CALLING UP HIS LEGIONS.
WINTER.
Awake—arise! all my stormy powers,
The earth, the fair earth, again is ours!
At my stern approach, pale Autumn flings down
In the dust her broken and faded crown;
At my glance the terrified mourner flies,
And the earth is filled with her doleful cries.
Awake!—for the season of flowers is o'er,—
My white banner unfurl on each northern shore!
Ye have slumbered long in my icy chain—
Ye are free to travel the land and main.
Spirits of frost! quit your mountains of snow—
Will ye longer suffer the streams to flow?
Up, up, and away from your rocky caves
And herald me over the pathless waves!
He ceased, and rose from his craggy throne
And girt around him his icy zone;
And his meteor-eye grew wildly bright
As he threw his glance o'er those realms of night.
He sent forth his voice with a mighty sound,
And the snows of ages were scattered around;
And the hollow murmurs that shook the sky
Told to the monarch, his band was nigh.
THE WIND FROST.
I come o'er the hills of the frozen North,
To call to the battle thy armies forth:
I have swept the shores of the Baltic sea,
And the billows have felt my mastery;
They resisted my power, but strove in vain—
I have curbed their might with my crystal chain.
I roused the northwind in his stormy cave,
Together we passed over land and wave;
I sharpened his breath and gave him power
To crush and destroy every herb and flower;
He obeyed my voice, and is rending now
The sallow leaves from the groaning bough;
And he shouts aloud in his wild disdain,
As he whirls them down to the frozen plain:
Those beautiful leaves to which Spring gave birth
Are scattered abroad on the face of the earth.
I have visited many a creek and bay,
And curdled the streams in my stormy way;
I have chilled into hail the genial shower:—
All this I have done to increase thy power.
I stood by the stream in the deep midnight.
The moon through the fog shed a misty light;
I arrested the vapours that floated by,
And wove them in garlands and hung them on high;
I bound the trees in a feathery zone,
And turned the soft dews of heaven to stone;
I spangled with gems every leaf and spray,
As onward I passed on my noiseless way;
And I came to thee when my work was done,
To see how they shone in the morning sun!
THE NORTH WIND.
I have borne the clouds on my restless wings,
And my sullen voice through the desert rings;
I sent through the forest a rushing blast,
And the foliage fled as I onward passed
From the desolate regions of woe and death,
In adamant bound by my freezing breath:
From the crystal mountains where silence reigns,
And nature sleeps on the sterile plains,
I have brought the snow from thy mighty store
To whiten and cover each northern shore.
THE EAST WIND.
I woke like a giant refreshed with sleep,
And lifted the waves of the troubled deep;
I clouded the heavens with vapours dark,
And rolled the tide o'er the foundering bark,
Then mocked in hoarse murmurs the hollow cry
Of the drowning wretch in his agony:
I have leagued with the North to assert thy right
On the land and the wave both by day and by night!
I heard thy summons and hastened fast,
And floated hither before the blast,
To wave thy white banner o'er tower and town,
O'er the level plain and the mountain brown.
I have crowned the woods with a spotless wreath,
And loaded the avalanche with death;
I have wrapped the earth in a winding sheet,
And Nature lies dead beneath my feet.
CHORUS OF SPIRITS.
All hail, mighty monarch! our tasks are o'er;
Thy power is confessed on each northern shore;
From the rock's stern brow to the rolling sea
The spirits of earth have bowed to thee.
In the cradle of Nature the young Spring lies
With the slumber of death on her azure eyes;
And we wander at will through the wide domain,
Which in beauty and verdure shall flourish again,
When she bursts from her shroud like a sun-beam forth
'To chase us back to the frozen North!'
With darkness and storms for thy panoply,
Stern Winter, what power may contend with thee?
Thy sceptre commands both the wind and the tide,
And thy empire extends over regions wide;
With thy star-gemmed crown and eagle wings,
The strongest of nature's potent kings!
But thy power for a season alone is lent,
Thou art but a ministering spirit sent
By the mighty Creator of thine and thee,
Who fills with his presence immensity!
THERE'S JOY, &c.
There's joy when the rosy morning floods
The purple east with light,
When the zephyr sweeps from a thousand buds
The pearly tears of night.
There's joy when the lark exulting springs
To pour his matin lay,
From the blossomed thorn when the blackbird sings,
And the merry month is May.
There's joy abroad when the wintry snow
Melts as it ne'er had been,
When cowslips bud and violets blow,
And leaves are fresh and green.
There's joy in the swallow's airy flight,
In the cuckoo's blithesome cry,
When the floating clouds reflect the light
Of evening's glowing sky.
There's joy in April's balmy showers
'Mid gleam of sunshine shed,
When May calls forth a thousand flowers
To deck the earth's green bed.
There's joy when the harvest moon comes out
With all her starry train,
When the woods return the reaper's shout
And echo shouts again.
There's joy in childhood's merry voice
When the laugh rings blithe and clear;
And the sounds that bid young hearts rejoice
Are music to the ear.
There's joy in the dreams of early youth,
Ere care has cast a shade
O'er scenes which, though drest in the guise of truth,
Our reason dooms to fade.
There's joy in the youthful lover's breast
When his bride by the altar stands,
When his trembling lip to hers is pressed
And the priest has joined their hands.
There's joy in the smiling mother's heart
When she clasps her first-born son,
When the holy tears of rapture start
To bless the lovely one.
There's joy when the war-worn soldier hears
The notes that breathe of peace,
That dry the anxious matron's tears,
And bid stern slaughter cease.
