There is in stillness oft a

magic power

To calm the breast, when struggling passions lower; ) Touch'd by its influence, in

the soul arise Diviner feelings, kindred

with the skies. By this the Arab's kindling

thoughts expand, When circling skies enclose

the desert sand; For this the hermit seeks the thickest grove, To catch th' inspiring glow of heavenly love. It is not solely in the freedom given To purify and fix the heart on heaven; There is a Spirit singing aye in air, That lifts us high above all mortal care. No mortal measure swells that mystic sound, No mortal minstrel breathes such tones around,—


The Angels' hymn,—the sovereign harmony That guides the rolling orbs along the sky,— And hence perchance the tales of saints who


And heard Angelic choirs in solitude,
By most unheard,—because the earthly din
Of toil or mirth has charms their ears to win.
Alas for man ! he knows not of the bliss,
The heaven that brightens such a life as this.

Oxford. Michaelmas Term, 1818.

TO F. W. N.


Dear Frank, this mom has ushered in
The manhood of thy days;

A boy no more, thou must begin
To choose thy future ways;

To brace thy arm, and nerve thy heart,

For maintenance of a noble part.

And thou a voucher fair hast given,

Of what thou wilt achieve, Ere age has dimm'd thy sun-lit heaven

In weary Life's chill eve;
Should Sovereign Wisdom in its grace
Vouchsafe to thee so long a race.

My brother, we are link'd with chain
That time shall ne'er destroy;

Together we haveT>een in pain,
Together now in joy;

For duly I to share may claim

The present brightness of thy name.

My brother, 'tis no recent tie

Which binds our fates in one,

E'en from our tender infancy

The twisted thread was spun ;—

Her deed, who stored in her fond mind

Our forms, by sacred love enshrined.

In her affection all had share,

All six, she loved them all; Yet on her early-chosen Pair

Did her full favor fall;'

1 Of course the allusion is not to the author's mother ; a mother has no favorites.

And we became her dearest theme,
Her waking thought, her nightly dream.

Ah ! brother, shall we e'er forget
Her love, her care, her zeal?

We cannot pay the countless debt,
But we must ever feel;

For through her earnestness were shed

Prayer-purchased blessings on our head.

Though in the end of days she stood,
And pain and weakness came,

Her force of thought was unsubdued,
Her fire of love the same;

And e'en when memory fail'd its part,

We still kept lodgment in her heart .

And when her Maker from the thrall

Of flesh her spirit freed,
No suffering 'companied the call,

—In mercy 'twas decreed,— One moment here, the next she trod The viewless mansion of her God.

Now then at length she is at rest,

And, after many a woe,
Rejoices in that Saviour blest,

Who was her hope belovv;
Kept till the day when he shall own
His saints before His Father's throne.

So it is left for us to prove

Her prayers were not in vain;

And that God's grace-according love
Has fall'n as gentle rain.

Which, sent in the due vernal hour,

Tints the young leaf, perfumes the flower.

Dear Frank, we both are summon'd now
As champions of the Lord ;—

Enroll'd am I, and shortly thou
Must buckle on thy sword;

A high employ, nor lightly given,

To serve as messengers of heaven!

Deep in my heart that gift I hide;

I change it not away
For patriot-warrior's hour of pride,

Or statesman's tranquil sway;

For poet's fire, or pleader's skill

To pierce the soul and tame the will.

O ! may we follow undismay'd
Where'er our God shall call!

And may His Spirit's present aid
Uphold us lest we fall!

Till in the end of days we stand,

As victors in a deathless land.



"Man goeth forth " ' with reckless trust

Upon his wealth of mind, As if in self a thing of dust

Creative skill might find; He schemes and toils; stone, wood, and ore Subject or weapon of his power.

1 Psalm civ. [ciii.] 23.

By arch ana spire, by tower-girt heights,

He would his boast fulfil;
By marble births, and mimic lights,—

Yet lacks one secret still;
Where is the master-hand shall give
To breathe, to move, to speak, to live?

