—Such was thy course, Eugenio; such thy hardened heart,
Till mercy spoke, and death unsheathed the dart,
Twanged his unerring bow, and drove the steel
Too deep to be withdrawn, too wide the wound to heal,
Yet left of life a feebly glimmering ray,
Slowly to sink and gently ebb away.
—And yet, how blest am I!
While myriad others lie
In agony of fever or of pain,
With parching tongue and burning eye,
Or fiercely throbbing brain;
My feeble frame, though spoiled of rest,
Is not of comfort dispossest.
My mind awake, looks up to Thee,
Father of mercy! whose blest hand I see
In all things acting for our good,
Howe'er thy mercies be misunderstood.
—See where the waning moon
Slowly surmounts yon dark tree-tops,
Her light increases steadily, and soon
The solemn night her stole of darkness drops:
Thus to my sinking soul, in hours of gloom,
The cheering beams of hope resplendent come,
Thus the thick clouds which sin and sorrow rear
Are changed to brightness, or swift disappear.
Hark! that shrill note proclaims approaching day;
The distant east is streaked with lines of gray;
Faint warblings from the neighbouring groves arise,
The tuneful tribes salute the brightening skies,
Peace breathes around; dim visions o'er me creep,
The weary night outwatched, thank God! I too may sleep.
LINES WRITTEN UNDER A FEELING OF THE IMMEDIATE APPROACH OF DEATH.
The damps of death are on my brow,
The chill is in my heart,
My blood has almost ceased to flow,
My hopes of life depart;
The valley and the shadow before me open wide,
But thou, O Lord! even there wilt be my guardian and my guide,
For what is pain, if Thou art nigh its bitterness to quell?
And where death's boasted victory, his last triumphant spell?
O Saviour! in that hour when mortal strength is nought,
When nature's agony comes on, and every anguished thought
Springs in the breaking heart a source of darkest woe,
Be nigh unto my soul, nor permit the floods o'erflow.
To Thee, to Thee alone! dare I raise my dying eyes;
Thou didst for all atone, by Thy wondrous sacrifice;
Oh! in Thy mercy's richness, extend Thy smiles on me,
And let my soul outspeak Thy praise, throughout eternity!"
Beneath the above stanzas, in the manuscript alluded to, is the following note: "Rather more than a year has elapsed since the above was first written. Death is now certainly nearer at hand; but my sentiments remain unchanged, except that my reliance on the Saviour is stronger."
It was a melancholy sight to witness the premature extinction of such a spirit; yet the dying couch on which genius, and virtue, and learning thus lay prostrated, beamed with more hallowed lustre, and taught a more salutary lesson, than could have been imparted by the proudest triumphs of intellect. The memory of Dr. Godman, his blighted promise and his unfinished labours, will long continue to call forth the vain regrets of men of science and learning. There are those who treasure, up in their hearts, as a more precious recollection, his humble faith and his triumphant death, and who can meet with an eye of pity the scornful glance of the scoffer and the infidel, at being told that if Dr. Godman was a philosopher, he was also a Christian.
RAMBLES OF A NATURALIST.