I Strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
I warmed both hands before the fire of life,—
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
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A Sacred Eclogue, in Imitation of Virgil’s Pollio
YE nymphs of Solyma! begin the song:
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.
The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades,
The dreams of Pindus and th’ Aonian maids,
Delight no more—O thou my voice inspire...
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Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed—
The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,
The falling of a tear—
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near...
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From the German by John Wesley
THOU hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathomed no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose.
My heart is pained, nor can it be
At rest till it finds rest in thee....
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From “The Pleasures of Hope” 1
UNFADING Hope! when life’s last embers burn,
When soul to soul, and dust to dust return!
Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour!
O, then thy kingdom comes! Immortal Power!
What though each spark of earth-born rapture...
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The Bird that soars on highest wing
Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
And she that doth most sweetly sing
Sings in the shade, where all things rest;
In lark and nightingale we see
What honor hath humility.
When Mary chose “the better part...
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With silent awe I hail the sacred morn,
That slowly wakes while all the fields are still!
A soothing calm on every breeze is borne;
A graver murmur gurgles from the rill;
And echo answers softer from the hill;
And sweeter sings the linnet from the thorn:...
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From “The Sabbath”
HOW still the morning of the hallowed day!
Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed
The ploughboy’s whistle and the milkmaid’s song.
The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath
Of tedded grass, mingled with faded flowers,
That...
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Amazing, beauteous change!
A world created new!
My thoughts with transport range,
The lovely scene to view;
In all I trace,
Saviour divine,
The word is thine,—
Be thine the praise!
See crystal fountains play...
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From “Ivanhoe”
WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved,
Out from the land of bondage came,
Her fathers’ God before her moved,
An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
By day, along the astonished lands,
The cloudy pillar glided slow:
By night,...
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