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116

NATURE'S FAREWELL.

NATURE'S FAREWELL.

["The beautiful is vanish'd, and returns not."-Coleridge's Translation of Schiller's Wallenstein.]

A youth rode forth from his childhood's home,
Thro' the crowded paths of the world to roam,
And the green leaves whisper'd as he pass'd,
Wherefore, thou dreamer, away so fast?

"Know'st thou with what thou art parting here,
Long wouldst thou linger in doubt and fear;
Thy heart's light laughter, thy sunny hours,

Thou hast left in our shades, with the spring's wild flowers.

"Under the arch by our mingling made, Thou and thy brother have gaily play'd; Ye may meet again where

ye

rov'd of yore,

But as ye have met there, oh! never more."

On rode the youth, and the boughs among,
Thus the free birds o'er his pathway sung:
"Wherefore so fast unto life away ?
Thou art leaving for ever thy joy in our lay!"

"Thou mayst come to the summer woods again,
And thy heart have no echo to greet their strain ;
Afar from the foliage its love will dwell,

A change must pass o'er thee-farewell, farewell."

NATURE'S FAREWELL.

On rode the youth, and the founts and streams
Thus mingled a voice with his joyous dreams:
"We have been thy playmates thro' many a day,
Wherefore thus leave us? oh! yet delay.

"Listen but once to the sound of his mirth!
For thee, 'tis a melody passing from earth;
Never again wilt thou find in its flow
The peace it could on thy heart bestow.

117

"Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee,
With the breath of the world on thy spirit free;
Passion and sorrow its depths will have stirr'd,
And the singing of waters be vainly heard.

"Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part-
What should it do for a burning heart?
Thou wilt bring to the banks of our freshest rill,
Thirst which no fountain on earth may still.

"Farewell! when thou comest again to thine own,
Thou wilt miss from our music its loveliest tone;
Mournfully true is the tale we tell-

Yet on, fiery dreamer-farewell!—farewell !”

And a something of grief on his spirit weigh'd,
As he caught the last sounds of his native shade;
But he knew not, till many a bright spell broke,
How deep were the oracles nature spoke!

F. HEMANS.

118

CONGENIAL SPIRITS.

CONGENIAL SPIRITS.

Oh! in the varied scenes of life,
Is there a joy so sweet,
As when amid its busy strife,
Congenial spirits meet?

Feeling and thought, a faëry band

Long hid from mortal sight,

Then start to meet the master hand
That calls them forth to light.

When turning o'er some gifted page,
How fondly do we pause,
That dear companion to engage

In answering applause;

And when we list to music's sighs,

How sweet at every tone,

To read within another's eyes,
The raptures of our own!

To share together waking dreams,
Apart from sordid men,

Or speak on high and holy themes,
Beyond the worldling's ken;

These are most dear, but soon shall pass
That summons of the heart,

Congenial spirits, soon, alas!

Are ever doomed to part.

THE SPIRIT AND THE BRIDE.

Yet thou to whom such grief is given,
Mourn not thy lot of woe;

Say, can a wandering light from heaven.
E'er sparkle long below?

Earth would be all too bright, too blest,
For such pure ties of love;

Let kindred spirits hope no rest,
Save in a rest above.

MRS. ABDY.

THE SPIRIT AND THE BRIDE.

119

["And the Spirit and the Bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst, Come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely."-Rev. xxii. 17.]

Oh, wherefore delay and reluctantly roam?
The voice of the Spirit invites you to come;
Why hunger and thirst in the regions of woe?
The Lamb living waters will freely bestow.

Come, come; the Spirit says, come.

Let him that has heard bid his brethren to come.

120

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

The river is boundless, and deep is the tide ;
Oh! turn ye and come at the voice of the Bride;
Tho' your sins be as crimson, the waters that flow,
Will render you spotless, and whiter than snow.
Come, come; the Bride says, come.

Ye thirsting and willing, rejoicingly come.

Oh! quench not the Spirit that worketh within, Nor add by delay to the weight of your sin; This pool is the porch of your heavenly home; The voice of your Father invites you to come.

Come, come; the Church says, come. Rejoice in the promise, and cheerfully come.

LENA.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

The stately homes of England,

How beautiful they stand!

Amidst their tall ancestral trees,

O'er all the pleasant land!

The deer across their greenwoods bound,
Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

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