0 take away this shade of might,
The puny toil of man,

And let great Nature in my sight
Unroll her gorgeous plan;

1 cannot bear those sullen walls,

Those eyeless towers, those tongueless halls.

Art's labor'd toys of highest name
Are nerveless, cold, and dumb;

And man is fitted but to frame
A coffin or a tomb;

Well suit when sense is pass'd away,

Such lifeless works the lifeless clay.

Here let me sit where wooded hills

Skirt yon far-reaching plain; While cattle bank its winding rills,

And suns embrown its grain;

Such prospect is to me right dear,
For freedom, health, and joy are here.

There is a spirit ranging through
The earth, the stream, the air;

Ten thousand shapes, garbs ever new,
That restless One doth wear;

In color, scent, and taste, and sound

The energy of life is found.

The leaves are rustling in the breeze,

The bird renews her song;
From field to brook, o'er heath, o'er trees,

The sunbeam glides along;
The insect, happy in its hour,
Floats softly by, or sips the flower.

Now dewy rain descends, and now
Brisk showers the welkin shroud;

I care not, though with angry brow
Frowns the red thunder-cloud;

Let hail-storm pelt, and lightning harm,

'Tis Nature's work, and has its charm.

Ah ! lovely Nature ! others dwell

Full favor'd in thy court;
I of thy smiles but hear them tell,

And feed on their report,
Catching what glimpse an Ulcombe yields
To strangers loitering in her fields.

I go where form has ne'er unbent

The sameness of its sway;
Where iron rule, starn precedent,

Mistreat the graceful day;
To pine as prisoner in his cell,
And yet be thought to love it well.

Yet so His high dispose has set,

Who binds on each his part; Though absent, I may cherish yet

An Ulcombe of the heart; Calm verdant hope divinely given, And suns of peace, and scenes of heaven ;—

A soul prepared His will to meet,

Full fix'd His work to do; Not labor'd into sudden heat,

But inly born anew.—

So living Nature, not dull Art,

Shall plan my ways and rule my heart .

Ulcombe. Sept. 1826.



I Am rooted in the wall

Of buttress'd tower or ancient hall;

Prison'd in an art-wrought bed,

Cased in mortar, cramp'd with lead

Of a living stock alone

Brother of the lifeless stone.

Else unprized, I have my worth
On the spot that gives me birth;
Nature's vast and varied field
Braver flowers than me will yield,
Bold in form and rich in hue,
Children of a purer dew;
Smiling lips and winning eyes
Meet for earthly paradise.

Choice are such,—and yet them knowest
Highest he whose lot is lowest.
They, proud hearts, a home reject
Framed by human architect;
Humble-I can bear to dwell
Near the pale recluse's cell,
And I spread my crimson bloom,
Mingled with the cloister's gloom.

Life's gay gifts and honors rare,

Flowers of favor! win and wear!

Rose of beauty, be the queen

In pleasure's ring and festive scene

Ivy, climb and cluster, where

Lordly oaks vouchsafe a stair.

Vaunt, fair Lily, stately dame,

Pride of birth and pomp of name,

Miser Crocus, starved with cold

Hide in earth thy timid gold.

Travell'd Dahlia, freely boast

Knowledge brought from foreign coast.

Pleasure, wealth, birth, knowledge, power.

These have each an emblem flower;

So for me alone remains

Lowly thought and cheerful pains.

B2 it mine to set restraint

On roving wish and selfish plaint;

And for man's drear haunts to leave

Dewy morn and balmy eve.

Be it mine the barren stona

To deck with green life not its own

So to soften and to grace

Of human works the rugged face,

Mine, the Unseen to display

In the crowded public way,

Where life's busy arts combine

To shut out the Hand Divine.

Ah ! no more a scentless flower,
By approving Heaven's hi";h power,
Suddenly my leaves exhale
Fragrance of the Syrian gale.
Ah ! 'tis timely comfort given
By the answering breath of Heaven
May it be ! then well might I
In College cloister live and die.

Ulcombe. Oct. 2, t82f.

"The maiden is noi dead, but sleepeth."

She is not gone ;—still in our sight
That dearest maid shall live,

]n form as true, in tints as bright,
As youth and health could give.

