And the dread rushing of your wings that hour, But in the Olive-mount, by night appearing, 'Midst the dim leaves, your holiest work was done! Whose was the voice that came divinely cheering, Fraught with the breath of God, to aid his Son? -Haply of those that, on the moon-lit plains, Wafted good tidings unto Syrian swains. Yet one more task was yours! your heavenly dwelling But may ye not, unseen, around us hover, With gentle promptings and sweet influence yet, Though the fresh glory of those days be over, When, 'midst the palm-trees, man your footsteps met? Are ye not near when faith and hope rise high, When love, by strength, o'ermasters agony? Are ye not near when sorrow, unrepining, Yields up life's treasures unto Him who gave? When martyrs, all things for His sake resigning, Lead on the march of death, serenely brave? Dreams!—but a deeper thought our souls may fill· One, One is neara spirit holier still! IVY SONG. WRITTEN ON RECEIVING SOME IVY-LEAVES GATHERED FROM THE RUINED CASTLE OF RHEINFELS, ON THE RHINE. O! HOW Could Fancy crown with thee In ancient days the God of Wine, Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Where song's full notes once peal'd around, The Roman on his battle-plains, Around the victor's tent: Yet there, though fresh in glossy green, Where sleep the sons of ages flown, Where years are hastening to efface Each record of the grand and fair; Thou, in thy solitary grace, Wreath of the tomb! art there. O! many a temple, once sublime, Hath nought of beauty left by time, And, rear'd 'midst crags and clouds, 'tis thine O'er towers that crest the noble Rhine, High from the fields of air look down 'Tis still the same! where'er we tread The wrecks of human power we seeThe marvels of all ages fled, Left to decay and thee! And still let man his fabrics rear, August in beauty, grace, and strength; "Ye myrtles brown, and ivy never sere." LYCIDAS. 29* TO ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S CHILDREN ON HIS BIRTHDAY. WHERE sucks the bee now?-Summer is flying, With the cowslip cups, where the fairies dwell; For love bids it welcome, the love which hath smiled Watching thy footsteps, and guarding thy bed, And pouring out joy on thy sunny head. ON A SIMILAR OCCASION. THOU wakest from rosy sleep, to play Thou hast no heavy thought or dream Yet, ere the cares of life lie dim On thy young spirit's wings, Now in thy morn forget not Him From whom each pure thought springs! So, in the onward vale of tears, When strength hath bow'd to evil years, CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST. FEAR was within the tossing bark And men stood breathless in their dread, But One was there, who rose and said And the wind ceased-it ceased!-that word The troubled billows knew their Lord, And fell beneath His eye. And slumber settled on the deep, And silence on the blast; They sank, as flowers that fold to sleep O Thou, that in its wildest hour Didst rule the tempest's mood, |