THE angel of the flowers, one day,
Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay;
That spirit to whose charge 'tis given
To bathe young buds in dews of heaven ;-
Awaking from his light repose,
The angel whispered to the rose : "O fondest object of my care,
Still fairest found, where all are fair; For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me, Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee." 66 Then," said the rose, with deepen'd glow, "On me another grace bestow :"
The spirit paused, in silent thought,— What grace was there that flower had not? 'Twas but a moment-o'er the rose
A veil of moss the angel throws,
And robed in nature's simplest weed,
Could there a flower that rose exceed?
COME, solemn Night, and spread thy pall
Wide o'er the slumbering shore and sea,
And hang along thy vaulted hall
The star-lights of eternity;
Thy beacons, beautiful and bright—
Isles in the ocean of the blest-
That guide the parted spirit's flight
Unto the land of rest.
Come for the evening glories fade,
Quenched in the ocean's depths profound;
Come with thy solitude and shade,
Thy silence and thy sound;
Awake the deep and lonely lay
From wood and stream, of saddening tone;
The harmonies unheard by day,
The music all thine own?
O'ershadowing the skies;-the ocean rose;
The gathering waves grew large, and broke in hoarse
And hollow sounds: the mighty winds awoke,
And screamed and whistled through the cordage; birds
That seemed to have no home, flocked there in terror,
And sat with quivering plumage on the mast.
Flashes were seen, and distant sounds were heard—
Presages of a Storm.--
The sun went down in beauty!-but the skies
Were wildly changed.-It was a dreadful night---
No moon was seen in all the heavens, to aid
Or cheer the lone and sea-beat mariner:
Planet nor guiding star broke through the gloom;
But the blue lightnings glared along the waters,
As if the Fiend had fired his torch to light
Some wretches to their graves.-The tempest winds
Raving came next, and in deep hollow sounds-
Like those the spirits of the dead do use
When they would speak their evil prophecies-
Muttered of death to come; then came the thunder,
Deepening and crashing, as 'twould rend the world;
Or as the Deity passed aloft in anger
And spoke to man-despair!-the ship was toss'd
And now stood poised upon the curling billows,
And now 'midst deep and watery chasms-that yawned
As 'twere in hunger-sank.-Behind there came
Mountains of moving water,-with a rush
And sound of gathering power, that did appal
The heart to look on; terrible cries were heard;
Sounds of despair,—some like a mother's anguish-
Some of intemperate, dark, and dissolute joy;
Music and horrid mirth—but unallied
To joy; and madness might be heard amidst
The pauses of the storm-and when the glare
Was strong, rude savage men were seen to dance
In frantic exultation on the deck,
Though all was hopeless.-Hark! the ship has struck,
In frightful echoes,-as if an alarm
Had spread through all the elements:-then came
A horrid silence-deep-unnatural-like
THE MOSS ROSE.
THE angel of the flowers, one day,
Beneath a rose-tree sleeping lay;
That spirit to whose charge 'tis given
To bathe young buds in dews of heaven ;-
Awaking from his light repose,
The angel whispered to the rose : "O fondest object of my care, Still fairest found, where all are fair; For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me, Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee." "Then," said the rose, with deepen'd glow, "On me another grace bestow :"
The spirit paused, in silent thought,What grace was there that flower had not? 'Twas but a moment-o'er the rose A veil of moss the angel throws, And robed in nature's simplest weed, Could there a flower that rose exceed?
COME, solemn Night, and spread thy pall
Wide o'er the slumbering shore and sea,
And hang along thy vaulted hall
The star-lights of eternity;
Thy beacons, beautiful and bright-
Isles in the ocean of the blest-
That guide the parted spirit's flight
Unto the land of rest.
Come for the evening glories fade,
Quenched in the ocean's depths profound;
Come with thy solitude and shade,
Thy silence and thy sound;
Awake the deep and lonely lay
From wood and stream, of saddening tone;
The harmonies unheard by day,
The music all thine own?
And with thy starry eyes that weep
Their silent dews on flower and tree,
My heart shall solemn vigils keep-
My thoughts converse with thee;
Upon whose glowing page expand
The revelations of the sky;
Which knowledge teach to every land,
Of man's high destiny.
For while the mighty orbs of fire
(So wildly bright they seem to live)
Feel not the beauty they inspire,
Nor see the light they give;
Even I, an atom of the earth,
Itself an atom 'midst the frame
Of nature-can inquire their birth,
And ask them whence they came.
THE WHITE SHROUD.
GAY farewell to the closing year,
Welcome gay to the one so near,
Grief and care must be strangers here!
Merry the dance in the crowded hall,
Bright the lights on the gilded wall;
In the mirthful clang of the music drowned
Is the chilling night-wind's moaning sound;
As it drifts the snow o'er the frozen ground,
It sighs farewell to the closing year,
Mournful welcome to that so near.
For there is a voice in the wintry hlast
On its unseen pinions sweeping past,
If the ear of man would hear!
66 On, on to the goal thou'rt speeding,
Life's gay path to the grave is leading!
Mortals! upon the present hangs
Eternal bane or bliss!
Oh! give a thought to another world,
Ye are passing away from this!"
Young Ernest stood 'mid the mirthful band,
And a thoughtful glance was his, I ween;
He watched the clock as its slender hand
Crept to the point which lay between
The year to be, and that which had been,
And through the music the chime could hear,
Which pealed the birth of the blithe New-Year.
A year is dead,"
"With its griefs and its joys for ever fled!
Another begins his brief career,
Close he speeds on the track of the past,
"Twere strange to know to how many here,
The year commencing will be the last,
What sparkling eyes will be dim in death,
What laughing lips must resign their breath,
Ere again that tinkling chime I hear
Peal the birth of a blithe New-Year!"
As he raised his eyes and gazed around,
He felt by a spell of iron bound ;—
The cold drops rise to his marble brow,—
The scene of pleasure is altered now,
The lights that sparkle above him seem
Like tapers which round a deathbed gleam,
And the merry music's enlivening tone
Hath a voice of warning to him alone!
66 On, on to the goal they're speeding,
Life's bright path to the grave is leading.
Mortals! upon the present hangs
Eternal bane or bliss!
Oh! give a thought to another world,
Ye are passing away from this!"
From "Glimpses of the Unseen," by A. E. O. E.
TO A JESSAMINE TREE IN THE COURT OF
NAWORTH CASTLE.
My slight and slender jessamine tree,
That bloomest on my Border tower,
Thou art more dearly loved by me
Than all the wreaths of foreign bower;
I ask not, while I near thee dwell,
Arabia's spice, or Syria's rose;
Thy light festoons more freshly smell,
Thy virgin white more purely glows.
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