224

AFTER A TEMPEST.

The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where
The violent rain had pent them; in the way

Strolled groups of damsels frolicksome and fair;
The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay,
And 'twixt the heavy swaths his children were at play.

It was a scene of peace-and, like a spell,
Did that serene and golden sunlight fall
+Upon the motionless wood that clothed the fell,
And precipice upspringing like a wall,

And glassy river and white waterfall,
And happy living things that trod the bright

And beauteous scene; while far beyond them all,

On many a lovely valley, out of sight,

Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden light.

I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene
An emblem of the peace that yet shall be,
When, o'er earth's continents and isles between,
The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea,
And married nations dwell in harmony;
When millions, crouching in the dust to one,

No more shall beg their lives on bended knee,
Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun
The o'erlaboured captive toil, and wish his life were done.

Too long, at clash of arms amid her bowers

And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast,
The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers
And ruddy fruits; but not for aye can last

AFTER A TEMPEST.

The storm, and sweet the sunshine when 'tis past.
Lo, the clouds roll away-they break-they fly,

And, like the glorious light of summer, cast
O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky,
On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie.

K 3

225

THE BURIAL-PLACE-A FRAGMENT.

EREWHILE, On England's pleasant shores, our sires
Left not their churchyards unadorned with shades
Or blossoms; and indulgent to the strong
And natural dread of man's last home, the grave,
Its frost and silence-they disposed around,
To sooth the melancholy spirit that dwelt
Too sadly on life's close, the forms and hues
Of vegetable beauty.-There the yew,
Green even amid the snows of winter, told
Of immortality, and gracefully

The willow, a perpetual mourner, drooped;
And there the gadding woodbine crept about,
And there the ancient ivy. From the spot
Where the sweet maiden, in her blossoming years,
Cut off, was laid with streaming eyes, and hands
That trembled as they placed her there, the rose
Sprung modest, on bowed stalk, and better spoke
Her graces, than the proudest monument.

And children set about their playmate's grave
On the infant's little bed,

The pansy.
Wet at its planting with maternal tears,
Emblem of early sweetness, early death,

THE BURIAL-PLACE.

Nestled the lowly primrose. Childless dames,
And maids that would not raise the reddened eye,
Orphans, from whose young lids the light of joy
Fled early,--silent lovers, who had given

All that they lived for to the arms of earth,
Came often, o'er the recent graves to strew
Their offerings, rue, and rosemary, and flowers.
The pilgrim bands who passed the sea to keep
Their Sabbaths in the eye of God alone,
In his wide temple of the wilderness,

Brought not these simple customs of the heart
With them. It might be, while they laid their dead
By the vast solemn skirts of the old groves,
And the fresh virgin soil poured forth strange flowers
About their graves; and the familiar shades
Of their own native isle, and wonted blooms,
And herbs were wanting, which the pious hand
Might plant or scatter there, these gentle rites
Passed out of use. Now they are scarcely known,
And rarely in our borders may you meet
The tall larch, sighing in the burying-place,
Or willow, trailing low its boughs to hide
The gleaming marble.

Naked rows of graves

And melancholy ranks of monuments

Are seen instead, where the coarse grass, between,
Shoots up its dull green spikes, and in the wind
Hisses, and the neglected bramble nigh,
Offers its berries to the schoolboy's hand,
In vain-they grow too near the dead.
Nature, rebuking the neglect of man,

Yet here,

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228

THE BURIAL-PLACE.

Plants often, by the ancient mossy stone,

The brier rose, and upon the broken turf
That clothes the fresher grave, the strawberry vine
Sprinkles its swell with blossoms, and lays forth
Her ruddy, pouting fruit.