(Where safe and happily he might have lurk'd,)
Elate upon ambition's gaudy wings,
Forgetful of his origin, and, worse,
Unthinking of his end, flies to the stream;
And if from hostile vigilance he 'scape,
Buoyant he flutters but a little while,
Mistakes th' inverted image of the sky
For heaven itself, and, sinking, meets his fate.
Now let me trace the stream up to its source
Among the hills; its runnel by degrees
Diminishing, the murmur turns a tinkle.
Closer and closer still the banks approach,
Tangled so thick with pleaching bramble shoots,
With brier, and hazel branch, and hawthorn spray,
That, fain to quit the dangle, glad I mount
Into the open air: Grateful the breeze

That fans my throbbing temples! smiles the plain
Spread wide below: how sweet the placid view!
But, O! more sweet the thought, heart-soothing
thought,

That thousands, and ten thousands of the sons
Of toil, partake this day the common joy
Of rest, of peace, of viewing hill and dale,
Of breathing in the silence of the woods,
And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath day.
Yes, my heart flutters with a freer throb,
To think that now the townsman wanders forth
Among the fields and meadows to enjoy
The coolness of the day's decline; to see
His children sport around, and simply pull
The flower and weed promiscuous, as a boon,
Which proudly in his breast they smiling fix.

Again I turn me to the hill, and trace
The wizard stream, now scarce to be discern'd;
Woodless its banks, but green with ferny leaves,
And thinly strew'd with heath-bells up and down.

Now, when the downward sun has left the glens, Each mountain's rugged lineaments are traced Upon the adverse slope, where stalks gigantic The shepherd's shadow thrown athwart the chasm, As on the topmost ridge he homeward hies. How deep the hush! the torrent's channel dry, Presents a stony steep, the echo's haunt. But, hark, a plaintive sound floating along! 'Tis from yon heath-roof'd shielin; now it dies Away, now rises full; it is the song Which He, who listens to the hallelujahs Of choiring seraphim,-delights to hear; It is the music of the heart, the voice Of venerable age,-of guileless youth, In kindly circle seated on the ground Before their wicker door. Behold the man! The grandsire and the saint; his silvery locks Beam in the parting ray: before him lies, Upon the smooth cropt sward, the open book,

AN AUTUMN SABBATH WALK. WHEN homeward bands their several ways disperse, I love to linger in the narrow field Of rest, to wander round from tomb to tomb, And think of some who silent sleep below. Sad sighs the wind, that from those ancient elms Shakes showers of leaves upon the wither'd grass: The sere and yellow wreaths, with eddying sweep, Fill up the furrows 'tween the hillock'd graves. But list that moan! 'tis the poor blind man's dog, His guide for many a day, now come to mourn The master and the friend-conjunction rare! A man indeed he was of gentle soul, Though bred to brave the deep: the lightning's flash Had dimm'd, not closed, his mild, but sightless eyes. He was a welcome guest through all his range (It was not wide:) no dog would bay at him; Children would run to meet him on his way, And lead him to a sunny seat, and climb His knee, and wonder at his oft-told tales. Then would he teach the elfins how to plait The rushy cap and crown, or sedgy ship; And I have seen him lay his tremulous hand Upon their heads, while silent moved his lips. Peace to thy spirit! that now looks on me Perhaps with greater pity than I felt To see thee wandering darkling on thy way. But let me quit this melancholy spot,

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And roam where nature gives a parting smile.
As yet the blue-bells linger on the sod

That copes the sheepfold ring; and in the woods
A second blow of many flowers appears;
Flowers faintly tinged, and breathing no perfume.
But fruits, not blossoms, form the woodland wreath
That circles Autumn's brow: the ruddy haws
Now clothe the half-leaved thorn; the bramble
bends

Beneath its jetty load; the hazel hangs
With auburn branches, dipping in the stream
That sweeps along, and threatens to o'erflow
The leaf-strewn banks: oft, statue-like, I gaze,
In vacancy of thought, upon that stream,
And chase, with dreaming eye, the eddying foam;
Or rowan's cluster'd branch, or harvest sheaf,
Borne rapidly adown the dizzying flood.

A WINTER SABBATH WALK.

How dazzling white the snowy scene! deep, deep,
The stillness of the winter Sabbath day,—
Not even a foot-fall heard.-Smooth are the fields,
Each hollow pathway level with the plain:
Hid are the bushes, save that, here and there,
Are seen the topmost shoots of brier or broom.
High-ridged, the whirled drift has almost reach'd
The powder'd key-stone of the churchyard porch.
Mute hangs the hooded bell; the tombs lie buried,
No step approaches to the house of prayer.

The flickering fall is o'er; the clouds disperse, And show the sun, hung o'er the welkin's verge; Shooting a bright but ineffectual beam

On all the sparkling waste. Now is the time,
To visit nature in her grand attire ;
Though perilous the mountainous ascent,
A noble recompense the danger brings.
How beautiful the plain stretch'd far below!
Unvaried though it be, save by yon stream
With azure windings, or the leafless wood.
But what the beauty of the plain, compared
To that sublimity which reigns inthroned,
Holding joint rule with solitude divine,
Among yon rocky fells, that bid defiance
To steps the most adventurously bold!
There silence dwells profound; or if the cry
Of high-poised eagle break at times the calm,
The mantled echoes no response return.

