By J. H. WIFFEN.
Z7«y laUo day tUterah speech, and ntglU unto night ahewth knowledge,
Psatm XIX, S.
I.
GONE is another year ;
And on tbe brow severe
Of chill November the funereal yew,
Holly and laurustlne,
And ivy, whose sad vine
Loves the lorn ruin, wreathe a green adieu
To the sweet hours of Autumn, and tiie play
Of jocund feeling passed, like leaves, to swift decay.
II.
What makes me sad? the swell
Of tiiat lone curfew bell
Heard in the l^ses of the moaning wind,
Tolling with voice profound
Of darkness gathered round.
Or, it may be, of death, with woe combined?
No ! I have loVed, long loved to hear its dirge
Ring through these sable pines across the weltering surge.
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XX THE INQUISITION OF THE TEAR^
m.
What makes me sad ? the rain
Beating^ the wintry pane.
Murmuring of peace, and flowers, and sanshlne fled ?
No! for my lamp is lit.
And the bright p^ge of Wit,
History and Song, before my mind is spread,
And passing well its minute-echoes chime
With the light laugh of wit, the gay romance of rhyme-
IV.
No ! 'tis the serious scroll
These speeding hours unrol
To the clear view of busy conscience, prest
To look with glance austere
Through the departed year
On the past thoughts and passions of my breast !
What have we done, what toiled for since the knoll
Of the last Christmas bell sent sweetness to the soul?
What have we toiled for ? Fame?
The echo of a name
To be forgot with easy unconcern.
When the quick flame whose ray
Illumes our thinking clay
JFades, and we shrink into the quiet am,
No more on this poor stage to smile or sigh
At Woman's flattering voice or Man's ascetic eye I
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BY J. H. WIFPBN. XXI
VI.
Power? Riches? see we not
Rank's gilded sceptres rot
Like the cbori's staff, and the delusive gleam
Of gold melt off and iea¥o
The sool it would deceive.
Dark and alarmed as in a feverish dream
We sometimes feel ourselves, till on her rack
Fancy can bear no more, bat shrieks the vision back ?
vn.
Or have we placed oar pride
In a fair fidse oataide.
Masking onr better thoughts^ lest they should be
Obnoxious to the throng
With whom we sport along,
More like the simple fly than noble bee,
Whose golden toils endure ? why shonld we joy
In what the first rude breath of sickness will destroy ?
VIII.
Mark bat that fleeting thing.
The thistle's down, whose wing^
Whirled by the light breeze, fluctoates here and there;
Now on the wave — the hill —
TheJiouse-top— never still.
Bat in each eddy of the vagrant air
Circling abrupt! are we, who have our birth
Piom heaven, for ever thus to make a toy of earth ?
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XXll THE INQUISITION OF TAB YEAR^
IX.
Alas, if so we tread
This dwelling of the dead !
I'bis globe, whose dust is peopled with the spoils
Of twice two thousand jears I .
Some serious thoughts and tears
Rise at the image, and Reflection coils
Into a little ring, to thiok what one
More xear may make of us, ere half its course be ran.
X.
Alas ! if so we waste
llie springs of duty, graced
As they faa?e been, and are, witii such a flow
Of innocent delight;
When wrong would yield to r^ht,
Shall we then spurn the inward dictate? No!
Duties, like wayside flowers, but grow to do
The freeborn gatherer good, and cure the ills we rue.
XI.
Flow forth, then— let me weep
That I have lulled asleep
So many glorious promptings, such desires
After immortal things, —
Some seraph with spread wings,
Fluttering from Eden, sure my soul inspires
Henceforth to strike with zeal the tempter down ;
Ue best may brook the Cross whose eye regards the Crown!
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BY J. H, WIFFBN. XXUi
XII.
What is the' unceasing roll
Of years to him whose soul
Looks back rejoicing on a life well spent^
And forward with the trust,
That when his mortal dust
Blends with the disregarded element
Of air or earth, Itself shall reach a clime
That mocks at once the scythe and telescope of Time ?
XIII.
