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Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out
All that they think and feel, with tears of joy ;
And benedictions not unheard in heaven :
And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free
To follow truth, is eloquent as they.

Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines
A just memorial; and thine eyes consent
To read that they, who mark thy course, behold
A life declining with the golden light
Of summer, in the season of sere leaves ;
See cheerfulness undamped by stealing Time;
See studied kindness flow with easy stream,
Illustrated with inborn courtesy;
And an habitual disregard of self
Balanced by vigilance for others' weal.

And shall the Verse not tell of lighter gifts
With these ennobling attributes conjoined
And blended, in peculiar harmony,
By Youth's surviving spirit? What agile grace !
A nymph-like liberty, in nymph-like form,
Beheld with wonder; whether floor or path
Thou tread; or sweep_borne on the managed steed-
Fleet as the shadows, over down or field,
Driven by strong winds at play among the clouds.

Yet one word more-one farewell word—a wish
Which
came,

but it has passed into a prayer-
That, as thy sun in brightness is declining,
So—at an hour yet distant for their sakes
Whose tender love, here faltering on the way
Of a diviner love, will be forgiven-
So

may it set in peace, to rise again For everlasting glory won by faith.

357

XIX.

GRACE DARLING.

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AMONG the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touched, and public way
And crowded street resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by ONE whose very name bespeaks
Favour divine, exalting human love ;
Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria’s coast,
Known unto few but prized as far as known,
A single Act endears to high and low
Through the whole land—to Manhood, moved in spite
Of the world's freezing cares—to generous

Youth-
To Infancy, that lisps her praise—to Age
Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a tear
Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame
Awaits her now ; but, verily, good deeds
Do not imperishable record find
Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may

live
A theme for angels, when they celebrate
The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth
Has witnessed. Oh! that winds and waves could speak
Of things which their united power called forth
From the pure depths of her humanity!
A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call,
Firm and unflinching, as the Lighthouse reared
On the Island-rock, her lonely dwelling-place;
Or like the invincible Rock itself that braves,
Age after age, the hostile elements,
As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell.

All night the storm had raged, nor ceased, nor paused, When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air, Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf, Beating on one of those disastrous islesHalf of a Vessel, half-no more; the rest Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there Had for the common safety striven in vain, Or thither thronged for refuge. With quick glance Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern, Clinging about the remnant of this Ship, Creatures—how precious in the Maiden's sight! For whom, belike, the old Man grieves still more Than for their fellow-sufferers engulfed Where every parting agony is hushed, And hope and fear mix not in further strife. “ But courage, Father! let us out to seaA few may yet be saved.” The Daughter's words, Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith, Dispel the Father's doubts : nor do they lack The noble-minded Mother's helping hand To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered, And inwardly sustained by silent prayer, Together they put forth, Father and Child ! Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they goRivals in effort; and, alike intent Here to elude and there surmount, they watch The billows lengthening, mutually crossed And shattered, and re-gathering their might; As if the tumult, by the Almighty's will Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged That woman's fortitude—so tried, so provedMay brighten more and more!

True to the mark,

a

They stem the current of that perilous gorge,
Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening

heart,
Though danger, as the Wreck is neared, becomes
More imminent. Not unseen do they approach;
And rapture, with varieties of fear
Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frames
Of those who, in that dauntless energy,
Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturbed
Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives
That of the pair—tossed on the waves to bring
Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, life-
One is a Woman, a poor earthly sister,
Or, be the Visitant

than she seems,
A guardian Spirit sent from pitying Heaven,
In woman's shape. But why prolong the tale,
Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts
Armed to repel them? Every hazard faced
And difficulty mastered, with resolve
That no one breathing should be left to perish,
This last remainder of the crew are all
Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep
Are safely borne, landed upon the beach,
And, in fulfilment of God's mercy, lodged
Within the sheltering Lighthouse.-Shout, ye Waves !
Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and Winds,
Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith
In Him whose Providence your rage hath served !
Ye screaming Sea-mews, in the concert join!
And would that some immortal Voice-a Voice
Fitly attuned to all that gratitude
Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips
Of the survivors——to the clouds might bear-

the Maiden grew

Blended with praise of that parental love,
Beneath whose watchful

eye
Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave,
Though young so wise, though meek so resolute-
Might carry to the clouds and to the stars,
Yea, to celestial Choirs, GRACE DARLING's name!

1842.

XX.

THE RUSSIAN FUGITIVE.

(EARLY in life this story had interested me, and I often thought it

would make a pleasing subject for an opera or musical drama.]

PART I.

ENOUGH of rose-bud lips, and eyes

Like harebells bathed in dew,
Of cheek that with carnation vies,

And veins of violet hue;
Earth wants not beauty that may scorn

A likening to frail flowers;
Yea, to the stars, if they were born

For seasons and for hours.

Through Moscow's gates, with gold unbarred,

Stepped One at dead of night,
Whom such high beauty could not guard

From meditated blight;
By stealth she passed, and fled as fast

As doth the hunted fawn,
Nor stopped, till in the dappling east

Appeared unwelcome dawn.

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