Lays from the West by M. A. Nicholl
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M. A. Nicholl >> Lays from the West
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Still, looking upward to the Heavenly Mansion,
Where he abides--where we shall meet him there--
Where soul with soul shall blend in the expansion
Of that world's higher life, immortal, fair!
That land of beauty, where the Lamb in glory
Gathers His own to perfect bliss and peace,
Where all the ransomed sing Redemption's story
In joys celestial that can never cease.
Thrice happy lot was thine, oh, blessed spirit!
So early called from this dark vale of woe--
From chequered scenes of warfare--to inherit
That perfect love that God's own favoured know.
Then could we wish thee back to dwell with mortals
And bear those storms that toss Time's troubled sea?
No! from that home beyond the pearly portals
Thou canst not come, but we will go to thee!
IN MEMORIAM
OF
R. A. WILSON, ESQ.,
EDITOR OF THE BELFAST MORNING NEWS.
Fair vales of Ulster! in the noontide smiling,
Blue Northern mountains, frowning to the sky;
Rivers that flow along, with song beguiling
The summer day _your_ beauties, too, must die!
Know ye no _requiem_? Ah! streamlets borrow
Your tones from tearful voices! Mountains blue,
O'er your high heads let heavy clouds of sorrow
Tell that ye mourn the death of Patriot true.
Erin! green Erin! let your great heart feel it!
Bid all your sons and daughters, fair and brave,
By dropping tears and mourning faces tell it,
As they place laurels on a new-made grave!
Lowly he lies to day? Death's deep, calm slumber
Has claimed another of our cherished ones;
As he, the talented, ranks with the number
Of Erin's lost, best-loved--her gifted sons!
"Barney Maglone" is dead! Let the winds sighing
On their fleet wings, bear far the wail of woe
To every land. Let them in wild, sad crying
Tell out to all the sorrow that we know.
_Our_ Poet, and not all Westminster's glory
Could ever give him half so loved a grave
As this green mound, with simple cross, whose story
Shall live 'mong annals of our gifted brave!
Methinks that far among old Ireland's mountains
I hear the breezes sing a sad dirge, low,
Wild, and yet soft, with tears from many fountains
And murmuring riven wailing in their flow.
The grand old woods, with leafy branches waving,
Mingle their many harps in one refrain,
Blent with the waves, whose foam our coast is laving,
Rolling afar, weeping aloud the strain--
Waters and wondrous deep,
Mountains and valleys;
Woodlands and heathery steep,
Lone greenwood alleys,
Sound the long wail of woe,
Tell the news, sad and low,
Let all the wide world know
Of the loved, lost one!
Waves of deep, boundless sea,
Boiling for ever free,
Tell through the time to be
Of the bright, lost one!
Erin, whose bosom green,
His own, his loved shrine has been,
Feel the woe thou hast seen
For the true, lost one!
His land, in weal or woe,
In dark gloom or sunny glow,
Do all Ireland's great ones know
Such zeal as this lost one?
Bright dreams! ah, how fleeting
Was his life's fair story!
Swift, swift was the meeting
Of Death, with earth's glory!
Unrivalled in splendour
His sky was at morning,
Still brightening, its grandeur
His noonday adorning.
But a dark cloud rose glooming,
Ah, me! 'twas Death's shadow!
It chilled the heat blooming
Of hillside or meadow!
Oh, waters and wondrous deep,
Mountains and valleys,
Woodlands and heathery steep,
Lone greenwood alleys--
Sound the weird wail of woe,
Tell the news sad and low,
Let all the wide world knew
Of Erin's best lost one!
WELCOME TO SPRING.
Oh, Spring! sweet Spring! with your golden hours,
Thrice welcome back to our vales and bowers!
I have sighed for you through the Winter's gloom,
And counted the months, till again you come.
Then, welcome, sweetest! I hail you here,
Fairest child of the smiling year!
I have watched for your advent with longing eyes,
As you lingered 'neath sunnier southern skies;
I have wafted songs o'er the winds to thee
The sighs of a lover's fond constancy.