Still, still is ours the modest eye;

The smile unwrought by art; The glance that shot so piercingly

Affection's keenest dart;

The thrilling voice, I ne'er could hear

But felt a joy and pain ;—
A pride that she was ours, a fear

Ours she might not remain;

Whether the page divine call'd forth
Its clear, sweet, tranquil tone,

Or cheerful hymn, or seemly mirth
In sprightlier measure shown;

The meek inquiry of that face,

Musing on wonders found,
As 'mid dim paths she sought to trace

The truth on sacred ground;

The thankful sigh that would arise,
When aught her doubts removed,

Full sure the explaining voice to prize,
Admiring while she loved;

The pensive brow, the world might see
When she in crowds was found;

The burst of heart, the o'erflowing glee
When only friends were round;

Hope's warmth of promise, prompt to fill
The thoughts with good in store,

Match'd with content's deep stream, which still
Flow'd on, when hope was o'er;

That peace, which, with its own bright day,
Made cheapest sights shine fair;

That purest grace, which track'd its way
Safe from aught earthly there.

Such was she in the sudden hour
That brought her Maker's call,—

Proving her heart's self-mastering power
Blithely to part with all,—

All her eye loved, all her hand press'd

With keen affection's glow,
The voice of home, all pleasures best,

All dearest thoughts below.

From friend-lit hearth, from social board,

All duteously she rose;
For faith upon the Master's word

Can find a sure repose.

And in her wonder up she sped,

And tried relief in vain;
Then laid her down upon her bed

Of languor and of pain,—

And waited till the solemn spell

(A ling'ring night and day,) Should fill its numbers, and compel

Her soul to come away.

Such was she then ; and such she is,
Shrined in each mourner's breast;

Such shall she be, and more than this,
In promised glory blest;

When in due lines her Saviour dear

His scatter'd saints shall range, And knit in love souls parted here,

Where cloud is none, nor change.

Oxford. August, 1828.


Ladies, well 1 deem, delight

In comely tire to move;
Soft, and delicate, and bright,

Are the robes they love.
Silks, where hues alternate play,
Shawls, and scarfs, and mantles gay,
Gold, and gems, and crisped hair,
Fling their light o'er lady fair.

Tis not waste, nor sinful pride,

—Name them not, nor fault beside,—

But her very cheerfulness

Prompts and weaves the curious dress;

While her holyl thoughts still roam

Mid birth-friends and scenes of home.

Pleased to please whose praise is dear,

Glitters she ? she glitters there ;—

And she has a pattern found her

In Nature's glowing world around her.

Nature loves, as lady bright.

In gayest guise to shine,
All forms of grace, all tints of light,

Fringe her robe divine.
Sun-lit heaven, and rain-bow cloud,
Changeful main, and mountain proud,
Branching tree, and meadow green,
All are deck'd in broidcr'd sheen.
Not a bird on bough-propp'd tower,
Insect slim, nor tiny flower,
Stone, nor spar, nor shell of sea
But is fair in its degree.

Via. I Pet. iii. 5 ; and cf. Gen. xxiv. 22, 28-30.

Tis not pride, this vaunt of beauty;
Well she 'quits her trust of duty;
And, amid her gorgeous state,
Bright, and bland, and delicate,
Ever beaming from her face
Praise of a Father's love we trace.

Ladies, shrinking from the view

Of the prying day,
In tranquil diligence pursue

Their heaven-appointed way.
Noiseless duties, silent cares,
Mercies lighting unawares,
Modest influence working good,
Gifts, by the keen heart understood,
Such as viewless spirits might give,
These they love, in these they live.—
Mighty Nature speeds her through
Her daily toils in silence too:
Calmly rolls her giant spheres,
Sheds by stealth her dew's kind tears;
Cheating sage's vex'd pursuit,
Churns the sap, matures the fruit,
And, her deft hand still concealing,
Kindles motion, life, and feeling.

Ladies love to laugh and sing,
To rouse the chord's full sound,

Or to join the festive ring
Where dancers gather round.

