THERE is a veil no mortal hand can draw,
Which hides what eye of mortal never saw;
Through that (each moment by the dying riven)
Could but a glance be to the living given,
How into nothing, less than nothing, all
Life's vanities, life's verities would fall,
And that alone of priceless worth be deem❜d,
Which is most lightly by the world esteem'd!
Enough is known; there is a heaven, a hell; Who 'scapes the last and wins the first doth well: Whither away, my soul!—in which wouldst thou Emerge from life, were death to smite me now?
ADDRESSED TO E. R., 1820.
I KNOW not who these lines may see;
I know not what these lines will be;
But, since a word in season sent,
As from a bow at hazard bent,
May reach a roving eye, or dart
Conviction to a careless heart,
Oh! that an arrow I could find
In the small quiver of my mind,
Which, with unerring aim, should strike
Each, who encounters it, alike!
Reader! attention! -I will spring
A wondrous thought; 'tis on the wing;
Guard well your heart, you guard in vain,
The wound is made, yet gives no pain;
Surprise may make your cheek to glow,
But, courage! none but you can know;
The thought, awaken'd by my spell,
Is more than I myself can tell.
How?search the chamber of your breast,
And think of that which you love best !
I've raised the spirit, but cannot lay it,
Your secret found, but can't betray it.
"What will this be,
A thousand ages hence, to me?"
And if it will not stand the fire,
In which all nature shall expire,
Think, -ere these rhymes aside are cast, -
As though the thought might be your last,
"Where shall I find below, above,
An object worthy of my love?"
Now hearken, and forget it never, Love that which you may love for ever.
WITHIN this curious case,
Time's sentinel I place,
Who, while calm, unconscious slumber
Shuts creation from mine eyes,
Through the silent gloom shall number
Every moment as it flies,
And record, at dawn of day,
Thrice ten thousand past away.
On each of these, my breath
May pause 'twixt life and death,
By a subtler line depending
Than the ray of twinkling light,
Which the smallest star is sending,
Every instant, through the night;
Yea, on films more finely spun,
All things hang, beneath the sun.
Rapt through a wildering dream,
Awake in sleep I seem ;
Sorrow wrings my soul with anguish,
Joy expands my throbbing breast;
Now, o'erwhelm'd with care, I languish,
Now serene and tranquil rest;
-Morning comes, and all between
Is as though it ne'er had been.
But Time has daylight hours, And man, immortal powers; Waking joy and sleepless sorrow, Worldly care and heavenly peace; Life, renew'd with every morrow, Not in death itself shall cease; Man, through all eternity,
What he here hath been shall be.
May she, whose skilful hand
This fairy net-work plann'd,
Still, in innocent employment,
Far from vanity and vice,
Seek the Pearl of pure enjoyment,
On her path to Paradise;
Time, for earth or heaven, employ'd,
(Both have claims) is time enjoy'd.
Each day to her, in flight, Bequeath a gem at night;
Some sweet hope, some hallow'd pleasure, From remembrance ne'er to part:
Hourly blessings swell the treasure
Hidden in her grateful heart,
And may every moment past
Leave a ray to gild her last.
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