J. C. Manning

“ With a tongue that would injure—a heart that would hate!
True wisdom is blest with a nobler dower:
In another year it may be too late.
Christmas is coming! The wealthy will sit
In purple, fine linen, and sumptuous state;
'Twere well in their plenty they should not forget
The poor that stand meek at the outer gate.
For who can foreshadow the changes of life?
See! yesterday's King is an outcast to-day;
Success comes in time to the strong in the strife;
And Fortune's a game at which paupers can play. ”

“ Sons dutiful and true; no speck to mar
The noble grandeur of a proud career;
Yet, from the rays that flickered o'er his path,
Sent for his good, he wove the lightning shaft
That seared his heart, e'en as the stalwart oak,
Soaring in pride of pow'r, falls 'neath the flash,
And lies a prostrate wreck. Like one of old,
Who, wrestling with the orb whose far-off light
Gave beauty to his waxen wings, upsoared
Where angels dared not go, came to his doom,
And fell a molten mass; so, tempting Heaven,
Saul died the death of disobedient Pride
And self-willed Folly—curses of mankind! ”

“ With flow'rs each fissure Circumstance had formed,
And, by its touch, like snows by sunsets warmed,
Each rigid thought was softened rosily.
Her's was the heart, by noblest impulse moved,
That beat with earnest fondness all divine;
That filled life's cup of joy with rarest wine,
For those who proudly felt they were beloved.
But soft! God's edict 'twas, that, from above,
Laden with anguish, came with cruel blow.
'Twas Heaven's gain: the grief those only know
Who lost her just as they had learnt to love. ”

“ She pleadeth no more.
LOVE WALKS WITH HUMANITY YET. Though toilers for gold stain their souls in a strife
That enslaves them to Avarice grim,
Though Tyranny's hand fills the wine cup of life
With gall, surging over the brim;
Though Might in dark hatefulness reigns for a time,
And Right by Wrong's frownings be met;
Love lives—a guest-angel from heaven's far clime,
And walks with humanity yet.
And still the world, Balaam-like, blind as the night,
Sees not the fair seraph stand by
That beckons it onward to Morning and Light,
Lark-like, from the sod to the sky ”

“ Upon his brow the stately monarch wore
The crown of all the tribes of Israel,
A-fire with jewels flashing in the sun
In bitter mockery of his trampled heart.
Noble in mien, yet, with a sorrowing soul,
Anxious his gaze—for in the sweltering surge
Three sons of Saul were battling with the rest;
His first-born, Jonathan; Abinadab;
And Melchi-shua—idols of his life!
Around him like a hurricane of hail
The pinioned shafts with aim unerring sped,
Bearing dark death upon their feathery wings.
The clashing sword its dismal carnage made
As foe met foe ”

“ As light is worshipped by the voiceless flower.
DISRAELI. O'er the Present proudly striding
Like Colossus o'er the wave,
And a beacon-light high holding,
While the tempests loudly rave:
Laying bare in truthful teaching
Treach'rous breakers round the bay,
That the good old barque of England
May in safety sail away:
Though the tongue of fiercest Faction
In its Folly may deride,
Still he stands in lofty learning
Like a giant o'er the tide,
While the murmuring wavelets passing
Far beneath his kingly hand,
Looking upward, blindly babble
Where they cannot understand. ”

“ That flashes from its face;
A land where cloud-kissed mountains are,
And green and flowery vales,
Where Poesy lingers like a star:
That land is sunny Wales.
Wales, the wild—the beautiful,
The beautiful—the free;
My heart and hand are thine, O land
Of magic minstrelsy.
And in this mystic land of mine
What dainty maids there be,
Whose faces shine with love divine,
Like sunlight on the sea.
The boasted fair of other climes
That live in songs and tales
Will never be more fair to me
Than those of sunny Wales.
Wales, the wild—the beautiful,
The beautiful—the free ”

