HOPE,

AN

ALLEGORICAL SKETCH.

I.

I Am the comforter of those that mourn,

"My scenes well-shadow'd, and my carol sweet, "Cheer the poor passengers of life's rude bourne, "Till they are shelter'd in that last retreat, "Where human toils and troubles are forgot." These sounds I heard amid this mortal road, When I had reach'd with pain one pleasant spot, So that for joy some tears in silence flow'd; I rais'd mine eyes, which sickness long deprest, And felt thy warmth, O sun, come cheering to my breast.

11.

The storm of night had ceas'd upon the plain,
When thoughtful in the forest-walk I stray'd,
To the long hollow murmur of the main

List'ning, and to the many leaves that made
A drowsy cadence, as the high trees wav'd;
When straight a beauteous scene burst on my sight;
Smooth were the waters that the low-land lav’d;
And lo! a form, as of some fairy sprite,

That held in her right-hand a budding spray,
And like a sea-maid sung her sweetly-warbled lay.

111.

Soothing as steals the summer-wave she sung,

"The grisly phantoms of the night are gone "To hear in shades forlorn the death-bell rung; "But thou whom sickness hast left weak and wan, "Turn from their spectre-terrors; the green sea "That whispers at my feet, the matin gale "That crisps its shining marge, shall solace thee, "And thou my long-forgotten voice shalt hail,

“For I am Hope, whom weary hearts confess

"The soothest sprite that sings on life's long wilderness."

IV.

As slowly ceas'd her tender voice, I stood
Delighted: the hard way, so lately past,
Seem'd smooth; the ocean's bright-extended flood
Before me stretch'd; the clouds that overcast
Heaven's melancholy vault, hurry'd away,

Driv'n seaward, and the azure hills appear'd;
The sun-beams shone upon their summits grey,

Strange saddening sounds no more by fits were heard, But birds, in new leaves shrouded, sung aloft, And o'er the level seas spring's healing airs blew soft.

V.

As when a traveller, who many days

Hath journey'd 'mid Arabian deserts still, A dreary solitude far on surveys,

Nor hears, or flitting bird, or gushing rill, But near some marble ruin, gleaming pale, Sighs mindful of the haunts of cheerful man, And thinks he hears in every sickly gale

The bells of some slow-wheeling caravan;

At length, emerging o'er the dim tract, sees
Gay domes, and golden fanes, and minarets, and trees:

VI.

So beat my bosom when my winding way Led through the thickets to a shelter'd vale, Where the sweet minstrel sat: a smooth clear bay Skirted with woods appear'd, where many a sail Went shining o'er the watery surface still, Less'ning at last in the grey ocean-flood; And yonder, half-way up the fronting hill, Peeping from forth the trees, a cottage stood, Above whose peaceful umbrage, trailing high, A little smoke went up, and stain'd the cloudless sky.

VII.

I turn'd, and lo, a mountain seem'd to rise,

Upon whose top a spiry citadel

Lifted its dim-seen turrets to the skies,

Where some high lord of the domain might dwell:

And onward, where the eye scarce stretch'd its sight, Hills over hills in long succession rose,

Touch'd with a softer and yet softer light,

And all was blended as in deep repose,

The woods, the sea, the hills that shone so fair, 'Till woods, and sea, and hills, seem'd fading into air.

VIII.

At once, methought, I saw a various throng
To this enchanting spot their footsteps bend,
All drawn, sweet Hope, by thy inspiring song,
Which melodies scarce mortal seem to blend.
First buxom Youth, with cheeks of glowing red,
Came lightly tripping o'er the morning dew,
He wore a harebell garland on his head,

And stretch'd his hands at the bright-bursting view:
A mountain fawn went bounding by his side,
Around whose slender neck a silver bell was tied.

Then said I,

IX.

Mistress of the magick song,

'O pity 'twere that hearts which know no guile 'Should ever feel the pangs of ruth or wrong!'

She heeded not, but sung with lovelier smile,

Enjoy, O youth, the season of thy May,

"Hark, how the throstles in the hawthorn sing, "The hoary time, that resteth night nor day,

"O'er the earth's shade may speed with noiseless wing: "But heed not thou: snatch the brief joys that rise, "And sport beneath the light of these unclouded skies."