Haste then, stem charioteer
Of Earth ! though in thy rear
The wreck of human schemes and hopes lie strevvu,
Temples, and towers, and thrones,
And melancholy bones
Of generaticws dead, and sceptres hewn
To odious dust, before thee, Faith and Joy
Wait with uplifted arm thy triumphs to destroy.
XIV.
But THOU, at whose right hand
The Hours obedient standi
Ancient of Days! to gentle mercy won,
Send down thy blameless Dove,
To fill us with thy love ;—
Breathe in our breasts the spirit of thy Son !
For without this the Year will leave again
Relics alone of guilt, and'mournfulness, and paiu I
WOBURN ABBEY, 1824.
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TO THE EDITOR OF ' TIME'S TELESCOPE/
BY ALEXANDER BALFOUR,
Author of * Contemplation and other Poems/
[The following extract qfa Utter from Mr. Balfour, addre$$ed to his friend Mr.
Wro. Brodie« €f AUoa, North Britain, trill explain the oecasion on which these
Stanzas were penned^ and cffer the best apology the Editor can gioe for the in.
troduction qf this elegant tribute, which so admirably delineates the olffecis,
scopes and tendency qfhis humble labours* * In early /(fe. Timers TUesccpe would
have been to me an inestimable treasure; and even now it has recalled so manp
of my youthful pleasures, arut delineated so much upon which my mind Hill
dweUs xrith melancholy delight, nearly albed to that which Ossian terms the
** Joy Ofg^^" *^^ot it has induced me to address the Editor in rhyme, qf which
I annex a copy* You are fully aware that I am no flatterer either qf
editors or authors ; besides the gentleman whom I nam address is a stranger, one
from whom I have nothing either to hope or fear : my stanzas are not thtt^mre
to be considered as a cioil compliment, but to be understood UteraUy, and bonSL
tide, as an ^ffUsion called forth by taking a peep through ^ Timers Telescope,**
and as expressing my opinion qf that publication, which deserves to be generally,
I roould my universally, known, Such being my feelings, if you consider the
accompanying verses in any degree calculated to promote that desideratum, you
cn-e at Uberty to give them what publicity you please ; not for any literary fame
which they could procure for tne, as you know J have better claims upon the
public. Perhaps, the better way would be to forward them to the Editor^ that
he may use them in any way he may think most eUgible^-^Edlnbur^, 99th
Oct. IBM.]
I.
Historian', minstrel, philosophic sage,
Of moralizing, maltifarious lore,
I hail, with joy, thy ever-pleasing page,
Delighted all its treasures to explore,
And richly banquet on its varied store ;
I read and pause — and muse, and read again,
And still return, with new delight, to pore.
Thy regular, yet ever rambling, pen
Displays the works of God ; records the deeds of men.
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ADDRBSS TO THE BDITOR. XXV
11.
I there behold, in Telescopic view,
The countless clianns of Nature's changing foce ;
Thy pleasant gQidance leads my fancy through
The Tast, illimitable fields of space.
Hiere, with a rapid glance, the eye can trace
The various paths which reckless mortals tread ;
Ambition some, and others Pleasure chase ; •
Both, while they grasp, oft find the phantoms fled.
Remorse, with serpent sting, still hissing in their stead.
111.
And there I find, by faithful hand portrayed,
The stnditous plodder, wasting midnight oil,
Who, patient, hides in academic shade.
Enriching nations with his treasured spoil:
And there, the traveller's unwearied toil
As in a mirror is displayed to view ;
Men, manners, products of each foreign soil,
Things rich and rare^ and wonderful and new.
Concentrated, compressed ; yet still distinct and true*
IV.
And thou hast culled with care and cunning skill,
To grace thy page, foil many a pleasing song ;
The nkinstrePs harp obedient to thy will.
Or softly sweet, wild, or sublimely strong : -
As in the grove, we hear the woodland throng.
As various to the ear as to the eye ;
Their mingling notes on echo borne along.
This softly falls, that swells in triumph high ;
Still, the foil chorus blends in perfect harmony.
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X^Vl ADDRESS TO TUB BDITOR^
.Y.