Not a sight so fair on earth,

As a lady's graceful mirth;

Not a sound so chasing pain,

As a lady's thrilling strain. —

Nor is Nature left behind

In her lighter moods of mind;

Calm her duties to fulfil,

In her glee a prattler still.

Bird and beast of every sort

Hath its antic and its sport;

Chattering brook, and dancing gnat,

Subtle cry of evening bat,

Moss uncouth, and twigs grotesque,

These are Nature's picturesque.

Where the birth of Poesy?

Its fancy and its fire?
Nature's earth, and sea, and sky,

Fervid thoughts inspire.
Where do wealth and power find rest,
When hopes have fail'd, or toil opprest?

Parks, and lawns, and deer, and trees, Nature's work, restore them ease. — Rare the rich, the gifted rare,— Where shall work-day souls repair, Unennobled, unrefined, From the rude world and unkind? Who shall friend their lowly lot? High-born Nature answers not. Leave her in her starry dome, Seek we lady-lighted home. Nature 'mid the spheres bears sway, Ladies rule where hearts obey. Oxford. February 4, 1829


(With lines on hinges to fit it.)

Why, dear Cousin,

Ask for verses,
when a poet's
fount of song is


Or, if aught be

there, Harsh and chill, it ill may touch the hand of lady

fair. Who can perfumed waters

bring From a convent


"Monks in the olden

time, "They were rhymesters ?"— they were rhymesters, but in Latin

rhyme. Monks in the days of

old Lived in secret, in the Church's kindly-sheltering


No bland meditators they

Of a courtly


'They had visions

bright ? "they had visions, yet not sent in slumbers soft and

light No ! a lesson

stern First by vigils, fast, and penance theirs it was to

learn. This their soul-ennobling

gain, Joys wrought out by


"When from home they

stirr'd, '' Sweet their voices ?"— still, a blessing closed their merriest

word; And their gayest


Told of musings
and the hallow'd

aisle. "Songsters? "—hark ! they answer I

round Plaintive chantings


Grey his cowled


Whose strong heart has
pledged his service
to the cloister

blest. Duly garb'd is


As the frost-work gems the branches of yon stately


Tis a danger thwarting

spell, And it fits me


Oxford. December, 1829.


(For Music.)

Bloom, beloved Flower !—
Unknown ;—'tis no matter.

Courts glitter brief hour,
Crowds can but flatter.

Plants in the garden
See best the Sun's glory;

They miss the green sward in
A conservatory.

Prized Where'er Known.

Sure this is a blessing,
Outrings the loud tone

Of the dull world's caressing.

Oxford. December 3o, 1830.


Where'er I roam in this fair English land,
The vision of a Temple meets my eyes:
Modest without; within, all glorious rise
Its love-encluster'd columns, and expand
Their slender arms. Like olive-plants they


Each answ'ring each, in home's soft sympathies,

Sisters and brothers. At the altar sighs Parental fondness, and with anxious hand Tenders its offering of young vows and prayers. The same, and not the same, go where I will, The vision beams ! ten thousand shrines, all

one. Dear fertile soil! what foreign culture bears Such fruit? And I through distant climes

may run My weary round, yet miss thy likeness still.

Oxford. November 16, 1832.


Cease, Stranger, cease those piercing notes,

The craft of Siren choirs;
Hush the seductive voice, that floats

Upon the languid wires.

Music's ethereal fire was given,

Not to dissolve our clay, But draw Promethean beams from Heaven,

And purge the dross away.

Weak self! with thee the mischief lies,

Those throbs a tale disclose; Nor age nor trial has made wise

The Man of many woes. Off Lisbon. December 13, 1832. CORCYRA.

I Sat beneath an olive's branches grey,
And gazed upon the sight of a lost town,
By sage and poet raised to long renown;
Where dwelt a race that on the sea held sway,
And, restless as its waters, forced a way
For civil strife a hundred states to drown.
That multitudinous stream we now note down
As though one life, in birth and in decay.
But is their being's history spent and run,
Whose spirits live in awful singleness,
Each in its self-form'd sphere of light orgloom?
Henceforth, while pondering the fierce deeds

then done,

Such reverence on me shall its seal impress As though I corpses saw, and walk'd the


At Sea. January 7,

MESSINA. "Homo sum ; human! nil a me alienum puto."

