Felicia Hemans

“ It flowed o'er fearless men,
Though hushed and child-like then,
Before their God they gathered on the seas.
Oh! did not thoughts of home
O'er each bold spirit come
As, from the land, sweet gales?
In every word of prayer
Had not some hearth a share,
Some bower, inviolate midst England's vales?
Yes! bright green spots that lay
In beauty far away,
Hearing no billow's roar;
Safer from touch of spoil,
For that day's fiery toil,
Rose on high hearts, that now with love gush'd o'er. ”

“ Hear my soul's cry from this dread wilderness,
Oh! hear, and pardon me! If I have made
This treasure, sent from thee, too much the ark
Fraught with mine earthward-clinging happiness,
Forgetting Him who gave, and might resume,
Oh, pardon me!
⁠If nature hath rebell'd,
And from thy light turn'd wilfully away,
Making a midnight of her agony,
When the despairing passion of her clasp
Was from its idol stricken at one touch
Of thine Almighty hand—oh, pardon me!
By thy Son's anguish, pardon! In the soul
The tempests and the waves will know thy voice—
Father, say "Peace, be still!" ”

“ And lattice gleaming through the leaves—and thou,
My life's companion!—Thou, beside my hearth,
Sitting with thy meek eyes, or greeting me
Back from brief absence with thy bounding step,
In the green meadow path, or by my side
Kneeling—thy calm uplifted face to mine,
In the sweet hush of prayer! and now—oh! now—
How have we loved—how fervently, how long!
And this to be the close!
Edith.Oh! bear me up
Against the unutterable tenderness
Of earthly love, my God! in the sick hour
Of dying human hope, forsake me not! ”

“ The Water-Lilies, that are serene in the calm clear water, but no less serene among the black and scowling waves.
⁠Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.
⁠Oh! beautiful thou art,
Thou sculpture-like and stately River-Queen!
Crowning the depths, as with the light serene
⁠Of a pure heart.
⁠Bright lily of the wave!
Rising in fearless grace with every swell,
Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave
⁠Dwelt in thy cell:
⁠Lifting alike thy head
Of placid beauty, feminine yet free,
Whether with foam or pictured azure spread
⁠The waters be. ”

“ The cross—the wounds—with other meanings deep,
Which I will teach thee when we meet again
That flower, the chosen for the martyr's wreath,
The Saviour's holy flower.
But let us pause:
Now have we reached the very inmost heart
Of the old wood.—How the green shadows close
Into a rich, clear, summer darkness round,
A luxury of gloom!—Scarce doth one ray,
Even when a soft wind parts the foliage, steal
O'er the bronzed pillars of these deep arcades ”

“ The vale, with its deep fountains, is their choice,
⁠And gentle hearts rejoice
Around their steps; till, silently, they die,
As a stream shrinks from summer's burning eye.
⁠And these—of whose abode,
Midst her green vallies, earth retained no trace,
Save a flower springing from their burial-sod,
A shade of sadness on some kindred face,
⁠A dim and vacant place
In some sweet home;—thou hadst no wreaths for these,
Thou sunny land! with all thy deathless trees!
⁠The peasant at his door
Might sink to die when vintage feasts were spread,
And songs on every wind! ”

“ And wander'd with me into solemn glens,
Where my soul felt the beauty of His word.
I have heard voices of immortal truth,
Blent with the everlasting torrent-sounds
That make the deep hills tremble.—Shall I quail?
Shall England's daughter sink?—No! He who there
Spoke to my heart in silence and in storm,
Will not forsake his child!
Gomez, (turning from her.) Then perish! lost
In thine own blindness!
Edith, (suddenly throwing herself at his feet,)
Father! hear me yet!
Oh! if the kindly touch of human love
Hath ever warmed thy breast——
Gomez.Away—away!
I know not love. ”

“ Break not my heart with thine excess of love!—
Oh! must I lose thee—thou that hast been still
The tenderest—best—
Eugene. Weep, weep not thus, belov'd!
Let my true heart o'er thine retain its power
Of soothing to the last!—Mine own Teresa!
Take strength from strong affection!—Let our souls,
Ere this brief parting, mingle in one strain
Of deep, full thanksgiving, for God's rich boon—
Our perfect love!—Oh ! blessed have we been
In that high gift! Thousands o'er earth may pass
With hearts unfreshen'd by the heavenly dew,
Which hath kept ours from withering.—Kneel, true wife! ”

“ All thy young leaves to spirit lyres might thrill;
⁠But we—should we not bring
⁠Into thy realms of spring
The shadows of our souls to haunt us still?
⁠What could thy flowers and airs
⁠Do for our earth-born cares?
Would the world's chain melt off and leave us free?
⁠No!—past each living stream,
⁠Still would some fever dream
Track the lorn wanderers, meet no more for thee!
⁠Should we not shrink with fear,
⁠If angel steps were near,
Feeling our burdened souls within us die? ”

