The immortals; or, Glimpses of paradise. A poem

Preface

To escape awhile from the engrossing cares of life and the petty scenes which surround us, in order to visit in thought the Land of the Immortals, and range in imagination ampler and brighter fields of existence, ought to fill the well-constituted mind with pleasure — ought to be regarded even as a duty, if we believe ourselves beings destined to survive the joys and sorrows of the present state.

I would invite, then, in a trustful and reverential spirit, the thoughtless as well as the contemplative ; the sincere believer in a written revelation from God,

11. PREFACE.

as well as the incredulous man tossed to and fro on the restless ocean of doubt, to accompany me for a brief time into the regions, not of fear, though of mystery, not of gloom, but wonder and beauty.

The poem of " The Immortals " has occupied the writer for some considerable time, demanding from its nature much careful reflection. The subject is one on which many and conflicting opinions will necessarily exist. Also it offers, there can be no doubt, a wide and an alluring field for the exercise of fancy and imagination ; but while fancy must, on some occasions, in these pages, be indulged in, truth, as regards the principal topic considered, is earnestly sought.

The Sacred Kecord is the foundation on which the following contemplations must rest; at the same time the discoveries of modern science have so greatly enlarged and advanced human knowledge, that none of us need hesitate to embrace opinions, and give utterance to many sentiments, which would have

PREFACE. 111..

startled our forefathers. We must, then, regard

freed human spirits and angelic intelligences, not in

the light men were wont to regard them two or three

centuries ago, but as an essential portion of God's

creation, drawing exhaustless delight from the

universe of beauty and grandeur, and for whom,

among other high purposes, that material universe

Was created, seeing that the mortal must all merge

in the immortal at last, and spirits alone live to

contemplate and admire the works of Omnipotence.

• The late Sir David Brewster, in his very pleasing

and able work, " More Worlds than One," written as a

reply to the book entitled " Of a Plurality of Worlds,"

has strongly expressed his opinion in regard to the

probability, almost the certainty, that God has created

no world without its rational inhabitants. Otherwise

we must conclude that the Almighty Architect has

built innumerable superb palaces capable of lodging

human beings — built them only to remain empty.

In accordance with Sir David Brewster's views, I a 2

IV. PREFACE.

believe that not only every planet of our own Solar System, "with perhaps one exception, is peopled, but that every planet, invisible to us, which must, from analogy, revolve around every sun nightly adorning our firmament, has its rational human population — beings endowed like ourselves with an immortal principle ; for who shall daringly take upon himself to affirm that the Almighty has granted this principle to the inhabitants of our small globe, but denied it to the rational beings of all other worlds ?

One of the greatest and most astounding discoveries in the physical universe, since that of universal gravitation by Newton, is undoubtedly the discovery of a central sun. It is now proved, almost with mathematical certainty, that a central world exists, occupying the point around which, obedient to the laws of gravitation, our Solar System, and the innumerable suns and systems composing the Milky Way, are revolving.

That our sun, and the stars erroneously called

PREFACE. V.

" fixed," have a proper motion in space, Sir William Herschel with some caution announced ; but it was left for Argelander, Struve, Maedlar, and other modern astronomers, to remove every doubt on this subject, and to demonstrate, from close and lengthened observations, that all the visible universe is in motion. This result seems to follow of necessity from the known powers of an infinitely diffused attraction. The very stability and well-being of Creation demand it ; for did the suns possess no motion around some common centre, they would, however distantly situated from each other, be inevitably drawn together in the lapse of ages, and then confusion, wreck, and universal chaos, would be substituted for the order and beauty now prevailing.

