Bewail, O land, thy patriot true,
The bulwark of thy state;
Clear to expound, and bold to do,
In all things he was Great:
Bewail, ye cliffs, that white and hoar
By castled Dover stand,—
Alas! that ye shall see no more
Our Nelson of the Land!
Ah, bitter day! I hear a groan
From Britain's heart of oak:
Forth from the altar and the throne
That voice of anguish broke:
Alas, that he should perish
From the face of this dull earth,
And leave us but to cherish
The remembrance of his worth!
Full of honours, full of years,
Our Chief is dead and gone!
His epitaph a nation's tears,
As for a first-born son;
Though dead and gone,—yet shall he live !
Yea, live for earth, and heaven,—
By all that Man to Mind can give,
Or GOD to Soul hath given!
He lives, by trophies of the sword,
By triumphs of the pen,—
He lives, by noble deed and word
Within the hearts of men :
He is not dead, but sleepeth,
Then why should Britain go, As one that sorely weepeth Uncomforted in woe?
With every earthly honour won,
And every praise achieved,
With every human duty done
His crown of light is weaved:
On Heaven's own archives, man may trust,
Not less than history's page,
His high reward is-With the Just
To live in every age!
PSALM XIX.
(ONE OF MANY.)
HEAV'N declares its Maker's glory,
And the firmament His might;
Day to day the wondrous story
Echoes on, and night to night :
All is silence, yet Creation
Knows and hears that voiceless speech,
Which, to every tribe and nation,
Doth their Maker's glory teach.
From his chamber bright in Heaven,
Lo the bridegroom of the earth
Gladness by his smile hath given,
And hath woke the morn to mirth :
Not less full of life and pleasure
Is God's truth, nor less complete :
"Tis more precious than all treasure,—
Than the honeycomb more sweet.
It rejoices, heals, and teaches,
Ever holy, just, and good:
To the inmost feeling reaches,
And leads up the heart to GOD:
Warned by that, thy servant turneth
To the path that leads to bliss,-
Yet who all his faults discerneth?
Cleanse me, if I err in this.
Let not pride be ruler in me,
But deliver, cleanse, forgive:
Thus corruption quench'd within me,
I shall be upright, and live.
Let my words and meditation,
Ever pleasing in Thy sight,
Meet with gracious acceptation,
My Redeemer, and my might!
THE WORKMAN'S WIFE:
(A BALLAD, BY REQUEST, FOR "THE BRITISH WORKMAN” PAPER.)
O TRUE British goodwife, a word in your ear
To help your home-comfort and gladden its cheer, That husband and children and neighbours and you May all be more happy and tender and true.
When Marriage bloom'd first in the Garden of Bliss
GOD led up to Adam an Eve such as this—
A woman obedient gentle and wise
A wife full of love in her heart and her eyes!
And some such there be in all stations and ranks
For whom their glad husbands give Providence
thanks,—
The Queen of three kingdoms and factory-Jane
Make Edens of Windsor and Lilliput Lane!
But woe! that corruption, which ruins us all
Has dropt in the honeycup wormwood and gall,
And many an Adam and many an Eve
In hot married misery grumble and grieve.
I wot there be women that quarrel and scold
And rage in their rooms like the wolf in the fold ;
I wot there be men that are brutal and base,
And homes that are hells of Despair.and Disgrace.
How many a workman must wearily come
From the toils of the day to a curse-stricken home,
Where worries and jealousies, temper and tongue,
Like adders and brands on his pillow are flung!
And often, O horror the demon of drink
Drops in to allure to the precipice brink,
Till brutalised husband and termagant wife
Arouse the whole lane with their murderous strife.
O touch not,-O taste not, let bitterness cease ;
Make home, better housewife, the palace of peace;
Let order and comfort and quiet be there
And cheerful contentment and charity fair;
Then, credit me, goodwife, no husband will lack
Of love or of truth, if you so win him back;
If homes are made Edens by Eves that are wise
Then husbands are Adams in Old Paradise!
A COMMON SORROW.
O THOUSANDS, who have never found your mates,
But pine in secret for their love unknown,
O thousands, whom perverse and bitter fates
Force, evilly-mated, still to dwell alone,-
O multitude, mismatch'd for loves and hates!
Would GOD, some gracious amnesty were given,
Some general goal-delivery of minds,
Freed from these bonds of earth, unblest by heaven,
Bursting the chain that cankers while it binds
The many wedded slaves, in couples driven
Together down the thorniest path of Life!
Would GOD, some privilege of wider range
Cheer'd the poor martyrs of domestic strife,
Giving to such the happy chance of change.
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