“ There is a power, a presence in the woods;
A viewless being, that, with life and love,
Informs the reverential solitudes:
The rich air knows it, and the mossy sod—
Thou, thou art here, my God!
And if with awe we tread
The minster floor, beneath the storied pane,
And 'midst the mouldering banners of the dead,
Shall the green voiceful wild seem less thy fane,
Where thou alone hast built?—where arch and roof
Are of thy living woof?
The silence and the sound,
In the lone places, breathe alike of thee ”

“ With the bright wine at nations' feasts, went round!
They of the lyre, whose unforgotten lays
Forth on the winds had sent their mighty sound,
⁠And in all regions found
Their echoes midst the mountains!—and become
In man's deep heart as voices of his home!
⁠They of the daring thought!
During and powerful, yet to dust allied—
Whose flight through stars, and seas, and depths had sought
The soul's far birthplace—but without a guide! ”

“ A warrior guarding some dark pass of dread?
No, a lorn woman!—On her drooping head,
Once proudly graceful, heavy beats the rain;
She recks not—living for the unburied slain,
Only to scare the vulture from their bed.
So, night by night, her vigil hath she kept
With the pale stars, and with the dews hath wept;—
Oh! surely some bright Presence from above
On those wild rocks the lonely one must aid!—
E'en so; a strengthener through all storm and shade,
Th' unconquerable Angel, mightiest Love! ”

“ For the cool breeze, and for the freshening shade,
And the sweet water's tune. The One supreme,
The all-sustaining, ever-present God,
Who dowered the soul with immortality,
Gave also these delights, to cheer on earth
Its fleeting passage; therefore let us greet
Each wandering flower scent as a boon from Him,
Each bird-note, quivering midst light summer leaves,
And every rich celestial tint unnamed,
Wherewith transpierced, the clouds of morn and eve,
Kindle and melt away! ”

“ That passing storms have only fann'd the fire,
Which pierc'd them still with its triumphal spire,
⁠I bless thee, O my God!
Now art thou calling me in every gale,
Each sound and token of the dying day:
Thou leav'st me not, though early life grows pale,
I am not darkly sinking to decay;
But, hour by hour, my soul's dissolving shroud
Melts off to radiance, as a silvery cloud. ”

“ The light, soft pilgrim steps, the votive wreaths
Of years unborn—a place where leaf and flower,
By that which dies not of the sovereign dead,
Shall be made holy things—where every weed
Shall have its portion of th' inspiring gift
From buried glory breath'd. And now, what strain,
Making victorious melody ascend
High above sorrow's dirge, befits the tomb
Where he that sway'd the nations thus is laid—
The crown'd of men? ”

“ To dwell with thee—even thence the oppressor's hand
Might soon have torn us; or the touch of death
Might one day there have left a widowed heart,
Pining along. We will go hence, beloved!
To the bright country, where the wicked cease
From troubling, where the spoiler hath no sway;
Where no harsh voice of worldliness disturbs
The Sabbath-peace of love. We will go hence,
Together with our wedded souls, to Heaven:
No solitary lingering, no cold void,
No dying of the heart! Our lives have been
Lovely through faithful love, and in our deaths
We will not be divided. ”

“ Memories of power and pride, which, long ago,
Like dim processions of a dream, have sunk
In twilight depths away.—Return, my soul!
The cross recalls thee—Lo! the blessed cross!
High o'er the banners and the crests of earth,
Fixed in its meek and still supremacy!
And lo ! the throng of beating human hearts,
With all their secret scrolls of buried grief,
All their full treasures of immortal hope,
Gathered before their God!—Hark! how the flood
Of the rich organ harmony bears up
Their voice on its high waves!—a mighty burst! ”

“ Which living harps the quires of Heaven among
Might well have linked with their divinest chords.
Full many a strain, borne far on glory's blast,
Shall leave, where once its haughty music pass'd,
No more to memory than a reed's faint sigh;
While thine, O childlike virgin! through all time
Shall send its fervent breath o'er every clime,
Being of God, and therefore not to die. ”

“ With quenchless faith, and deep love's fervency;
Gathering, like incense round some dim-veiled shrine,
About the Form, so mournfully divine!
Oh! let thine image, as e'en then it rose,
Live in my soul for ever, calm and clear,
Making itself a temple of repose,
Beyond the breath of human hope or fear!
A holy place, where through all storms may lie
One living beam of day-spring from on high. ”

“ And swell of breathing turf, whose lightsome spring
Their blooms recall.
Lilian, (raising herself.) Is that my Jessy's voice?
It woke me not, sweet mother! I had lain
Silently, visited by waking dreams,
Yet conscious of thy brooding watchfulness,
Long ere I heard the sound. Hath she brought flowers?
Nay, fear not now thy fond child's waywardness,
My thoughtful mother!—in her chasten'd soul
The passion-colour'd images of life,
Which, with their sudden startling flush awoke
So oft those burning tears, have died away ”