Why, wedded to the Lord, still yearns my


Towards these scenes of ancient heathen fame? Yet legend hoar, and voice of bard that came Fixing my restless youth with its sweet art, And shades of power, and those who bore a


In the mad deeds that set the world in flame,
So fret my memory here,—ah ! is it blame?—
That from my eyes the tear is fain to start.
Nay, from no fount impure these drops arise;
Tis but that sympathy with Adam's race
Which in each brother's history reads its own.
So let the cliffs of this fair place
Be named man's tomb and splendid recora-

stone, High hope, pride-stain'd, the course without

the prize. Messina. February 9,


Now is the Autumn of the Tree of Life;
Its leaves are shed upon the unthankful earth,
Which lets them whirl, a prey to the winds'

strife, Heartless to store them for the months of

dearth. Men close the door, and dress the cheerful


Self-trusting still; and in his comely gear
Of precept and of rite, a household Baal rear.

But I will out amid the sleet, and view
Each shrivelling stalk and silent-falling leaf.
Truth after truth, of choicest scent and hue,
Fades, and in fading stirs the Angels' grief,
Unanswer'd here; for she, once pattern chief
Of faith, my Country, now gross-hearted

grown, Waits but to burn the stem before her idol's

throne. At Sea. June 23, 1833.




In service o'er the Mystic Feast I stand;

I cleanse Thy victim-flock, and bring them


In holiest wise, and by a bloodless rite.
O Fire of Love! O gushing Fount of Light;
(As best I know, who need Thy cleansing


Dread office this, bemired souls to clear
Of their defilement, and again make bright.




As, when the hand some mimic form would


It marks its purpose first in shadows lamt,
And next, its store of varied hues applies,
Till outlines fade, and the full limbs arise;
So in the earlier school of sacred lore
The Virgin-life no claim of honor bore,
While in Religion's youth the Law held sway,
And traced in symbols dim thai better way.
But, when the Christ came by a Virgin-
His radiant passage from high heaven to

earth, —

And, spurning father for His mortal state,
Did Eve and all her daughters consecrate,
Solved fleshly laws, and in the letter's place
Gave us the Spirit and the Word of Grace,
Then shone the glorious Celibate at length,
Robed in the dazzling lightnings of its strength,
Surpassing spells of earth and marriage vow,
As soul the body, heaven this world below,
The eternal peace of saints life's troubled span,
And the high throne of God, the haunts of


So now there circles round the King of Light A heaven on earth, a blameless court and


Aiming as emblems of their God to shine, Christ in their heart, and on their brow His Sign,—

Soft funeral lights in the world's twilight dim,
Loving their God, and ever loved by Him.

Ye countless multitudes, content to bow
To the soft thraldom of the marriage vow!
I mark your haughty step, your forward gaze,
Gems deck your hair, and silk your limbs

arrays; Come, tell the gain which wedlock has

conferred On man; and then the single shall be heard.

The married many thus might plead, I wean; Right glib their tongue, full confident their

mien :— '' Hear all who live! to whom the nuptial


Has brought the privilege of life and light.
We, who are wedded, but the law obey
Stamp'd at creation on our blood and clay,
What time the Demiurge our line began.
Oped Adam's side, and out of man drew man.
Thenceforth let children of a mortal sod
Honor the law of earth, the primal law of


'' List, you shall hear the gifts of price that


Gather'd and bound within the marriage-tie. What taught the arts of life, the truths which


In earth, or highest heaven, or vasty deep? What fill'd the mart, and urged the vessel


To link in one fair countries o'er the wave? What raised the town? what gave the type

and germ

Of social union, and of sceptre firm?
What the first husbandman, the glebe to

plough, And rear the garden, but the marriage vow?