Professor Maedlar and others, after a laborious series of investigations, have come to the conclusion that the bright star Alcyone, the principal member of the Pleiad-group, is that important and wonderful world which occupies the central point in space, and

VI. PREFACE.

to which, whatever its magnitude may be, all other worlds do homage.*

They who read this poem must keep in view the great astronomical fact above named, for on it the hypothesis, or the chief theory propounded, is based — a theory which, though it may at first with difficulty gain credence with those unaccustomed to contemplate the magnificent works of the Creator, will not, I think, when the sublime astronomical wonder is calmly and reverently considered, be charged with outraging probability. On the contrary, it will be found to contain, it is sincerely hoped, a truth most precious to man — a truth calculated to inspire confidence, and fill the mind with bright anticipations ; while it will invest one world and its group of suns, shining nightly in our heavens, with a peculiar interest and glory.

* Some remarks on the interesting subject of a Central Sun will be found in the Appendix at the close of this volume.

THE IIMOKTALS

OR,

GLIMPSES OF PAKADISE.

Book I. The Immoetals

OK,

GLIMPSES OF PARADISE.

BOOK I.

Where dwell bright spirits ? — o'er the misty hill,

Through the long-vista'd vale, we cast our eyes,

Then up the wide expanse of vacant air,

To those illimitable ether-gulfs,

But nothing meets our anxious, asking sight.

Thus, swayed by erring sense, we wrongly deem

No spirits haunt our globe, no angel-forms

Move through the trackless infinite of calm,

But think yon far-spread regions lifeless space,

An azure wilderness of solitude,

Where cold and silence reign for evermore.

Are worlds thick-peopled ? is the forest-leaf, The water-drop, with countless beings stored, While nought exists thro' all those mighty depths ? Must they alone be naked ? must no life Exulting pass the wide cerulean plains, Where all is freedom, purity, and light ? The globes were formed as nursing-bowers for soul Cradled in matter here ; matured and ripe, She casts her swaddling clothes of fragile clay, And issues forth to claim, for endless years, Those skyey mansions, her congenial home. Nay, 'tis no fable telling us wide heaven, Though arched so still, so seeming void of life, Teems with immortals, countless as the sparks Which fly from Nature's anvil, when she moulds, From fiery vapours, some new giant sun.

No human sense can pierce the curtained scene, But brightly opened were the eyes of soul, A glorious spectacle might 'round us blaze ; Then should we see each mountain-top alive With rainbow-wing'd, and swift- descending forms ; Spirits would fill the vale each balmy morn,. Or glide at eve above the unbending woods,

THE IMMOKTALS. ■ 11

And walk the silver of the moon-lit sea. Around us, too, would guardian-angels float, A brilliant multitude, and wake no fear, For brows so gentle, eyes so sweetly-rayed, Could not inspire a terror, pity's beams Softening their looks, and robing each with light, Making more heavenly that which came from heaven, More beautiful their immortality.

Angels are ministers of love to man ; They watch the infant's cradle ; they protect Beauty and trusting Innocence from ill ; The Guardian-angel oft, in battle's hour, Wards the fierce thrust, and turns the ball aside ; She finds the dungeon of the wrong' d, oppress'd, Soothes his sad heart, and from the cold, dark cell, Points him again to liberty and light ; She enters poor Starvation's squalid home, And, smiling on the haggard, sleeping wretch, Cheers him with dreams of plenty, till his soul Leaps high with hope, and overflows with joy.

But not our globe alone Immortals seek, For all the beauteous planets — Venus, Mars,

And mountain'd Jove, and Saturn's belted sphere,

Their legions haply roam in fond delight.

They haunt each silvery moon, they haunt the sun,

Pass and repass on beams, like bridges thrown

Across the blue, from luminous star to star.

Ay, radiant forms, outnumbering all the leaves

Which fledge earth's forests, glide through ether's

depths — Spirits once linked to clay, and those that ne'er Wore the dull fetters of mortality, The gentle and the beautiful that flashed From God their source, like showers of amber light, And every beam a sinless, deathless soul. There shines no globe, but spirits round it wing, There spreads no space, but spirits wander there ; As hives with bees, as sleepless brain with thought, Filled is the universe with active Mind.