Then, welcome, darling! to glen and grove,
Child of gladness, and nope, and love!
I see your footprints along the woods,
And your magic touch on the opening buds,
Bursting to birth on hedge and tree,
In promise of vernal life to be.
Then, welcome, Spring! to our land again,
Bringing beauty and me in your happy train!
I have marked where you paused by the streamlet's side,
There smiled the primrose, in early pride,
All golden fair 'mid her leaves of green.
Dropped from your garland, oh, beauteous queen!
Then, welcome! to brighten our long-left bower
Fair child of sunshine, and joy, and flowers!
I have paused entranced in the early morn,
When the birds awoke as the day was born,
Pealing welcomes wild in their native glee.
And my heart went out in their songs to thee,
On the fresh winds borne o'er the hills along,
Child of music, and mirth, and song!
Oh, Spring! sweet Spring! 'neath your gentle reign.
Life, light, and beauty are born again;
And sad hearts, hopeless in Winter days,
Break forth to singing glad songs of praise--
For that promise renewed in your yearly birth
Of a fadeless Spring and a ransomed Earth!
ONLY "A LITTLE WHILE."
I saw the sun arise in light at morning;
My being drank the beauty, like some dream
That comes when all is dark, the gloom adorning
With gilding mystic--bright--a soul-world gleam
I saw the noontide flush on grove and meadow,
I heard the coo of birds that seem'd at rest;
And the fair radiance, all undimm'd by shadow,
Was like a foretaste of the bright and blest.
I saw, when evening's mellow sunlight glinted,
Far and anear, gleaming on wood and gold;
Mountain and valley shone all carmine-tinted,
Old Ocean's burnished breast seem'd heaving gold.
Only "a little while" since morn rose brightly,
Followed by noontide calm: a little while
Since sunset glory lit all Nature, lightly
Blessing the earth with one sweet parting smile.
Only "a little while" a meet type, showing
How brief is earth's short day--how soon 'tis o'er;
Morn, noon, and night, still onward, onward going,
So soon to land us on the eternal shore.
Only "a little while," poor child of sadness!
The shadows must come first, the clouds and gloom;
Then, the full glow of Heaven, the new born gladness,
When Christ, thy risen Lord, prepares thee room.
In that fair Home, where He has passed before us,
And in "a little while," shall call us in;
Here, with His love's own glory shining o'er us,
Strong in His strength, we run that goal to win!
Only "a little while," gay child of pleasure!
The night is spent so far--the morn is near;
Then think! oh, think! where hast thou hid thy treasure?
In these frail, dying toys that charm thee here.
Oh! in "a little while," their borrowed radiance
Shall fade, as starlight fades when dawn is nigh;
And all earth's glittering show, her smiles and fragrance,
In the fierce fire of wrath shall melt and die!
Only "a little while!" would we but ponder
These three brief words, their length and breadth and
height
A solemn sign to each, a ray of wonder
From the Unseen, to light the spirit's night.
"A little while"--past, present, future blending
Shall be a tale soon told, and pass'd for aye;
Then the eternal life, that cannot die--unending,
Undying woe, or Heaven's own dazzling day.
LIFE'S PATHWAY.
We walk among labyrinths of wonder, but tread the mazes with
a club;
We sail in chartless seas, but behold! the Pole-star is above
us--TUPPER.
Life is a pathway, stretched from morn till eve,
O'er which, through shade and sunshine, we must go
And, whether bright or dark this life we live,
Its end must bring us unto joy or woe;
Joy, that no mortal's holiest dreams can know,
Or dread, unending; fearful depths of woe!
This path is fair at morning, wondrous fair;
With verdant windings, hiding from the view
The far-off journey, and what may be there,
Hid by the Future hilltops, high and blue;
And morn's glad sunlight smiles from dazzling skies,
Gilding the path we tread with heaven-lent dyes.
