Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 35 1832.pdf/5



And the rich unison of mingled prayer, The melody of hearts in heavenly air, Thence duly should arise; Lifting th' eternal hope, th' adoring breath, Of Spirits, not to be disjoined by Death, Up to the starry skies.

There, dost thou well believe, no storm should come To mar the stillness of that Angel-Home;— There should thy slumbers be Weighed down with honey-dew, serenely blessed, Like theirs who first in Eden's Grove took rest Under some balmy tree.

Love, Love! thou passionate in Joy and Woe! And canst thou hope for cloudless peace below— Here, where bright things must die? Oh, thou! that wildly worshipping, dost shed On the frail altar of a mortal head Gifts of Infinity!

Thou must be still a trembler, fearful Love! Danger seems gathering from beneath, above, Still round thy precious things;— Thy stately Pine-tree, or thy gracious Rose, In their sweet shade can yield thee no repose, Here, where the blight hath wings.

And, as a flower with some fine sense imbued To shrink before the wind's vicissitude, So in thy prescient breast Are lyre-strings quivering with prophetic thrill To the low footstep of each coming ill;— —Oh! canst Thou dream of rest?

Bear up thy dream! thou Mighty and thou Weak Heart, strong as Death, yet as a reed to break, As a flame, tempest-swayed! He that sits calm on High is yet the source Whence thy Soul's current hath its troubled course, He that great Deep hath made!

Will He not pity?—He, whose searching eye Reads all the secrets of thine agony?— Oh! pray to be forgiven Thy fond idolatry, thy blind excess, And seek with Him that Bower of Blessedness— Love! thy sole Home is Heaven? F. H.