“ Which the blasts call forth with their harping wings
From gulfs of tossing foliage there is blent:
And the old minster—forest-like itself—
With its long avenues of pillared shade,
Seems quivering all with spirit, as that strain
O'erflows its dim recesses, leaving not
One tomb unthrilled by the strong sympathy
Answering the electric notes.—Join, join, my soul!
In thine own lowly, trembling consciousness,
And thine own solitude, the glorious hymn.
Rise like an altar-fire! ”

“ Save or we perish! we would pour our lives
Forth as a joyous offering to thy truth,
But we are weak—we, the bruised reeds of earth,
Are sway'd by every gust. Forgive, O God!
The blindness of our passionate desires,
The fainting of our hearts, the lingering thoughts,
Which cleave to dust! Forgive the strife; accept
The sacrifice, though dim with mortal tears,
From mortal pangs wrung forth! And if our souls,
In all the fervent dreams, the fond excess.
Of their long-clasping love, have wander'd not. ”

“ Where it should make eternal truth its mate,
May cheer the sacred solitary way?
Oh! be the whisper of thy voice within
Enough to strengthen! Be the hope to win
A more deep-seeing homage for thy name,
Far, far beyond the burning dream of fame!
Make me thine only!—Let me add but one
To those refulgent steps all undefiled,
Which glorious minds have piled
Thro' bright self-offering, earnest, child-like, lone,
For mounting to thy throne! ”

“ Thy woman's heart of silent worship brought,
But a fresh childhood, heavenly truth to meet,
With love, and wonder, and submissive thought.
Oh! for the holy quiet of thy breast,
Midst the world's eager tones and footsteps flying! ”

“ To fill and hallow all the solitude,
Makes consecrated earth where'er we move,
Without the aid of shrines.
What! dost thou feel
The solemn whispering influence of the scene
Oppressing thy young heart, that thou dost draw
More closely to my side, and clasp my hand
Faster in thine? Nay, fear not, gentle child!
'Tis love, not fear, whose vernal breath pervades
The stillness round. ”

“ Invokes the coming of bright birds from shore,
To waft him tidings, with the gentler breeze,
Of dim sweet woods that hear no billows roar;
So from the depth of days, when earth yet wore
Her solemn beauty and primeval dew,
I call you, gracious Forms! Oh! come, restore
Awhile that holy freshness, and renew
Life's morning dreams. ”

“ 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
Unwarn'd of that sweet oracle divine. ”

“ In this hour of grief's deep sighing,
When o'erwearied hope is dying!
⁠Hear and aid!
Yet, oh! make him thine, all thine,
Saviour! whether Death's or mine!
Yet, oh! pour on human love,
Strength, trust, patience, from above! ”

“ Of my soul's lyre, the tempest's mighty wings
Have struck forth tones which then awaken'd lay;
Now, that around the deep life of my mind,
Affections, deathless as itself, have twined,
Oft does the pale bright vision still float by ”

“ Of streams, that make the green land where they shine
Laugh to the light of waters—not for these,
Nor the soft shadow of ancestral trees,
Whose kindly whisper floats o'er thee and thine—
Oh! not for these I call thee richly blest,
But for the meekness of thy woman's breast,
Where that sweet depth of still contentment lies ”

“ As thou hast lived—my duteous, holy Blanche!
In trusting and serene submissiveness,
Humble, yet full of Heaven.
Blanche, (rising.) Now is there strength
Infused through all my spirit.—I can rise
And say, "Thy will be done!" ”

“ Hath, 'midst the flowery sods, been pillowed here
Without a hope, (howe'er the heart hath bled
In its vain yearnings o'er the unconscious bier,)
A hope, upspringing clear
From those majestic tidings of the morn,
Which lit the living way to all of woman born.
Thou hast wept mournfully, O human love! ”

“ In the still night!
Yes, e'er I sink to rest,
By the fire's dying light,
Thou Lord of Earth and Heaven!
I bless thee, who hast given
Unto life's fainting travellers, the night,
The soft, still, holy night! ”

“ Hath to his Master passed.—He waits thee there—
For love, we trust, springs heavenward from the grave,
Immortal in its holiness.—He calls
His brother to the land of golden light,
And ever-living fountains—couldst thou hear
His voice o'er those bright waters, it would say,
"My brother! oh! be pure, be merciful! ”

“ Is all of love and suffering from her birth;
Still hath your act a voice—through fear, through strife,
Bidding her bind each tendril of her life,
To that which her deep soul hath prov'd of holiest worth. ”

“ Few, and sad, and shrouded;
Faith our light must be,
When all else is clouded.
Thou, whose voice came thrilling,
Wind and billow stilling,
Speak once more! our prayer fulfilling—
Power dwells with Thee! ”