My dream then changed; yet still I was
That parent's hope and pride;
Though stern realities of life
Forced childhood's joys aside.
I lived, in memory, o'er again,
With bitter tears and sighs,
The hour when, far from home and friends,
I closed his dying eyes.
E'en in that hour of dread and death,
How placidly he smiled;
And left a lasting legacy,
His blessing, for his child!
With agonizing start, I woke,
To feel life's every ill;
Yet, 'mid misfortune's withering blast,
I hear that blessing still:
And echo seems, where'er I rove,
In gilded hall or bower,
To greet me with the voice of love
I heard in that lone hour;
A gleam of bliss amid the gloom
Of sorrow's solitude;
A talisman to draw my thoughts
Where vice dares not intrude.
It oft has checked my wild career
When borne on passion's wing;
For oh! a parent's blessing is
A sweet, a holy thing!
In fancy, oft I follow on
That faint, sweet voice of love,
Till, leaving earth and earthly cares,
I soar to realms above;
And scenes of dazzling brightness rush
On my bewildered sigh:
My spirit feels the Godhead there,
In majesty and might.
And sounds seraphic greet mine ear,
And heavenly anthems swell:
There, 'mid the choir, his voice I hear
Who loved me long and well;
And, as the song of praise is raised,
In cadence sweet and mild,
Again the passing spirit says:
'Almighty! bless my child!'
I. G.
[ANECDOTE OF A BOTTLE OF WINE.]
Trincolo. Oh Stephano! hast any more of this?
Stephano. Out of the moon I do assure thee; I was
The man in the moon, when time was.
Caliban. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee;
My mistress shew'd me thee, thy dog, and bush.
I consider the wines of France to bear the same rank in comparison with those of other countries, that the highest order of lyrical effusion sustains in the world of poetry. Ordinary Rhenish wines are it's satires and pasquinades; Port is didactic verse; while among the first growths of the Rheingau, of Madeira, and of Spain, are to be sought the Shakspeares, the Homers, the Miltons, Virgils and Dantes of the wine-crypt.