Your Queen, the moon, whose melancholy face
Seems ever pale with pity and grief profound
For sinful Earth,—I, a poor groveller here,
A captive eagle chain'd to this dull ground,
Look up
and love your light in hope and fear :
Hope, that among your myriad host is one,
A kingdom for my spirit, a bright place
Where I shall reign when this short race is run,
An heir of joy, and glory's mighty son!
Yet, while I hope, the fear will freeze my brain—
What if indeed for worthless me remain
No waiting sceptre, no predestined throne?
HENCE, doubts of darkness! I am not mine own,
But ransomed by the King of that bright host:
In Him my just humility shall boast,
And claim through Him that sceptre and that throne.
Yes, world of light,-when by the booming sea
At eve I loiter on this shingly coast,
In seeming idleness,—I gaze on thee,
(I know not which-but one,) fated to be
My glorious heritage, my heavenly home,
A temple and a paradise for me,
Whence my celestial form at will may roam
To other worlds, unthought and unexplor❜d,
Whose atmosphere is bliss and liberty,
The palaces and gardens of the Lord!
WHEN streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall,
Bubble up from the heart to the tongue,
And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall,
By the hands of Ingratitude wrung,—
In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair,
While the anguish is festering yet,
None, none but an angel, or God, can declare
"I now can forgive and forget."
But, if the bad spirit is chased from the heart,
And the lips are in penitence steep'd,
With the wrong so repented the wrath will depart,
Though scorn on injustice were heaped;
For the best compensation is paid for all ill,
When the cheek with contrition is wet,
And every one feels it is possible still,
At once to forgive and forget.
To forget? It is hard for a man with a mind,
However his heart may forgive,
To blot out all perils and dangers behind,
And but for the future to live:
Then how shall it be? for at every turn
Recollection the spirit will fret,
And the ashes of injury smoulder and burn,
Though we strive to forgive and forget.
Oh, hearken! my tongue shall the riddle unseal,
And mind shall be partner with heart,
While thee to thyself I bid conscience reveal,
And show thee how evil thou art:
Remember thy follies, thy sins, and—thy crimes,
How vast is that infinite debt!
Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times
Been swift to forgive and forget!
Brood not on insults or injuries old,
For thou art injurious too,—
Count not their sum till the total is told,
For thou art unkind and untrue:
And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven,
Now mercy with justice is met,
Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of heaven,
Nor learn to forgive and forget?
Yes, yes; let a man, when his enemy weeps,
Be quick to receive him, a friend;
For thus on his head in kindness he heaps
Hot coals, to refine and amend;
And hearts that are Christian more eagerly yearn,
As a nurse on her innocent pet,
Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn,
And whisper, Forgive and forget.
"MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS."
EUREKA! this is truth sublime,
Defying change, outwrestling time-
Eureka! well that truth is told,
Wisely spake the bard of old-
Eureka! there is peace and praise
In this short and simple phrase,
A sea of comforts, wide and deep,
Wherein my conscious soul to steep,
A hoard of happy-making wealth
To doat on, miserly, by stealth,
Through Time my reason's ripest fruit,
For all eternity its root,
Earth's harvest, and the seed of heaven,
To me, to me, by mercy given!
Yes, eureka, I have found it,
And before the world will sound it;
This remains, and still shall stay
When life's gauds have passed away,
This, of old my treasure-truth,
The bosom joy that warm'd my youth,
My happiness in manhood's prime,
My triumph down the stream of time,
Till death shall lull this heart in age,
And deathless glory crown my page,
My grace-born truth and treasure this,-
"My mind to me a kingdom is."
Noble solace, true and strong,
Great reward for human wrong,
With an inward blessing still
To compensate all earthly ill,
To recompense for adverse fates,
Woes, or wants, or scorns, or hates,
To cherish, after man's neglect,
When foes deride, and friends suspect,
To soothe and bless the spirit bow'd
Down by the selfish and the proud,
To lift the soul above this scene
Of petty troubles trite and mean,
O there is mortal might in this,-
"My mind to me a kingdom is.”
Carve it deep, with letters bold,
In the imperishable gold,
Grave it on some primal rock
That hath stood the earthquake shock,
Make that word a citizen
Dwelling in the hearts of men,
Sound it in the ears of age,
Stamp it on the printed page,
Gladden sympathizing youth
With the soft music of this truth,
This echoed note of heavenly bliss,
"My mind to me a kingdom is."
Ay, chide or scorn,—I will be proud,— I am not of a slavish crowd;
No serf is here to outward things,
He rules with chiefs! he reigns with kings!
Tell out thy secret joys, my mind,
Free and fearless as the wind,
And pour the triumphs of the soul
In words that like a river roll,
Foaming on with vital force
From their ever-gushing source,
Fountains of truth, that overwhelm
With swollen streams this royal realm,
And in Nilotic richness steep
My heart's Thebaïd, rank and deep!
Or bolder, as my thoughts inspire,
Change that water into fire!
From the vext bowels of my soul
Lava currents roar and roll,
Bursting out in torrent wide
Through my crater's ragged side,
Rushing on from field to field,
Till all with boiling stone is seal❜d,
And my hot thoughts, in language pent,
Stand their own granite monument !
Yes! all the elements are mine,
To crush, create, dissolve, combine,-
All mine, the confidence is just,
On God I ground my high-born trust
To stand, when pole is rent from pole,
Calm in my majesty of soul,
Watching the throes of this wreck'd world,
When from their thrones the Alps are hurl'd,
When fire consumes earth, sea, and air,
To stand, unharm'd, undaunted there,
And grateful still to boast in this,
"My mind to me a kingdom is."
Brother poet, dead so long,
Heed these echoes to thy song,
And love me now, where'er thou art,
Yearning with magnetic heart
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