Are they in heaven ? no ; but every spot, Smiled on by God, they deem most holy, blest. What though God's Eden-Land be far away, He sends them thus to all the peopled worlds f 1 ) On mercy-errands, and to draw delight From wells of loveliness — his wondrous works.

WHAT IS SOUL OR SPIRIT ? 13

And what is human spirit ? false they teach Who judge it void of substance, parts, or form, A vaporous shade, a disembodied thought, That shims all converse with material scenes ; That views uncharmed the majesty and pomp Of green-robed worlds; that, naked and forlorn, Frequents no home of beauty it might love, But vaguely dwells in heaven's vague, empty blue ; Or, an unquiet, melancholy thing, Courts the dun shades of ebon-lidded Night, And cheerless roams beneath the freezing moon.

No, it is progress in high Being's march, Aspiring still, and reaching nearer God. It hath more searching ken, boasts larger powers, Than when pent, chained, in mortal prison here ; And oh ! not saddened when Death cries — away ! Spirit, if clothed with virtue's vest of beams, Flings its slave-irons back upon the world, And plunges into liberty and joy.

Joy is the burning basis of its life, The ambrosial aliment on which it feeds ; Joy welcomes it to proud, immortal days, And sounds sweet peans round its airy course,

From living Nature's universal lyre ;

For where no mists of crime make dark and sad,

Creation's face is one broad smile of joy.

Spirit is substance, or material things Would bow not to its power ; ( 2 ) it could not view The palpable, wide universe of God, Or whisper prayer, or anthem forth His praise. Most subtile the soul's element may be, Yet is it more than shadow, dreams, or thought. The soul is God-breathed life once veiled in flesh, Now freed, expanded, essence still the same, Feelings and wishes, hopes and love, unchanged ; 'Twas linked to dust by some mysterious law, Known but to God, immortal, mortal, joined ; And as the Almighty raised earth's eldest born, A faint, dim image, reflex of Himself, That form may truly type all heavenly forms, Each angel shaped like mortal beauty here ; Yet its irradiate, all harmonious frame, While quickening with each burning energy, Shares nothing of our darkened, grosser clay, But, moulded of the ethereal ne'er to change, Hath self-support, and quenchless inward life,

ANGELS. 15

Impowered to brave all accidents, all time,

And bloom and brighten, e'en when worlds decay.

Too coarse our earthly organs to behold The fine -knit glancing spirit, yet, proud dust ! Deny not soul exists, substantial formed. Canst thou behold the air ? yet air has weight ; Canst thou behold attraction ? yet its power, Tremendous, draws a planet from its course. By keen-eyed souls alone are souls perceived ; Thus since frail man first mourned the lost below, His longing vision hath not caught a glimpse Of friend departed, though that friend may move Still fondly near him, sigh back all his sighs, Smile when he smiles, and weep when fall his tears, And, on his stricken bosom, lean in love.

It is not fancy that hath bound bright wings, Like rainbows set on alabaster hills, Upon the angel's shoulder. Through all depths Stretches the ethery ocean, yet so rare, Comets alone the viewless medium feel.

Our air birds sail ; a million times refined, The blue abyss is swept by angel-plumes, ( 3 )

Dashing aside the long, long ether-waves, In phosphorescent undulations bright, And keeping pace with beams that cross the void From distant blazing stars ; and ne'er fatigue The angels feel, thus travelling liquid plains ; Their arching wings exultant waft them on : Though haply, Vheeling near some fairer globe, They light at times upon its verdant hills, Soothe their fine senses in its rosy air, And feast their eyes on some new Eden's bloom, Then urge again their journey, springing up Heaven's shining slopes, like creatures wing'd thought.