Oh! youth is sweet! for tender hands are near,
And eyes aglow with Love's own magic ray,
Heart meeting heart, each to the other dear--
Through hours that, ere we count them, glide away;
For none can turn to seek a cherished place--
One only life, whose path we can't retrace!
And soon they pass, these meteor joys of earth,
That flash and gleam along the troubled way;
Till wondering wanderers question if their birth
Dawns from a Land that knows no sad decay;
Some sinless region, from whose portals bright
These fleeting rays descent in heavenly light.
Such glorious hues, in golden glory glowing,
When sunrise splendour glads the morning sky;
That bloom awhile, and as they bloom bestowing
Beauty and light, so soon to melt and die,
Leaving a yearning in the darkened heart
To know more closely what we see in part.
The noonday calm, the sunny Summer hours,
The wild-birds' warbled songs, the balmy air;
Life's early pathway strewn with earth's sweet flowers--
Can these be dying things--so bright, so fair?
Or lights to lead us o'er a chequered road,
And cheer the shadows to a blest abode?
Oh! spell-bound Fancy fain would wander far,
If we might only break this mortal thrall;
And roam, unshackled, o'er Time's broken bar,
Trace these gleams whose glory lights on all!
Then would we see in all below, above,
The Great Creator's perfect power and love.
Yet in this path that stretched before us lies
We may, as oft with weary feet we tread
Through chequered ways of change, see through the mysteries
The living promise from their gleamings shed,
That far from mortal things, and sin, and care,
There is a glorious world, unchanging, fair.
Oh! may we trace in all that lives and grows
The shadows of a perfect life, unseen;
As when some star that in the twilight glows
In mirrored dimly in the water's sheen,
And we can see, in the calm lake's cool breast,
The far-off glow that lingers in the West.
Thus, as we onward go, may thoughts be ours
Whose holy pureness in our souls may raise
An anthem of thanksgiving, till life's hours,
Ending, shall find our hearts' attuned to praise
That Love which cheered us on earth's chequered way,
O'er the long path that led to Cloudless Day!
CLOUDS IN MAY.
"May is here, sweet 'Mois de Marie,' but my sky is
overcast!"--ST. GERMAN.
The hush of twilight, fair and still
Great cloud-ranks, bright with gorgeous dyes
That linger in the Western skies,
Ere Night's deep gloom steals o'er the hill.
The wind sighs softly round the eaves,
The May's fresh sweetness fills the air,
And Peace seems hovering everywhere.
Oh, restless heart, that aches and grieves!--
Grieves when the earth is bright and green,
And Summer's balmy breeze and flowers
Are brightening, charming all the hours
That span the long, long "bridge between"
Dear hopes and their fruition, laid
In many a way, by human plan.
But ah! these dream-world thoughts of man
Soon, soon can droop, and blight and fade!
We know 'tis best. Then wherefore try
To ask whence come the darksome clouds?
We know 'tis God's own hand that shroud
Our coming days in mysteries.
"A little while," and there is room
In that bright, blessed land above,
To see, and feel, and taste the love
That sends us now the clouds and gloom.
Why come the clouds? God only knows
Why human hearts need pain and woe;
But Faith's glad gleams still come and go,
Like sunbeams flashing on the snows
Of earth's dark winter-time, and He
Shall smile at last, and frosts shall melt,
And heavenly sunshine shall be felt
When Time fades in Eternity
A FRAGMENT.
"My spirit beats her mortal bars
As down dark tides the glory glides,
Then, star-like, mingles with the stars."--TENNYSON.
Oh, restful peace of night! The balmy air
Laden with myriad sounds of things so fair,
The waving branches, and the leaves' low whispering
The wondrous songs the winding river sings,
That through the meadow-lands and forest ways,
By flowery nooks, and glades, and valleys strays.
Oh! shadowy time of dreams, and mysteries,
And longing hopes! Far in the dark blue skies
The star-worlds glimmer brightly through the night;
The flowers are sleeping that at close of day
Wept dew-tears, as the sun's last fading light
From glen and moor land slowly passed away,
When amorous zephyrs wooed them softly sighing
In odorous breaths, as eve's last glow was dying.
