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diff --git a/17081-h/17081-h.htm b/17081-h/17081-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7219d47 --- /dev/null +++ b/17081-h/17081-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2219 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Cottage Poems</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Cottage Poems, by Patrick Bronte</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Cottage Poems, by Patrick Bronte + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Cottage Poems + + +Author: Patrick Bronte + + + +Release Date: November 16, 2005 [eBook #17081] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COTTAGE POEMS*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1893 J. M. Dent edition of “Poems of Charlotte, +Emily & Anne Brontë with Cottage Poems by Patrick Brontë” +by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>COTTAGE POEMS.</h1> +<h2><!-- page 191--><span class="pagenum">p. 191</span>EPISTLE TO THE +REV. J--- B---, WHILST JOURNEYING FOR THE RECOVERY OF HIS HEALTH.</h2> +<p>When warm’d with zeal, my rustic Muse<br /> +Feels fluttering fain to tell her news,<br /> +And paint her simple, lowly views<br /> + With all her art,<br /> +And, though in genius but obtuse,<br /> + May touch the heart.</p> +<p>Of palaces and courts of kings<br /> +She thinks but little, never sings,<br /> +But wildly strikes her uncouth strings<br /> + In some pool cot,<br /> +Spreads o’er the poor hen fostering wings,<br /> + And soothes their lot.</p> +<p>Well pleased is she to see them smile,<br /> +And uses every honest wile<br /> +To mend then hearts, their cares beguile,<br /> + With rhyming story,<br /> +And lend them to then God the while,<br /> + And endless glory.</p> +<p><!-- page 192--><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>Perchance, my +poor neglected Muse<br /> +Unfit to harass or amuse,<br /> +Escaping praise and loud abuse,<br /> + Unheard, unknown,<br /> +May feed the moths and wasting dews,<br /> + As some have done.</p> +<p>Her aims are good, howe’er they end—<br /> +Here comes a foe, and there a friend,<br /> +These point the dart and those defend,<br /> + Whilst some deride her;<br /> +But God will sweetest comforts blend,<br /> + Whate’er betide her.</p> +<p>Thus heaven-supported, forth she goes<br /> +Midst flatterers, critics, friends, and foes;<br /> +Secure, since He who all things knows<br /> + Approves her aim,<br /> +And kindly fans, or fostering blows<br /> + Her sinking flame.</p> +<p>Hence, when she shows her honest face,<br /> +And tells her tale with awkward grace,<br /> +Importunate to gain a place<br /> + Amongst your friends,<br /> +To ruthless critics leave her case,<br /> + And hail her ends.</p> +<p>To all my heart is kind and true,<br /> +But glows with ardent love for you;<br /> +Though absent, still you rise in view,<br /> + And talk and smile,<br /> +Whilst heavenly themes, for ever new,<br /> + Our cares beguile.</p> +<p><!-- page 193--><span class="pagenum">p. 193</span>The happy seasons +oft return,<br /> +When love our melting hearts did burn,<br /> +As we through heavenly themes were borne<br /> + With heavenward eyes,<br /> +And Faith this empty globe would spurn,<br /> + And sail the skies.</p> +<p>Or, when the rising sun shines bright,<br /> +Or, setting, leaves the world in night,<br /> +Or, dazzling, sheds his noon-day light,<br /> + Or, cloudy, hides,<br /> +My fancy, in her airy flight,<br /> + With you resides.</p> +<p>Where far you wander down the vale,<br /> +When balmy scents perfume the gale,<br /> +And purling rills and linnets hail<br /> + The King of kings,<br /> +To muse with you I never fail,<br /> + On heavenly things.</p> +<p>Where dashing cataracts astound,<br /> +And foaming shake the neighbouring ground,<br /> +And spread a hoary mist around,<br /> + With you I gaze!—<br /> +And think, amid’st the deaf’ning sound,<br /> + On wisdom’s ways.</p> +<p>Where rocky mountains prop the skies,<br /> +And round the smiling landscape lies,<br /> +Whilst you look down with tearful eyes<br /> + On grovelling man,<br /> +My sympathetic fancy flies,<br /> + The scene to scan.</p> +<p><!-- page 194--><span class="pagenum">p. 194</span>From Pisgah’s +top we then survey<br /> +The blissful realms of endless day,<br /> +And all the short but narrow way<br /> + That lies between,<br /> +Whilst Faith emits a heavenly ray,<br /> + And cheers the scene.</p> +<p>With you I wander on the shore<br /> +To hear the angry surges roar,<br /> +Whilst foaming through the sands they pour<br /> + With constant roll,<br /> +And meditations heavenward soar,<br /> + And charm the soul.</p> +<p>On life’s rough sea we’re tempest-driven<br /> +In crazy barks, our canvas riven!<br /> +Such is the lot to mortals given<br /> + Where sins resort:<br /> +But he whose anchor’s fixed in heaven<br /> + Shall gain the port.</p> +<p>Though swelling waves oft beat him back,<br /> +And tempests make him half a wreck,<br /> +And passions strong, with dangerous tack,<br /> + Retard his course,<br /> +Yet Christ the pilot all will check,<br /> + And quell their force.</p> +<p>So talk we as we thoughtful stray<br /> +Along the coast, where dashing spray<br /> +With rising mist o’erhangs the day,<br /> + And wets the shore,<br /> +And thick the vivid flashes play<br /> + And thunders roar!</p> +<p><!-- page 195--><span class="pagenum">p. 195</span>Whilst passing +o’er this giddy stage,<br /> +A pious and a learned sage<br /> +Resolved eternal war to wage<br /> + With passions fell;<br /> +How oft you view with holy rage<br /> + These imps of hell!</p> +<p>See! with what madd’ning force they sway<br /> +The human breast and lead astray,<br /> +Down the steep, broad, destructive way,<br /> + The giddy throng;<br /> +Till grisly death sweeps all away<br /> + The fiends among!</p> +<p>As when the mad tornado flies,<br /> +And sounding mingles earth and skies,<br /> +And wild confusion ’fore the eyes<br /> + In terrors dressed.<br /> +So passions fell in whirlwinds rise,<br /> + And rend the breast!</p> +<p>But whilst this direful tempest raves,<br /> +And many barks are dashed to staves,<br /> +I see you tower above the waves<br /> + Like some tall rock,<br /> +Whose base the harmless ocean laves<br /> + Without a shock!</p> +<p>’Tis He who calmed the raging sea,<br /> +Who bids the waves be still in thee,<br /> +And keeps you from all dangers free<br /> + Amidst the wreck;<br /> +All sin, and care, and dangers flee<br /> + E’en at His beck.</p> +<p><!-- page 196--><span class="pagenum">p. 196</span>And on that great +and dreadful day<br /> +When heaven and earth shall pass away,<br /> +Each soul to bliss He will convey,<br /> + That knows His name;<br /> +And give the giddy world a prey<br /> + To quenchless flame.</p> +<p>So oft when Sabbaths bade us rest,<br /> +And heavenly zeal inspired your breast,<br /> +Obedient to the high behest<br /> + You preached to all,<br /> +Whilst God your zealous efforts blessed,<br /> + And owned your call.</p> +<p>The very thought my soul inspires,<br /> +And kindles bright her latent fires;<br /> +My Muse feels heart-warm fond desires,<br /> + And spreads her wing,<br /> +And aims to join th’ angelic choirs,<br /> + And sweetly sing.</p> +<p>May rosy Health with speed return,<br /> +And all your wonted ardour burn,<br /> +And sickness buried in his urn,<br /> + Sleep many years!<br /> +So, countless friends who loudly mourn,<br /> + Shall dry their tears!</p> +<p>Your wailing flock will all rejoice<br /> +To hear their much-loved shepherd’s voice,<br /> +And long will bless the happy choice<br /> + Their hearts have made,<br /> +And tuneful mirth will swell the noise<br /> + Through grove and glade.</p> +<p><!-- page 197--><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>Your dearer half +will join with me<br /> +To celebrate the jubilee,<br /> +And praise the Great Eternal Three<br /> + With throbbing joy,<br /> +And taste those pleasures pure and free<br /> + Which never cloy.</p> +<h2>THE HAPPY COTTAGERS.</h2> +<p>One sunny morn of May,<br /> + When dressed in flowery green<br /> +The dewy landscape, charmed<br /> + With Nature’s fairest scene,<br /> + In thoughtful mood<br /> + I slowly strayed<br /> + O’er hill and dale,<br /> + Through bush and glade.</p> +<p>Throughout the cloudless sky<br /> + Of light unsullied blue,<br /> +The larks their matins raised,<br /> + Whilst on my dizzy view,<br /> + Like dusky motes,<br /> + They winged their way<br /> + Till vanished in<br /> + The blaze of day.</p> +<p>The linnets sweetly sang<br /> + On every fragrant thorn,<br /> +Whilst from the tangled wood<br /> + The blackbirds hailed the morn;<br /> + And through the dew<br /> + Ran here and there,<br /> + But half afraid,<br /> + The startled hare.