James Avis Bartley

“ And thou ridest the tempest that rends earth and heaven;
On the lawn gemm'd with dew, 'mid the forest in green,
On the mountains' huge brows, in the valleys between,
In the blue rolling ocean, in sky, earth and air—
Thy spiritual loveliness broods every where,
Thou quaffest morn's tears in a chalice of light,
And thy form in the splendor of Phoebus flames bright;
Thou kissest the rose-bud so fay-like and fair,
And the lightnings thou wreathest in thy dark-streaming hair!
Thy melody trills in the silver rill's flow,
And it roars in the earthquake that thunders below ”

“ From upland, slope and plain;
And Autumn, crowned with shocks of hay,
Appears in joy again.
Old, jolly Autumn! happy man!
Wild tumbling on the meads;
We'll love thee, Autumn, as we can,
Thy glory is our needs.
Thou heapest our barns with plenty—thou
Art, sure our faithful friend; {73}
And, in the aspect of thy brow,
Lovely and useful blend.
Thy golden hues recede at length,
And seem to sigh decay,
Till, thou, despoiled of life and strength,
Art borne, a corpse, away.
Wild, bleak, and blustering Winter wild,
Assumes the icy throne;
Deep snows upon the earth are piled,
And hushed is every tone. ”

“ And, with a soft and pleasing bliss,
She past into my heart.
Then Beauty came supreme o'er all,
A Heaven-anointed queen;
But modest Goodness walked behind,
With mild yet winning mien.
Then I returned to dream and sing
Through many a pleasant hour,
Of all that evening's loveliness,
And beauty's matchless power.
{133} THERE IS A GOD.
The azure vault so far above,
Arrayed in smiles of peace and love,
Would sweetly seem the truth to prove—
"There is a God."
The blooming earth so glad below—
The fragrant flowers—the streams that flow—
The tuneful birds—would bid us know,
"There is a God." ”

“ Not even her slaves, a tear above her, dead—
That Virtue lives—the rainbow child of heaven,
And holds the balance in these centuries even?
The Golden Age! the words are still the same,—
The meaning once man's glory—now his shame.
Hail thou new Golden Age! O heavenly Age!
Mankind sustains thee with a noble rage:
All, all unite to gild thee with some rays
Of gathered light—themselves with shining praise.
See! how they rush, and leave sweet childhood's home,
The serf his hut, the lordly man his dome,
Forsakes, with callous heart, each hallow'd scene,
The oft frequented tree, the shady green ”

“ She springs—she flings her fair, etherial form
Upon his breast, which once, with love, was warm—
But now curst love of gold has surely chilled,
The heart that once her love so wildly thrilled.
Her long, fair locks, distracted, stream below,
Her gushing tears like wintry torrents, flow:
Her Herbert steels his heart against their power,—
The ship that wafts him sails, ere morning's hour.
At length he hails the longed for, distant shore;
The perils of the deep, at least, are o'er,
No fell disease has struck, with vengeful power,
His form to earth, to this protracted hour. ”

“ Which now remains to me in this sad world.
Thou bad'st me sing a song of thee, and said'st,
That I should make thee to my dreamy thought,
Whoe'er I would, and I will make thee be,
A fair and gentle friend—a lovely one—
Ah yes, the nearest, tenderest of all friends.
Sweet Mary, dost thou read my thought?
Who will be all in all to me on earth,
Sheathing my soul against the edge of pain,
Even till I seem to dwell in paradise,
With thee my Eve, and we may need no fall. ”

“ By worms is first consumed; the pearl we love
Is stolen first, the star that brightest glows
To gild the gloom, is first that sets, and those
Whose lovely lives on earth we prized the most,
And most assuaged the pangs of thronging woes,
Which—oh how oft! our fated paths have cross'd,
By all are ever mourned, "the loved and early lost."
So Rolfe's dear spouse was early snatched away,—
But left one pledge of her undying love—
(Perchance her happy spirit oft would stray
Round their dear footsteps wheresoe'er they rove)
And Europe's turf grow green her heart above. ”

“ One song of love to that bright God above.
Oft I have heard that larks, in England's realm,
Fly from the earth, at morning's golden blush,
And fill the whole bright arch with golden songs?
And I have reasoned they sung only love,
Which teaches them that strangest melody,
Which they soar nearest heaven to warble out.
Oft have I seen the beams that leave the sun,
Embrace within the clouds, with shining arms—
And form a splendid arch in earth and heaven,
Which shines eternal covenant of Love—
Toward which our hearts forever mount and sing,
As skylarks mount and sing to morning's flash. ”

“ And Summer fair, unceasing own,
"There is a God."
The mountains high, and dark, and vast—
The thunder's roar—the howling blast—
The lightnings springing thick and fast,
Amid the gloom,
That wraps the Earth, and Sea, and Sky—
The Storm-fiend's wild, terrific cry—
The Earth-quake's shock—proclaim on high,
"An awful God!" {134}
But oh! that awful God above,
Is yet a gracious God of love—
A bleeding Lamb—a wounded Dove—
The sinner's God.
Poor sinner! love His holy name,
And when this world shall pass in flame
A heavenly mansion thou mayst claim,
To dwell with God. ”

