T. J. Terrington

“ Not one
But felt the mind o’erflowing with rich thoughts,
And stirred with deeper feelings. But on earth
Pure joy can never reign, whilst death can part
The loved and the beloved. And as around
That smiling family the Father glanced,
And saw one vacant chair, a tear bedimmed
His eye for his lost daughter. On the brow
Of her fond Mother, resignation sat
In peaceful calm, that gave a purer tone
To every word and look. The lively band
Of sisters and of brothers, though the heart
In youthful freshness hath a buoyant spring,
Amid their songs and merry laughter, shewed
Their spirits dwelt on Edith. ”

“ Since then have we known the bright pleasures of living,
That purest delight of heart beating with heart;
When thoughts and affections, deep feelings, emotions
In varied succession high rapture impart.
Of all the rich boons that to mortals are given,
With wreaths of pure pleasure their brows to entwine;
Ah! none can be dearer, more breathing of heaven
Than the joy of true love in “for ever I’m thine!”
Here will we leave this soul-devoted pair,
Their wedded days in happiness to spend;
Nor bid again to vanish into air
Visions and fancies that the muse hath penned ”

“ I would not have a poet’s praise,
Though sounded loudly through the earth,
If serpent-vice lurked in my lays
Or impious thoughts attained a birth.
Ah! who can touch the poet’s lyre,
And not its sounds his breast inflame,
With glowing, ardent, fond desire,
To gain the lasting meed of fame?
My hand has strayed amid its chords!
Oh could I from its strings ring forth
Some passioned lay, whose deathless words
The distant times might deem of worth!
Some feeling song to touch the heart,
To prompt to virtue—teach to live,
Religion’s sweetest truths impart,
And hope beyond the grave to give. ”

“ One spring hath passed
On its gay flowery path, since earth received,
When twenty summers had adorned her brow,
Her mortal vestments, and the spirit fled
To the bright regions of immortal life.
The first-born bears his father’s honoured name;
Matilda, Alfred, Eva, and Lucrece,
Mark out the rest, and each one duly shares
In nature’s gift of beauty. Mind and form
Are of the highest, and amidst them all
Great likeness and great difference prevails,
Giving a oneness with variety,
Like forest trees of diverse branch and leaf,
Or sweet flowers intermixed in form and hue. ”

“ Vast forests where no light is gleaming;
Lone pathless wilds untrod by men,
Quick lightning o’er vexed ocean streaming,
Dark nights when no clear star is beaming,
Arouse the soul’s sublimest strain.
Each acting on the mental frame,
That intellect which God has given,
Enkindle poesy’s bright flame,
Whose warmth o’er thought and feeling driven
In numbers flows; thus drawn from heaven
Are thoughts that gain the poet’s fame!
Song—Young Spring.
Young Spring he was a rosy boy,
And loved light skies and breezes;
Sweet, calm and tranquil in his joy,
Like one whom each thing pleases. ”

“ To be a child like you.
Once was I young as thee, love,
And played as thou dost now;
With heart as light and joyous,
Such gladness on my brow. [162]
I culled young flowers as gaily,
And bound them in a wreath;
But soon their hues so lovely
All withered into death.
And like that beauty fading,
Have hopes and joys decayed;
Bright visions fled for ever,
And heart-trust been betrayed.
Thus will thy young heart suffer
Amid the wrestling strife
Of grief, pain, tears and sorrow,
That wait on human life. ”

“ And every virtue bright, the world was taught by thee!
Sonnet to Harriet Beecher Stowe.
O Lady! heiress to a living fame,
Most loving, pious, pure, and true of heart,
Whose mighty pen hath made the whole world start
Aghast and wond’ring that the blighting shame
Of slavery should blot the earth; and claim
Her advocates in men, who to the mart
Drag on their fellows, groning ’neath the smart
Of blasted hopes, divided loves, and aim
Their manhood to crush out, and bow them down
Like soul-less brutes by torture and the lash!
Oh! noble is thine end! ”

“ May in bright fiction to the mind display
The power of constant truth, to triumph o’er
The ills of life in all their dire array,
And how that virtue pure speeds conquering on its way. [68]
But thus to sing my soul must be subdued
To softest tenderness and gentle thought,
And every feeling dissonant and rude
To full and perfect harmony be brought;
Whilst richest colours, from gay fancy caught,
Must paint the whole, and with their light illume
Well-chosen words, though seemingly unsought,
That run in cheerful music, and assume
Rich melodies of verse,—like breezes o’er spring’s bloom. ”