There's joy when he treads the village green
And views his father's cot;
The horrors of the battle-scene
Are in that hour forgot.
There's joy in the shipwrecked seaman's heart,
Who has clung all night to the shrouds;
When the morning breeze rives the rack apart,
And the sun breaks through the clouds.
There's joy when he nears his native land,
And the tedious voyage is o'er,
And he feels the grasp of the kindred hand
He thought to enfold no more.
There's joy above, around, beneath,
But tis a fleeting ray;
The world's stern strife, the hand of death,
Bid mortal hopes decay.
But there's a better joy than earth,
With all her charms, can give,
Which marks the Christian's second birth,
When man but dies to live!
LOVE.
Oh Love! how fondly, tenderly enshrined
In human hearts, how with our being twined!
Immortal principle, in mercy given,
The brightest mirror of the joys of heaven.
Child of Eternity's unclouded clime,
Too fair for earth, too infinite for time:
A seraph watching o'er Death's sullen shroud,
A sunbeam streaming through a stormy cloud;
An angel hovering o'er the paths of life,
But sought in vain amidst its cares and strife;
Claimed by the many—known but to the few
Who keep thy great Original in view;
Who, void of passion's dross, behold in thee
A glorious attribute of Deity!
MORNING HYMN.
O'er Time's mighty billows borne,
Angels lead the purple morn;
Chasing far the shades of night
From the burning throne of light:
Where their glorious wings unfold,
There the east is streaked with gold;
Gilding with celestial dyes
The azure curtain of the skies.
High in air their matin song
Floats the ethereal fields along;
Ere creation wakes they sing,
Glory to the eternal King!
Till silent woods and sleeping plains
Echo far, Jehovah reigns!
Rising from the arms of night,
Nature hails the birth of light;
Smiling sweetly through her tears,
High her verdant crown she rears;
At her call the sunny hours
Wreathe her humid locks with flowers;
Bright with many a lucid gem
Shines her spotless diadem:
Every grove hath found a voice,
Countless tribes in Thee rejoice!
In melody untaught they sing
Glory to the eternal King!
Earth and heaven respond their strains,
Lord of all, Jehovah reigns!
On man's sin-bound soul and eyes
Alone the shade of darkness lies:
The last of nature's children he,
To laud the eternal Deity!
The last his sullen voice to raise,
The Lord of life and light to praise—
Slumberer, wake!—arise! arise!
Join the chorus of the skies!—
Dost thou sleep? to whom is given
The privilege of sons of heaven?
Wake with angel choirs to sing
Glory to the Almighty King,
Who life within himself retains—
Lord of all, Jehovah reigns!
Rising o'er the tide of years,
Lo, a morn more blessed appears:
When yon burning orb of fire,
And moon, and stars, and heavens expire,
And all that once had life and breath,
Emerging from the arms of death,
Shall animate the heaving sod,
And countless millions meet their God!
Whose hand the links of time shall sever,
And man shall wake—to live for ever!
When souls redeemed with angels sing,
Glory to the eternal king!
Vanquished death is led in chains—
Lord of life, Jehovah, reigns!
EVENING HYMN.
Sinking now in floods of light,
The sun resigns the world to night;
When a lingering glance he turns,
The glowing west with glory burns,
And the blushing heavens awhile
Long retain his parting smile.
Ere gray evening's sullen eye,
Bids those tints of beauty die;
Ere her tears have washed away
The footsteps of departing day,
Nature from her verdant bowers
Her last long strain of rapture pours;
Shrouded in her misty vest,
She sings a drowsy world to rest,
And tells to man, in thrilling strains,
That the Lord Jehovah reigns!
Lingering twilight dies away,
Night resumes her ancient sway,
Round her sable tresses twining
Countless hosts of stars are shining;
Weaving round the brow of night
A coronet of living light:
O'er the couch of nature bending,
Their beauteous glances downward sending,
A silent watch of glory keeping,
Guard the earth whilst life is sleeping.
Strains unheard by mortal ears,
Echo through the starry spheres;
Other worlds awake to sing,
Glory to the eternal King!
Till azure fields and liquid plains
Echo far, Jehovah reigns!
Creation sleeps—but many a sound
Of melody is floating round—
Where the moon-lit sea is flinging
Its snowy foam and upward springing
To meet the shore advancing nigh,
Pours, in many a broken sigh,
A mournful dirge o'er those who rest
Forgotten in its stormy breast.
Restless ocean, onward rave;
He who trod the boisterous wave,
Shall to life those forms restore,
Thy tides have rolled for ages o'er;
Those sleepers from thy depths shall spring
To meet in air their mighty King,
Whilst shrinking seas repeat their strains,
Lord of all, Jehovah, reigns!
This is night;—her mantle gray
She flings across the brow of day
To hide from mortal ken awhile
The splendour of his kingly smile.
But what magic beauties lie
In her dark and shadowy eye,
When the moon with glory crowned
Checkers o'er the distant ground;
Bathing now in floods of light,
Now retreating from the sight,
As the heavy vapoury cloud
Flings athwart its sable shroud;
Onward as her course is steering,
Now through broken cliffs appearing,
She shows the brightness of her form
And laughs exulting at the storm;
Whilst misty hills and moon-lit plains
Echo far, Jehovah reigns!
Night,—thy end is hastening fast,
Eternal day will dawn at last;
The Sun of righteousness shall rise,
Triumphant through his native skies;
And men redeemed from dust shall spring
To hail the advent of their King;
Till heaven's wide arch repeats their strains,
Christ, our own Immanuel, reigns!
THE END.
BUNGAY: PRINTED BY J. R. AND C. CHILDS.