“ The spirit flies, to visit earth no more,
A transient light breads on his wildest brain,
His bosom speaks in this lamenting strain!
"Ah! damning love of gold, which sees me here,
And made me leave an aged mother dear.
Now Heaven, how just! repays my guilty deed!
No mother soothes me in my sorest need.
Yet if kind Heaven will prize that mother's prayer,
Which, incense-like, now rises through the air;
I build my faith—that my last breath will ope
The gate of bliss to my believing hope."
Far mid yon vastest woods, behold a swain.
If small his joy, small is his spirit's pain. ”

“ I roamed o'er the mountains, forgetful, afar,
'Neath the light of the beautiful Evening Star.
Like the light of that star—like a splendor on high—
Like a Heavenly Dream that was born in the sky—
Bright Poesy burst on my pathway even there,
And a rainbow of Beauty encircled the air.
Ah! she shone with a brilliance more dazzling and strong,
Than e'er to a child of the earth could belong;
And her pinions that waved through the rose-scented air,
Had a tint that was brighter than thought can declare. ”

“ With ever smiling brow:
No sin-created gloom is thine,
Nought dims thy beauty now.
Wide earth, stream, river, lake and sea, {72}
Shine forth an angel land,
Where spirits, robed in purity,
Roam, love-linked, hand in hand.
Now June, like full-blown womanhood,
Succeeds the maiden spring,
And broods upon the solitude,
With broad and bird-like wing.
The air re-echoes forth a song
Of full and perfect bliss,
Where happy lovers roam along,
And melt into a kiss.
But Summer bursts upon the world,
With views of waving grain,
Beneath the sweating sickle hurled,
Upon the fragrant plain. ”

“ As they ne'er sang before;
And love lay o'er the world away,
A robe of golden ore.
And now, we live in Elfindale,
Dear Frank and I together;
And there is light on this sweet dale,
In calm, or stormy weather.
A fairy daughter leaps between
Our nightly moving paces;
Upon whose soft and marble brow,
Gleam many artless graces.
We dwell, we dwell, in Elfindale—
I—child—and happy mother;
And, if earth holds a sweeter vale,
We cannot wish another.
Life has been arched with bluer skies,
By curved rainbows brighter;
And nature—ah! ”

“ Will know thy face upon the etherial plain,
At rosy even.
The night will mourn thine absence ever more,
With dewy tears,
And, the bright day, will, dimmer now, deplore,
The darkened years.
Our wandering eyes will search for thee in vain,
And we shall sigh
That thy high beauty could not conquer pain,
The doom to die.
Earth scarce had mourned some lesser beauty—thou,
Celestial maid!
Mid all didst wear a so unearthly brow,
And thou—decayed!
The beauteous thought of thee which, ray-like, slept,
In our pure love,
Became a memory which we have kept
To grieve above. ”

“ And beasts howl out for terror and men start up from dreams.
Oh! 'tis a dreadful scene to-night, the dreadest e'er we saw,
The hardest heart that beateth now, in watery fear will thaw.
But lo! 'twas but a moment, like a wayward Beauty's wrath,
And the moon resumes in heaven, see! her all serener path—
And the clouds receding slowly rest upon the horizon round,
And the katydids and waters make the only living sound.
'Tis yet a night of loveliness, and fondly we may deem,
That Heaven and Earth are resting in the beauty of a Dream. ”

“ And welcomes there the pilgrim's love?
A stranger to his native soil,
Stands sentinel his grave above.
Virginia! oh! retrieve thy name,
No longer scorn thy source of pride;
Pay double tribute to their fame,
Whose shades so long in vain have sighed.
Rear monuments to tell the world,
The virtues of departed worth,
Till yonder sun in night be hurled,
The glorious heritage of earth.
Then through the ages that succeed,
The hearts shall come from every shore,
To worship where their relics lie,
Whose glorious fame can die no more. ”

“ A sky of purest blue—a golden sea
Beneath—earth bright with lovely hues like Heaven.
Yon orb of fire suspended o'er that sea
Of molten gold, burns like a throne in Heaven.
His foaming, flashing radiance, floods earth—sky—
And throbbing sea, till each lies bathed in glory,
Which seems the break of a celestial morn.
That scene has passed. Another charms
The gaze. The mighty orb of blazing flame,
Has run a curve of brightness o'er the sky,
And presently will cut the Western main,
With its bright rim. We stand upon an isle,
One of the Hesperian, in the unknown seas,
Toward the setting sun. ”

“ Her brow was decked with golden curls,
Her laugh was wild and gay:
And spotless as a ray of heaven,
Young love within her lay.
The rose which decked the fairy vale,
Near by our rural town,
Showed not a deeper tint of blood,
Than dyed her cheeks of down,
And innocence like that of heaven,
Her fair, young head did crown.
Oh Lilly May! Oh! Lilly May!
My heart was all thine own,
Earth ne'er gave me a sweeter sound,
Than thy low, loving tone ”