Deem not our world alone sends spirits forth, To bask in bliss, or drink the cup of woe ; Deem not our sun the eldest born of suns : No, as new globes God mouldeth still in space, Worlds sprang to burning being, stored with life, Thousands of ages ere our planet rolled From out its torpid chrysalis of chaos,*

* That there are suns in the universe which arose at God's fiat previously to the creation of our own luminary, is an

SPIRITS OF EXTINGUISHED STARS. 17

When, loveliest of the lovely orbs of God, It rode a thing of beauty on the sky, And swept rejoicing on its sunny path, With emerald hills and silver-surfaced seas, Mid shouts and songs of wondering cherubim.

Blest souls exist that walked in mortal bonds, Where Sirius or the Polar glories blaze, Long ere our parents opened ravished eyes In paradisal bowers ! The Hebrew sage Hath nothing writ to shake this lofty faith. — Are such now old, bowed low their angel-heads ?

hypothesis which by no means contradicts the Genesis of Moses. The expressions — " He made the stars also. — And God set them in the firmament of the heaven," do not fix any precise period when they first shone in space ; and therefore, in strict accordance with the sacred narrative, we may believe that man}' of the larger suns, such as Sirius, Arcturus, and others, the first of which much exceeds in magnitude our own sun, were distinguished by an earlier existence in the history of eternity. That new stars have, from time to time, been discovered where no star before existed, their appearance being totally unassignable to orbital motion, is also a fact which offers a strong argument against the doctrine of simultaneous creation. B

Are their eyes dim with viewing new suns flame,

And old ones wane to darkness ? ( 4 ) Do they crave,

"Worn out by an eternity of pomp,

Release from Being's long monotony,

And sigh to lay their aching grandeur down,

Where dumb oblivion, and undreaming peace,

May flood their essence with unconsciousness,

And tomb their wearied immortality ? —

No — see that form on yon high mountain-top,

Where shines the oldest of the Pleiad orbs !

-His limbs of grace — his locks like twisted beams

Robbed from some golden sunset — godlike eyes,

Bright with heaven-climbing thought, and soft with love,

Intelligence, and rapture, like a crown

Of arrowy glory on his smooth, white brow —

Is this the child of some extinguished star,

Its light e'en quenched before our system rose ?

Is this a soul once shrined in dying clay,

Who bowed like us, all weakness, sighed and wept,

Now smiling on a million slow-paced years,

And young in feeling still, as young in frame,

Gathering a bliss as keen from God's great works,

As when at first intoxicated sense

Drank wonder-draughts of rich Creation's wine ?

CREATION OF THE ANGELS. 19 2

But there are spirits who have never lived In tenements of flesh ; who sprang at once Brightly as stars from evening's procreant blue, And pure and holy as high thoughts from God, To loftiest life, and beauty passing dreams. No human woe, no darkening taint of sin, E'er cast eclipsing shadow on their brows ; They never felt infirmity or pain, Nor wept a parting with a dear beloved, Nor bowed in misery o'er a new-made grave. glorious, God-loved creatures ! life's first heirs ! Unfallen spirits ! favored, blissful souls !

Creation of the angels — time there was When no intelligence of finite power, Seraph or demon, lived in gulfs of space :.* No silvery wing its trail of radiance left Along the lifeless wilderness of sky ;

* From the whole tenor of the Hebrew Scriptures, we are led to conceive that angels existed prior to the formation of worlds ; that they were not, however, from eternity, seems sufficiently evident, having been summoned into existence at some remote epoch by Him who had no beginning.

b2

I

No brow beamed love and rapture ; no rich locks Waved in the light their streams of restless gold ; No lips immortal, touched with music-fire, Thrilled listening ether with a song of joy, Or voiced an anthem through the calm to God. Silence, close-guarded by black-vestured Night, And ceaseless watched by jealous Solitude, Sat on her ancient, melancholy throne, And cast her eyes dim, rayless, through the vault, And drooped her hands that hushed the infinite.