But, chief, with thee 'tis luy delight to rove
Amidst the richness of the rural scene;
On heathrclad hill, deep in the shady j^roTC,
On sea-beat shore, in felds and meadows green ;
On ruin hoar, or some grey rock to lean,
And through thy magic glass gaze on the past ; - '
While busy Memory whispers what has been.
When all arottnd my wandering eyes were casi^
And all the landscape smiled, one beauteous bonndleM vast*
VL
And still thy panoramic picture charms,
And bids me try to toaoh the trembling string ;
I fqndly gaze— my withered bosom warms —
And seems to breathe the balmy^sweets of Spring !
I hear around the rocks and Tallies ring,
With all the gladness of the Temal morn ;
The skylark warbling on his viewless wing,
The linnet, on some slender spray upborne ;
I see the blackbird, blithe, hop on the blossomed thorn.
VII.
Yes, it is pleasant in thy page to read
Of all the charms that deck the opietiing year,
The primrose bs^nky greenhedge and daisied mead;
The scented birch, to yonthlul lovers dear.
That nods. above the streamlet mnnnaring clear;
The whistling plown^in ait his blithe employ,
The ceaseless oawing in the rookery near,
Lambs leaping lights and cbeerfal han:ow«lN»y - ^
An Nature seems alive to universal joy.
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fiy ALBXANDBK BALFOirR. XXTU
vni.
With thee again I broih the Summer d«w,
That shines and sparkles in the morning ray,
When up the welkin, bright in cloudless bhie,
On golden oar ascends the lord of day ;
Then o'er the fragrant clover field I stray,
Beneath the §^tyounof a sultry sky ;
Or lay me, listless, on the new-made hay.
The cheeifnl lads and lasses toiling nigh,
Health on each maiden's cheek, love laughing in her eye.
IX.
How sweet, the Son just sinking in the west.
When Zephyr breathes in aromatic sighs,
Expires upon the lily's spotless breast.
Or on the half-blown rose-bud's bosom dies !
When evening gilds the glowing twilight skies
With purple curtain fringed with burning gold.
What bliss, from Summer's flowery lap to rise.
Her sweets to taste, her splendours to behold.
Above, below, around,-Hich glories manifold !
X.
Nor less delightful is tiie chaster grace.
The matron smile by beauteous Autumn worn ;
When she, with gladness in her modest face,
Her treasures pours from Amalthea's horn ;
Her blushing fruita the sunny walls adorn,
Wlnle eveiy valley seems to laugh and sing>
When Plenty waves her fields of yellow corn;
Rejoicing wide her liberal stores to fling.
While swells the peasant's heart, a happy rural king.
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XXVIU ADDRBSS TO THB Smtt>R,
XI.
Again I see the joyoas band at noon
Reap the rich treasure from the sloping dale ;
And meet them blithe beneath the harvest moon.
When Labour^s loud laagfa echoes o'er the vale^
Or maiden's song floats on the evening gale ;
Perhaps, beneath the hawthorn on the plain.
She fondly listens to the tender tale.
Or sighed, or whispered by some faithful swain.
Who long in love has pined, enamoured of the pain.
XII.
And Winter, too, has pleasures to impart,
When Time, who ceaseless speeds his swift career.
With gloomy skies sheds sadness o/er the heart.
That, pondering, muses on the closing year:
His Christmas gambols and his varied cheer
With harmless mirth exhilarate the mind ;
Each sigh suppressed, and checked each starting tear.
With chaplets fair the tyranf s brows we bind,
Leap lightly o'er the flaor, and cast our cares behind.
XIII.
Such is the feast by Nature's hand prepared.
Around her board rich flowery garlands hung ;
And such the sweets I have with rapture shared,
When rich in health, and life and love were young I
Ah me ! they now but falter on my tongue.
Though thou hast waked them with thy witching pen ;
Forgot the cares by which my heart is wrung.
While Fancy leads me to the rural glen.
And, for a moment blest, I live them o'er again.
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BY A1.BXANDSR BALFOUR. XXIX
Alas ! it will not laftt — these {ev^ly forms.
Gay fairy scenes^ a&<jl balcyoa skie» ^e fled ;
And witiiering blasts, wild as tby wiiil«r storms.
Are now, relentless^ howling o'er my h^ad !