</p> +<p><!-- page 198--><span class="pagenum">p. 198</span>The balmy breeze +just kissed<br /> + The countless dewy gems<br /> +Which decked the yielding blade<br /> + Or gilt the sturdy stems,<br /> + And gently o’er<br /> + The charmed sight<br /> + A deluge shed<br /> + Of trembling light.</p> +<p>A sympathetic glow<br /> + Ran through my melting soul,<br /> +And calm and sweet delight<br /> + O’er all my senses stole;<br /> + And through my heart<br /> + A grateful flood<br /> + Of joy rolled on<br /> + To Nature’s God.</p> +<p>Time flew unheeded by,<br /> + Till wearied and oppressed,<br /> +Upon a flowery bank<br /> + I laid me down to rest;<br /> + Beneath my feet<br /> + A purling stream<br /> + Ran glittering in<br /> + The noontide beam.</p> +<p>I turned me round to view<br /> + The lovely rural scene;<br /> +And, just at hand, I spied<br /> + A cottage on the green;<br /> + The street was clean,<br /> + The walls were white,<br /> + The thatch was neat,<br /> + The window bright.</p> +<p><!-- page 199--><span class="pagenum">p. 199</span>Bold chanticleer, +arrayed<br /> + In velvet plumage gay,<br /> +With many an amorous dame,<br /> + Fierce strutted o’er the way;<br /> + And motley ducks<br /> + Were waddling seen,<br /> + And drake with neck<br /> + Of glossy green.</p> +<p>The latch I gently raised,<br /> + And oped the humble door;<br /> +An oaken stool was placed<br /> + On the neat sanded floor;<br /> + An aged man<br /> + Said with a smile,<br /> + “You’re welcome, sir:<br /> + Come rest a while.”</p> +<p>His coarse attire was clean,<br /> + His manner rude yet kind:<br /> +His air, his words, and looks<br /> + Showed a contented mind;<br /> + Though mean and poor,<br /> + Thrice happy he,<br /> + As by our tale<br /> + You soon shall see.</p> +<p>But don’t expect to hear<br /> + Of deeds of martial fame,<br /> +Or that our peasant mean<br /> + Was born of rank or name,<br /> + And soon will strut,<br /> + As in romance,<br /> + A knight and all<br /> + In armour glance.</p> +<p><!-- page 200--><span class="pagenum">p. 200</span>I sing of real +life;<br /> + All else is empty show—<br /> +To those who read a source<br /> + Of much unreal woe:<br /> + Pollution, too,<br /> + Through novel-veins,<br /> + Oft fills the mind<br /> + With guilty stains.</p> +<p>Our peasant long was bred<br /> + Affliction’s meagre child,<br /> +Yet gratefully resigned,<br /> + Loud hymning praises, smiled,<br /> + And like a tower<br /> + He stood unmoved,<br /> + Supported by<br /> + The God he loved.</p> +<p>His loving wife long since<br /> + Was numbered with the dead<br /> +His son, a martial youth,<br /> + Had for his country bled;<br /> + And now remained<br /> + One daughter fair,<br /> + And only she,<br /> + To soothe his care.</p> +<p>The aged man with tears<br /> + Spoke of the lovely maid;<br /> +How earnestly she strove<br /> + To lend her father aid,<br /> + And as he ran<br /> + Her praises o’er,<br /> + She gently oped<br /> + The cottage-door.</p> +<p><!-- page 201--><span class="pagenum">p. 201</span>With vegetable +store<br /> + The table soon she spread,<br /> +And pressed me to partake;<br /> + Whilst blushes rosy-red<br /> + Suffused her face—<br /> + The old man smiled,<br /> + Well pleased to see<br /> + His darling child.</p> +<p>With venerable air<br /> + He then looked up to God,<br /> +A blessing craved on all,<br /> + And on our daily food;<br /> + Then kindly begged<br /> + I would excuse<br /> + Their humble fair,<br /> + And not refuse.—</p> +<p>The tablecloth, though coarse,<br /> + Was of a snowy white,<br /> +The vessels, spoons, and knives<br /> + Were clean and dazzling bright;<br /> + So down we sat<br /> + Devoid of care,<br /> + Nor envied kings<br /> + Their dainty fare.</p> +<p>When nature was refreshed,<br /> + And we familiar grown;<br /> +The good old man exclaimed,<br /> + “Around Jehovah’s throne,<br /> + Come, let us all<br /> + Our voices raise,<br /> + And sing our great<br /> + Redeemer’s praise!”</p> +<p><!-- page 202--><span class="pagenum">p. 202</span>Their artless +notes were sweet,<br /> + Grace ran through every line;<br /> +Their breasts with rapture swelled,<br /> + Their looks were all divine:<br /> + Delight o’er all<br /> + My senses stole,<br /> + And heaven’s pure joy<br /> + O’erwhelmed my +soul.</p> +<p>When we had praised our God,<br /> + And knelt around His throne,<br /> +The aged man began<br /> + In deep and zealous tone,<br /> + With hands upraised<br /> + And heavenward eye,<br /> + And prayed loud<br /> + And fervently:</p> +<p>He prayed that for His sake,<br /> + Whose guiltless blood was shed<br /> +For guilty ruined man,<br /> + We might that day be fed<br /> + With that pure bread<br /> + Which cheers the soul,<br /> + And living stream,<br /> + Where pleasures roll.</p> +<p>He prayed long for all,<br /> + And for his daughter dear,<br /> +That she, preserved from ill,<br /> + Might lead for many a year<br /> + A spotless life<br /> + When he’s no +more;<br /> + Then follow him<br /> + To Canaan’s shore.</p> +<p><!-- page 203--><span class="pagenum">p. 203</span>His faltering +voice then fell,<br /> + His tears were dropping fast,<br /> +And muttering praise to God<br /> + For all His mercies past,<br /> + He closed his prayer<br /> + Midst heavenly joys,<br /> + And tasted bliss<br /> + Which never cloys.</p> +<p>In sweet discourse we spent<br /> + The fast declining day:<br /> +We spoke of Jesus’ love,<br /> + And of that narrow way<br /> + Which leads, through care<br /> + And toil below,<br /> + To streams where joys<br /> + Eternal flow.</p> +<p>The wondrous plan of Grace,<br /> + Adoring, we surveyed,<br /> +The birth of heavenly skill—<br /> + In Love Eternal laid—<br /> + Too deep for clear<br /> + Angelic ken,<br /> + And far beyond<br /> + Dim-sighted men.</p> +<p>To tell you all that passed<br /> + Would far exceed my power;<br /> +Suffice it, then, to say,<br /> + Joy winged the passing hour,<br /> + Till, ere we knew,<br /> + The setting day<br /> + Had clad the world<br /> + In silver grey.</p> +<p><!-- page 204--><span class="pagenum">p. 204</span>I kindly took +my leave,<br /> + And blessed the happy lot<br /> +Of those I left behind<br /> + Lodged in their humble cot;<br /> + And pitied some<br /> + In palace walls,<br /> + Where pride torments,<br /> + And pleasure palls.</p> +<p>The silver moon now shed<br /> + A flood of trembling light<br /> +On tower, and tree, and stream;<br /> + The twinkling stars shone bright,<br /> + Nor misty stain<br /> + Nor cloud was seen<br /> + O’er all the deep<br /> + Celestial green.</p> +<p>Mild was the lovely night,<br /> + Nor stirred a whispering breeze.<br /> +Smooth was the glassy lake,<br /> + And still the leafy trees;<br /> + No sound in air<br /> + Was heard afloat,<br /> + Save Philomel’s<br /> + Sweet warbling note.</p> +<p>My thoughts were on the wing,<br /> + And back my fancy fled<br /> +To where contentment dwelt<br /> + In the neat humble shed;<br /> + To shining courts<br /> + From thence it ran,<br /> + Where restless pride<br /> + Oppresses man.</p> +<p><!-- page 205--><span class="pagenum">p. 205</span>In fame some search +for bliss,<br /> + Some seek content in gain,<br /> +In search of happiness<br /> + Some give the slackened rein<br /> + To passions fierce,<br /> + And down the stream<br /> + Through giddy life,<br /> + Of pleasures dream.</p> +<p>These all mistake the way,<br /> + As many more have done:<br /> +The narrow path of bliss<br /> + Through God’s Eternal Son<br /> + Directly tends;<br /> + And only he<br /> + Who treads this path<br /> + Can happy be.</p> +<p>Who anchors all above<br /> + Has still a happy lot,<br /> +Though doomed for life to dwell<br /> + E’en in a humble cot,<br /> + And when he lays<br /> + This covering down<br /> + He’ll wear a bright<br /> + Immortal crown.</p> +<h2>THE RAINBOW.</h2> +<p>The shower is past, and the sky<br /> + O’erhead is both mild and serene,<br /> +Save where a few drops from on high,<br /> + Like gems, twinkle over the green:<br /> +<!-- page 206--><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>And glowing fair, +in the black north,<br /> + The rainbow o’erarches the cloud;<br /> +The sun in his glory comes forth,<br /> + And larks sweetly warble aloud.</p> +<p>That dismally grim northern sky<br /> + Says God in His vengeance once frowned,<br /> +And opened His flood-gates on high,<br /> + Till obstinate sinners were drowned:<br /> +The lively bright south, and that bow,<br /> + Say all this dread vengeance is o’er;<br /> +These colours that smilingly glow<br /> + Say we shall be deluged no more.</p> +<p>Ever blessed be those innocent days,<br /> + Ever sweet their remembrance to me;<br /> +When often, in silent amaze,<br /> + Enraptured, I’d gaze upon thee!