Oh! I could pass all relics Left by the pomps of old, Love, human love! what art thou? Immortal, oh! immortal Thou art, whose earthly glow Hath given these ashes holinessIt must, it must be so! CHRISTMAS CAROL. O LOVELY Voices of the sky, That hymn'd the Saviour's birth! Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, "Peace on earth?" To us yet speak the strains O clear and shining light, whose beams That hour Heaven's glory shed Around the palms, and o'er the streams, And on the shepherds' head; A FATHER READING THE BIBLE. Be near, through life and death, As in that holiest night O star which led to him whose love In heaven thou art not set, Thy rays earth might not dim- O star which led to him! 317 A FATHER READING THE BIBLE.' 'Twas early day, and sunlight stream'd That hush'd, but not forsaken seem'd, 1 This little poem, which, as its Author herself expressed in a letter to Mrs. Joanna Baillie, was to her "a thing set apart," as being the last of her productions ever read to her beloved mother, was written at the request of a young lady, who thus made known her wish that Mrs. Hemans would embody in poetry a picture that so warmed a daughter's heart:" "Upon going into our dear father's sitting-room this morning, my sister and I found him deeply engaged reading his Bible, and being unwilling to interrupt such a holy occupation, we retired to the further end of the apartment, to gaze unobserved upon the serene picture. The bright morning sun was beaming on his For there, serene in happy age, Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright, And touch'd the page with tenderest light, But oh that patriarch's aspect shone A radiance all the spirit's own, Some word of life e'en then had met Some ancient promise, breathing yet Of Immortality! Some martyr's prayer, wherein the glow venerable silver hair, while his defective sight increased the earnestness with which he perused the blessed book. Our fancy led us to believe that some immortal thought was engaging his mind, for he raised his fine open brow to the light, and we felt we had never loved him more deeply. After an involuntary prayer had passed from our hearts, we whispered to each other, 'Oh! if Mrs. Hemans could only see our father at this moment, her glowing pen would detain the scene, for even as we gaze upon it, the bright gleam is vanishing."" "December 9, 1826." THE MEETING OF THE BROTHERS. And silent stood his children by, Of thoughts o'ersweeping death. Oh! blest be those fair girls, and blest THE MEETING OF THE BROTHERS.1 "His early days Were with him in his heart." WORDSWORTH 319 1 THE Voices of two forest boys, In years when hearts entwine, Had fill'd with childhood's merry noise To rock and stream that sound was known, The sunny laughter of their eyes, For the tale on which this little poem is founded, see L'Hermite en Italie. But this, as day-spring's flush, was brief Alas! 'tis but the wither'd leaf That wears the enduring hue: Those rocks along the Rhine's fair shore, Might girdle in their world no more. For now on manhood's verge they stood, As if a silver clarion woo'd To some high festival; And parted as young brothers part, They parted-soon the paths divide And making strangers in their course, Of waves that had the same bright source. Met they no more ? once more they met, Those kindred hearts and true! 'Twas on a field of death, where yet The battle-thunders flew, Though the fierce day was wellnigh past, And the red sunset smiled its last. But as the combat closed, they found |