Yet while I sigh o'er Sammer blossoms shed,
Let me above such earthrteni plelwires rise.
While, led by thee, a noblejr path I tread,
For thou wilt, kindly^ guide my wondering eyes
To yonder rolling orbs— thie glories of the skies.
XV.
With thee I'll mark Sun, Moon^ and twinkling Star;
And try each Planet's Yi|rying path to trace.
From Mercnry to tb^ Georgiion Sidus, far
In widened orb, w;bo runs his constant race :
With Fancy musingy range through boundless spacer
Where other suns and systems roll unknown ;
nil even Imagim^ttony in the chase
Fatigued and lost, is yaoquished aisd o'erthrown,
And bends with bumble awe before the eternal throne.
XVI.
I then with thee will sagely moralize
Cer all this beauteous universal plan ;
How great, how glorious, wondrous, good and wise*
The One First Cause !— how ignorant is man !
£lind and unskilled the ways of Heaven to scan ;
An insect, sporting in the summer beam ;
-His breath a vapour, and his time a span —
A fiiding flower— the fleeting meteor^s gleam ;
And every earthly bliss an evanescent dream !
C2
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XXX AODRBSS TO^ THB EDITOR.
XVII.
^et though his day be short^ his eveoing (dark.
And deep the grave that closes life's sojoam,
There is a gem— a bright immortal spark.
Another Spring shall yet to man retam ;
And he shall Wake to triamph o'er the urn !
When seas are dry, and ' mountains melt away/
When systems cease to roll, and suns to bunt.
And Time for ever has resigned his sway.
The renovated soul shall rise to Listing day !
XVUI.
Yet point thy Telescope, and still unfold
New forms, rare objects to the gazer's sight ;
And there, delighted, may they still behold
The whole reflected in translucent light.
Pure as the dews of nkoni, as noontide bright:
Mlien Virtue is in Time's long vista viewed.
Still blend, for youth, instruction with delight ;
For them be Truth in floweiy paths pursued ;
While helpless age, like inine, finds early joys renewed !
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Bfntrolmcttdn.
A BRIEF HISTORY
OP
ENGLISH SACRED POETRY,
BY RICHARD RYAN, *
AUTHOR OF < POEMS ON SACRED SUBJECTS,* &C.
It is gratifying to observe, that, no sooner did
England emerge from barbarism^ and was removed
from immediate oppression and want, than the fa-
culties of her sons expanded, and, imbibing Hie inj9u-
ence of surrounding scenery and circumstances^ their
songs, which before expressed mere animal passions
and superstitions of the lowest kind, assumed a moire
dignifi^ character.— The following Brief Sketch is
designed to show tiie rapid increase of these powers,
which^ while they refine the heart, enlarge the sphere
of intellectual enjoyment.
CHAUCER— LYDGATE—SKELTON— EARL OF
SURREY— SIR THOMAS WYAT.
Oboffrby Chaucbr, who has been appropriately
termed ^The Morning Star of English Poetry,' al-
though, in too many instances, polluting the stream
of verse with gross indecencies, for which it mtlst be
confessed ^e manners of llie tinies offer seme- ex-
cuse, composed two pieces of Sacred Poetry — The
Lamentacion of Mary Magdakyne, and A Balade in
Commendation of our Lady. These, it is true, cannot
compare with his Canterbury Tales and other less
serious productions; yet they contain several pas-
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X XXU INTRODUCTION.
sag^s of considerable beauty^ and prove that, al-
though the former were more congenial to his taste,
this rsdler at the monks and their delusions was no
foe to religion, nor was he insensible to its claims
upon Poetry, or to the charms which the Muse was
capable of casting around it.
The three following Stanzas are selected from The
Lamentacion of Mary Magdaleyne : —
Within myne herte is impressed fnl sore
His royal forme, his shappe, bis semelynesse,
His porte, his chere, his goodnesse evermore,
His noble persone with ai gentylnesse )
He is the welle of al parfytenesse,
The very redemer of al mankynde;
Him love I best with hert, soule, and mynde.