<br /> +Whilst arching adown the black sky<br /> + Thy colours glowed on the green hill,<br /> +To catch thee as lightning I’d fly,<br /> + But aye you eluded my skill.</p> +<p>From hill unto hill your gay scene<br /> + You shifted—whilst crying aloud,<br /> +I ran, till at length from the green,<br /> + You shifted, at once to the cloud!<br /> +So, vain worldly phantoms betray<br /> + The youths who too eager pursue,<br /> +When ruined and far led astray,<br /> + Th’ illusion escapes from their view.</p> +<p>Those peaceable days knew no care,<br /> + Except what arose from my play,<br /> +My favourite lambkin and hare,<br /> + And cabin I built o’er the way.<br /> +<!-- page 207--><span class="pagenum">p. 207</span>No cares did I say? +Ah! I’m wrong:<br /> + Even childhood from cares is not free:<br /> +Far distant I see a grim throng<br /> + Shake horrible lances at me!</p> +<p>One day—I remember it still—<br /> + For pranks I had played on the clown<br /> +Who lived on the neighbouring hill,<br /> + My cabin was trod to the ground.<br /> +Who ever felt grief such as I<br /> + When crashed by this terrible blow?<br /> +Not Priam, the monarch of Troy,<br /> + When all his proud towers lay low.</p> +<p>And grief upon grief was my lot:<br /> + Soon after, my lambkin was slain;<br /> +My hare, having strayed from its cot,<br /> + Was chased by the hounds o’er the plain.<br /> +What countless calamities teem<br /> + From memory’s page on my view!—<br /> +How trifling soever you seem,<br /> + Yet once I have wept over you.</p> +<p>Then cease, foolish heart, to repine;<br /> + No stage is exempted from care:<br /> +If you would true happiness find,<br /> + Come follow! and I’ll show you where.<br /> +But, first, let us take for our guide<br /> + The Word which Jehovah has penned;<br /> +By this the true path is descried<br /> + Which leads to a glorious end.</p> +<p>How narrow this path to our view!<br /> + How steep an ascent lies before!<br /> +Whilst, foolish fond heart, laid for you<br /> + Are dazzling temptations all o’er.<br /> +<!-- page 208--><span class="pagenum">p. 208</span>What bye-ways with +easy descent<br /> + Invite us through pleasures to stray!<br /> +Whilst Satan, with hellish intent,<br /> + Suggests that we ought to obey.</p> +<p>But trust not the father of lies,<br /> + He tempts you with vanity’s dream;<br /> +His pleasure, when touched, quickly dies,<br /> + Like bubbles that dance on the stream.<br /> +Look not on the wine when it glows<br /> + All ruddy, in vessels of gold;<br /> +At last it will sting your repose,<br /> + And death at the bottom unfold. <a name="citation208"></a><a href="#footnote208">{208}</a></p> +<p>But lo! an unnatural night<br /> + Pours suddenly down on the eye;<br /> +The sun has withdrawn all his light,<br /> + And rolls a black globe o’er the sky!<br /> +And hark! what a cry rent the air!<br /> + Immortal the terrible sound!—<br /> +The rocks split with honible tear,<br /> + And fearfully shakes all the ground!</p> +<p>The dead from their slumbers awake,<br /> + And, leaving their mouldy domain,<br /> +Make poor guilty mortals to quake<br /> + As pallid they glide o’er the plain!<br /> +Sure, Nature’s own God is oppressed,<br /> + And Nature in agony cries;—<br /> +The sun in his mourning is dressed,<br /> + To tell the sad news through the skies!</p> +<p>Yet surely some victory’s gained,<br /> + Important, and novel, and great,<br /> +<!-- page 209--><span class="pagenum">p. 209</span>Since Death has his +captives unchained,<br /> + And widely thrown open his gate!<br /> +Yes, victory great as a God<br /> + Could gain over hell, death, and sin,<br /> +This moment’s achieved by the blood<br /> + Of Jesus, our crucified King.</p> +<p>But all the dread conflict is o’er;<br /> + Lo! cloud after cloud rolls away;<br /> +And heaven, serene as before,<br /> + Breaks forth in the splendour of day!<br /> +And all the sweet landscape around,<br /> + Emerged from the ocean of night,<br /> +With groves, woods, and villages crowned,<br /> + Astonish and fill with delight!</p> +<p>But see! where that crowd melts away,<br /> + Three crosses sad spectacles show!<br /> +Our Guide has not led us astray;<br /> + Heart! this is the secret you’d know—<br /> +Two thieves, and a crucified God<br /> + Hangs awfully mangled between!<br /> +Whilst fast from His veins spouting blood<br /> + Runs, dyeing with purple the green!</p> +<p>Behold! the red flood rolls along,<br /> + And forming a bason below,<br /> +Is termed in Emanuel’s song<br /> + The fount for uncleanness and woe.<br /> +Immerged in that precious tide,<br /> + The soul quickly loses its stains,<br /> +Though deeper than crimson they’re dyed,<br /> + And ’scapes from its sorrows and pains.</p> +<p>This fountain is opened for you:<br /> + Go, wash, without money or price;<br /> +<!-- page 210--><span class="pagenum">p. 210</span>And instantly formed +anew,<br /> + You’ll lose all your woes in a trice.<br /> +Then cease, foolish heart, to repine,<br /> + No stage is exempted from care;<br /> +If you would true happiness find,<br /> + ’Tis on Calvary—seek for it there.</p> +<h2>WINTER-NIGHT MEDITATIONS.</h2> +<p>Rude winter’s come, the sky’s o’ercast,<br /> +The night is cold and loud the blast,<br /> +The mingling snow comes driving down,<br /> +Fast whitening o’er the flinty ground.<br /> +Severe their lots whose crazy sheds<br /> +Hang tottering o’er their trembling heads:<br /> +Whilst blows through walls and chinky door<br /> +The drifting snow across the floor,<br /> +Where blinking embers scarcely glow,<br /> +And rushlight only serves to show<br /> +What well may move the deepest sigh,<br /> +And force a tear from pity’s eye.<br /> +You there may see a meagre pair,<br /> +Worn out with labour, grief, and care:<br /> +Whose naked babes, in hungry mood,<br /> +Complain of cold and cry for food;<br /> +Whilst tears bedew the mother’s cheek,<br /> +And sighs the father’s grief bespeak;<br /> +For fire or raiment, bed or board,<br /> +Their dreary shed cannot afford.</p> +<p> Will no kind hand confer relief,<br /> +And wipe away the tear of grief?<br /> +A little boon it well might spare<br /> +Would kindle joy, dispel their care,<br /> +<!-- page 211--><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>Abate the rigour +of the night<br /> +And warm each heart—achievement bright.<br /> +Yea, brighter far than such as grace<br /> +The annals of a princely race,<br /> +Where kings bestow a large domain<br /> +But to receive as much again,<br /> +Or e’en corrupt the purest laws,<br /> +Or fan the breath of vain applause.</p> +<p> Peace to the man who stoops his head<br /> +To enter the most wretched shed:<br /> +Who, with his condescending smiles,<br /> +Poor diffidence and awe beguiles:<br /> +Till all encouraged, soon disclose<br /> +The different causes of their woes—<br /> +The moving tale dissolves his heart:<br /> +He liberally bestows a part<br /> +Of God’s donation. From above<br /> +Approving Heaven, in smiles of love,<br /> +Looks on, and through the shining skies<br /> +The great Recording Angel flies<br /> +The doors of mercy to unfold,<br /> +And write the deed in lines of gold;<br /> +There, if a fruit of Faith’s fair tree,<br /> +To shine throughout eternity,<br /> +In honour of that Sovereign dread,<br /> +Who had no place to lay His head,<br /> +Yet opened wide sweet Mercy’s door<br /> +To all the desolate and poor,<br /> +Who, stung with guilt and hard oppressed,<br /> +Groaned to be with Him, and at rest.</p> +<p> Now, pent within the city wall,<br /> +They throng to theatre and hall,<br /> +Where gesture, look, and words conspire,<br /> +To stain the mind, the passions fire;<br /> +<!-- page 212--><span class="pagenum">p. 212</span>Whence sin-polluted +streams abound,<br /> +That whelm the country all around.<br /> +Ah! Modesty, should you be here,<br /> +Close up the eye and stop the ear;<br /> +Oppose your fan, nor peep beneath,<br /> +And blushing shun their tainted breath.</p> +<p> Here every rake exerts his art<br /> +T’ ensnare the unsuspecting heart.<br /> +The prostitute, with faithless smiles,<br /> +Remorseless plays her tricks and wiles.<br /> +Her gesture bold and ogling eye,<br /> +Obtrusive speech and pert reply,<br /> +And brazen front and stubborn tone,<br /> +Show all her native virtue’s flown.<br /> +By her the thoughtless youth is ta’en,<br /> +Impoverished, disgraced, or slain:<br /> +Through her the marriage vows are broke,<br /> +And Hymen proves a galling yoke.<br /> +Diseases come, destruction’s dealt,<br /> +Where’er her poisonous breath is felt;<br /> +Whilst she, poor wretch, dies in the flame<br /> +That runs through her polluted frame.