“ In Heaven and Earth 'tis but beauty and love;
With harmony dancing—a scene like a dream,
When Heaven comes down on the spirit to beam!
Oh the water! the water! man, quaff its bright flow;
It will gladden thy spirit, but give thee no woe:
As it fresh'neth the world, so its rills will impart
Health, gladness, and sweetness and joy to thy heart.
But oh, the foul demons (horrific to tell)
Have mixed a fierce poison, the wild flame of hell;
And it killeth each fairest and loveliest thing
That the earth ever knew in her bridal of Spring. {141}
'Tis the wild stream of hell! ”

“ Thou hast a deep magic that never can die,
'Till 'neath the green valley, we endlessly lie.
{199} LOVE SONG.
I love thee, oh! I love thee,
As the sweet bee loves the flower,
As the swallow loves the summer,
As the humming bird the bower;
As the petrel loves the ocean,
As the nightingale the night;
I love, I love thee, dearest!
Thou being good and bright.
I love thee, oh! I love thee,
There's nothing on this earth,
Can feel a deeper fondness,
A flame of purer worth;
The eagle loves its offspring,
Most faithful is the dove;
But thou! thy smallest ringlet,
Has more from me than love. ”

“ This hour when beauty wears her richest dye,
And love o'erflows charmed ocean, earth and sky;
Till fancy, dreaming in her lovely bower,
Hears far off strains of deep, o'erwhelming power,
And, lifting up her pensive orbs above,
Spies Angels winging through yon vault of love,
And says that "they are wafting souls forgiven
On their bright pinions, to yon nameless Heaven."
On such an eve, so peaceful and so bright,
Two loved ones flee beyond yon failing light,
No more to droop within this gloomy world,
Their angel pinions next God's throne were furled ”

“ Its branches wrought at noon a gloom;
Her form was bright with beauty's hues,
Which each propitious year renews;
And, as within its bosom lay,
Treasures which mocked the sun's bright ray;
In her rich soul shone wealth to shame,
That tropic sun's meridian flame.
She stood a lovely being fraught,
With that most dear to human thought,
The power to love, to force the bliss
Of heaven, to such a world as this. ”

“ Which Nature chants, ne'er wearying, to her God;
The planetary paeans, borne along
Through God's high vault, descend upon a clod.
Oh fool of fools, and wretched man is he,
Who breathes his life in this untutored state;
And, in that world to come, how dread will be
His startled soul's at last awakened fate.
But, unto him, whose scales have fallen away,
Whose deafness has been healed by Love Divine;
A flood of music gushes in foraye,
And all God's works, with deathless lustre, shine.
The diamond hath a beam that, conquering, vies ”

“ On fleetest pinions I have come,
To meet thee mid this richest bloom,
Thy Inca father's garden flowers,
Whose odors fall like balmy showers;
But, of them all, thou art the flower
Who hast the most delightful power,
And of the wondrous birds that sing
Amid this garden's blooming spring;
Thou art the loveliest; and thy voice
Most meet to bid my soul rejoice."
Iola spoke not in reply;
But gazed on him with vacant eye:
Still was she silent as the grave,
O'er those we love but could not save ”

“ In star-like beauty there.
{128} THE ENCHANTED REALM OF JOY.
Oh! I am sick of the ennui that comes of the earth,
All tasteless its landscapes—and charmless its mirth.
Away, swift away, on a pinion, as sprite,
I will speed to a kingdom not day and not night:
Where a spell of enchantment as soft as a dream,
Moves over the mountain, the valley, and stream;
And the bird and the rill with a sleep-bringing rhyme,
Soothe the gliding away of the current of time.
Away, swift away to this dream-world of bliss—
From a place all so tiresome and tasteless as this. ”

“ His soul is safe, though earth's foundations rock.
The Omnipotent yet liveth! He will bear
The humble soul, on His parental breast;
And, when the last great throe the sky shall tear,
This soul upon His arm shall surely rest. TO P.S. WHITE.
What is the gilded chaplet worth,
That decks a conqueror's brow?
There is no conqueror on earth
Of nobler kind, than thou,
For bloodless victories are thine,
Whose splendor never shall decline. ”

“ Would show such love to her loved father's foes;
But love like this, will act no selfish part;
Over drear earth, diffusing joy, it goes,
Its breath the fragrance of the earliest rose,
Its voice the sound of an unearthly thing,
Its form an Angel's, and as pure as those,
Who come to gladdened man on shining wing,
Which scatters round the sweets of an immortal spring. ”

“ Love drew her tears, like showers of pearly dew,
Love filled her passionate breast with tender grief
And love still drinks her soul, and naught can give relief.
She decks her long, black hair with gayest flowers
And tries each girlish art to warm his breast,
And, straying oft, among the leafy bowers,
Whilst Luna's silvery smiles upon them rest,
And Earth sleeps deeply, in that beauty drest,
The lonely Muckawiss [B] , with doleful strain,
Pities her fate—alas, she is not blest,
But hopes and doubts, and dares to hope again,
That Smith may love, and ne'er is free from love's soft pain. ”