Yet still, still the great Triune was there, Veiled in heaven's depths of holiness and calm, But each bright attribute, of Mercy born, Locked in His essence, like most precious gold Now buried deep in some colossal globe. Beneficence no object found to bless ; No channel opened, through whose smiling banks Warm love could pour its affluent, holy tide. Bliss, if unshared below, scarce seemeth bliss, For happiness grows more the more it gives, And, giving nothing, still becometh less, And withers into weariness and gloom.

But, not like mortals, God in His full self

CREATION OF THE ANGELS. 21

Hath springs of bliss exhaustless as His power. Yet now strong love would summon 'round His throne, Creatures of reason dowered with endless life, Souls He would fill with joy, with wisdom crown, While beauty, a new glory, should light up The desolate spaces of unpeopled sky,

What means the unwonted burst of torrid beams, Arrowing in coruscations swift and bright, From the veiled centre of the universe ? The shafts fly silverly across the gloom ; They reach grim Darkness in his farthest seat, And startle Desolation. Ether glows With rosy tints, foretelling earth-born flowers, Its depths all trem'lous as with ecstasy. Soft shine the vaporous sides of forming globes ; Harmonious sounds go pulsing thro' the void, Sweet yet supernal music, from the source Whence music afterwards gushed richly down To ravish new-made worlds. A something strange, That ne'er before had stirred the unliving depths ; A movement of the Almighty's presence, felt Like breath of being through the shining vast, Proclaimed that life and intellect, enshrined

In forms immortal, were about to burst From the dim gulf of nothing.

Softly pure, There shone a circle of white, stainless rays ; That circle swept a million, million miles, And girt the Ancient Throne, and now it glowed A deeper flame, as if its hues were caught From amethysts and rubies. One vast iris Seemed ringing the great central gulf of space ; Or it was like the belt, though mightier far, Bathed in some blood-red sunset, girding now The tinted orb of Saturn. — Eay by ray, The circle blazed more grandly ; ray by ray, It flashed intolerably, blinding-bright, And, quivering into motion, seemed to live.

There was a sparkling of innumerous eyes, A spreading of a luminous cloud of wings, There was a burst — a long, wild burst of joy. Uprose a host of fair, ethereal forms, Complete their dazzling beauty, feeling, sense, Complete their keen and lofty intellects. Trembling in holy rapture, thick they stood,

CREATION OF THE ANGELS. 23

As flowers on some wide wilderness in Spring, Stirred by the fondling gales ; as stars that rush, When night comes down, in legions o'er the sky,, Till all the bine, one radiant battle-field, Doth burn and glitter with their golden arms.

O new-felt life ! gushing bliss of being ! For the first time to cleave the yielding air, For the first time to gaze, to think, to love ! With eye-wide wonder each the other viewed, And, wondering still, they scanned heaven's boundless

vault, While awe-held myriads silently upturned, Like vassal-flowers to their bright sovereign sun, Adoring brows to that dread, hallowed blaze, Where dwelt the Great Unseen; and then they

bowed, Folding their hands instinctively in prayer. Bright, sinless creatures, beautiful as good, Whose feelings were all flame, whose lips were praise, Whose every sense was throbbing ecstasy, Their aspirations a pure fire of joy, Kindling each breast, ascending evermore.

The ring of glory, now all angel-forms, Broke into radiant masses — living stars, That flashed and sparkled in the azure calm — Life-moulded dreams which rilled the mind of God. Cherubs, with lightning-looks that spoke desire To grasp all knowledge, restless wing'd the sky, And rose in spires, and sought to pierce the veil Of myst'ry and of wonder ; worlds ere long Would charm and satisfy their thirsting souls ; Seraphs with seraphs grouped, for theirs to feel A lofty adoration ; and their eyes, Lifted to Deity, displayed pure depths Of holy yearning, and concentred love.

Already o'er the host, by strength of mind, More nobly fashioned, and as leaders hailed, Archangels towered, and calm, majestic, looked Embodied dignity, and placid might, Leaning upon the blue, apart and still, Like demigods in meditation sunk. — Heaven doomed not these to fall from seats of bliss ; The rebel angels sprang from other hosts, Called afterwards by God to endless days.

