A banquet for the withering worm!
And they had seen her full dark eye,
Sealed in that stillness of repose,
Which follows instant on the close
Of suffering, frail mortality,-
Yet seems so like a living sleep,
The mourner half forgets to weep;
And they had heard the mother's cry
Of loud and hopeless agony;
And seen the attendant maidens tear
Their robes, and rend their flowing hair;
And thence they knew that life was fled,
That all of human aid was vain-
And spoke derision and disdain
In whispered accents, as they said,
What! will this dreamer raise the dead?"
'Twas but an instant! - At his word,
Forth passed the unbelieving band,
For none withstood his high command,
Though none yet knew their Lord.
When all was still, and scarce a breath
Was heard within the house of death,
The childless parents first he led
Into the chamber of the dead,
Then of his train the chosen three:
Softly they stepped, and silently
They knelt around the bed
On which the just departed lay :-
Yet the sad mother turn'd away
From that pale corpse, so coldly fair;
Faith yet was struggling with. Despair;
And still on Jesus fixed her eye,
Lest Doubt should win the mastery.
The father's glance was rooted there.-
Yes, on that form he seem'd to look,
As if the spirit had not fled,
As if the grave would yield its prize-
And moved not, till the Saviour spoke
His mandate to the unconscious dead-
Maiden, I say to thee, Arise!'
O Father! dost thou view on earth
The marvel of a heavenly birth?
O Mother! dost thou clasp again
Thy child without a mother's pain?
Do ye, O faithful, favoured three!
Again behold the victory
O'er Death, or is it on the dead
Your stedfast glance is riveted?
No! 'tis not on the dead they gaze;-
The wondering father looks not now
On the pale cheek, the still cold brow!
The mother, rapt in mute amaze,
No longer turns on that closed eye
The glance that vainly asks reply!
For lo! her fringed lids unclose,
Her eyes with living lustre beam,
As if she woke from calm repose,
Or from a bright and blissed dream!
And look! again the faded rose
Glows round her lips;-they seem to move!
Is it a warm and breathing smile?
Or doth the witchery of love
With false, illusive spell beguile?
Oh, no! she rises, she revives!
'Tis not a dream! she lives! she lives!
The life-the glad reality
Beams on her cheek-burns in her eye!
Fresh graces to the Maid are given,
As she had dwelt awhile in Heaven;
And then return'd to lower earth,
To shew what forms of angel-birth
Are tenants of the sky!
They spoke not, moved not, all they could,
It was to glance from her to Him!
And if the dazzled eye was dim,
And scarce could look the gratitude
Which, e'en to bursting, fill'd each breast,-
To Him it was not unexpressed,
Their hearts before Him open lay!
Emotions, that for utterance strove,
Joy, Wonder, Adoration, Love,
Needed to Him no vain display
Of words: nor paused he but to say,
• Receive your daughter from the tomb,
Undoubting-for with mortal food
Soon shall ye hail her strength renewed,
And health restored in all its bloom.
Henceforth in solemn silence seal
The pangs ye felt, the joys ye feel;
For life restored, for guilt forgiven,
Your praises shall be heard in Heaven!"
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it has been of yore;
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
The rainbow cones and goes,
And lovely is the rose,
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound,
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief,
But timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay,
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday,
Thou Child of joy
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While the Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May morning,
And the children are pulling,
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his mother's arm :-
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
-But there's a tree, of many one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone.
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
The Youth, who daily farther from the East
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
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