In his absence my paynes ful bytter be,
Right Wei I maye.it fele nowe inwardly;
No wonder is though they hurte or slee me,
They cause me to crye so rewfully ;
Myne herte oppressed is so wonderfully
dnely for him, wbicbe is so bright of blee:
Alas! I trowe I sbal Urn neuer se.
My joye is translate ful farre in exile.
My mvithe ia chaunged into paynes colde,'
My lyre I thynke endureth but awhyle,
Anguysshe and payne.is that I beholde:
Wherfore my handes thus I wringe and folde.
Into this grave I loke, I cal, I pray ;
Dethe remayneth, and lyfe is. borne away.
To Chaucer succeeded John Lydg at£. He was
a priest and a monk of the Benedictine Abbey of
Bnry in Suffolk. He was an author of very varied
powers^ as he seems to have written ballads, hynms,
ladicrous stories, legends, romances, and allegories,
with equal facility, but not always (if we may judge
froon the following specimen) with equal felicity;-^
these verses are selected from his
CaSTELL of lUBOURE.
God knoweth playne and clerely
Mannes mynde, thought, and coarage ;
For he by his grace inefikbly
Madii» bym like to Ida owMO imitge.
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EKC^LIfiH SlACRBB FOBTRY. XXXUi
Sholdett tfaoa notthan do faym hoiiiag<^,
Wicke bath the gyyiDii so grate a benefyoe,
Pasaynge all other in accaimtage,
That isy the realme of Paradyse ?
The AuDgelies shall thejr trumpettes blowe,
Callynge man to the Jagement ;
Than every man full well shall knowe
How that he here his lyfe hiith spent.
With an bygh voyce that Lorde omnipotent
Shall call my servanntes w^ hym to dwell ;
The hadde all pensyf— woo — and dolent.
Perpetually shall be dampnied to hell.
John S&blton.— From the title of some of his
works, we are led to infer that be was Poet Laureate
(which, in those days, was an Academical Degree)
to King Henry VHP.
Be wrote three short Sacred Poems, entitled Prayers
' To ike Father ofHeauen — To the seconds Parsone —
To the Holy Ghosf — the first we present our readers
with: —
A Prayer to the Father of Hbauen.
O radiant Luminary of light interminable.
Celestial Father, potenciall God of night,
O Heauen and Earthe, O Lorde incomperabIe»
Of all perfections the essenciall, most petfig^te;
O Maker of mankind, that fonnd day and night,
Whose power imperial eomprehendeth euery place»
Mine hart, my mind, my though^ my hole delight,
Is after this lyfe to see thy glorious face*
Whose magnificenee is incomprehensible,
Al arguments of reason which far doth excede ;
Whose deite doutles is indivisible.
From whom al goodnes and vertue doth prooede ;
Of tiiy support al creatures have nede.
Assist me, good Lord, and graunt me of thy grace
To Hue to thy pleasure in word, thought, and dede,
And after this lyfe to see thy glorious face.
â– Mr. Gifford is of opinion, that < he was perhaps the best scholar
of his day, and displays, on many occasions, strong powers of dc-
ftcriptidny and a vein of poetry,' &c, &c.
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XXXIV INTR0i>UOTIOK.
The ufifortimate Earl op Surrby^ so celebrated
as an Amatory Poet^ translated JEccfesterstes and cer^
tain Psalms— hut, as they are long and very unequal,
we do not deem it worthwhile to preseitt our readers
with an extract from any portion of them.
SirThomas Wy AT, who also flourished at the same
period, put into ^ Englyshe Meter certayn Psalmes
chosen out of (he Psalter of David, commonly e called
thee vU PenytentiaU Psalmes.' These we only make
one brief extract from, by which the reader will be
enabled to fohn a judgment of the execution of the
whole.
Psalm CXI.
Lord, beare! my praier, and let my- cry© passe
Unto thee, Lord, withoiit impediment ;
Do not from me tonrne thy mefcyfal face,
Unto myselfe leauyng^e my ^oiiernment :
In time of trouble and adversytye ,
Enclyne unto me thyne eare and tbync entente ^
Such were the principal Poets who struct the Harp
of Zion in England previous to the reign of Eliza-
beth: it will be perceived, by the extracts we have
given from them, that their works were character*
ized by the defects of their age, and that the two
hundred years which tiiis period comprehends, offer
but few poetic gems worthy of presenting to the ad*-
mirers of Sacred Poesy.