“ Where a Czar bade defiance—a Somerset bled.
Long the foremost in loyalty, forum, and field;
Where the sword wins renown or where politics grace:
Always first to be doing—the latest to yield:
All these are the virtues, the pride of thy race.
In the face of thy life like a mirror we see
All the lives of true Englishmen shaped as thine own,
For the tastes and pursuits which form nature in thee
Are the food from whose sustenance Britons have grown.
When Philanthropy leads, in its fights for the Poor,
No sincerer heart follows more keenly than thine ”

“ Tow'rds Israel's crown, exclaimed: "See what the Lord
Hath done for thee!" But Saul upon the throne
Grew sorely dazed. Though brave the heart, the brain
Swam in an ecstasy of wildering light—
A helmless boat upon a troubled sea.
Men nursed in gloom can rarely brook the sun;
And many a life to sombre paths inured
The sunshine of Prosperity hath quenched,
As dewdrops glistening on the lowly sward
Like priceless jewels ere the morning breaks,
Melt into space when light and heat abound,
As though they ne'er had been. Relentless fate! ”

“ With a soul like a rosebud that's not yet unfurled—
All strange to the tricks and the ways of the world;
And a mind that would blush at its fanciful roam,
Should it dream there are spheres more delightful than home,
With a love that would love thee alone for thy sake
In bonds which adversity never could break.
Should'st thou find such a treasure—then unlock thy heart,
And place the bright gem in its innermost part;
Watch over it tenderly—love it with pride;
And gratefully crown it thy heaven-sent bride.
SLEEPING IN THE SNOW. (FOR MUSIC.) "O, let me slumber—let me sleep!" ”

“ Aghast the faithful armour-bearer stood.
"O, mighty King! I die with thee!" he said,
And, falling on his sword, the blood of both
Commingled, as from ghastly wounds it ran
In trickling streamlets down Mount Gilboa's side. (i)
As ebbs and flows the sea with troubled throb
'Twixt shore and shore, or as the thistle-down
Halts in the eddies of the summer wind
In trembling doubt, so do the flickering souls
Of dying men float fearingly between
The earth and unseen worlds that lie beyond.
So hung the life of Saul, whose bitter cup,
Still at his lips, contained its bitterest dregs. ”

“ Moaning in utter anguish—"Let me die!"
'Twas Saul the Anointed—Israel's fallen King:
Crushed 'neath the hand of an offended God!
"Lo!" cried the King, and raised his tearful eyes,
"The Philistines are near, pierce thou my breast!"
And, turning round, his kingly breast he bared,
Bidding his armour-bearer thrust his sword
Hilt-deep into his heart. "Better to die
"By friendly hand," he cried, "than owe my death
"To yonder hated victors. Quick! Thy sword! ”

“ With life so hopeful of pure delight,
Away from the world to be rudely torn!
To be rudely torn in the tender hour,
In the tender hour when her heart was young;
While the virgin dew on the opening flower
With a trembling joy like a jewel hung.
Ere the budding soul, so sweetly shy,
Had opened its core to the coming kiss
Of an earthly love that was born to die
Ere it filled her heart with its hallowed bliss.
So down in the churchyard old and green,
In the churchyard green where the yew-tree waves,
A dark little mound of earth is seen—
One billow more to the sea of graves. ”

“ More telling than the language of the tongue;
Its heart reflecting Heaven's own radiance
In unmarred beauty as it glides along.
Ever the silent river flows:
And in its depths, of untold wealth the source,
What sleeping myst'ries, hidden and serene,
Lie in their latent, undevelopt force;
Yet on it moves as though it ne'er had been.
Ever the silent river flows:
No shadowy nook escapes its placid glance;
Tow'rds cavern dark with velvet step it steals ”

“ Winter sad throws gloom around me:
Sweet! thou smil'st up in my face;
Spring arrives with flowery treasures,
Summer skips by, sun-caressed;
Yet thou, envying not their pleasures,
Bloom'st upon my rugged breast.
Time wings on: my strength is fleeing,
And my leafy beauties too;
Still thou cling'st around my being,
Changeless—ever true.
Though my limbs grow old and weary,
Trembling in the wintry air;
And my life be dark and dreary—
Still I feel that thou art near;
Stripped of all my blossoms golden,
'Reft of stalwart forest pride—
Sere and sallow, leafless, olden ”

