Part 83 (1/2)

What sighs, what whispers, busy stops and stays, Private and holy talk, fill all the ways?

They pa.s.s as at the last great day, and run In their white robes to seek the risen Sun; I see them, hear them, mark their haste, and move Amongst them, with them, winged with faith and love.

Thy forty days' more secret commerce here After thy death and funeral, so clear And indisputable, shows to my sight As the sun doth, which to those days gave light.

I walk the fields of Bethany, which s.h.i.+ne All now as fresh as Eden, and as fine.

Such was the bright world on the first seventh day, Before man brought forth sin, and sin decay; When like a virgin clad in flowers and green The pure earth sat, and the fair woods had seen No frost, but flourished in that youthful vest With which their great Creator had them dressed: When heaven above them s.h.i.+ned like molten gla.s.s, While all the planets did unclouded pa.s.s; And springs, like dissolved pearls, their streams did pour, Ne'er marred with floods, nor angered with a shower.

With these fair thoughts I move in this fair place, And the last steps of my mild Master trace.

I see him leading out his chosen train All sad with tears, which like warm summer rain In silent drops steal from their holy eyes, Fixed lately on the cross, now on the skies.

And now, eternal Jesus! thou dost heave Thy blessed hands to bless those thou dost leave.

The cloud doth now receive thee, and their sight Having lost thee, behold two men in white!

Two and no more: 'What two attest is true,'

Was thine own answer to the stubborn Jew.

Come then, thou faithful Witness! come, dear Lord, Upon the clouds again to judge this world!

[1] 'Thy convert:' St Mary Magdalene.

c.o.c.k-CROWING.

1 Father of lights! what sunny seed, What glance of day hast thou confined Into this bird? To all the breed This busy ray thou hast a.s.signed; Their magnetism works all night, And dreams of paradise and light.

2 Their eyes watch for the morning hue, Their little grain-expelling night So s.h.i.+nes and sings, as if it knew The path unto the house of light.

It seems their candle, howe'er done, Was tinned and lighted at the sun.

3 If such a tincture, such a touch, So firm a longing can empower, Shall thy own image think it much To watch for thy appearing hour?

If a mere blast so fill the sail, Shall not the breath of G.o.d prevail?

4 O thou immortal light and heat!

Whose hand so s.h.i.+nes through all this frame, That by the beauty of the seat, We plainly see who made the same, Seeing thy seed abides in me, Dwell thou in it, and I in thee!

5 To sleep without thee is to die; Yea,'tis a death partakes of h.e.l.l: For where thou dost not close the eye It never opens, I can tell.

In such a dark, Egyptian border, The shades of death dwell, and disorder.

6 If joys, and hopes, and earnest throes, And hearts, whose pulse beats still for light, Are given to birds; who, but thee, knows A love-sick soul's exalted flight?

Can souls be tracked by any eye But his, who gave them wings to fly?

7 Only this veil which thou hast broke, And must be broken yet in me, This veil, I say, is all the cloak And cloud which shadows me from thee.

This veil thy full-eyed love denies, And only gleams and fractions spies.

8 Oh, take it off! make no delay; But brush me with thy light, that I May s.h.i.+ne unto a perfect day, And warm me at thy glorious eye!

Oh, take it off! or till it flee, Though with no lily, stay with me!

THE PALM-TREE.

1 Dear friend, sit down, and bear awhile this shade, As I have yours long since. This plant you see So pressed and bowed, before sin did degrade Both you and it, had equal liberty