“ Some fond remembrance, some delighted thought
To link their hearts. Oft in this hushed repose
Of mutual confidence their feelings caught
The poet’s sacred fire, and thus in songs were wrought—
Canzonet.
How sweet, how delightful it is to remember
Our first happy days when affection began,
And Love, the gay truant, the roguish dissembler,
Seemed sporting as lightly as spring breezes fan.
But soon that designer in strong finks had caught us,
And smiled at our bondage ere we were aware
Of the pleasing deception, the mischief he wrought us,
In mingling together rich joy and deep care. ”

“ Enthroned in every heart. Then life shall run
In one pure current, as a crystal stream,
And every deed in excellence shall shine
Like stars of heaven. A bond of holy love
Shall make a glorious brotherhood of man,
And heaven-descended charity shall link
The nations into one. Then holy joy
Shall elevate each heart, the song of praise
Burst gladly from each lip, and men shall lift
Their voice in anthems, whose ascending notes
Shall fill the skies with harmony sublime.
Oh! that the bright and happy hour were come
When earth exulting shall behold the reign
Of Christ the great Messiah! ”

“ The richest beauty glows;
And light and shade are mingling
In calmness and repose.
Whilst thus sublimely roving
The mountain’s lofty brow,
We hear the calm sea murmur
Amid the rocks below.
Around the thyme and heather,
Bloom fragrant, fresh and fair,
And health and joy seem floating
Upon the breezy air.
The insect’s happy murmur,
The wild bird’s rapid flight,
The distant vessel gliding,
All give the heart delight! [132]
From scenes so rife with beauty,
Sweet thoughts of gladness rise
All calm and pure and peaceful,
Like dreams of paradise. ”

“ The harmony of truth, or proud looks mar
Its beauty to the hearer. Like to one
Who, mid spring sunshine, sows prolific seed,
He gently scatters round improving thoughts,
And leaves the soil to raise them into life
According to its nature. Thus he wins
The love of all, and the unfeigned esteem;
For those whose maxims are opposed to his
Respect his firm opinion; held they see
In deep sincerity; with deference due
And fit regard to independent thought,
And moral freedom in all other minds.
’Tis not alone amid the villagers
This influence beneficent hath wrought
With elevating power. ”

“ Scarce a star
Can shew its beam amid the purple sky
So rich her bright rays spread. The frosty air,
Sharp, keen, and subtle, hath a delicate haze
That beautifies all objects, giving them
A softer aspect, a more lovely hue,
A spirit-like appearance. On the trees,
Leafless and verdureless, a foliage lies
Of splendid whiteness. A strange stillness holds [93]
Their forms gigantic, and their stretching boughs,
As if they slumbered in the midnight air.
Short shadows cast they on the even ground,
Night’s silver regent hath her throne so nigh
The summit of heaven’s arch. ”

“ Like is linked with like,
The pure with pure; the evil, filthy, vile,
Are with their fellows. As the tree has fallen
So it lies. Oh contemplation great,
Sublime and aweful; yet enriched by hope,
Where faith is strong in God’s Redemptive love,
And knows his Providence, from evil brings
A birth of good. The sorrows, pains, and cares
Of outward life, oft deeply work within
To purify the spirit, and exalt [9]
To holier thought and feeling. Let none then
Pass judgement on his fellow, but in love,
And fitting charity. The inward life
No human eye can read ”

“ Lake, so beautiful and bright,
How oft the Rydal Bard on thee
Hath glanced his eye’s poetic light,
Till song gushed forth like torrents free.
The soft and gentle summer breeze,
As fairy-like it wanders round,
With deep-toned music midst the trees,
Gives forth his harp’s entrancing sound.
Each mountain soars in richer hues,
Each rock gives forth a sound of fame,
And streams in murmurs sweet diffuse
The gentle sound of Wordsworth’s name. ”

“ The luscious sweetness of the poet’s song,
Partake the grandeur of like noble thought,
And feel entranced with him. The gains of gold,
The pomp of life, the pride of circumstance,
Can ne’er convey such pleasure to the heart
Or give a bliss so pure. To her high bards
The world owes much, and more than oft is thought. ”

“ She thoughts refined, and spirit-like could chain
In binding language, and give power and life
To evanescent sentiments. She chose
To frame a legend full of rich romance,
Such as we picture in the days of old,
When love was lofty passion—woman seemed
A more etherial being sent to tame
Man’s rude stern heart mid glorious chivalry.
With thought concentred on the theme; with heart
Alive to changing feelings, and with voice
Deep, rich, and varied, such as well could shew
The latent beauty in a poet’s song,
She read the story, not unfitly named—
Fidelio and Lenore. ”