“ Rises from hearts that seek but ne'er will find:
Save one more billow on the sea of graves;
One joyaunt voice the fewer in life's throng;
One hand the less to help the world along;
One Hero more 'mongst earth's departed Braves.
For who that in life's battle-field could fight
As he has fought, whose painless victories
Transcended war's heroic chivalries,
Could in his country's heart claim nobler height?
None may the niche of glory haplier grace,
None may the crown of greatness proudlier wear,
Than he upon whose tomb the silent tear
Falls slowly down from many a drooping face. ”

“ So when you do a kindly thing, be sure you hold your tongue.
Hold your tongue—hold your tongue: you'll ne'er be thought a dunce:
Hold your tongue and think twice before you loose it once:
Hold your tongue—for quiet folks are oft reputed wise:
Hold your tongue, but open wide your ears and your eyes.
Yes: hold your tongue, except in life when days of sorrow come;
Then speak to raise a drooping heart, or cheer a darksome home.
If none of these—let silence be the burden of your song:
He holds his own, nor hurts his friend, who learns to hold his tongue.
Hold your tongue—hold your tongue ”

“ Scathless and beauteous midst th' incongruous mass
Of desolated hearts and stricken souls,
And spirits faintful 'neath a world of woe,
And dusky millions in the mine of life;
And all the rank corruption of the earth—
Its weeds, its thorns, its sadness-breeding hate;
Its selfishness, its swallow-pinioned friends;
Its rottenness of core and lack of truth:
When all have changed, save Nature and itself,
This Heaven-sent flow'r of Eden—peerless love—
Shall blossom in Evangel purity,
And sanctify a host to people Heaven.
VALUE OF ADVERSITY. Friction with sorrow rubs perception keen ”

“ ON THE WELSH LANGUAGE. A language to love—when our tongues in love speak it;
A language to hate—when 'tis spoken by fools;
A language to live—when the pure in life seek it,
A language to die—when the lying tongue rules;
A blessing—when blessings lead men to enjoy it ”

“ The grave 'neath its glance a bright blossom-robe wears,
As the Night smiles when Morn dances by.
The rich mellow sunshine that kisses the earth,
The flow'rs that laugh up from the sod,
The song-birds that psalm out their jubilant mirth
Heart-rapt in the presence of God,
The sweet purling brooklet, with voice soft and low,
The sea-shouts, like peals from above,
The sky-kissing mountains, the valleys below,
All tell us to live and to love. ”

“ Two orbs of beauty light its face divine:
And o'er its cheeks a dainty red runs rife,
Like languid lilies flusht with rosy wine.
Its velvet touch doth soothe where dwells a pain;
Its glance doth angelize each angry thought;
And, like a rainbow-picture in the rain,
Where tears fall thick its voice is comfort-fraught.
How like a seraph bright it threads along
Each room erewhile so desolate and dark,
Waking their slumbering echoes into song
As laughs the Morn when uproused by the lark.
Methinks a home doth wear its heavenliest light
When haunted by so good, so fair a sprite. ”

“ And Samuel said, "The Lord sent thee, and said go and utterly destroy the sinners, the Amalekites. Wherefore didst thou not obey the voice of the Lord, but didst fly upon the spoil?" And Saul said unto Samuel, "The people took of the spoil, sheep and oxen, to sacrifice unto the Lord thy God at Gilgal." And Samuel said, "Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams. ”

“ And the snowdrops and violets, waking from sleep,
Look forth at the dawning day.
Down by the brooklet—by murmuring rills,
By rivers that glide along;
Where the lark in the heavens melodiously trills,
And the air the wild blossom with perfume fills,
The shimmering leaves among.
Through the still valley; along by the pool,
Where the daffodil's bosom of gold
So shyly expands to the breezes cool
As they murmur, like children coming from school,
In whisperings over the wold. ”