</p> +<p> Once she was gentle, fair, and kind,<br /> +To no seducing schemes inclined,<br /> +Would blush to hear a smutty tale,<br /> +Nor ever strolled o’er hill or dale,<br /> +But lived a sweet domestic maid,<br /> +To lend her aged parents aid—<br /> +And oft they gazed and oft they smiled<br /> +On this their loved and only child:<br /> +They thought they might in her be blest,<br /> +And she would see them laid at rest.</p> +<p> <!-- page 213--><span class="pagenum">p. 213</span>A +blithesome youth of courtly mien<br /> +Oft called to see this rural queen:<br /> +His oily tongue and wily art<br /> +Soon gained Maria’s yielding heart.<br /> +The aged pair, too, liked the youth,<br /> +And thought him naught but love and truth.<br /> +The village feast at length is come;<br /> +Maria by the youth’s undone:<br /> +The youth is gone—so is her fame;<br /> +And with it all her sense of shame:<br /> +And now she practises the art<br /> +Which snared her unsuspecting heart;<br /> +And vice, with a progressive sway,<br /> +More hardened makes her every day.<br /> +Averse to good and prone to ill,<br /> +And dexterous in seducing skill;<br /> +To look, as if her eyes would melt:<br /> +T’ affect a love she never felt;<br /> +To half suppress the rising sigh;<br /> +Mechanically to weep and cry;<br /> +To vow eternal truth, and then<br /> +To break her vow, and vow again;<br /> +Her ways are darkness, death, and hell:<br /> +Remorse and shame and passions fell,<br /> +And short-lived joy, with endless pain,<br /> +Pursues her in a gloomy train.</p> +<p> O Britain fair, thou queen of isles!<br /> +Nor hostile arms nor hostile wiles<br /> +Could ever shake thy solid throne<br /> +But for thy sins. Thy sins alone<br /> +Can make thee stoop thy royal head,<br /> +And lay thee prostrate with the dead.<br /> +In vain colossal England mows,<br /> +With ponderous strength, the yielding foes;<br /> + <!-- page 214--><span class="pagenum">p. 214</span>In vain +fair Scotia, by her side,<br /> +With courage flushed and Highland pride,<br /> +Whirls her keen blade with horrid whistle<br /> +And lops off heads like tops of thistle;<br /> +In vain brave Erin, famed afar,<br /> +The flaming thunderbolt of war,<br /> +Profuse of life, through blood does wade,<br /> +To lend her sister kingdom aid:<br /> +Our conquering thunders vainly roar<br /> +Terrific round the Gallic shore;<br /> +Profoundest statesmen vainly scheme—<br /> +’Tis all a vain, delusive dream,<br /> +If treacherously within our breast<br /> +We foster sin, the deadly pest.</p> +<p> Where Sin abounds Religion dies,<br /> +And Virtue seeks her native skies;<br /> +Chaste Conscience hides for very shame,<br /> +And Honour’s but an empty name.<br /> +Then, like a flood, with fearful din,<br /> +A gloomy host comes pouring in.<br /> +First Bribery, with her golden shield,<br /> +Leads smooth Corruption o’er the field;<br /> +Dissension wild, with brandished spear,<br /> +And Anarchy bring up the rear:<br /> +Whilst Care and Sorrow, Grief and Pain<br /> +Run howling o’er the bloody plain.</p> +<p>O Thou, whose power resistless fills<br /> +The boundless whole, avert those ills<br /> +We richly merit: purge away<br /> +The sins which on our vitals prey;<br /> +Protect, with Thine almighty shield<br /> +Our conquering arms by flood and field,<br /> +Wheel round the time when Peace shall smile<br /> +O’er Britain’s highly-favoured Isle;<br /> +<!-- page 215--><span class="pagenum">p. 215</span>When all shall loud +hosannas sing<br /> +To Thee, the great Eternal King!</p> +<p> But hark! the bleak, loud whistling wind!<br /> +Its crushing blast recalls to mind<br /> +The dangers of the troubled deep;<br /> +Where, with a fierce and thundering sweep,<br /> +The winds in wild distraction rave,<br /> +And push along the mountain wave<br /> +With dreadful swell and hideous curl!<br /> +Whilst hung aloft in giddy whirl,<br /> +Or drop beneath the ocean’s bed,<br /> +The leaky bark without a shred<br /> +Of rigging sweeps through dangers dread.<br /> +The flaring beacon points the way,<br /> +And fast the pumps loud clanking play:<br /> +It ’vails not—hark! with crashing shock<br /> +She’s shivered ’gainst the solid rock,<br /> +Or by the fierce, incessant waves<br /> +Is beaten to a thousand staves;<br /> +Or bilging at her crazy side,<br /> +Admits the thundering hostile tide,<br /> +And down she sinks!—triumphant rave<br /> +The winds, and close her wat’ry grave!</p> +<p> The merchant’s care and toil are vain,<br /> +His hopes He buried in the main—<br /> +In vain the mother’s tearful eye<br /> +Looks for its sole remaining joy—<br /> +In vain fair Susan walks the shore,<br /> +And sighs for him she’ll see no more—<br /> +For deep they lie in ocean’s womb,<br /> +And fester in a wat’ry tomb.</p> +<p> Now, from the frothy, thundering main,<br /> +My meditations seek the plain,<br /> +<!-- page 216--><span class="pagenum">p. 216</span>Where, with a swift +fantastic flight,<br /> +They scour the regions of the night,<br /> +Free as the winds that wildly blow<br /> +O’er hill and dale the blinding snow,<br /> +Or, through the woods, their frolics play,<br /> +And whirling, sweep the dusty way,<br /> +When summer shines with burning glare,<br /> +And sportive breezes skim the air,<br /> +And Ocean’s glassy breast is fanned<br /> +To softest curl by Zephyr bland.</p> +<p> But Summer’s gone, and Winter’s here—<br /> +With iron sceptre rules the year—<br /> +Beneath this dark inclement sky<br /> +How many wanderers faint and die!<br /> +One, flouncing o’er the treacherous snow,<br /> +Sinks in the pit that yawns below!<br /> +Another numbed, with panting lift<br /> +Inhales the suffocating drift!<br /> +And creeping cold, with stiffening force,<br /> +Extends a third, a pallid corse!</p> +<p> Thus death, in varied dreadful form,<br /> +Triumphant rides along the storm:<br /> +With shocking scenes assails the sight,<br /> +And makes more sad the dismal night!<br /> +How blest the man, whose lot is free<br /> +From such distress and misery;<br /> +Who, sitting by his blazing fire,<br /> +Is closely wrapt in warm attire;<br /> +Whose sparkling glasses blush with wine<br /> +Of mirthful might and flavour fine;<br /> +Whose house, compact and strong, defies<br /> +The rigour of the angry skies!<br /> +The ruffling winds may blow their last,<br /> +And snows come driving on the blast;<br /> +<!-- page 217--><span class="pagenum">p. 217</span>And frosts their +icy morsels fling,<br /> +But all within is mild as spring!</p> +<p>How blest is he!—blest did I say?<br /> +E’en sorrow here oft finds its way.<br /> +The senses numbed by frequent use,<br /> +Of criminal, absurd abuse<br /> +Of heaven’s blessings, listless grow,<br /> +And life is but a dream of woe.</p> +<p>Oft fostered on the lap of ease,<br /> +Grow racking pain and foul disease,<br /> +And nervous whims, a ghastly train,<br /> +Inflicting more than corp’ral pain:<br /> +Oft gold and shining pedigree<br /> +Prove only splendid misery.<br /> +The king who sits upon his throne,<br /> +And calls the kneeling world his own,<br /> +Has oft of cares a greater load<br /> +Than he who feels his iron rod.</p> +<p>No state is free from care and pain<br /> +Where fiery passions get the rein,<br /> +Or soft indulgence, joined with ease,<br /> +Begets a thousand ills to tease:<br /> +Where fair Religion, heavenly maid,<br /> +Has slighted still her offered aid.<br /> +Her matchless power the will subdues,<br /> +And gives the judgment clearer views:<br /> +Denies no source of real pleasure,<br /> +And yields us blessings out of measure;<br /> +Our prospect brightens, proves our stay,<br /> +December turns to smiling May;<br /> +Conveys us to that peaceful shore,<br /> +By raging billows lashed no more,<br /> +Where endless happiness remains,<br /> +And one eternal summer reigns.</p> +<h2><!-- page 218--><span class="pagenum">p. 218</span>VERSES SENT TO +A LADY ON HER<br /> +BIRTHDAY.</h2> +<p>The joyous day illumes the sky<br /> +That bids each care and sorrow fly<br /> + To shades of endless night:<br /> +E’en frozen age, thawed in the fires<br /> +Of social mirth, feels young desires,<br /> + And tastes of fresh delight.</p> +<p>In thoughtful mood your parents dear,<br /> +Whilst joy smiles through the starting tear,<br /> + Give approbation due.<br /> +As each drinks deep in mirthful wine<br /> +Your rosy health, and looks benign<br /> + Are sent to heaven for you.</p> +<p>But let me whisper, lovely fair,<br /> +This joy may soon give place to care,<br /> + And sorrow cloud this day;<br /> +Full soon your eyes of sparkling blue,<br /> +And velvet lips of scarlet hue,<br /> + Discoloured, may decay.</p> +<p>As bloody drops on virgin snows,<br /> +So vies the lily with the rose<br /> + Full on your dimpled cheek;<br /> +But ah! the worm in lazy coil<br /> +May soon prey on this putrid spoil,<br /> + Or leap in loathsome freak.