“ Great laws and simple, that shall elevate
All science far beyond its present flight,
Though eagle-like its wing now seems to reach
The sun of Truth, so loftily it soars.
How warm and pleasant is this curtained room
Assigned for night’s repose. The cheerful fire,
With its bright tongues of flame, illuminates
The walls with fitful gleams, and ruddier light
Than issues from the lamp. ’Twere sweet to sit [92]
And muse for some hours longer, but the night
Is far advanced, and though the stillness round
Invites to contemplation, yet the time
And prudence too forbids. ”

“ A spirit pure, a heart prepared and meet,
For joy and glory in the worlds above! 1845
Wye Dale, Buxton.
Here Nature, with a lavish bounty, pours
Her grandest beauties from her richest stores;
On either hand high rifted rocks uprear
Their summits proud that touching heaven appear,
Whilst on their shelves soft mountain herbage grows,
Fresh moss springs green, the pretty wild flower blows,
And many a tree, on their steep sides, is seen
Stretching broad branches, decked in living green,
’Mongst which the yew its gloomy boughs extends,
Where the grey crag’s terrific form impends ”

“ That e’er hath passed before us: every thought
That flitted cloud-like o’er our realm of mind;
And every feeling that hath urged the heart,
E’en with a slight vibration, seems to leave
A certain impress stamped upon the soul
As with a seal eternal: sendeth forth
A living substance, from the which is built
Our being and identity; conjoins
By mystic sympathies, and secret links,
Our spirits unto others. Little knows
Philosophy, though brightly on advance, [91]
About the inner world, the world of mind.
The earth’s deep crust she pierced hath, and made
Mankind astonished at its boundless age ”

“ The noble hearth spreads wide, and glorious flames
Roar up the chimney, as if wild with joy
And laughing at the bitter frost without.
Amid their light the yule-log huge burns red,
Diffusing round a warmth that seems to reach
The very heart and make it happier. Boughs
Of laurel, fitted to entwine the brows
Of heroes, mingled with all evergreens
The season yields, in gay and rich festoons,
Or proud bouquets, adorn the walls around.
The holly, with its grey-green crumpled leaves
And berries bright as rubies, shoots red gleams
Like sunset through a forest. ”

“ As fair and bright, and sweetly shadowed forth
As by an omen, calmer life had dawned
And happier seasons for that wedded pair.
We may grow old in heart, ’ere old in years,
And share age-wisdom, ’ere its glory-crown
Of hoary hairs hath sanctified the brow. [28]
Whatever stirs the inmost depths of soul,
Arousing thought and feeling, calling forth
Life’s strongest passions, rearing into strength
All free-born energies, more swiftly brings
A full maturity than passing time
And common life experience. ”

“ And tutored into song, each one hath gained
Some small perfection in the gentle art
Of linking thought with verse. This Christmas eve—
A season dedicate to showing forth
Their loving strife by works of utmost skill—
To grace the festival, each one must bring,
By former compact, an original poem
Wrought out in solitude, from private thought
And inward feeling, so as best to shew
The individual heart. ”

“ Yet are they fitting to the time; it brings
Unnumbered thoughts like these! The human soul
Created in God’s image seems to share
In His infinity. Evolving thought,
For ever growing, can within it dwell,
And oft ascending and ascending still
To higher points of elevated Truth,
View things around it with extended glance,
And with more god-like insight. What can fill
Its vast capacity, or quench the thirst
It bears for knowledge. It was born to rise
For ever upward into brighter light! ”

“ Hurrah! for loving old Christmas! [180]
He heeds not the sleet on his window pane,
Nor the storm against the door;
He sits by the fire, his hand in his purse,
And gives out gold for the poor.
Christmas! Christmas!
Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!
With his purse of gold,
For the poor and old—
Hurrah! for gen’rous old Christmas!
How he loves to list to the old church bells
Ringing out their ancient tune;
Whilst he thinks on One, till his good heart swells,
Bringing earth her richest boon!
Christmas! Christmas!
We hail thee pious old Christmas! ”

“ Forebodings dark
Have no fulfilment, and the things we dread
Are changed to joys and pleasures, like a night
Of storm and tempest that brings forth a morn
Of radience and beauty. Thus employed
In deeds of charity; all thoughts of love
For ever laid aside; Sir Arthur’s life
Passed smoothly onwards, as some stream whose course,
Though clear and lovely, is o’erhung with shade
Of forest boughs, and feels not the full warmth
Of glowing glorious day. As oft a turn
Abrupt and sudden brings the river forth
Along the open plain, a change as bright [25]
Awaited in his destiny. ”