Fair Nature's book together read, The old wood-paths that knew our tread, The maple shadows overhead, -
The hills we climbed, the river seen By gleams along its deep ravine, All keep thy memory fresh and green.
Where'er I look, where'er I stray, Thy thought goes with me on my way, And hence the prayer I breathe to-day :
O'er lapse of time and change of scene, The weary waste which lies between Thyself and me, my heart I lean.
Thou lack'st not Friendship's spellword, nor The half-unconscious power to draw All hearts to thine by Love's sweet law.
With these good gifts of God is cast Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast To hold the blesséd angels fast.
If, then, a fervent wish for thee
The gracious heavens will heed from me, What should, dear heart, its burden be?
The sighing of a shaken reed, What can I more than meekly plead The greatness of our common need?
God's love, unchanging, pure, and true, The Paraclete white-shining through His peace, - the fall of Hermon's dew! With such a prayer, on this sweet day, As thou mayst hear and I may say, I greet thee, dearest, far away!
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
COME then, my friend! my genius! come along; O master of the poet, and the song! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, To fall with dignity, with temper rise; Formed by thy converse happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe; Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Intent to reason, or polite to please.
O, while along the stream of time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Shall then this verse to future age pretend Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend! That, urged by thee, I turned the tuneful art From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart: For wit's false mirror held up Nature's light; Showed erring pride, WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT; That REASON, PASSION, answer one great aim; That true SELF-LOVE and SOCIAL are the same; That VIRTUE only makes our bliss below; And all our knowledge is, OURSELVES TO KNOW.
A GENEROUS friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows.
FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end; Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blesséd clime Where life is not a breath,
Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upward to expire.
There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown; A whole eternity of love,
Formed for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere.
Thus star by star declines,
Till all are passed away,
As morning high and higher shines, To pure and perfect day;
Nor sink those stars in empty night; They hide themselves in heaven's own light. JAMES MONTGOMERY.
[Died in New York, September, 1820.].
GREEN be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Tears fell, when thou wert dying, From eyes unused to weep, And long, where thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep.
When hearts, whose truth was proven, Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven To tell the world their worth;
And I, who woke each morrow
To clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow, Whose weal and woe were thine, —
It should be mine to braid it
Around thy faded brow,
But I've in vain essayed it, And feel I cannot now.
While memory bids me weep thee, Nor thoughts nor words are free, The grief is fixed too deeply
That mourns a man like thee.
THE half-seen memories of childish days, When pains and pleasures lightly came and went ; The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent In fearful wand'rings through forbidden ways; The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze Of life to noble ends, whereon intent, Asking to know for what man here is sent, The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze, The firm resolve to seek the chosen end Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature, Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend With strength no selfish purpose can secure : My happy lot is this, that all attend That friendship which first came, and which shall last endure.
HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation coped withal. HOR. O my dear lord
Nay, do not think I flatter: For what advancement may I hope from thee That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, — A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks; and blessed are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger To sound what stop she please: Give me that
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee,
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me, We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that Thou art thence banished, we would muster all From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come! go in, And take our friendly senators by th' hands; Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, Who am prepared against your territories, Though not for Rome itself.
A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than e'er an enemy; Yet, Marcius, that was much.
WHEN TO THE SESSIONS OF SWEET SILENT THOUGHT.
WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste. Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan, Which I new pay, as if not paid before; But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
FRIENDS FAR AWAY.
COUNT not the hours while their silent wings Thus waft them in fairy flight; For feeling, warm from her dearest springs, Shall hallow the scene to-night. And while the music of joy is here,
And the colors of life are gay,
Let us think on those that have loved us dear, The Friends who are far away.
Few are the hearts that have proved the truth Of their early affection's vow; And let those few, the beloved of youth, Be dear in their absence now. O, vividly in their faithful breast
Shall the gleam of remembrance play, Like the lingering light of the crimson west, When the sunbeam hath passed away!
Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours, And calm be the seas they roam! May the way they travel be strewed with flowers, Till it bring them in safety home! And when we whose hearts are o'erflowing thus Ourselves may be doomed to stray, May some kind orison rise for us, When we shall be far away!
THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.
"We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other."- WASHINGTON IRVING. Two barks met on the deep mid-sea, When calms had stilled the tide ; A few bright days of summer glee There found them side by side.
And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth; And sweetly floated o'er the wave The melodies of earth.
Moonlight on that lone Indian main Cloudless and lovely slept; While dancing step and festive strain Each deck in triumph swept.
And hands were linked, and answering eyes With kindly meaning shone; O, brief and passing sympathies, Like leaves together blown!
A little while such joy was cast Over the deep's repose,
Till the loud singing winds at last Like trumpet music rose.
And proudly, freely on their way The parting vessels bore; In calm or storm, by rock or bay, To meet-0, nevermore!
Never to blend in victory's cheer, To aid in hours of woe; And thus bright spirits mingle here, Such ties are formed below.
ALAS! they had been friends in youth: But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain. And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline! Each spoke words of high disdain
And insult to his heart's best brother; They parted, ne'er to meet again!
But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining. They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between, But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been. S. T. COLERIDGE.
THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND
CAS. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health; tempt me no further. BRU. Away, slight man! CAS. Is't possible? BRU. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
Hear me, for I will speak.
CAS. O ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this?
BRU. All this? ay, more: Fret, till your proud heart break;
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humor? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for from this day forth
CAS. That you have wronged me doth appear I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians; Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off.
Is it come to this? BRU. You say you are a better soldier : Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: For mine own part,
BRU. You wronged yourself to write in such a I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. BRU. The name of Cassius honors this corrup- tion,
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. CAS. Chastisement !
CAS. What! durst not tempt him? BRU. For your life you durst not. CAS. Do not presume too much upon my love;
BRU. Remember March, the ides of March re- I may do that I shall be sorry for.
BRU. You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am armed so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you
« VorigeDoorgaan » |