The light, out-flashing from the centre, shone

CREATION OF THE ANGELS. 25

On all those wings, till each did seem a flame Starting from shoulders of unmelting snow — A flame anon that softened into roses, As roses bloom on earth when steeped in clew — That softened into living, downy gold.

A peal of thunder, solemn, deep, proclaimed The first Immortals thus create by God. That thunder rolled — in quivering waves, rolled out, Mighty and wide, along the sea of space ; Unchecked, sublime, its strong vibrations swept, Not slowly, as sound drags its heavy march In our dull air, but hurrying with the speed Of light-shafts from the quiver of the sun. It lessened not, in volumes pealing on, E'en to the confines of those gulfs where soon Would hang the finished worlds. It told pale Silence, It told sad Solitude amidst her gloom, It told Annihilation on her walk, That life now triumphed in the lifeless wastes, That God had raised to being glorious souls, Minds charged with feeling, love, and lofty thought ; Sweet angel-flowers that ne'er would droop or fade,

THE IMMORTALS.

Young beauteous forms time could not rob of grace, Bright intellects to suffer no eclipse, Children of immortality and joy.

OK,

GLIMPSES OF PABABISE.

Book II

Ages, as men count ages, rolled their waves, Myriads on myriads, breaking on the shore Of steadfast Time, and still more ages swept, Leaving but foam upon the shaken sand, And every bubble a long thousand years. Worlds, systems multitudinous as vast, Immense creations, in immenser space, Have poured, from all their nurseries of life, Undying souls into the Spirit-land ; Millions to brood in woe, their just award, Millions to rove in light and endless bliss ; The last e'en trebling the angelic bands That mortal chains ne'er fettered to the dust;

And though less glory crowns the human soul, It shares with angels Godhead's favoring smile, Drinking with them life's waters sparkling, pure, From rapture's cisterns thro' eternity.

Oh ! think not spirits, though divorced from clay, No longer hover 'mid material things, No longer love the beauteous works of God ; Yes, they admire the globes their Maker framed, With vales and sounding oceans, stamping deep The seal of beauty on their glorious fronts. Not for frail man alone those worlds arose, But to delight immortals, and to yield, With other raptures burning in high heaven, A joy for ever to angelic hosts.

Oft angels, from the upper paradise, Descend to view world-Edens blooming still, Those lower gardens beautifying space.

Thus do Immortals, down Heaven's azure road, Shod with the sunbeam's brilliancy and speed, Glide to our far small Earth — small, but fair, Clothed with a beauty angels vainly seek In bright-ringed Saturn, or in moony Jove —

EARTH. 29

A loveliness e'en passing that displayed By grand Orion's train, or worlds that walk Round golden-throned Arcturus. Man, dull Man ! Who sees no charm in God's great handywork, Who thinks to soar by blindly scorning earth, Calling its radiance dark, its beauties vile, And cursed of God, and hurrying to its doom- On ! 'tis his soul, and not the world, immersed In this black shadow of eclipsing ill.

Earth ! favored Earth ! rich-vestured, bride-like Earth !

That springeth jubilant upon her path, As freshly now, untired, and full of youth, As when first launched upon her rushing way, Singing along the pure, bright air for joy. She hath no mountain, but Archangels' feet Might tread it with admiring, reverent awe ; She hath no vale, but Seraphs there might walk, And lessons learn from beauties decking clay, The humblest flower a teacher eloquent, Preaching of love and God. Great ocean's face, Gathered to frowns, when storms convulse his heart, Or smiling to the stars in peace and calm,

THE IMMORTALS.

Offereth a glorious sight to eyes of soul ;

While his long waves, deep-booming round his shores,

Form a sonorous organ, whose grand notes

May float far out on ether's thrilling paths,

A solemn anthem e'en in angels' ears.

