Each, shining not for earth alone, From Him, th' all-powerful King of kings. Haply, those glorious beings know What then art thou, oh! child of clay! Yet fear thou not!-the sovereign hand, Be thou at peace!-th' all-seeing eye, THE OCEAN. They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. Psalm cvii. 23, 24. HE that in venturous barks hath been A wanderer on the deep, Can tell of many an awful scene, Where storms for ever sweep. For many a fair majestic sight Hath met his wandering eye, Beneath the streaming northern light, Or blaze of Indian sky. Go! ask him of the whirlpool's roar, Whose echoing thunder peals Of coral rocks from waves below Of sea-fires, which at dead of night And make th' expanse of ocean bright Oh God! thy name they well may praise, And trace the wonders of thy ways, If glorious be that awful deep, What then art Thou, who bidst it keep Let heaven and earth in praise unite, Whose word can rouse the tempest's might, THE THUNDER STORM. DEEP, fiery clouds o'ercast the sky, There is not e'en a breeze, on high The woods are hushed, the waves at rest, Each form of rock and hill. The lime-leaf waves not in the grove, Nor rose-tree in the bower; The birds have ceased their songs of love, Awed by the threatening hour. 'Tis noon;-yet Nature's calm profound Seems as at midnight deep; -But hark! what peal of awful sound The thunder bursts!-its rolling might The gathered lightnings break Yet fear not, shrink thou not, my child! And the wide forests rent. Doth not thy God behold thee still, Know, hadst thou eagle-pinions free, To track the realms of air, Thou couldst not reach a spot where He Would not be with thee there! In the wide city's peopled towers, On the vast ocean's plains, 'Midst the deep woodland's loneliest bowers, Alike th' Almighty reigns! Then fear not, though the angry sky A thousand darts should cast;Why should we tremble, e'en to die, And be with Him at last? THE BIRDS. Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God. St. Luke, xii. 6. TRIBES of the air! whose favoured race In form, in plumage, and in song, Nor differ less your forms, your flight, Far other scenes, remote, sublime, The mountain-eagle seeks; Others there are, that make their home Around th' o'erhanging rock; Where Afric's burning realm expands, The swan, where northern rivers glide, The condor, where the Andes tower, The Bird of Paradise. Some, amidst India's groves of palm, And spicy forests breathing balm, The Italians call all singing birds, Birds of the gentle beak. Weave soft their pendent nest; Some, deep in western wilds, display Their fairy form and plumage gay, In rainbow colours drest. Others no varied song may pour, Shall He not then thy guardian be? Oh! safely may'st thou rest! THE SKY LARK. THE Sky-lark, when the dews of morn He rests not on the leafy spray, Thus, my Creator! thus the more THE NIGHTINGALE. WHEN twilight's gray and pensive hour Brings the low breeze, and shuts the flower, And bids the solitary star Shine in pale beauty from afar; When gathering shades the landscape veil, And peasants seek their village-dale, When evening's primrose opes, to shed Soft fragrance round her grassy bed; When glow-worms in the wood-walk light Their lamp, to cheer the traveller's sight; At that calm hour, so still, so pale. Awakes the lonely nightingale; And from a hermitage of shade Fills with her voice the forest-glade. And sweeter far that melting voice, Than all which through the day rejoice; And still shall bard and wanderer love The twilight music of the grove. Father in Heaven! oh! thus, when day With all its cares hath passed away, And silent hours waft peace on earth, And hush the louder strains of mirth; Thus may sweet songs of praise and prayer. So may thy mercy and thy power Protect me through the midnight hour; And balmy sleep and visions blest Smile on thy servant's bed of rest. THE NORTHERN SPRING. WHEN the soft breath of Spring goes forth Then bursts the verdure of the plains, Then break the streams from icy chains; And the glad rein-deer seeks no more Amidst deep snows his mossy store. Then the dark pine-wood's boughs are seen Thus, in a moment, from the gloom And the cold fetters of the tomb, Thus shall the blest Redeemer's voice Call forth his servants to rejoice. For He, whose word is truth, hath said, His power to life shall wake the dead, And summon those he loves, on high, To "put on immortality!" Then, all its transient sufferings o'er, PARAPHRASE OF PSALM CXLVIII. Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights. PRAISE ye the Lord! on every height Ye angel-hosts, ye stars of light, Oh! heaven of heavens! let praise far-swelling Join in the strain, ye waters, dwelling For His the word which gave you birth, Praise to the Highest from the earth, And let the deeps unite! Oh! fire and vapour, hail and snow, Oh! stormy winds, that only blow Mountains and rocks, to heaven that rise; Judges of nations; kings, whose hand Praise ye His name, to whom alone TO ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S CHIL- ON HIS BIRTH DAY, AUGUST 27, 1825. Of summer and of joy. Thou hast no heavy thought or dream Yet ere the cares of life lie dim On thy young spirit's wings, Now in thy morn forget not Him From whom each pure thought springs! So in the onward vale of tears, When strength hath bowed to evil years- TO A YOUNGER CHILD ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, SEPTEMBER 17, 1825. WHERE sucks the bee now?-Summer is flying? Leaves on the grass-plot faded are lying: Violets are gone from the grassy dell, With the cowslip-cups, where the faries dwell; The rose from the garden hath passed awayYet happy, fair boy! is thy natal day. For love bids it welcome, the love which hath smiled Translations from Camoens and other Poets. Siamo nati veramente in un secolo in cui gl' ingegni e gli studj degli uomini sono rivolti all' utilità. L'Agricoltura, le Arti, il Commercio acquistano tutto dì novi lumi dalle ricerche de' Saggi; e il voler farsi un nome tentando di dilettare, quand' altri v' aspira con più giustizia giovando, sembra impresa dura e difficile.-Savioli. CAMOENS. SONNET 70. Na metade do Ceo subido ardia. HIGH in the glowing heavens, with cloudless beam, 'Midst the dark foliage of the forest-shade, When through the glassy vale a love-lorn swain, To seek the maid who but despised his pain, Breathing vain sighs of fruitless passion roved : "Why pine for her," the slighted wanderer cried, "By whom thou art not loved?"--and thus replied An echo's murmuring voice-"Thou art not loved!" CAMOENS. SONNET 282. From Psalm CXXXVII. Na ribeira do Euprates assentado. WRAPT in sad musings by Euphrates' stream When they, who caused the ceaseless tears I shed, "Know'st thou not, Harmony's resistless charm CAMOENS. PART OF ECLOGUE 15. Ir in thy glorious home above Remember still how deeply shrined Remember that thine eye-beam's light Think that his life, from thee apart, Is all but weariness of heart, Each stream, whose music once was dear. Now murmurs discords to his ear. Through thee, the morn, whose cloudless rays Woke him to joy in other days, Now, in the light of beauty drest, Brings but new sorrows to his breast. Through thee, the heavens are dark to him, All it hath been, his heart forgets, CAMOENS. SONNET 271. A formosura désta fresca serra. CAMOENS. Brandas aguas do Tejo que passando. Sweet stream! I know not when my steps again THIS mountain-scene, with sylvan grandeur Forbids me blessings, and ordains despair, Commands me thus to leave thee and repine: CAMOENS. TO A LADY WHO DIED AT SEA. Yes! the wild seas entomb those charms divine, And if the tones of my uncultured song The rich redundance of that golden hair, Brighter than sunbeams of meridian day; Thus, like some blossom prematurely torn, CAMOENS. Alma minha gentil, que te partiste. SPIRIT beloved! whose wing so soon hath flown |