Volume Iii Part 30 (1/2)
ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.
HYMN TO THE NORTH STAR.
The sad and solemn night Hath yet her mult.i.tude of cheerful fires; The glorious host of light Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires; All through her silent watches, gliding slow, Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
Day, too, hath many a star To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they: Through the blue fields afar, Unseen, they follow in his flaming way: Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim, Tells what a radiant troop arose and set with him.
And thou dost see them rise, Star of the Pole! and thou dost see them set.
Alone, in thy cold skies, Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet, Nor join'st the dances of that glittering train, Nor dipp'st thy virgin orb in the blue western main.
There, at morn's rosy birth, Thou lookest meekly through the kindling air, And eve, that round the earth Chases the day, beholds thee watching there; There noontide finds thee, and the hour that calls The shapes of polar flame to scale heaven's azure walls.
Alike, beneath thine eye, The deeds of darkness and of light are done; High towards the starlit sky Towns blaze, the smoke of battle blots the sun, The night storm on a thousand hills is loud And the strong wind of day doth mingle sea and cloud.
On thy unaltering blaze The half-wrecked mariner, his compa.s.s lost, Fixes his steady gaze, And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast; And they who stray in perilous wastes, by night, Are glad when thou dost s.h.i.+ne to guide their footsteps right.
And, therefore, bards of old, Sages and hermits of the solemn wood, Did in thy beams behold A beauteous type of that unchanging good, That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray The voyager of time should shape his heedful way.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
EVENING.
Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their gra.s.sy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament With living sapphires: Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length, Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
JOHN MILTON.
_From ”Paradise Lost.”_
QUIET WORK.
One lesson, Nature, let me learn of thee, One lesson which in every wind is blown, One lesson of two duties kept at one Though the loud world proclaim their enmity-- Of toil unsevered from tranquillity; Of labor, that in lasting fruit outgrows Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose, Too great for haste, too high for rivalry.
Yes, while on earth a thousand discords ring, Man's senseless uproar mingling with his toil, Still do thy quiet ministers move on, Their glorious tasks in silence perfecting; Still working, blaming still our vain turmoil, Laborers that shall not fail, when man is gone.
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
[Ill.u.s.tration: SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.]
HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE, IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course? so long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc!
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form, Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon ma.s.s: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thy own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thoughts: entranced in prayer I wors.h.i.+ped the Invisible alone.
Yet, like some sweet, beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy: Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision pa.s.sing,--there, As in her natural form, swelled vast to heaven!
Awake, my soul! not only pa.s.sive praise Thou owest,--not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn!