LXXXIV.

Oh! could the wretched, as they pondering stand
How they shall flee from sorrow or from crime,
Think, but one moment, that oblivious Time
Healeth all ills with a most lenient hand,
They would not rush from out a breathing land
To wander in the shadow-haunted clime,
For Hope aye plays a fascinating chime
Unto the ear that she can once command.
Oh! Hope and Reason! may your aid and light
Along my pathway ever stand and shine,
To guide my headstrong passions in the right:
Support my heart, if evils should combine
To make me wretched: oh! dispel the night
Of dark Despair, and teach me to resign!

LXXXV.

THE CONTRAST.

1.

Neither in form nor feature was there aught
That might an inattentive gazer please-

But when the power of converse touch'd the keys Her soul's deep music to the ear was brought— And to her pure and elevated thought

Were joined the kindliest, gentlest sympathies,
With a deep reverence for all agencies

By which our good and happiness are wrought.
All beauty, from the meek-eyed pimpernel

Up to the star of Even, every sound
Creation utters with its music-spell,

Did unto her with light and joy abound: Nature, the vain and empty to confound,

Thus shows how humbly may her great ones dwell!

LXXXVI.

2.

Painter's nor sculptor's art, nor poet's brain,
Ne'er fancy'd, fashioned, painted aught more fair
Than her symmetrical attractions were;

But she was selfish, frivolous, and vain—

Her soul untouch'd by any gentle strain

Her eye unlit by any tender gleam

Blind to the flowers, and deaf to bird and stream,

She saw Creation with a vacant stare;

Yet bore about a constant punishment,

For no one loved her-life's most fearful doom!

She had no inner lamp, that might relume

Her soul's dark house, when flattery's oil was spent ;

And Nature on her brow, where'er she went,

Made to be read, "Behold an empty room!"

LXXXVII.

When on the quiet of my lonely hours
Some gentle whispering inspiration steals,

Am I less blest than he whose spirit feels
The deepest stirring of the Muse's powers?
Nay-for as th' sunlight that gilds up the towers
Of princes, in the common lane reveals
The beauty of the primrose, and unseals
Vials of fragrance in the violet's bowers-
So poetry can glad, illume, sustain

And dignify the humblest mind she sways; And if the world the trifles may disdain,

Still, dear unto the poet are his lays;

And whoso seeketh shall not seek in vain

For joys abundant in her pleasant ways.

LXXXVIII.

Those hopeful spirits who believe that Man
May be redeemed and elevated here,

Are gloom'd to find the social atmosphere
Oft dark with shadows that obscure the plan :
But let them aye remember that they scan

A wide horizon, whence some light to cheer
Ever ariseth-nearer year by year

They win the goal who boldly lead the van.
Injustice sees his strongholds daily storm'd

By that huge battering-ram our Liberal Press, And legislative, corporative frauds reformed, That sat and scorn'd in their exclusiveness; And trampled Labour feels its pulses warm'd

With words that tell of long-delayed redress.