'' Nay, list again! Who seek its kindly


A second self, a double presence gain; Hands, eyes, and ears, to act or suffer here, Till e'en the weak inspire both love and

fear, —

A comrade's sigh to soothe when cares annoy, A comrade's smile, to elevate his joy.

'Nor say it weds us to a carnal life,

When want is urgent, fears and vows art>


Light heart is his, who has no yoke at home, Scant prayer for blessings, as the seasons come; But wife, and offspring, goods which go or

Teach us our need, and make us trust and


Take love away, and life would be defaced,
A ghastly vision on a howling waste,
Stern, heartless, reft of the sweet spells which

swage The throes of passion, and which gladden

age. No child's sweet pranks, once more to make

us young;

No ties of place about our heart-strings flung; No public haunts to cheer; no festive tide When harmless mirth and smiling wit pre

side; A life which scorns the gifts by heaven

assign'd, Nor knows the sympathy of human kind. "Prophets and teachers, priests and victor

kings, Deck'd with each grace which heaven-taught

nature brings,

These were no giant offspring of the earth, But to the marriage-promise owed their

birth :—

Moses and Samuel, David, David's Son,
The blessed Tishbite, the more blessed John,
The sacred Twelve in apostolic choir,
Strong-hearted Paul, instinct with seraph

fire, And others, now or erst, who to high heaven


Bethink ye; should the single state be best, Yet who the single, but my offspring blest? My sons, be still, nor with your parents

strive: They coupled in their day, and so ye live."

Thus marriage pleads. Now let her rival


Dim is her downcast eye, and pale her cheek; Untrimm'd her gear; no sandals on her feet; A sparest form for austere tenant meet.

She drops her veil her modest face around,
And her lips open, but we hear no sound.
I will address her :—" Hail, O child of


Glorious within ! to whom a post is given Hard by the Throne where angels bow and

fear, E'en while thou hast a name and mission


O deign thy voice, unveil thy brow and see
Thy ready guard and minister in me.
Oft hast thou come heaven-wafted to my

breast, Bright Spirit! so come again, and give me


. . . "Ah, who has hither drawn my backward feet,

Changing for worldly strife my lone retreat?
Where, in the silent chant of holy deeds,
I praise my God, and tend the sick soul's


By toils of day, and vigils of the night,
By gushing tears, and blessed lustral rite.

I have no sway amid the crowd, no art
In speech, no place in council or in mart.
Nor human law, nor judges throned on high,
Smile on my face, and to my words reply.
Let others seek earth's honors ; be it mine
One law to cherish, and to track one line,
Straight on towards heaven to press with

single bent, To know and love my God, and then to die


Oxford. 1834

(a Song For An Inclement May.)

All is divine

which the Highest has made, Through the days that He wrought,

till the day when He stay'd;

Above and below,

within and around, From the centre of space,

to its uttermost bound.

In beauty surpassing

the Universe smiled, On the morn of its birth,

like an innocent child, Or like the rich bloom

of some delicate flower; And the Father rejoiced

in the work of His power.

Yet worlds brighter still,

and a brighter than those, And a brighter again,

He had made, had He chose; And you never could name

that conceivable best, To exhaust the resources

the Maker possess'd

But I know of one work

of His Infinite Hand, Which special and singular

ever must stand; So perfect, so pure,

and of gifts such a store, That even Omnipotence

ne'er shall do more.

The freshness of May,

and the sweetness of June, And the fire of July

in its passionate noon, Munificent August,

September serene, Are together no match

for my glorious Queen.

O Mary, all months

and all days are thine own, In thee lasts their joyousness,

when they are gone; And we give to thee May,

not because it is best,

But because it comes first,

and is pledge of the rest.

The Oratory. 1850.

(a Song.)

Where are the Islands of the Blest?

They stud the ^Egean Sea; And where the deep Elysian rest? It haunts the vale where Peneus strong Pours his incessant stream along, While craggy ridge and mountain bare Cut keenly through the liquid air, And, in their own pure tints array'd, Scorn earth's green robes which change and


And stand in beauty undecay'd,
Guards of the bold and free.

