPUB

All nature is Thy gift: earth, air, and sea;
Of all that breathes, the various progeny,
Stung with delight, is goaded on by Thee.
O'er barren mountains, o'er the flowery plain,
The leafy forest and the liquid main,

Extends Thy uncontroll'd and boundless reign.
Through all the living regions dost Thou move,
And scatter'st where Thou goest the kindly seeds of
love.

Since, then, the race of every living thing

Obeys Thy power; since nothing new can spring
Without Thy warmth, without Thy influence bear,
Or beautiful or lovesome can appear,-

Be Thou my aid, my tuneful song inspire,
And kindle with Thy own productive fire.

Meantime on land and sea let barbarous discord cease,
And lull the listening world in universal peace.
To Thee mankind their soft repose must owe,
For Thou alone that blessing canst bestow;
Because the brutal business of the war
Is manag'd by Thy dreadful servant's care,
Who oft retires from fighting fields to prove
The pleasing pains of Thy eternal love,
And panting on Thy breast supinely lies,

While with Thy heavenly form he feeds his famish'd

eyes,

Sucks in with open lips Thy balmy breath,

By turns restored to life and plunged in pleasing Death.
There, while Thy curling limbs about him move,
Involved and fetter'd in the links of love,
When wishing all, he nothing can deny
Thy charms in that auspicious moment try:
With winning eloquence our peace implore,
And quiet to the weary world restore!

LUCRETIUS.

(Trs. John Dryden.)

JULY 18.

DEATH ANSWERS PRAYER.

THE dew is on the summer's greenest grass,
Through which the modest daisy blushing peeps;
The gentle wind, that like a ghost doth pass,

A waving shadow on the corn-field keeps ;
But I, who love them all, shall never be
Again among the woods, or on the moorland lea!

The sun shines sweetly-sweeter may it shine!—
Blessed is the brightness of a summer day;
It cheers lone hearts, and why should I repine,
Although among green fields I cannot stray?
Woods! I have grown, since last I heard you wave,
Familiar with death, and neighbour to the grave!

These words have shaken mighty human souls—
Like a sepulchre's echo drear they sound—
E'en as the owl's wild whoop at midnight rolls
The ivied remnants of old ruins round.
Yet wherefore tremble? Can the soul decay?
Or that which thinks and feels in aught e'er fade away?

Are there not aspirations in each heart

After a better, brighter world than this?

Longings for beings nobler in each part

Things more exalted-steeped in deeper bliss? Who gave us these? what are they? Soul, in thee The bud is budding now for immortality.

Death comes to take me where I long to be;

One pang, and bright blooms the immortal flower; Death comes to lead me from mortality

To lands which know not one unhappy hour;

I have a hope, a faith-from sorrow here

I'm led by Death away-why should I start and fear?

If I have loved the forest and the field,

Can I not love them deeper, better there? If all that Power hath made to me doth yield Something of good and beauty—something fair— Freed from the grossness of mortality,

May I not love them all, and better all enjoy?

A change from woe to joy-from earth to heaven,
Death gives me this-it leads me calmly where
The souls that long ago from mine were riven

May meet again! Death answers many a prayer.
Bright day, shine on! be glad days brighter far
Are stretched before my eyes than those of mortals are!

ROBERT NICOLL.

JULY 19.

GUIDE me, O Thou great Jehovah !
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty;
Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
Bread of heaven!

Feed me till I want no more.

Open Thou the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing streams do flow;

Let the fiery, cloudy pillar

Lead me all the journey through.
Strong Deliverer!

Be Thou still my strength and shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of death, and hell's destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan's side;
Songs of praises,

I will ever give to Thee.

W. WILLIAMS. (Originally written in Welsh.)

JULY 20.

JOHN THE PILGRIM.

BENEATH the sand-storm John the Pilgrim prays;
But when he rises, lo! an Eden smiles,
Green leafy slopes, meadows of camomiles,

Claspt in a silvery river's winding maze :

66

Water, water! blessed be God!" he says, And totters, gasping, toward those happy isles. Then all is fled! over the sandy piles The bald-eyed vultures come and stand at gaze. "God heard me not," says he, "blessed be God," And dies. But as he nears the pearly strand, Heav'n's outer coast, where waiting angels stand, He looks below: "Farewell, thou hooded clod, Brown corpse the vultures tear on bloody sand, God heard my prayer for life-blessèd be God!" THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON.

JULY 21.

[Robert Burns died, 1796.]

THROUGH busiest street and loneliest glen
Are felt the flashes of his pen;

He rules 'mid winter snows, and when
Bees fill their hives;

Deep in the general heart of men

[blocks in formation]

What need of fields in some far clime
Where Heroes, Sages, Bards sublime,
And all that fetched the flowing rhyme
From genuine springs,

Shall dwell together till old Time
Folds up his wings?

Sweet Mercy! to the gates of heaven
This Minstrel lead, his sins forgiven;
The rueful conflict, the heart riven
With vain endeavour,

And memory of Earth's bitter leaven
Effaced for ever.

But why to him confine the prayer,
When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear
On the frail heart the purest share

With all that live?

The best of what we do and are,

Just God, forgive!

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »