Or wert thou that just maid who once before
Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth,
And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling youth?
Or that crown'd matron sage, white-robed Truth?
Or any other of that heav'nly brood
Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good?
Or wert thou of the golden-winged host,
Who having clad thyself in human weed,
To Earth from thy prefixed seat didst post,
And after short abode fly back with speed,
As if to shew what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire
To scorn the sordid world, and unto Heav'n aspire?
But oh! why didst thou not stay here below
To bless us with thy Heav'n-lov'd innocence,
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe,
To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence,
Or drive away the slaughtering Pestilence,
To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart?
But thou canst best perform that office where thou art.
Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child,
Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament,
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild;
Think what a present thou to God hast sent,
And render him with patience what he lent;
This if thou do, he will an offspring give
That till the world's last end shall make thy name
to live.
"THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS."
JAIRUS heard, and doubt and fear
Passed from his wondering breast away;
the tear,
Nor shook his frame with sudden start,
Nor aught more quickly throbbed his heart,
When now they meet the sad array
Which told at length that all was o'er,
And he a parent now no more!
Unmoved, the pageantry of death
He viewed, and heard the ininstrel train
Their melody of sadness breathe;--
The father could not doubt again,
Not when, with tears of fond regret,
Encountering friends and kinsmen said,
Thy daughter even now is dead,—
Why troublest thou the Master yet?"
Oh, no! he could not thus forget
All he had seen, and felt, and heard :--
Yet Jesus spake one soothing word
To calm his fears, and fix his faith,-
Then led him to the scene of Death.
A mingled crowd had gathered near,
By friendship or by pity led,
To mourn a maid so justly dear,
And with the father's blend their tear. 'Give place!' th' advancing prophet said, "The maiden sleeps, she is not dead!' But they had gazed upon that form, Which, calm and lovely as it lay, Was but a mass of lifeless clay,
A banquet for the withering worm!
And they had seen her full dark eye,
Sealed in that stillness of repose,
Which follows instant on the close
Of suffering, frail mortality,-
Yet seems so like a living sleep,
The mourner half forgets to weep;
And they had heard the mother's cry
Of loud and hopeless agony;
And seen the attendant maidens tear
Their robes, and end their flowing hair;---
And thence they knew that life was fled,
That all of human aid was vain-
And spoke derision and disdain
In whispered accents, as they said,
What! will this dreamer raise the dead *
'Twas but an instant!-At his word,
Forth passed the unbelieving band,
For none withstood his high command,
Though none yet knew their Lord.
When all was still, and scarce a breath
Was heard within the house of death,
The childless parents first he led
Into the chamber of the dead,
Then of his train the chosen three :
Softly they stepped, and silently
They knelt around the bed
On which the just departed lay :-
Yet the sad mother turn'd away
From that pale corpse, so coldly fair;
Faith yet was struggling with Despair;
And still on Jesus fixed her eye,
Lest Doubt should win the mastery.
The father's glance was rooted there.---
Yes, on that form he seem'd to look.
As if the spirit had not fled,
As if the grave would yield its prize--
And moved not, till the Saviour spoke
His mandate to the unconscious dead-
'Maiden, I say to thee, Arise!'
O Father! dost thou view on earth
The marvel of a heavenly birth?
O Mother! dost thou clasp again
Thy child without a mother's pain?
Do ye, O faithful, favoured three!
Again behold the victory
O'er Death, or is it on the dead
Your stedfast glance is riveted?
No! 'tis not on the dead they gaze:-
The wondering father looks not now
On the pale cheek, the still cold brow.
The mother, rapt in mute amaze,
No longer turns on that closed eye
The glance that vainly asks reply!
For lo! her fringed lids unclose,
Her eyes with living lustre beam,
As if she woke from calm repose,
Or from a bright and blissed dream!
And look! again the faded rose
Glows round her lips;-they seem to move!
Is it a warm and breathing smile?
Or doth the witchery of love
With false, illusive spell beguile ?
Oh, no! she rises, she revives!
'Tis not a dream! she lives! she lives!
The life-the glad reality
Beams on her cheek-burns in her eye!
Fresh graces to the Maid are given,
As she had dwelt awhile in Heaven;
And then return'd to lower earth,
To shew what forms of angel-birth
Are tenants of the sky!
They spoke not, moved not, all they could,
It was to glance from her to Him!
And if the dazzled eye was dim,
And scarce could look the gratitude
Which, e'en to bursting, fill'd each breast,---
To Him it was not unexpressed,
Their hearts before Him open lay!
Emotions, that for utterance strove,
Joy, Wonder, Adoration, Love,
Needed to Him no vain display
Of words: nor paused he but to say,
Receive your daughter from the tomb,
Undoubting-for with mortal food
Soon shall ye hail her strength renewed,
And health restored in all its bloom.
Henceforth in solemn silence seal
The pangs ye felt, the joys ye feel;
For life restored, for guilt forgiven,
Your
praises shall be heard in Heaven!'
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it has been of yore;
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
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