For what is Afric, but the home

Of burning Phlegethon? What the low beach and silent gloom, And chilling mists of that dull river, Along whose bank the thin ghosts shiver,— The thin wan ghosts that once were men,— But Tauris, isle of moor and fen, Or, dimly traced by seamen's ken, The pale-cliff'd Albion.

The Oratory. 1856.



Once, o'er a clear calm pool,
The fulness of an over-brimming spring,
I saw the hawthorn and the chestnut fling
Their willing arms, of vernal blossoms full
And light green leaves : the lilac too was there,
The prodigal laburnum, dropping gold,
While the rich gorss along the turf crept near,
Close to the fountain's margin, and made bold
To peep into that pool, so calm and clear :—
As if well pleased to see their image bright
Reflected back upon their innocent sight;
Each flower and blossom shy
Lingering the live-long day in still delight,
Yet without touch of pride, to view,
Yea, with a tender, holy sympathy,
What was itself, yet was another too.

So on thy verse, my Brother and my Friend,

—The fresh upwelling of thy tranquil spirit,—

I see a many angel forms attend;

And gracious souls elect,

And thronging sacred shades, that shall inherit

One day the azure skies,

And peaceful saints, in whitest garments


And happy infants of the second birth :— These, and all other plants of Paradise, Thoughts from above, and visions that are


And providences past, and memories dear,
In much content hang o'er that mirror pure,
And recognize each other's faces there,
And see a heaven on earth.

The Oratory. January i,



All-bountiful Creator, who . . . .162

All is divine . . . . . . .271

All tender lights, all hues divine . . . 139

And would'st thou reach, rash scholar mine . 34

Are these the tracks of some unearthly Friend. 41
As, when the hand some mimic form would

paint ....... 264

Banish'd the House of sacred rest ... 65
Between two comrades dear . . . .176

Bide thou thy time ...... 52

Cease, Stranger, cease those piercing notes . 260

Christ bade His followers take the sword . no

Come, Holy Gho-t, who ever One . . . 156

Creator of the starry pole .... 169

Day's herald bird ...... 148

Dear Frank, this morn has usher'd in . . 236

Death was full urgent with thee, Sister dear . 26

Deep in his meditative bower .... lot

Did we but see ...... 82

Do not their souls, who 'neath the Altar wait. 126


Each trial has its weight; which, whoso bears. Ill

Ere yet I left home's youthful shrine . . 43

Faint not, and fret not, for threaten'd woe . 46

Father of Lights, by whom each day . . 159

Father of mercies infinite .... 141

Framer of the earth and sky .... 143
"Give any boon for peace" . . . .88

Glory of the eternal Heaven .... 152

Hark, a joyful voice is thrilling . . 171

Haunting gloom and fitting shades . . . 149

Hid arc the saints of God .... 29

How can I keep my Christmas feast . . 56

How didst thou start, Thou Holy Baptist, bid. 114

How shall a child of God fulfil ... 60

I am rooted in the wall ..... 244

I bear upon my brow the sign ... 34

I bow at Jesu's name ..... 98

I dream'd that, with a passionate complaint . 108

I have been honor'd and obey'd ... 69

I rise and raise my clasped hands to Thee . 128

I sat beneath an olive's branches grey . . "261

I saw thee once, and nought discern'd . .' 64
If e'er I fall beneath Thy rod . . . .66