</p> +<p>Fond wooers come with flattering tale,<br /> +And load with sighs the passing gale,<br /> + And love-distracted rave:<br /> +<!-- page 219--><span class="pagenum">p. 219</span>But hark, fair maid! +whate’er they say,<br /> +You’re but a breathing mass of clay,<br /> + Fast ripening for the grave.</p> +<p>Behold how thievish Time has been!<br /> +Full eighteen summers you have seen,<br /> + And yet they seem a day?<br /> +Whole years, collected in Time’s glass,<br /> +In silent lapse how soon they pass,<br /> + And steal your life away!</p> +<p>The flying hour none can arrest,<br /> +Nor yet recall one moment past,<br /> + And what more dread must seem<br /> +Is, that to-morrow’s not your own—<br /> +Then haste! and ere your life has flown<br /> + The subtle hours redeem.</p> +<p>Attend with care to what I sing:<br /> +Know time is ever on the wing;<br /> + None can its flight detain;<br /> +Then, like a pilgrim passing by,<br /> +Take home this hint, as time does fly,<br /> + “All earthly things are vain.”</p> +<p>Let nothing here elate your breast,<br /> +Nor, for one moment, break your rest,<br /> + In heavenly wisdom grow:<br /> +Still keep your anchor fixed above,<br /> +Where Jesus reigns in boundless love,<br /> + And streams of pleasure flow.</p> +<p>So shall your life glide smoothly by<br /> +Without a tear, without a sigh,<br /> + And purest joys will crown<br /> +<!-- page 220--><span class="pagenum">p. 220</span>Each birthday, as +the year revolves,<br /> +Till this clay tenement dissolves,<br /> + And leaves the soul unbound.</p> +<p>Then shall you land on Canaan’s shore,<br /> +Where time and chance shall be no more,<br /> + And joy eternal reigns;<br /> +There, mixing with the seraphs bright,<br /> +And dressed in robes of heavenly light,<br /> + You’ll raise angelic strains.</p> +<h2>THE IRISH CABIN.</h2> +<p>Should poverty, modest and clean,<br /> + E’er please, when presented to view,<br /> +Should cabin on brown heath, or green,<br /> + Disclose aught engaging to you,<br /> +Should Erin’s wild harp soothe the ear<br /> + When touched by such fingers as mine,<br /> +Then kindly attentive draw near,<br /> + And candidly ponder each line.</p> +<p>One day, when December’s keen breath<br /> + Arrested the sweet running rill,<br /> +And Nature seemed frozen in death,<br /> + I thoughtfully strolled o’er the hill:<br /> +The mustering clouds wore a frown,<br /> + The mountains were covered with snow,<br /> +And Winter his mantle of brown<br /> + Had spread o’er the landscape below.</p> +<p>Thick rattling the footsteps were heard<br /> + Of peasants far down in the vale;<br /> +<!-- page 221--><span class="pagenum">p. 221</span>From lakes, bogs, +and marshes debarred,<br /> + The wild-fowl, aloft on the gale,<br /> +Loud gabbling and screaming were borne,<br /> + Whilst thundering guns hailed the day,<br /> +And hares sought the thicket forlorn,<br /> + Or, wounded, ran over the way.</p> +<p>No music was heard in the grove,<br /> + The blackbird and linnet and thrush,<br /> +And goldfinch and sweet cooing dove,<br /> + Sat pensively mute in the bush:<br /> +The leaves that once wove a green shade<br /> + Lay withered in heaps on the ground:<br /> +Chill Winter through grove, wood, and glade<br /> + Spread sad desolation around.</p> +<p>But now the keen north wind ’gan whistle,<br /> + And gusty, swept over the sky;<br /> +Each hair, frozen, stood like a bristle,<br /> + And night thickened fast on the eye.<br /> +In swift-wheeling eddies the snow<br /> + Fell, mingling and drifting amain,<br /> +And soon all distinction laid low,<br /> + As whitening it covered the plain.</p> +<p>A light its pale ray faintly shot<br /> + (The snow-flakes its splendour had shorn),<br /> +It came from a neighbouring cot,<br /> + Some called it the Cabin of Mourne: <a name="citation221"></a><a href="#footnote221">{221}</a><br /> +A neat Irish Cabin, snow-proof,<br /> + Well thatched, had a good earthen floor,<br /> +One chimney in midst of the roof,<br /> + One window, and one latched door.</p> +<p><!-- page 222--><span class="pagenum">p. 222</span>Escaped from the +pitiless storm,<br /> + I entered the humble retreat;<br /> +Compact was the building, and warm,<br /> + Its furniture simple and neat.<br /> +And now, gentle reader, approve<br /> + The ardour that glowed in each breast,<br /> +As kindly our cottagers strove<br /> + To cherish and welcome their guest.</p> +<p>The dame nimbly rose from her wheel,<br /> + And brushed off the powdery snow:<br /> +Her daughter, forsaking the reel,<br /> + Ran briskly the cinders to blow:<br /> +The children, who sat on the hearth,<br /> + Leaped up without murmur or frown,<br /> +An oaken stool quickly brought forth,<br /> + And smilingly bade me sit down.</p> +<p>Whilst grateful sensations of joy<br /> + O’er all my fond bosom were poured,<br /> +Resumed was each former employ,<br /> + And gay thrifty order restored:<br /> +The blaze flickered up to the crook,<br /> + The reel clicked again by the door,<br /> +The dame turned her wheel in the nook,<br /> + And frisked the sweet babes round the floor.</p> +<p>Released from the toils of the barn,<br /> + His thrifty, blithe wife hailed the sire,<br /> +And hanging his flail by her yarn,<br /> + He drew up his stool to the fire;<br /> +Then smoothing his brow with his hand,<br /> + As if he would sweep away sorrow,<br /> +He says, “Let us keep God’s command,<br /> + And never take thought for the morrow.”</p> +<p><!-- page 223--><span class="pagenum">p. 223</span>Brisk turning +him round with a smile,<br /> + And freedom unblended by art,<br /> +And affable manners and style,<br /> + Though simple, that reached to my heart,<br /> +He said (whilst with ardour he glowed),<br /> + “Kind sir, we are poor, yet we’re blest:<br /> +We’re all in the steep, narrow road<br /> + That leads to the city of rest.</p> +<p>“’Tis true, I must toil all the day,<br /> + And oft suffer cold through the night,<br /> +Though silvered all over with grey,<br /> + And dimly declining my sight:<br /> +And sometimes our raiment and food<br /> + Are scanty—ah! scanty indeed:<br /> +But all work together for good,<br /> + So in my blest Bible I read.</p> +<p>“I also have seen in that Book<br /> + (Perhaps you can tell me the place?)<br /> +How God on poor sinners does look<br /> + In pity, and gives them His grace—<br /> +Yea, gives them His grace in vast store,<br /> + Sufficient to help them quite through,<br /> +Though troubles should whelm them all o’er;<br /> + And sure this sweet promise is true!</p> +<p>“Yes, true as the snow blows without,<br /> + And winds whistle keen through the air,<br /> +His grace can remove every doubt,<br /> + And chase the black gloom of despair:<br /> +It often supports my weak mind,<br /> + And wipes the salt tear from my eye,<br /> +It tells me that Jesus is kind,<br /> + And died for such sinners as I.</p> +<p><!-- page 224--><span class="pagenum">p. 224</span>“I once +rolled in wealth, without grace,<br /> + But happiness ne’er was my lot,<br /> +Till Christ freely pitied my case,<br /> + And now I am blest in a cot:<br /> +Well knowing things earthly are vain,<br /> + Their troubles ne’er puzzle my head;<br /> +Convinced that to die will be gain,<br /> + I look on the grave as my bed.</p> +<p>“I look on the grave as my bed,<br /> + Where I’ll sleep the swift hours away,<br /> +Till waked from their slumbers, the dead<br /> + Shall rise, never more to decay:<br /> +Then I, with my children and wife,<br /> + Shall get a bright palace above,<br /> +And endlessly clothed with life,<br /> + Shall dwell in the Eden of love.</p> +<p>“Then know, gentle stranger, though poor,<br /> + We’re cheerful, contented, and blest;<br /> +Though princes should pass by our door<br /> + King Jesus is ever our guest;<br /> +We feel, and we taste, and we see<br /> + The pleasures which flow from our Lord,<br /> +And fearless, and wealthy, and free,<br /> + We live on the joys of His word.”</p> +<p>He ceased: and a big tear of joy<br /> + Rolled glittering down to the ground;<br /> +Whilst all, having dropped their employ,<br /> + Were buried in silence profound;<br /> +A sweet, solemn pause long ensued—<br /> + Each bosom o’erflowed with delight;<br /> +Then heavenly converse renewed,<br /> + Beguiled the dull season of night.</p> +<p><!-- page 225--><span class="pagenum">p. 225</span>We talked of the +rough narrow way<br /> + That leads to the kingdom of rest;<br /> +On Pisgah we stood to survey<br /> + The King in His holiness dressed—<br /> +Even Jesus, the crucified King,<br /> + Whose blood in rich crimson does flow,<br /> +Clean washing the crimson of sin,<br /> + And rinsing it whiter that snow. <a name="citation225"></a><a href="#footnote225">{225}</a></p> +<p>But later and later it’s wearing,<br /> + And supper they cheerfully bring,<br /> +The mealy potato and herring,<br /> + And water just fresh from the spring.