When the passing bell doth toll, And the Furies, in a shoal, Come to fright a parting soul, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the tapers now burn blue, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the priest his last hath prayed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When, God knows, I'm tost about Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the Tempter me pursu'th. When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me surprise, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the judgment is revealed, And that opened which was sealed When to Thee I have appealed. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. THOMAS KIBBLE HERVEY. CLEOPATRA EMBARKING ON THE The sky is a gleam of gold, PACK clouds away, and welcome day, | Wake from thy nest, robin red With night we banish sorrow; Sweet air, blow soft; mount, larks, aloft, To give my love good-morrow, Wings from the wind to please her mind, Notes from the lark I'll borrow; Bird, prune thy wing,nightingale,sing, To give my love good-morrow. breast, Sing, birds, in every furrow; And from each hill let music shrill Give my fair love good-morrow. Blackbird and thrush in every bush, Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow; You pretty elves, among yourselves, Sing my fair love good-morrow. How oft in visions of the night, It was a landscape of the mind, More lovely than aught real. I feared to see the breathing scene, mar A picture so Elysian. But now I break the cold distrust Whose spells so long had bound me; The shadows of the night are past,The morning shines around me. And in the sober light of day, The purest of earth's fountains: O timid heart! with thy glad throbs Strength imaged in the wooded hills, And beauty mirrored in the lake, A perfect union, - where no want Nor is the stately scene without Their own exclusive pleasures; The hours to wear away in; With clouds, and shadows of the clouds, And mists the hillsides ranging. Their changing glories render; Now glowing and now tender. But purer than the shifting gleams Is the deep spirit of that hour, - And vaulted aisles, of whispering pine, Hangs o'er the eastern ridges, Clear streams that from the uplands run, A course of sunless shadow; No tame monotony is here, And the long shaft of trembling gold, The trembling crystal bridges. |