In childhood, when with eager eyes . . 21

In service o'er the Mystic Feast I stand . . 264

Jesus, Maria—I am near to death . . . 187

Ladies, well I deem, delight .... 250

Latest born of Jesse's race .... 70

Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom 99


Let heathens sing Thy heathen praise . . 59

Let us arise, and watch by night . . . 135

Light of the anxious heart ..... 174

Lord, in this dust Thy sovereign voice . . 32

Lord of unbounded space .... 160

"Man goeth forth" with reckless trust . . 240

Man is permitted much ..... 122

Many the guileless years the Patriarch spent . 75

May the dread Three in One, who sways . 140

Mid Balak's magic fires . ... 83
Mortal! if e'er thy spirits faint . - . -54

Moses, the patriot fierce, became . . • Sl

My Father's hope! my childhood's dream . 62

My home is now a thousand miles away . . 47

My oldest Friend, mine from the hour . 179

My smile is bright, my glance is free . . 40

Now is the Autumn of the Tree of Life . . 263

Now that the day-light dies away . . . 168

Xow that the day-star glimmers bright . . 154

O aged Saint! far off I heard .... 44

O comrade bold of toil and pain . . • 105

O God from God, and Light from Light . . I3'/

O God, of Thy soldiers 175

O God, unchangeable and true . • • 158

O God, who canst not change nor fail . • 157

O God, who hast given ..... 164

O heart of fire! misjudged by wilful man . 08

O Holiest Truth! how have I lied to Thee . 128

O Holy Lord, who with the Children Three . 81


O Lord and Christ ...... 74

O Lord! when sin's close-marshall'd line . 49

O Lord, who thron'd in the holy height . . 163

Oh! miserable power ..... 80

O piteous race . .... 124

O prophet, tell me not of peace ... 39

O purest Symbol of the Eternal Son . . 73

O rail not at our kindred in the North . . 100
O, say not thou art left of God . . .104

O that Thou wouldest rend the breadth of sky. 23

O ye who seek the Lord . . . . 173

Of the Father Effluence bright. . . . 146

Once, as I brooded o'er my guilty state . . 37

Once cast with men of language strange . . 119

Once, o'er a clear, calm pool .... 275

One only, of God's messengers to man . . 87

Paler have grown the shades of night . . 145

Peace loving man, of humble heart and true . 96

Poor wand'rers, ye are sore distress'd . . 45

Prune thou thy words, the thoughts control . 109

Say, has thou track'd a traveller's round. . 84
Say, who is he in deserts seen . . -35

Secure in his prophetic strength. ... 78

See, the golden dawn is glowing . . .151

She is not gone ;—still in our sight . . . 247

Sleep has refresh'd our limbs, we spring . . 136

Some one whisper'd yesterday. . . . 129

Souls of the just 85

Supernal Word, proceeding from . . . 170


The Angel-lights of Christmas morn . . . 178
The ark of God has hidden strength . .118
The better portion didst thou choose, Great

Heart 58

The Church shone brightly in her youthful days 90

The dawn is sprinkled o'er the sky . . . 153

"The Fathers are in dust, yet live to God" . 86

The number of Thine own complete . . 182

The red sun is gone ..... 167

The time has been, it seem'd a precept plain . 106

The world has cycles in its course, when all . 103

There is in stillness oft a magic power . . 235

There is not on the earth a soul so base . . 120

They are at rest 131

They do but grope in learning's pedant round. 42
Thou champion high . . . . .186

Thou to wax fierce ...... 36

Thrice bless'd are they, who feel their loneli-
ness ........ 63

Thy words are good, and freely given . . 50

Time was, I shrank from what was right. . 67

To-day the Blessed Three in One . . . 133

Two brothers freely cast their lot . . 115

Unveil, O Lord, and on us shine . . . 184

Unwearied God, before whose face ... 57

We are not children of a guilty sire. • . 77

Weep not for me ...... 28

What time my heart unfolded its fresh leaves . 72

When first earth's rulers welcomed home . 95

When first God stirred me, and the Church's

word .....
When Heaven sends sorrow
When I am sad, I say
When I look back upon my former race
When I sink down in gloom or fear.
When I would search the truths that in me burn
When mirth is full and free
When royal Truth, released from mortal throes
Whence is this awe, by stillness spread
Whene'er across this sinful flesh of mine
When'er goes forth Thy dread command
Where are the Islands of the Blest ?.
Where'er I roam in this fair English land
While Moses on the Mountain lay
Who madest all and dost control
Whom all obey
Why, dear Cousin why .
Why loiterest within Simon's walls
Why, wedded to the Lord, still yearns my heart
"Woe 's me !" the peaceful prophet cried
Ye cannot halve the Gospel of God's grace

94 76

55 48

38 116

274 259 130 138 165 254 112 262 53 91

APR J 0 2002


APR I o 2002

APR 1 0 2002