Each scene on earth, or wild, or beautiful, Hath spells to charm the travellers of the sky ; Their subtile senses, like their minds, surpass In fineness and acuteness, human powers ; And as the bee from herbs sucks honey-dew No art may gather, so, from all around, They draw pure, sweet delight, to man unknown.

They love the Spring, for then young Joy, released From Winter's prison, dances fetterless Along the exulting world. Few sights so dear To angel eyes, as wakening throbs of bliss, Pulsing from Nature's heart through all her veins. Now down yon azure troops of glittering forms Dart in bright lines, like shafts of silver sent From Heaven's full quiver. On the breezy hills They stand, immortal graces, wing'd with beams, Viewing the freshened scene, and drinking balm.

ANGEL-VISITANTS . 31 ,

They haunt the woods, though hid from mortal ken;

Or linger by the cool and crystal wells,

Types of their own pure nature. Far away,

In the lone wilderness, Spring's thrilling lip

Kisses up flowers from rude, uncultured earth ;

Why bloom they there ? no mortal treads the waste,

To view their brilliant hues, or breathe their scents ;

Nor can they charm wild bird, or savage beast ;

Their beauty springs — for God forms naught in vain —

To glad the wandering angels. Flashing down,

The skyey pilgrims, shining groups, alight ;

And they who, awed and ravished, watched the march

Of mighty planets thro' unmeasured heaven,

And listened crashing thunder, feel as rapt,

And lost in marvel, o'er a tiny flower.

They scan with curious eyes its growth, its veins,

Its sappy stem, and gaily-painted leaves,

Its honied cup for bees to riot in,

And all its living fabric, tasking skill

As high and wonderful, as power that orbed

The glorious sun which warms its musky breast.

Heaven's gentle children thus most brightly read God's love of beauty on a humble page,

Whose lines and syllables are sun-kissed flowers, And each sweet glowing letter spelling — love. Oh, searching all things fair, through all the worlds, Angels find nothing beautiful as flowers !

They love the greenery by long-winding streams, Or the smooth silver of a summer lake, Where, oft inspired by beauty's richest forms, They chant to Nature's God divinest song. sweet, sweet lakes ! there each delightful dream, And gorgeous fancy, finds material shape — The sloping velvet hill, the willow'd bank, The trees that spring more tall, with greener boughs ; The shore's soft undulations — beauty's lines ; The resting waters smoothed to crystal sheets, So that blue skies see other skies below, And in that glass the stars each evening peer, To mark how fair their pearly foreheads shine. We muse in loneliness, yet feel not lone, For birds, and butterflies, and fairy things, Will thickest haunt the bosky banks of lakes. We own the pensiveness that makes not sad, For rapturous Thought sits ever by the lake, Conversing with the outer, inner world.

ANGEL-VISITANTS. 33

When Summer bares her bosom to the gale, And walks the Southern Alps with beamy eyes, And waves her mantle o'er the singing woods, Dyeing them, by its shadow, living green, Ye meet no lovelier waters than the lake Clasped in the arms of Como's lilied shores. The sun rides high, but pours not fainting heat ; A softly-pulsing air from Alpine peaks Wafts a refreshing coolness. On the banks The idle fisher idly leans his form, His bliss to think of nothing. Bloomy fruit Hangs temptingly in rounding, ripening orbs, From low-depending boughs ; and Bacchic vines Wanton adown the many-coloured rocks.

The swans, where bordering chesnuts cast their shade, Cluster to sleep, gold bills beneath their wings ; And frequent from the wave, with silvery sides, The fish updarts, quick circles spreading round ; Circles, like generous love which opens wide, And wider still, to embrace all human kind. Flowers, by the water's edge, bend low their eyes, Each seeming, like that fabled youth of eld, To pine for its own beauty, while it breathes Sighs in delicious scents. The massive woods, c