Felicia Hemans

“ Eternal, universal, as the sky;
Then in the bosom of your purity
A voice He set, as in a temple-shrine,
That Life's quick travellers ne'er might pass you by,
Unwarned of that sweet oracle divine. ”

“ And bless Thee still with free and boundless trust!
We read no more, O God! thy ways
On Earth, in these wild evil days.
The rod severe in th' oppressor's hand
Is ruler of the weeping land;
Fallen are the faithful and the pure,
No shrine is spared, no hearth secure. ”

“ And bless Thee still with Love's own boundless trust.
We feel no more that aid is nigh,
When our faint hearts within us die.
We suffer—and we know our doom
Must be one suffering till the tomb. ”

“ Heaven-guided wanderers with the winds of Spring.
Sing on, before the storm, and after, sing!
And call us to your echoing woods away
From worldly cares; and bid our spirits bring
Faith to imbibe deep wisdom from your lay. ”

“ Herrmann.To Him,
To Him, return, from whom thine erring steps
Have wandered far and long!—Return, my son,
To thy Redeemer!—Died he not in love,
—The sinless, the divine, the Son of God—
Breathing forgiveness midst all agonies,
And we, dare we be ruthless?—By His aid
Shalt thou be guided to thy brother's place
Midst the pure spirits.—Oh! retrace the way
Back to thy Saviour! he rejects no heart
Ev’n with the dark stains on it, if true tears
Be o'er them showered.—Aye, weep, thou Indian Chief! ”

“ Some fresh-discover'd nook for woodland play,
Some secret nest:-yet would the solemn word,
At times, with kindlings of young wonder heard,
Fall on my waken'd spirit, there to be
A seed not lost ”

“ And there is holiness on every shade!
—Yet must the thoughtful soul of man invest
With dearer consecration those pure fanes,
Which, sever'd from all sounds of earth's unrest,
Hear nought but suppliant or adoring strains
Rise heavenward;—ne'er may cliff or cave possess
Their claim on human hearts for solemn tenderness. ”

“ Mutter'd, like sounds of guilt.—Why, who would live?
Who hath not panted, as a dove, to flee,
To quit for ever the dishonour'd soil,
The burden'd air?—Our God upon the cross—
Our King upon the scaffold* [2] —let us think
Of these—and fold endurance to our hearts,
And bravely die! ”

“ O'er all th' ancestral woodlands to be thrown,
And something yet more deep. The air was fraught
With noble memories whispering many a thought
Of England's Fathers;—awful and serene,
They who had toil'd, watch'd, struggled to secure,
Within such fabrics, worship free and pure,
Reign'd there, th' o'ershadowing spirits of the scene. ”

“ But thou, pale Olive! in thy branches lie
Far deeper spells than prophet-grove of old
Might e'er enshrine:—I could not hear thee sigh
To the wind's faintest whisper, nor behold
One shiver of thy leaves' dim silvery green,
Without high thoughts and solemn, of that scene,
When in the garden the Redeemer prayed ”

“ Like them in pure communion with the skies,
Vast, silent, open unto night and day!
—So must the o'erburden’d Son of Man have felt,
When, turning where inviolate stillness dwelt,
He sought high mountains, there apart to pray. ”

“ But for their sakes that unto thee repair,
From the hill-cabins and the ocean shore:
Oh! may the fisher and the mountaineer
Words to sustain earth's toiling children hear,
Within thy lowly walls for evermore! ”

“ Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 35, Pages 269-272
SCENES AND HYMNS OF LIFE,
BY MRS HEMANS,
No. VIII,
PRISONER'S EVENING SERVICE,
A SCENE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.* [1]
From their spheres
The stars of human glory are cast down;
Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,
Princes and emperors, and the crown and palms
Of all the mighty, withered and consumed?
Nor is power given to lowliest Innocence
Long to protect her own.—Wordsworth.
Scene—Prison of the Luxembourg, in Paris, during the Reign of Terror. ”

“ Father! that from amidst yon glorious worlds
Now look'st on us, thy children! make this hour
Blessed for ever! May it see the birth
Of thine own image in the unfathomed deep
Of an immortal soul;—a thing to name
With reverential thought, a solemn world!
To Thee more precious than those thousand stars
Burning on high in thy majestic Heaven!
↑
* Circumstances similar to those on which this scene is founded, are recorded in Carne's Narrative of the Moravian Missions in Greenland, and gave rise to the dramatic sketch. ”

“ Mightier to reach the soul, in Thought's hushed hour,
Than yours, meek Lilies! chosen thus and graced. ”

“ Which from the Saviour's cross went up to Heaven:
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do,
Father, forgive!"–And o'er the eternal bounds
Of that celestial kingdom undefiled
Where evil may not enter, He, I deem ”

“ Many of these Keenes abound with touches of a wild and simple pathos. The following is not a translated one, but only in imitation of their peculiar style, which seems to bear much analogy to the characteristics of Irish music. ”