Oh! stars, that through the darkness smile and gleam,
Like glory-rays that gild the dreary gloom,
Or like some soul-world glance or mystic dream
That from the mind's vast store of summer bloom
We feel at times--your influence comes to raise
Our hearts above earth's night of doubts and haze
For all these holy thoughts of peace, that spring
From hearts at rest from daytime cares and pains,
Are messengers of love, sent from the King
That in the blessed country lives and reigns.
And from its gates, above the starry heaven,
Come mystic rays that round our pathway stray--
His guiding lights that to our souls are given,
Foretastes that cheer and brighten all our way!
SPRING THOUGHTS.
"Of the bright things in earth and air
How little can the heart embrace-
Soft shades and gleaming lights are there
I know it well, but cannot trace!"--KEBLE
Spring comes again, and the freed flowers are springing
From the cold, frost-bound earth;
And on the budding trees the wild birds singing,
Hail Nature's glad new birth!
And hope awakes from many a heart-grave using,
Glad gloriously and new;
And many souls, in faith and trust, are prizing
That promise sweet and true;
Summer and Winter, ever coming, going,
Springtime and Harvest days,
And falling leaves and opening buds are showing
God's ever faithful ways.
That point us to the resurrection morning,
And to the gladsome day,
When light eternal, the far East adorning,
Shall chase these glooms away.
And she shall rise who left our home so early,
And left our hearts in gloom,
Clad like the flowers, in beauty's bloom all fairly
Arising from the tomb.
In that fair Spring and in that Summer shadeless,
With her we, too, shall live--
There, 'neath His smile whose glory, beaming fadeless,
Eternal peace shall give.
And all these ties that Time's rough hand had driven
Shall be united there,
And every cross a Father's hand had given
Be gemmed with jewels fair!
LINES.
On reading "Lays of Love and Fatherland," by X. Y. Z.
Oh! say not now that Erin's harp
Is left untouched by minstrel hand;
Oh! say not that no minstrel heart
Sings now of "Love and Fatherland."
Green Ulster's mountains and her vales
Hear once again a patriot's lyre;
Ierna's legendary tales
Once more are told in patriot fire!
And hearts beat high, as when of old
In chieftain's hall or peasant's cot
The stories of our land were told
In songs whose spell was half forgot
Till, touched again, the chords resound
That bid our slumbering zeal return,
And souls, so long in coldness bound,
With old-time fire and fervour burn!
And favoured ones, whom love shall bless
In life's bright, sunny morning hours,
Shall sing in joy and happiness
These songs in Hope's enchanted bowers,
For youth hath dreams, and tho' they go
like sunset fading from the sky,
The cherished songs of "long ago,"
While memory lives, can never die.
Song's potent powers, like holy things
That hover round our path unseen,
On airy wings, to fancy brings
Old scenes, new-clad in fairy sheen.
And like sweet music heard at eve
In some cathedral, old and grey,
Such songs can cheer the hearts that grieve,
And chase all present gloom away.
IF "SOMEONE" LOVES US.
If life's path grows dull and dreary,
With grim shadows on it cast;
If the tired heart grows weary
When all joy seem o'er and past;
When e'en Hope hath ceased to cheer us
With its warm and sunny ray,
And the peace that once was near us
From our pathway steals away
There's one source where we can borrow
Sweetest wealth to keep and claim,
If we feel in joy or sorrow
_Someone_ loves us all the same!
If fair-faced Pleasure brightly
Beam upon our happy home,
And our hearts with hope beat lightly
Of brighter days to come;
If fickle Fortune, smiling,
Strew the pleasant path with flowers,
And Mirth, with song beguiling,
Lead the merry-footed hours--
There's a deeper, holier gladness
That is ours to keep and claim,
If we feel in joy or sadness
_Someone_ loves us all the same!