<br /> +They press, and they smile: we sit down;<br /> + First praying the Father of Love<br /> +Our table with blessings to crown,<br /> + And feed us with bread from above.</p> +<p>The wealthy and bloated may sneer,<br /> + And sicken o’er luxury’s dishes,<br /> +And loathe the poor cottager’s cheer,<br /> + And melt in the heat of their wishes:<br /> +But luxury’s sons are unblest,<br /> + A prey to each giddy desire,<br /> +And hence, where they never know rest,<br /> + They sink in unquenchable fire.</p> +<p>Not so, the poor cottager’s lot,<br /> + Who travels the Zion-ward road,<br /> +He’s blest in his neat little cot,<br /> + He’s rich in the favour of God;<br /> +By faith he surmounts every wave<br /> + That rolls on this sea of distress:<br /> +<!-- page 226--><span class="pagenum">p. 226</span>Triumphant, he dives +in the grave,<br /> + To rise on the ocean of bliss.</p> +<p>Now supper is o’er and we raise<br /> + Our prayers to the Father of light<br /> +And joyfully hymning His praise,<br /> + We lovingly bid a good-night.—<br /> +The ground’s white, the sky’s cloudless blue,<br /> + The breeze flutters keen through the air,<br /> +The stars twinkle bright on my view,<br /> + As I to my mansion repair.</p> +<p>All peace, my dear cottage, be thine!<br /> + Nor think that I’ll treat you with scorn;<br /> +Whoever reads verses of mine<br /> + Shall hear of the Cabin of Mourne;<br /> +And had I but musical strains,<br /> + Though humble and mean in your station<br /> +You should smile whilst the world remains,<br /> + The pride of the fair Irish Nation.</p> +<p>In friendship, fair Erin, you glow;<br /> + Offended, you quickly forgive;<br /> +Your courage is known to each foe,<br /> + Yet foes on your bounty might live.<br /> +Some faults you, however, must own;<br /> + Dissensions, impetuous zeal,<br /> +And wild prodigality, grown<br /> + Too big for your income and weal.</p> +<p>Ah! Erin, if you would be great,<br /> + And happy, and wealthy, and wise,<br /> +And trample your sorrows, elate,<br /> + Contend for our cottager’s prize;<br /> +<!-- page 227--><span class="pagenum">p. 227</span>So error and vice +shall decay,<br /> + And concord add bliss to renown,<br /> +And you shall gleam brighter than day,<br /> + The gem of the fair British Crown.</p> +<h2>TO THE REV. J. GILPIN, ON HIS<br /> +IMPROVED EDITION OF THE “PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.”</h2> +<p>When, Reverend Sir, your good design,<br /> +To clothe our Pilgrim gravely fine,<br /> +And give him gentler mien and gait,<br /> +First reached my ear, his doubtful fate<br /> +With dread suspense my mind oppressed,<br /> +Awoke my fears, and broke my rest.<br /> +Yet, still, had England said, “You’re free,<br /> +Choose whom you will,” dear sir, to thee,<br /> +For dress beseeming modest worth,<br /> +I would have led our pilgrim forth.</p> +<p> But when I viewed him o’er and o’er,<br /> +And scrutinized the weeds he wore,<br /> +And marked his mien and marked his gait,<br /> +And saw him trample sin, elate,<br /> +And heard him speak, though coarse and plain,<br /> +His mighty truths in nervous strain,<br /> +I could not gain my own consent<br /> +To your acknowledged good intent.</p> +<p> I had my fears, lest honest John,<br /> +When he beheld his polished son<br /> +(If saints ought earthly care to know),<br /> +Would take him for some Bond Street beau,<br /> +<!-- page 228--><span class="pagenum">p. 228</span>Or for that thing—it +wants a name—<br /> +Devoid of truth, of sense and shame,<br /> +Which smooths its chin and licks its lip,<br /> +And mounts the pulpit with a skip,<br /> +Then turning round its pretty face,<br /> +To smite each fair one in the place,<br /> +Relaxes half to vacant smile,<br /> +And aims with trope and polished style,<br /> +And lisp affected, to pourtray<br /> +Its silly self in colours gay—<br /> +Its fusty moral stuff t’ unload,<br /> +And preach itself, and not its God.<br /> +Thus, wishing, doubting, trembling led,<br /> +I oped your book, your Pilgrim read.</p> +<p> As rising Phœbus lights the skies,<br /> +And fading night before him flies,<br /> +Till darkness to his cave is hurled<br /> +And golden day has gilt the world,<br /> +Nor vapour, cloud, nor mist is seen<br /> +To sully all the pure serene:<br /> +So, as I read each modest line,<br /> +Increasing light began to shine,<br /> +My cloudy fears and doubts gave way,<br /> +Till all around shone Heaven’s own day.</p> +<p> And when I closed the book, thought I,<br /> +Should Bunyan leave his throne on high;<br /> +He’d own the kindness you have done<br /> +To Christian, his orphan son:<br /> +And smiling as once Eden smiled,<br /> +Would thus address his holy child:—</p> +<p> “My son, ere I removed from hence,<br /> +I spared nor labour nor expense<br /> +<!-- page 229--><span class="pagenum">p. 229</span>To gain for you the +heavenly prize,<br /> +And teach you to make others wise.<br /> +But still, though inward worth was thine,<br /> +You lay a diamond in the mine:<br /> +You wanted outward polish bright<br /> +To show your pure intrinsic light.<br /> +Some knew your worth, and seized the prize,<br /> +And now are thronèd in the skies:<br /> +Whilst others swilled with folly’s wine,<br /> +But trod the pearl like the swine,<br /> +In ignorance sunk in their grave,<br /> +And thence, where burning oceans lave.<br /> +Now polished bright, your native flame<br /> +And inward worth are still the same;<br /> +A flaming diamond still you glow,<br /> +In brighter hues: then cheery go—<br /> +More suited by a skilful hand<br /> +To do your father’s high command:<br /> +Fit ornament for sage or clown,<br /> +Or beggar’s rags, or kingly crown.</p> +<h2>THE COTTAGE MAID.</h2> +<p>Aloft on the brow of a mountain,<br /> +And hard by a clear running fountain,<br /> + In neat little cot,<br /> + Content with her lot,<br /> +Retired, there lives a sweet maiden.</p> +<p>Her father is dead, and her brother—<br /> +And now she alone with her mother<br /> + Will spin on her wheel,<br /> + And sew, knit, and reel,<br /> +And cheerfully work for their living.</p> +<p><!-- page 230--><span class="pagenum">p. 230</span>To gossip she +never will roam,<br /> +She loves, and she stays at, her home,<br /> + Unless when a neighbour<br /> + In sickness does labour,<br /> +Then, kindly, she pays her a visit.</p> +<p>With Bible she stands by her bed,<br /> +And when some blest passage is read,<br /> + In prayer and in praises<br /> + Her sweet voice she raises<br /> +To Him who for sinners once died.</p> +<p>Well versed in her Bible is she,<br /> +Her language is artless and free,<br /> + Imparting pure joy,<br /> + That never can cloy,<br /> +And smoothing the pillow of death.</p> +<p>To novels and plays not inclined,<br /> +Nor aught that can sully her mind;<br /> + Temptations may shower,—<br /> + Unmoved as a tower,<br /> +She quenches the fiery arrows.</p> +<p>She dresses as plain as the lily<br /> +That modestly glows in the valley,<br /> + And never will go<br /> + To play, dance or show—<br /> +She calls them the engines of Satan.</p> +<p>With tears in her eyes she oft says,<br /> +“Away with your dances and plays!<br /> + The ills that perplex<br /> + The half of our sex<br /> +Are owing to you, Satan’s engines.”</p> +<p><!-- page 231--><span class="pagenum">p. 231</span>Released from +her daily employment,<br /> +Intent upon solid enjoyment,<br /> + Her time she won’t idle,<br /> + But reads in her Bible,<br /> +And books that divinely enlighten.</p> +<p>Whilst others at wake, dance, and play<br /> +Chide life’s restless moments away,<br /> + And ruin their souls—<br /> + In pleasure she rolls,<br /> +The foretaste of heavenly joys.</p> +<p>Her soul is refined by her Lord,<br /> +She shines in the truths of His Word:<br /> + Each Christian grace<br /> + Shines full in her face,<br /> +And heightens the glow of her charms.</p> +<p>One day as I passed o’er the mountain,<br /> +She sung by a clear crystal fountain<br /> + (Nor knew I was near);<br /> + Her notes charmed my ear,<br /> +As thus she melodiously chanted:</p> +<p>“Oh! when shall we see our dear Jesus?<br /> +His presence from poverty frees us,—<br /> + And bright from His face<br /> + The rays of His grace<br /> +Beam, purging transgression for ever.</p> +<p>“Oh! when shall we see our dear Jesus?<br /> +His presence from sorrow will ease us,<br /> + When up to the sky<br /> + With angels we fly—<br /> +Then farewell all sorrow for ever!</p> +<p><!-- page 232--><span class="pagenum">p. 232</span>“Come quickly! +come quickly, Lord Jesus!<br /> +Thy presence alone can appease us;<br /> + For aye on Thy breast<br /> + Believers shall rest,<br /> +Where blest they shall praise Thee for ever.”