Over the top, as he knew well, A herd of chamois slept, And now he nears the chasmed ice; His foot hath slipp'd,—O heaven! But quick his clutching nervous grasp O moment of exulting bliss! He look'd beneath,- -a horrible doom! He look'd above, and many a rood Seven long dreadful hours he hung, Scarce can he cling one moment more, His head grows dizzy, he must drop, Is dropping down the chasm! They call thee Pierre,—see, see them here, And he came home an alter'd man Through his poor heart that day; He thought how all through life, though young, Upon a thread, a hair, he hung, Over a gulf midway : He thought what fear it were to fall Into the pit that swallows all, Unwing'd with hope and love; And when the succour came at last, A Short Reply TO ONE WHO "DISLIKED POETRY." Lady, thou lovest high and holy Thought, And noble Deeds, and Hopes sublime or beauteous, Thou lovest Charities in secret wrought, And all things pure, and generous, and duteous; Sonnets TO SEVENTY OF THE GREAT AND GOOD, IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. (From "A Modern Pyramid," published in 1839.) Our fresh Abel. young world lay basking in its prime, Rush'd the black whirlwind of a brother's crime, With the fierce blast of murder's pitiless storm, Religion's earliest martyr, slain by pride And man's self-righteousness, with praises meet Thee would my soul's affection humbly greet, Trusting the Lamb whereon thy faith relied. Of whom earth was not worthy; for alone For thrice an hundred years, in trust and love Wings the blest mortal through the startled sky! Zoroaster. Fathomless past! what precious secrets lie Gulph'd in thy depths,-how brave a mingled throng, Fathomless past!-the vague conception brings, Thou friend of GOD, the paragon of faith! This was thy strength; and happy sons are they, Father, who follow thee through life and death, Ready at His mysterious command The heart's most choice affectionate hopes to slay With more than Martyr's suicidal hand, Their sole sufficing cause,-Jehovah saith,— Their only murmur'd prayer, His will be done : Ev'n so, thy god-like spirit did not spare Thy cherish'd own, thy promised only son, Trusting that He, whose word was never vain, Could raise to life the victim offer'd there, And to the father give his child again. Semiramis. Stupendous Babylon! before mine eyes Huge and obscure, as icebergs in a cloud; Ambiguous shade of majesty supreme. Upon the night of ages limn'd sublime, We think of thee but as a glorious dream, And, waiving those dark hints of unproved crime, Fain would we hope thee great and good combined, To hail thee patriot Queen, and mighty Mind. |