But let me now explore the deep sunk dell.
No foot-print, save the covey's or the flock's,
Is seen along the rill, where marshy springs
Still rear the grassy blade of vivid green.
Beware, ye shepherds, of these treacherous haunts,
Nor linger there too long: the wintry day
Soon closes; and full oft a heavier fall
Heap'd by the blast, fills up the shelter'd glen,
While, gurgling deep below, the buried rill
Mines for itself a snow-coved way. O! then,
Your helpless charge drive from the tempting spot,
And keep them on the bleak hill's stormy side,
Where night-winds sweep the gathering drift
away:-

So the great Shepherd leads the heavenly flock
From faithless pleasures, full into the storms
Of life, where long they bear the bitter blast,
Until at length the vernal sun looks forth,
Bedimm'd with showers: Then to the pastures
green

He brings them, where the quiet waters glide, The streams of life, the Siloah of the soul.

THE FIRST SABBATH.

Six days the heavenly host, in circle vast,
Like that untouching cincture which enzones
The globe of Saturn, compass'd wide this orb,
And with the forming mass floated along,
In rapid course, through yet untravell❜d space,
Beholding God's stupendous power, a world
Bursting from chaos at the omnific will,
And perfect ere the sixth day's evening star
On Paradise arose. Blessed that eve!
The Sabbath's harbinger, when, all complete,
In freshest beauty from Jehovah's hand,
Creation bloom'd; when Eden's twilight face
Smiled like a sleeping babe. The voice divine
A holy calm breathed o'er the goodly work;
Mildly the sun, upon the loftiest trees,
Shed mellowly a sloping beam. Peace reign'd,
And love, and gratitude; the human pair
Their orisons pour'd forth; love, concord, reign'd;
The falcon, perch'd upon the blooming bough
With Philomela, listen'd to her lay;

Among the antler'd herd, the tiger couch'd Harmless; the lion's mane no terror spread Among the careless ruminating flock.

Silence was o'er the deep; the noiseless surge,
The last subsiding wave,-of that dread tumult
Which raged, when ocean, at the mute command,
Rush'd furiously into his new-cleft bed,—
Was gently rippling on the pebbled shore;
While, on the swell, the sea-bird with her head
Wing-veil'd, slept tranquilly. The host of heaven,
Entranced in new delight, speechless adored;
Nor stopp'd their fleet, career, nor changed their
form

Encircular, till on that hemisphere,

In which the blissful garden sweet exhaled
Its incense, odorous clouds,-the Sabbath dawn
Arose; then wide the flying circle oped,
And soar'd, in semblance of a mighty rainbow
Silent ascend the choirs of seraphim;

No harp resounds, mute is each voice; the burst
Of joy and praise reluctant they repress,―
For love and concord all things so attuned
To harmony, that earth must have received
The grand vibration, and to the centre shook:
But soon as to the starry altitudes

They reach'd, then what a storm of sound tremendous

Swell'd through the realms of space! The morning stars

Together sang, and all the sons of God
Shouted for joy! Loud was the peal; so loud
As would have quite o'erwhelm'd the human sense;
But to the earth it came a gentle strain,
Like softest fall breathed from Æolian lute,
When 'mid the chords the evening gale expires.
Day of the Lord! creation's hallow'd close!
Day of the Loid! (prophetical they sang,)
Benignant mitigation of that doom

Which must, ere long, consign the fallen race,
Dwellers in yonder star, to toil and wo!

THE FINDING OF MOSES.

SLOW glides the Nile: amid the margin flags,
Closed in a bulrush ark, the babe is left,-
Left by a mother's hand. His sister waits
Far off; and pale, 'tween hope and fear, beholds
The royal maid, surrounded by her train,
Approach the river bank,-approach the spot
Where sleeps the innocent: She sees them stoop
With meeting plumes; the rushy lid is oped,
And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears,
As when along a little mountain lake
The summer south-wind breathes, with gentle sigh,
And parts the reeds, unveiling, as they bend,
A water-lily floating on the wave.

JACOB AND PHARAOH.

PHARAOH upon a gorgeous throne of state
Was seated; while around him stood submiss
His servants, watchful of his lofty looks.
The patriarch enters, leaning on the arm
Of Benjamin. Unmoved by all the glare
Of royalty, he scarcely throws a glance
Upon the pageant show; for from his youth
A shepherd's life he led, and view'd each night
The starry host; and still, where'er he went,
He felt himself in presence of the Lord.

His eye is bent on Joseph, him pursues.
Sudden the king descends; and, bending, kneels
Before the aged man, and supplicates
A blessing from his lips! the aged man

Lays on the ground his staff, and stretching forth
His tremulous hand o'er Pharaoh's uncrown'd head,
Prays that the Lord would bless him and his land.

JEPHTHAH'S VOW.