</p> +<p>Oh, had you but seen this sweet maiden!<br /> +She smiled like the flowers of Eden,<br /> + And raised to the skies<br /> + Her fond beaming eyes,<br /> +And sighed to be with her Redeemer</p> +<p>While thus she stood heavenly musing,<br /> +And sometimes her Bible perusing,<br /> + Came over the way,<br /> + All silvered with grey,<br /> +A crippled and aged poor woman.</p> +<p>Her visage was sallow and thin,<br /> +Through her rags peeped her sunburnt skin;<br /> + With sorrow oppressed,<br /> + She held to her breast<br /> +An infant, all pallid with hunger.</p> +<p>Half breathless by climbing the mountain,<br /> +She tremblingly stood by the fountain,<br /> + And begged that our maid<br /> + Would lend her some aid,<br /> +And pity both her and her infant.</p> +<p>Our maiden had nought but her earning—<br /> +Her heart with soft pity was yearning;<br /> + She drooped like a lily<br /> + Bedewed in the valley,<br /> +Whilst tears fell in pearly showers.</p> +<p><!-- page 233--><span class="pagenum">p. 233</span>With air unaffected +and winning,<br /> +To cover them, of her own spinning<br /> + Her apron of blue,<br /> + Though handsome and new,<br /> +She gave, and led them to her cottage.</p> +<p>All peace, my dear maiden, be thine:<br /> +Your manners and looks are divine;<br /> + On earth you shall rest,<br /> + In heaven be blest,<br /> +And shine like an angel for ever.</p> +<p>More blest than the king on the throne<br /> +Is he who shall call you his own!<br /> + The ruby, with you<br /> + Compared, fades to blue—<br /> +Its price is but dust on the balance. <a name="citation233a"></a><a href="#footnote233a">{233a}</a></p> +<p>Religion makes beauty enchanting,<br /> +And even where beauty is wanting,<br /> + The temper and mind,<br /> + Religion-refined,<br /> +Will shine through the veil with sweet lustre.</p> +<h2>THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.</h2> +<p>The sun shines bright, the morning’s fair,<br /> +The gossamers <a name="citation233b"></a><a href="#footnote233b">{233b}</a>float +on the air,<br /> +The dew-gems twinkle in the glare,<br /> + The spider’s loom<br /> +<!-- page 234--><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>Is closely plied, +with artful care,<br /> + Even in my room.</p> +<p>See how she moves in zigzag line,<br /> +And draws along her silken twine,<br /> +Too soft for touch, for sight too fine,<br /> + Nicely cementing:<br /> +And makes her polished drapery shine,<br /> + The edge indenting.</p> +<p>Her silken ware is gaily spread,<br /> +And now she weaves herself a bed,<br /> +Where, hiding all but just her head,<br /> + She watching lies<br /> +For moths or gnats, entangled spread,<br /> + Or buzzing flies.</p> +<p>You cunning pest! why, forward, dare<br /> +So near to lay your bloody snare!<br /> +But you to kingly courts repair<br /> + With fell design,<br /> +And spread with kindred courtiers there<br /> + Entangling twine. <a name="citation234"></a><a href="#footnote234">{234}</a></p> +<p>Ah, silly fly! will you advance?<br /> +I see you in the sunbeam dance:<br /> +Attracted by the silken glance<br /> + In that dread loom;<br /> +Or blindly led, by fatal chance,<br /> + To meet your doom.</p> +<p>Ah! think not, ’tis the velvet flue<br /> +Of hare, or rabbit, tempts your view;<br /> +Or silken threads of dazzling hue,<br /> + To ease your wing,<br /> +<!-- page 235--><span class="pagenum">p. 235</span>The foaming savage, +couched for you,<br /> + Is on the spring.</p> +<p>Entangled! freed!—and yet again<br /> +You touch! ’tis o’er—that plaintive strain,<br /> +That mournful buzz, that struggle vain,<br /> + Proclaim your doom:<br /> +Up to the murderous den you’re ta’en,<br /> + Your bloody tomb!</p> +<p>So thoughtless youths will trifling play<br /> +With dangers on their giddy way,<br /> +Or madly err in open day<br /> + Through passions fell,<br /> +And fall, though warned oft, a prey<br /> + To death and hell!</p> +<p>But hark! the fluttering leafy trees<br /> +Proclaim the gently swelling breeze,<br /> +Whilst through my window, by degrees,<br /> + Its breathings play:<br /> +The spider’s web, all tattered flees,<br /> + Like thought, away.</p> +<p>Thus worldlings lean on broken props,<br /> +And idly weave their cobweb-hopes,<br /> +And hang o’er hell by spider’s ropes,<br /> + Whilst sins enthral;<br /> +Affliction blows—their joy elopes—<br /> + And down they fall! <a name="citation235"></a><a href="#footnote235">{235}</a></p> +<h2><!-- page 236--><span class="pagenum">p. 236</span>EPISTLE TO A +YOUNG CLERGYMAN.</h2> +<p>“Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth +not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.”—2 +<span class="smcap">Timothy</span> ii. 15.</p> +<p>My youthful brother, oft I long<br /> +To write to you in prose or song;<br /> +With no pretence to judgment strong,<br /> + But warm affection—<br /> +May truest friendship rivet long<br /> + Our close connection!</p> +<p>With deference, what I impart<br /> +Receive with humble grateful heart,<br /> +Nor proudly from my counsel start,<br /> + I only lend it—<br /> +A friend ne’er aims a poisoned dart—<br /> + He wounds, to mend it.</p> +<p>A graduate you’ve just been made,<br /> +And lately passed the Mitred Head;<br /> +I trust, by the Blest Spirit, led,<br /> + And Shepherd’s care:<br /> +And not a wolf, in sheepskin clad,<br /> + As numbers are.</p> +<p>The greatest office you sustain<br /> +For love of souls, and not of gain:<br /> +Through your neglect should one be slain,<br /> + The Scriptures say,<br /> +Your careless hands his blood will stain,<br /> + On the Last Day.</p> +<p>But if pure truths, like virgin snows,<br /> +You loud proclaim, to friends and foes,<br /> +<!-- page 237--><span class="pagenum">p. 237</span>Consoling these, +deterring those—<br /> + To heaven you’ll fly;<br /> +Though stubborn sinners still oppose,<br /> + And graceless die. <a name="citation237a"></a><a href="#footnote237a">{237a}</a></p> +<p>Divide the word of truth aright,<br /> +Show Jesus in a saving light,<br /> +Proclaim to all they’re dead outright<br /> + Till Grace restore them: <a name="citation237b"></a><a href="#footnote237b">{237b}</a><br /> +The great Redeemer, full in sight,<br /> + Keep still before them.</p> +<p>Dare not, like some, to mince the matter—<br /> +Nor dazzling tropes and figures scatter,<br /> +Nor coarsely speak nor basely flatter,<br /> + Nor grovelling go:<br /> +But let plain truths, as Life’s pure water,<br /> + Pellucid flow.</p> +<p>The sinner level with the dead,<br /> +The Lamb exalt, the Church’s Head,<br /> +His holiness, adoring spread,<br /> + With godly zeal:<br /> +Enforce, though sinless, how He bled<br /> + For sinners’ weal.</p> +<p>Pourtray how God in thunder spoke<br /> +His fiery Law, whilst curling smoke,<br /> +In terror fierce, from Sinai broke,<br /> + Midst raging flame!<br /> +Then Jesu’s milder blood invoke,<br /> + And preach His name.</p> +<p><!-- page 238--><span class="pagenum">p. 238</span>Remember still +to fear the Lord,<br /> +To live, as well as preach, His word,<br /> +And wield the Gospel’s two-edged sword,<br /> + Though dangers lower—<br /> +Example only can afford<br /> + To precept power.</p> +<p>And dress nor slovenly nor gay,<br /> +Nor sternly act; nor trifling play;<br /> +Still keep the golden middle way<br /> + Whate’er betide you;<br /> +And ne’er through giddy pleasures stray,<br /> + Though fools deride you.</p> +<p>As wily serpent ever prove,<br /> +Yet harmless as the turtle-dove,<br /> +Still winning souls by guileful love<br /> + And deep invention—<br /> +So once the great Apostle strove<br /> + With good intention. <a name="citation238"></a><a href="#footnote238">{238}</a></p> +<p>And inly to thyself take heed,<br /> +Oft prove your heart, its pages read,—<br /> +Self-knowledge will, in time of need,<br /> + Your wants supply;<br /> +Who knows himself, from dangers freed,<br /> + Where’er he lie.</p> +<p>So God will own the labours done,<br /> +Approving see His honoured Son,<br /> +And honoured Law; and numbers won<br /> + Of souls immortal,<br /> +Through grace, will onward conquering run<br /> + To heaven’s bright portal.</p> +<p><!-- page 239--><span class="pagenum">p. 239</span>And on that last +and greatest day,<br /> +When heaven and earth shall pass away,<br /> +A perfect band, in bright array,<br /> + Will form your crown,<br /> +Your joys triumphant wide display,<br /> + And sorrows drown.</p> +<p>And now farewell, my youthful friend—<br /> +Excuse these lines, in candour penned;<br /> +To me as freely counsel lend,<br /> + With zeal as fervent—<br /> +For you will pray, till life does end,<br /> + Your humble servant.</p> +<h2>EPISTLE TO THE LABOURING POOR.