If our thoughts, at evening blending
With the dim and shadowy light,
Bring us dreams of bliss unending
In the Haven, calm and bright--
Oh! how sweet the thought--"for ever
'Mong the sinless _we_ shall stand,
There united, ne'er to sever,
In the bright and better land:"
And e'en then, refined and holy,
Free from earthly stain and sin,
Shall the pure heart, meek and lowly,
Wear the crown true love shall win.
NEW YEAR'S SONG.
"Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky.
The flying clouds, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night--
Ring out, wild bells, and let it die!
"Ring out the Old; ring in the New!
Ring, happy bells, across the snow!
The year is going; let it go--
Ring out the false! ring in the truer!"--TENNYSON.
Oh! welcome! welcome! glad New Year!
We hail with joy your birth.
Let peace and love reign far and near,
And plenty fill the earth!
Old Year, good-bye! a last good-bye
To sorrow, woe and sin!
Let all of darkness with thee die
And all of light begin!
When first we bade you welcome here
We hailed you with delight;
But ah! how many then were near,
So far away to-night!
Ah! well! if thorns were 'mong thy flowers,
Or clouds were in thy sky,
We owe thee many blissful hours
Whose memory ne'er can die!
Farewell, farewell, for aye, Old Year,
And as you pass from view,
For all those golden hours a tear
That pass away with you!
"Le Roi est mort!" "Vive le Roi!"
The Old Year, weeping, dies!
Ere we can mourn, a joyous chime
Peals through the midnight skies.
Oh! welcome! welcome! New-born Year!
We join the strains of joy;
To everyone our hearts hold dear
Be peace without alloy!
May fadeless light their pathway bless;
And, for a lasting stay,
Oh! may they find that happiness
That cannot pass away.
For years may come, and years may go,
And earthly joys grow old;
But heavenly love no change can know--
No time can make it cold.
Oh! welcome! welcome! New-born Year!
And, as we hail your birth,
May pure and holy thoughts come near
And raise our hopes from earth!
OUR NATIVE LAND.
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
Long may old Erin's vales be green;
May plenty smile on every hand,
Be want and woe unseen!
Oh! let us join with heart and hand
To raise the song--Our Native Land!
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
May countless blessings on her smile
May dove-eyed Peace her lily-wand
Wave o'er pure Emerald Isle--
Her sons, united brethren, stand,
To raise the song--Our Native Land!
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
Let patriot voices join the song,
And swell the chorus high and grand,
Till every breeze shall bear it on.
O'er flowery mead and wave-kissed strand
Loud let it ring--Our Native Land!
Our Native Land! Our Native Land!
Let Erin's sense the notes prolong,
Together joined-a mighty band
United by one common song.
'Tis Honour's right-her just command
Then let us love Our Native Land!
TO THE SEA.
Oh! rolling waves, while ye sing around me,
My poises beat to your fitful tune,
And higher thoughts in my breast awaken,
But the spell must vanish too soon, too soon.
Here while I lie let your echoes linger,
And rest awhile on this lute of mine;
And though I play with an erring finger,
The sounds shall charm if they're caught from thine.
And my song shall be rich in melody,
Learned from thy singing, oh' tuneful Sea!
Sadly sigh while the clouds loom o'er thee,
Dark and grey in yon stormy sky;
Foaming billows, your angry wailing
Fills my soul like a hopeless cry!
Heaving breast with your great heart throbbing
Ocean pulses that wildly thrill;
Wandering waves in such cadence breaking,
Rolling, rolling, and never still.
Oh! that my soul, like thine, were free,
Eager and restless, oh! beautiful Sea!
The clouds disperse, and like glory breaking
In fancy's eyes o'er a poet's dream,
Clad in the sunlight the waters glisten,
And dazzling bright in the radiance gleam.
Far and wide o'er the scene of grandeur
My glad eyes wander, my heart beats high;
Lost in a maze of light and wonder,
I faint in a dream of ecstasy;
And the spirit of beauty thou seem'st to me
In that flood of glory, oh! changing Sea!
Yet best I love when the mystic gloaming
Grows dim, and the crimson sunset dies;
For I dream that your mighty tones are changing,
And in psalms of praise through the shadows rise.