FROM Conquest Jephthah came, with faltering step
And troubled eye; his home appears in view;
He trembles at the sight. Sad he forbodes,-
His vow will meet a victim in his child:
For well he knows, that, from her earliest years,
She still was first to meet his homeward steps:
Well he remembers, how, with tottering gait,
She ran, and clasp'd his knees, and lisp'd, and look'd
Her joy; and how, when garlanding with flowers
His helm, fearful, her infant hand would shrink
Back from the lion couch'd beneath the crest.
What sound is that, which, from the palm-tree

grove,

Floats now with choral swell, now fainter falls
Upon the ear? It is, it is the song
He loved to hear,-a song of thanks and praise,
Sung by the patriarch for his ransom'd son.
Hope from the omen springs: O blessed hope!
It may not be her voice!-Fain would he think
'Twas not his daughter's voice that still approach'd,
Blent with the timbrel's note. Forth from the grove
She foremost glides of all the minstrel band:
Moveless he stands; then grasps his hilt, still red
With hostile gore, but, shuddering, quits the hold:
And clasps in agony his hands, and cries,
“Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me low."

The timbrel at her rooted feet resounds.

SAUL AND DAVID.

DEEP was the furrow in the royal brow,
When David's hand, lightly as vernal gales
Rippling the brook of Kedron, skimm'd the lyre:
He sung of Jacob's youngest born,-the child
Of his old age,-sold to the Ishma lite ;
His exaltation to the second power

In Pharaoh's realm; his brethren thither sent;
Suppliant they stood before his face, well known,
Unknowing, till Joseph fell upon the neck
Of Benjamin, his mother's son, and wept.
Unconsciously the warlike shepherd paused;
But when he saw, down the yet quivering string,
The tear-drop trembling glide, abash'd, he check'd,
Indignant at himself, the bursting flood,
And, with a sweep impetuous, struck the chords:
From side to side his hands transversely glance,
Like lightning 'thwart a stormy sea; his voice
Arises 'mid the clang, and straightway calms
The harmonious tempest, to a solemn swell
Majestical, triumphant; for he sings
Of Arad's mighty host by Israel's arm
Subdued; of Israel through the desert led
He sings; of him who was their leader, call'd
By God himself, from keeping Jethro's flock,
To be a ruler o'er the chosen race.
Kindles the eye of Saul; his arm is poised ;-
Harmless the javelin quivers in the wall.

ELIJAH FED BY RAVENS.

SORE was the famine throughout all the bounds
Of Israel, when Elijah, by command

Of God, journeyed to Cherith's failing brook.
No rain-drops fall, no dew-fraught cloud, at morn
Or closing eve, creeps slowly up the vale;
The withering herbage dies; among the palms
The shrivell❜d leaves send to the summer gale
An autumn rustle; no sweet songster's lay
Is warbled from the branches; scarce is heard
The rill's faint brawl. The prophet looks around
And trusts in God, and lays his silver'd head
Upon the flowerless bank; serene he sleeps,
Nor wakes till dawning: then with hands enclasp'd,
And heavenward face, and eyelids closed, he prays
To Him who manna on the desert shower'd,
To Him who from the rock made fountains gush:
Entranced the man of God remains: till roused
By sound of wheeling wings, with grateful heart,
He sees the ravens fearless by his side
Alight, and leave the heaven-provided food.

THE BIRTH OF JESUS ANNOUNCED.
DEEP was the midnight silence in the fields
Of Bethlehem; hush'd the folds; save that at times
Was heard the lamb's faint bleat: the shepherds,
stretch'd

On the green sward, survey'd the starry vault.
The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
The firmament shows forth thy handy-work:
Thus they, their hearts attuned to the Most High-
When suddenly a splendid cloud appear'd,
As if a portion of the milky way
Descended slowly in the spiral course.

Near and more near it draws; then, hovering, floats
High as the soar of eagle, shedding bright, ́
Upon the folded flocks, a heavenly radiance,
From whence was utter'd loud, yet sweet, a voice,-
Fear not, I bring good tidings of great joy;
For unto you is born this day a Saviour!
And this shall be a sign to you,—the babe,
Laid lowly in a manger, ye shall find.—
The angel spake; when, lo! upon the cloud,
A multitude of seraphim, enthroned,
Sang praises, saying,-Glory to the Lord
On high; on earth be peace, good will to men.
With sweet response harmoniously they choir'd,
And while, with heavenly harmony, the song
Arose to God, more bright the buoyant throne
Illumed the land: the prowling lion stops,
Awe-struck, with mane uprear'd, and flatten'd

head;

And, without turning, backward on his steps
Recoils, aghast, into the desert gloom.
A trembling joy th' astonish'd shepherds prove,
As heavenward reascends the vocal blaze
Triumphantly; while by degrees the strain
Dies on the ear, that, self-deluded, listens-
As if a sound so sweet could never die.

BEHOLD MY MOTHER AND MY BRETHREN. WHO is my mother, or my brethren?

He spake, and look'd on them who sat around, With a meek smile of pity blent with love,