SPENSER — ALEXANDER HUME — SIR PHILIP SID-
NEY—COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE— SIR WALTER
RALEIGH— SYLVESTER— DRAYTON — SIR JOHN
DA VIES — SIR H. WOTTON— DR. JOSEPH HALL-
DONNE- BEN JONSON.
Edmund Spenser^ the most fanciful of English
Poets, whose ' Fairy Queen' still reigns supreme in
Fiction's wide domain, has however stronger and more
pleasing claims on out. attention as the author of some
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£NGLI8a SACRBD FOSTRT. XXXV
of tiie finest religions poetry we have met with in our
language ot in any ot^er. His Hymns of Heavenly
Love and of Heavenly- Beauty abound with the most
splendid Hioughts and sublime imagery^ clothed in
language worthy of so ennobling a theme ; and although
it appears probable that they have not at any time ex-
cited so intense an interest as his imaginative verses,
yet they deserve (if considered merely as Poems) an
equal share of praise, and, we think, cannot fail to
elicit from every reader the warmest feelings of ad-
miration towardsthe lofty geniu9that composed them.
We select the following stanzas from the superior
poem, only regretting that our limited space precludes
the possibility of our giving the whole.
Ah Hymne of Heavenly Love.
Love ! lift me up upon tby golden wings
From this base world unto tiiy Heavens higbt,
Where I may see those admirable things
Which there thou workest by thy soveraine might,
Fanre above feeble reach of earthly sight,
TJiat I thereof an heavenly Hymne may sing
Unto the Grod of love, bigh Heaven's King.
Before this world's great frame, in which al things
Are. now contained, found any being, place,
Mre flitting Time could wag his eyas wings
About that mighty bound which doth embrace
The rolling spheres, and parts their houres by space,
Tliat High Eternal Powre which now doth move
In all these things, moved in it seUe by love.
It loved itselfe, because itselfe was faire,
(For f«ure is loved) and of itself begot,
Like to itselfe, bis eldest Sonne and Heire,
£temall, pure, and void of sinfull blot.
The firstiii^ of his joy, in whom no jpt
Of Loves dislikes or pride was to be found,
Whome He therefore with equall bonour crowud.
With him he ndgnd before all time prescribed
In endiesse glory and immortall might.
Together with that Third from them derived,
Most wise, most holy, most almightie spright ;
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XSXyi 1.NTROJ0UCTIW.
Whose kingdomes throne, no thoughts of earthly wight
Can comprehend^ much lesse my trembling verse
With equall words can hope it to reherse.
Yet O, most blessed Spirit ! pure Lampe of Light,
Etemall Spring of Graee, and Wisedom trew,
Vouchsafe to shed into my barren spright
Some little drop of thy celestiall dew.
That may my rymes with sweet infuse embrew,
And give me words equall unto my thought
To tell thee marveiles by thy mercie wrought.
n^ ^ * * l^
# ♦ ♦ # ♦
To them> the Heayens illimitable height
(Not this round Heaven, which we from hence behold
Adomd with thousand Lamps of burning light,
And with ten thousand gemmes of shyning gold)
He gave as their inheritance to hold,
, That they might serve him in etemall blis,
And be partakers of those joyes of his.
There they in their trinall triplicities
About Him wait, and on His will depend^
Either vrith nimble wings to cut the skies,
When He them on His messages doth send,
Or His owne dread Presence to attend ;
Where they behold the glorie of His Light,
And caroll hymnes of Love both day and night
Both day and night is unto them all one.
For He His beames doth unto them extend ;
The Darknesse there appearetii never none,
Ne hath Hieir day, ne hath their blisse an end :
But there their termelesse time in pleasure spend ;
Ne ever should their happinesse decay,
Had not they dard their Lord to disobay.
♦ - • ♦
In the same admirable strain the inspired poet goes
on to depict the sufferings of onr Redeemer, and
concludes the Hymn by the following impressive
adjuration to the reader: —
Then let thy flinty hart that feels no paine
Empierced be with pittifiill remorse,