Oh! Nature's organ! Methinks thy numbers
Keep time with the songs of Cherubim,
While through hidden caves come the echoes swelling
Their chorus grand to the ocean hymn;
And my soul, adorning, ascends with thee,
In deep thanksgiving, oh! wondrous Sea!
A FAREWELL SONG.
Oh! sometimes when our hearts are gay,
And Pleasure round us smiles,
Too soon the hours may pass away
That rosy Mirth beguiles;
And we may feel a tinge of pain
Amid the festal cheer,
And pause to ask, "When, when again,
Shall all be gathered here?"
But ah! the future's dusky veil
Hides coming years from view;
And still our yearning eyes must fail
To pierce its darkness through.
But Memory can hold the past
That we have loved so well;
And, like a halo round it cast,
Affection's light may dwell.
And thus, my friends, though call'd away
To join another scene,
My thoughts shall often backward stray
To all that once has been.
And bygone hours shall come again--
The cherished times and dear.
And bring the moments in their train
When I was with you here.
And as sweet flowers, tho' sere and dead,
Can by their fragrance bring
Remembrance of the days long fled
Again on Memory's wing.
So many a kindly smile I'll mourn
With deep and fond regret;
For though I never may return,
I never can forget.
SOLITUDE.
"Solitude delighteth well to feed on many thoughts;
There, as thou sittest peaceful, communing with Fancy,
The precious poetry of life shall gild its leaden cares"
--TUPPER
Come, Solitude! best soother of my mind--
The sole companion of my happiest hours;
The spell, all potent, of thy gentle powers
Here in this lovely spot, I come to find.
Below yon mountains, in the sunset beams,
Lough Neagh's glassy waters widely spread;
And through the distance, like a shining thread,
The "Silver Bann" along the valley gleams.
Lough Neagh! often in the evening light
I've watched the golden sunset kiss thy breast,
Then, as it died on many a wavelet's crest,
Homeward, unwilling, turned, with fond "Goodnight."
The bare trees in the planting moan and sigh;
I've watched their leaves from buds, till they had grown
To vernal beauty. Withered now and strewn
Upon the walks, all sere and dead they lie.
And in the Spring, when the young leaves came first,
Here, often in my lone imaginings,
What golden dreams I knew of glorious things;
Visions my willing mind too fondly nurse.
Visions that, like the leaves, to beauty grew,
Gladdening my heart thro' sunny summer hours;
Clad in bright garlands, woven from Fancy's bowers
Radiant with Hope's fair light of mellow hue.
And are they withered too? All those swept dreams
That I had hoped in future years to see
Around me bloom, in living, grand reality;
No longer far-off things, or misty, meteor gleams.
Some like these leaves, have fallen by the way,
Never again in spring to wake to birth;
While some are mine e'en now, whose priceless worth
Shall bloom and ripen, knowing no decay!
Round me the shadows deepen; and I see
My dead dreams in a phantom band draw near.
And dim AEolian strains fall on my ear,
like some wild mystic requiem's fitful melody!
Oh! Solitude! thou canst alone restore
The buried bygone, till the haunted isles
Of memory's chambers shine in moonlight smiles
Shadows of sunlight from the days of yore.
Oh! Solitude! come often for my guest!
Still, when I meet thee in sequestered glade,
I feel thy presence lasting peace has made;
Of life's sweet things, I hold thee first and best!
WITH A WHITE ROSE.
Long ago, in ages olden,
When our world was new;
When old Time was young and golden,
When men's hearts were true;
Fairer flowers than now are growing
Blossom'd everywhere--
Beauty to the earth bestowing,
Sweetness to the air!
Well men loved them, fondly dreaming
They were not of earth;
In their glorious beauty seeming
Of a higher birth.
And in those Elysian bowers,
In the days of old,
Speaking all their thoughts in flowers,
Thus their love they told:--
One alone, of purest whiteness,
Of them all was queen;
Sweeter than their hues of brightness
Was its snowy sheen.
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