WHEN first thou camest, gentle, shy, and fond,
My eldest-born, first hope, and dearest treasure,
My heart received thee with a joy beyond
All that it yet had felt of earthly pleasure;
Nor thought that any love again might be
So deep and strong as that I felt for thee.
Faithful and fond, with sense beyond thy years,
And natural piety that lean'd to Heaven;
Wrung by a harsh word suddenly to tears,
Yet patient of rebuke when justly given :
Obedient, easy to be reconciled,
And meekly cheerful-such wert thou, my child!
Not willing to be left; still by my side
Haunting my walks, while summer-day was dying; Nor leaving in thy turn: but pleased to glide
Through the dark room where I was sadly lying, Or by the couch of pain, a sitter meek,
Watch the dim eye, and kiss the feverish cheek.
Oh! boy, of such as thou are oftenest made
Earth's fragile idols; like a tender flower-
No strength in all thy freshness-prone to fade—
And bending weakly to the thunder-shower;
Still, round the loved, thy heart found force to bind,
And clung, like woodbine shaken in the wind!
Then thou, my merry love-bold in thy glee,
Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing,
With thy sweet temper and thy spirit free-
Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glancing,
Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth,
Like a young sunbeam to the gladden'd earth!
Thine was the shout! the song! the burst of joy! Which sweet from childhood's rosy lip resoundeth; Thine was the eager spirit naught could cloy,
And the glad heart from which all grief reboundeth;
And many a mirthful jest and mock reply,
Lurk'd in the laughter of thy dark blue eye!
And thine was many an art to win and bless,
The cold and stern to joy and fondness warming;
The coaxing smile; the frequent soft caress;
The earnest, tearful prayer all wrath disarming' Again my heart a new affection found,
But thought that love with thee had reach'd its bound.
At length thou camest; thou, the last and least; Nicknamed "the Emperor" by thy laughing brothBecause a haughty spirit swell'd thy breast, [ers, And thou didst seek to rule and sway the others; Mingling with every playful infant wile
A mimic majesty that made us smile:
And oh! most like a regal child wert thou!
An eye of resolute and successful scheming; Fair shoulders, curling lip, and dauntless brow, Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dreaming: And proud the lifting of thy stately head, And the firm bearing of thy conscious tread.
Different from both! Yet each succeeding claim, I, that all other love had been forswearing, Forthwith admitted, equal and the same;
Nor injured either by this love's comparing; Nor stole a fraction for the newer call,
But in the mother's heart found room for all!
LINES WRITTEN IN A HIGHLAND GLEN.
To whom belongs this valley fair,
That sleeps beneath the filmy air,
Even like a living thing?
Silent as infant at the breast,
Save a still sound that speaks of rest,
That streamlet's murmuring!
The heavens appear to love this vale;
Here clouds with scarce-seen motion sail,
Or mid the silence lie!
By that blue arch, this beauteous earth
Mid evening's hour of dewy mirth,
Seems bound unto the sky.
Oh that this lovely vale were mine!
Then, from glad youth to calm decline,
My years would gently glide;
Hope would rejoice in endless dreams,
And memory's oft-returning gleams
By peace be sanctified.
There would unto my soul be given,
From presence of that gracious Heaven,
A piety sublime!
And thoughts would come of mystic mood,
To make in this deep solitude
Eternity of Time!
And did I ask to whom belong'd
This vale? I feel that I have wrong'd
Nature's most gracious soul!
She spreads her glories o'er the earth,
And all her children, from their birth.
Are joint heirs of the whole !
Yea, long as Nature's humblest child
Hath kept her temple undefiled
By sinful sacrifice,
Earth's fairest scenes are all his own;
He is a monarch, and His throne
Is built amid the skies!
THE THREE SEASONS OF LOVE.
WITH laughter swimming in thine eye,
That told youth's heartfelt revelry!
And motion changeful as the wing
Of swallow waken'd by the spring;
With accents blithe as voice of May,
Chanting glad Nature's roundelay;
Circled by joy like planet bright
That smiles mid wreaths of dewy light;
Thy image such, in former time,
When thou, just entering on thy prime,
And woman's sense in thee combined
Gently with childhood's simplest mind,
First taught'st my sighing soul to move
With hope towards the heaven of love!
Now years have given my Mary's face
A thoughtful and a quiet grace;
Though happy still, yet chance distress
Hath left a pensive loveliness!
Fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams,
And thy heart broods o'er homeborn dreams!
Thy smiles, slow-kindling now and mild,
Shower blessings on a darling child;
Thy motion slow, and soft thy tread,
As if round thy hush'd infant's bed!
And when thou speak'st, thy melting tone,
That tells thy heart is all my own,
Sounds sweeter, from the lapse of years,
With the wife's love, the mother's fears!
By thy glad youth and tranquil prime
Assured, I smile at hoary Time!
For thou art doom'd in age to know
The calm that wisdom steals from wo;
The holy pride of high intent,
The glory of a life well spent.
When earth's affections nearly o'er,
With Peace behind, and Faith before,
Thou render'st up again to God,
Untarnish'd by its frail abode,
Thy lustrous soul; then harp and hymn,
From bands of sister seraphim,
Asleep will lay thee, till thine eye
Open in immortality!
THE POET'S BRIDAL-DAY SONG.
OH! my love's like the steadfast sun,
Or streams that deepen as they run;
Not hoary hairs, nor forty years,
Nor moments between sighs and fears;
Nor nights of thought, nor days of pain,
Nor dreams of glory dream'd in vain ;
Nor mirth, nor sweetest song which flows
To sober joys and soften woes,
Can make my heart or fancy:flee
One moment, my sweet wife, from thee.
Even while I muse, I see thee sit
In maiden bloom and matron wit;
Fair, gentle as when first I sued
You seem, but of sedater mood:
Yet my heart leaps as fond for thee
As when, beneath Arbigland tree,
We stay'd and woo'd, and thought the moon
Set on the sea an hour too soon;
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