</h2> +<p>All you who turn the sturdy soil,<br /> +Or ply the loom with daily toil,<br /> +And lowly on through life turmoil<br /> + For scanty fare,<br /> +Attend, and gather richest spoil<br /> + To soothe your care.</p> +<p>I write with tender, feeling heart—<br /> +Then kindly read what I impart;<br /> +’Tis freely penned, devoid of art,<br /> + In homely style,<br /> +’Tis meant to ward off Satan’s dart,<br /> + And show his guile.</p> +<p>I write to ope your sin-closed eyes,<br /> +And make you great, and rich, and wise,<br /> +And give you peace when trials rise,<br /> + And sorrows gloom;<br /> +<!-- page 240--><span class="pagenum">p. 240</span>I write to fit you +for the skies<br /> + On Day of Doom.</p> +<p>What, though you dwell in lowly cot,<br /> +And share through life a humble lot?<br /> +Some thousands wealth and fame have got,<br /> + Yet know no rest:<br /> +They build, pull down, and scheme and plot,<br /> + And die unblest.</p> +<p>Your mean attire and scanty fare<br /> +Are, doubtless, springs of bitter care—<br /> +Expose you blushing, trembling, bare,<br /> + To haughty scorn;<br /> +Yet murmur not in black despair,<br /> + Nor weep forlorn.</p> +<p>You see that lordling glittering ride<br /> +In all the pomp of wealth and pride,<br /> +With lady lolling at his side,<br /> + And train attendant:<br /> +’Tis all, when felt and fairly tried,<br /> + But care resplendent.</p> +<p>As riches grow his wants increase,<br /> +His passions burn and gnaw his peace,<br /> +Ambition foams like raging seas<br /> + And breaks the rein,<br /> +Excess produces pale disease<br /> + And racking pain.</p> +<p>Compared with him thrice happy you;<br /> +Though small your stock your wants are few—<br /> +Each wild desire your toils subdue,<br /> + And sweeten rest,<br /> +<!-- page 241--><span class="pagenum">p. 241</span>Remove all fancied +ills from view,<br /> + And calm your breast.</p> +<p>Your labours give the coarsest food<br /> +A relish sweet and cleanse the blood,<br /> +Make cheerful health in spring-tide flood<br /> + Incessant boil,<br /> +And seldom restless thoughts obtrude<br /> + On daily toil.</p> +<p>Those relish least who proudly own<br /> +Rich groves and parks familiar grown;<br /> +The gazing stranger passing on<br /> + Enjoys them most—<br /> +The toy possessed—the pleasure’s flown,<br /> + For ever lost.</p> +<p>Then grateful let each murmur die,<br /> +And joyous wipe the tearful eye:<br /> +Erect a palace in the sky—<br /> + Be rich in grace:<br /> +Loathe this vain world, and longing sigh<br /> + For Jesu’s face.</p> +<p>Both rich and poor, who serve not God,<br /> +But live in sin, averse to good,<br /> +Rejecting Christ’s atoning blood,<br /> + Midst hellish shoals,<br /> +Shall welter in that fiery flood,<br /> + Which hissing rolls.</p> +<p>But all who worship God aright,<br /> +In Christ His Son and image bright,<br /> +With minds illumed by Gospel light,<br /> + Shall find the way<br /> +<!-- page 242--><span class="pagenum">p. 242</span>That leads to bliss, +and take their flight<br /> + To heavenly day.</p> +<p>There rich and poor, and high and low,<br /> +Nor sin, nor pain, nor sorrow know:<br /> +There Christ with one eternal glow<br /> + Gives life and light—<br /> +There streams of pleasure ever flow,<br /> + And pure delight.</p> +<p>Christ says to all with sin oppressed,<br /> +“Come here, and taste of heavenly rest,<br /> +Receive Me as your friendly guest<br /> + Into your cots;<br /> +In Me you shall be rich and blest,<br /> + Though mean your lots.</p> +<p>“Behold My hands, My feet, My side,<br /> +All crimsoned with the bloody tide!<br /> +For you I wept, and bled, and died,<br /> + And rose again:<br /> +And thronèd at My Father’s side,<br /> + Now plead amain!</p> +<p>“Repent, and enter Mercy’s door,<br /> +And though you dwell in cots obscure,<br /> +All guilty, ragged, hungry, poor,<br /> + I give in love<br /> +A crown of gold, and pardon sure,<br /> + To each above.”</p> +<p>Then hear the kind, inviting voice—<br /> +Believing in the Lord rejoice;<br /> +Your souls will hymn the happy choice<br /> + To God on high,<br /> +<!-- page 243--><span class="pagenum">p. 243</span>Whilst joyful angels +swell the noise<br /> + Throughout the sky.</p> +<p>A fond farewell!—each cottage friend,<br /> +To Jesu’s love I would commend<br /> +Your souls and bodies to the end<br /> + Of life’s rough way;<br /> +Then (death subdued) may you ascend<br /> + To endless day!</p> +<h2>THE COTTAGER’S HYMN.</h2> +<p>I.</p> +<p>My food is but spare,<br /> + And humble my cot,<br /> +Yet Jesus dwells there<br /> + And blesses my lot:<br /> +Though thinly I’m clad,<br /> + And tempests oft roll,<br /> +He’s raiment, and bread,<br /> + And drink to my soul.</p> +<p>II.</p> +<p>His presence is wealth,<br /> + His grace is a treasure,<br /> +His promise is health<br /> + And joy out of measure.<br /> +His word is my rest,<br /> + His spirit my guide:<br /> +In Him I am blest<br /> + Whatever betide.</p> +<p><!-- page 244--><span class="pagenum">p. 244</span>III.</p> +<p>Since Jesus is mine,<br /> + Adieu to all sorrow;<br /> +I ne’er shall repine,<br /> + Nor think of to-morrow:<br /> +The lily so fair,<br /> + And raven so black,<br /> +He nurses with care,<br /> + Then how shall I lack?</p> +<p>IV.</p> +<p>Each promise is sure,<br /> + That shines in His word,<br /> +And tells me, though poor,<br /> + I’m rich in my Lord.<br /> +Hence! Sorrow and Fear!<br /> + Since Jesus is nigh,<br /> +I’ll dry up each tear<br /> + And stifle each sigh.</p> +<p>V.</p> +<p>Though prince, duke, or lord,<br /> + Ne’er enter my shed,<br /> +King Jesus my board<br /> + With dainties does spread.<br /> +Since He is my guest,<br /> + For joy I shall sing,<br /> +And ever be blest<br /> + In Jesus my King.</p> +<p>VI.</p> +<p>With horrible din<br /> + Afflictions may swell,—<br /> +They cleanse me from sin,<br /> + They save me from hell:<br /> +They’re all but the rod<br /> + Of Jesus, in love;<br /> +They lead me to God<br /> + And blessings above.</p> +<p>VII.</p> +<p>Through sickness and pain<br /> + I flee to my Lord,<br /> +Sweet comfort to gain,<br /> + And health from His word;<br /> +Bleak scarcities raise<br /> + A keener desire,<br /> +To feed on His grace,<br /> + And wear His attire.</p> +<p>VIII.</p> +<p>The trials which frown,<br /> + Applied by His blood,<br /> +But plait me a crown,<br /> + And work for my good.<br /> +In praise I shall tell,<br /> + When throned in my rest,<br /> +The things which befell<br /> + Were always the best.</p> +<p>IX.</p> +<p>Whatever is hid<br /> + Shall burst on my sight<br /> +When hence I have fled<br /> + To glorious light.<br /> +Should chastisements lower,<br /> + Then let me resign;<br /> +<!-- page 245--><span class="pagenum">p. 245</span>Should kindnesses +shower,<br /> + Let gratitude shine.</p> +<p>X.</p> +<p>Hence! Sorrow and Fear!<br /> + Since Jesus is nigh,<br /> +I’ll dry up each tear,<br /> + And stifle each sigh:<br /> +And clothed in His word<br /> + Will conquer my foes,<br /> +And follow my Lord<br /> + Wherever He goes.</p> +<p>XI.</p> +<p>My friends! let us fly<br /> + To Jesus our King;<br /> +And still as we hie,<br /> + Of grace let us sing.<br /> +Through pleasure and pain,<br /> + If faithful we prove,<br /> +For cots we shall gain<br /> + A palace above.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">finis.</span></p> +<p><span class="smcap">turnbull and spears, printers, edinburgh.</span></p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote208"></a><a href="#citation208">{208}</a> +Proverbs xxiii. 31, 32.</p> +<p><a name="footnote221"></a><a href="#citation221">{221}</a> +Mourne consists chiefly of a range of high mountains in<br /> +the north of Ireland.</p> +<p><a name="footnote225"></a><a href="#citation225">{225}</a> +Isaiah i. 18.</p> +<p><a name="footnote233a"></a><a href="#citation233a">{233a}</a> +Proverbs xxxi. 10.</p> +<p><a name="footnote233b"></a><a href="#citation233b">{233b}</a> +Gossamers are the fine down of plants or the slender threads<br /> +of insects, which are frequently seen to glide through the sunny<br /> +atmosphere.</p> +<p><a name="footnote234"></a><a href="#citation234">{234}</a> +Proverbs xxx. 28.</p> +<p><a name="footnote235"></a><a href="#citation235">{235}</a> +Job viii. 13, 14.</p> +<p><a name="footnote237a"></a><a href="#citation237a">{237a}</a> +Ezek. xxxiii. 8, 9.</p> +<p><a name="footnote237b"></a><a href="#citation237b">{237b}</a> +Ephes. ii. 1-8.</p> +<p><a name="footnote238"></a><a href="#citation238">{238}</a> +St Paul, 2 Cor. xii. 16.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COTTAGE POEMS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 17081-h.htm or 17081-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/0/8/17081 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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