Lays from the West Part 8

I thrill with a pa.s.sion'd yearning for the fuller life to be, When my tired soul faints in wonder, lost in earth's mystery!

CHURCH ISLAND, COUNTY DERRY.

"Oh, search with mother-love the gifts Our land can boast; Fair Erna's isles--Neagh's wooded slopes-- Green Antrim's coast."--MACCARTHY.

In peerless beauty, flus.h.i.+ng, glowing, O'er broad Lutigh Neagh's breast, The sunset banner hovers, throwing Its glory over the West.

And varied banks of glen and wood, That smile round Neagh's smiling flood, In this sweet hour seem fitting theme For Poet's song or artist's dream.

Round the horizon, sternly frowning, The mountains like a barrier rise, The purple range, Slieve Gallion crowning, Towers grimly to the western skies.

Northward Losgh Beg's bright waters play Round the Church Isle, where, lone and grey.

The ruined pile with ivied walls To present days the past recalls.

On many a grave the sunset gleams, Where calmly rest the sleeping dead-- Tired mortals, done with mortal dreams In other life, whetted they have fled.

E'en now they live! Oh! if tonight One soul might earthward take its flight, In awful tones methinks t'would say-- "Prepare for death, oh child of clay!"

Oh, time-worn walls! full many a word Ye echoed in the Sabbath calm; Love, warning, blessing, oft ye heard, And solemn prayer, and chanted psalm; And funeral dirge, as wild and high'

Rose on the gale the _caione_-cry, Borne far and wide, o'er fern and brake, As pa.s.sed the cortege o'er the lake.

And legends of the days gone by Tell that if, when a funeral train Pa.s.sed there, dark clouds swept over the sky, And howled the wind and sobbed the rain, Such storm was still an omen blest, And told the spirit's happy rest.

If all were calm--then woe the dead!

Sad rose their wailing, weird and dread!

And that before a chieftain's death, On moonless nights, by lightning shown, How oft they saw the water-wraith, And heard the weeping banshee's groan.

How many a barque, at midnight toss'd And in the angry waters lost, In the gray dawn-light seemed to glide In phantom-beauty o'er the tide.

But ah! the past and all its lore Is fading from our hearts away, And memories of the times of yore Are all forgotten in to day!

And now, 'tis but by peasants old These cherished legends can be told; For Erin's harp is mute and still, Its mystic notes no heart can thrill!

Once minstrel hearts awoke its strain, And swept its chords with master-hand; But who can wake these lays again In songs of love and fatherland?

Oh! when again shall such as they Wake pa.s.sion'd song and warrior's lay?

Till Erin's vales once more resound With harp-notes long in silence bound!

LIVINGSTONE.

At last thou art resting; thy life-work is ended-- Thy life-work so n.o.bly and faithfully done; And thy name, with the names of the mightiest blended, Shall be honored and loved as the ages roll on!

Far away in the wilds, as thy life-scene closed slowly, How thy soul must have pined for one home-voice to cheer; But the G.o.d, ever kind, of the high and the lowly, With blessings and strength to thy spirit was near!

How sweet to thy tired soul that glorious light breaking In beauty untold o'er the land of the blest, As thou heard'st, in the hour of that wond'rous awaking-- "Well done, faithful servant, now enter thy rest!"

Great Britain's Columbus--her son and our glory!

Her true hearts with love shall beat high at thy name; Thou shalt stand 'mong the first in our country's proud story, And be graven with fire on the Temple of Fame!

Oh! that some minstrel soul, from the days long departed Would awake, a meet requiem o'er thee to sing-- And tell of thy brave deeds--the high, lion-hearted-- Till the listening nations their homage would bring!

A DREAM AT SUNRISE.

Sapphire and rosy brightness in the East; Fresh, light-winged zephyrs o'er the hilltops stray And through the valleys roam, through glens and woods Waking the leaves and flowers to morning life, Seeming to tell to all--"The sun is near!"

Slow--brightening now, the rose-light deeper grown The sapphire flames in wondrous golden maze, And, all unrivalled, the great King of Day, In dazzling glory, mounts his regal throne!

To me a vision down the sunbeams came, When wrapt in wonder by the beauty-spell, My soul, entranced, afar from earth did soar, Unshackled, free, and drank the grandeur of the hour Brightest and fairest hour of all the day, When new life thrills the veins as when of old The morning stars their high thanksgivings raised, And all the sons of G.o.d did shout for joy!

Wondering, I cried, "Oh, Earth is very fair!

I cannot see the shadow of man's fall On aught around me--sin has left no trace: Oh! for a bower in such a scene as this, Where Love and Beauty, blessed by Peace, might dwell!"

Then round me, on the light wind softly borne, I heard the numbers of an unseen harp, And turning, saw an angel near me stand.

He sang of earthly love, and the soft tones Of his sweet harp were like Aeolian strains Far breathing o'er some blissful Eden world!

And as I listened, all my holiest dreams Of harmony, ideal, grand, and high, Seem'd discord. Then methought I saw, Upon the morning hills, a bower arise.

Bright flowers of wondrous hues around it bloomed, All, all of beauty that the heart could dream Was there; and, lov'lier far than all, A sweet-eyed maiden, twining rose-wreaths fair!

Dark clouds arose and dimmed the glowing sky; The lightnings flashed, and fearful thunder pealed; And, as they shook the bower, I hid mine eyes, Fearing to see the beauteous visions fade.

The fierce storm ceased. I raised mine eyes again, And saw the wreck of what was once so fair; The flowers had perished, and the maiden wept-- Then all the picture melted into air!

"This shows," the angel said, "what sin has done; Death and decay must fall on earthly things.

See that you read G.o.d's mighty Teacher right-- The Book of Nature wide before you spread.

'Twas given for man to look on, love, and learn; But men have eyes, and will not read its lore-- Ears, and the G.o.d-sent teachings will not hear!

Earth's glories and her brightness all must fade; Yet, while they linger, still they say, 'Prepare.'"

"LINES ON VISITING EARLY SCENES."

Oh! well-known scenes of childhood's days, Again ye meet my longing eyes; And still, as memory backward strays, A thousand tender visions rise; Of days when youth's all potent powers Could trace in light the coming hours, Of dreams that withered with the flowers That round my pathway sprung!

When fond Belief, unchill'd by Time, Built airy castles, high and grand; When fickle Fancy's dreams sublime Made Earth appear a fairyland!

Yon school-house seems the same to day-- Each well-remembered turn and way Are there--yet, ah! how far away Are childhood's hours from me!

Still, still the same--the cherished scene, That ever thro' the varying years, Deep-graven on my heart has been, In morns of joy--in nights of tears.

And oft in darksome times of pain, When hope seem'd dead, and comfort vain, Ye shone upon life's desert plain A friendly light, and true.

And often when the tide of care Beat strong against my fragile bark-- When stormy doubt loom'd everywhere, With nought to light the gloomy dark-- The faith I knew in early days, Ere yet I trod the world's hard ways, Led gently through the 'wildering maze, And whispered words of peace!

Sweet peace, amid the din and strife And holy thoughts and calm repose; The promise of a better life-- The joy that from _believing_ flows!

As when amid these scenes I'd stray, And dream through all the golden day Of coming years, in bright array, Till earth would seem a heaven!