stone that checks their happy way,
Then onward stealing, vanish from the view,
Where the star shimmers on the solemn yew,
As shade from earth and starlight from the sky
Meet—and repose on Death's calm mystery.
Moons pass'd—Behold the blossom on the spray!
Hark to the linnet!—On the world is May!
Green earth below and azure skies above;
May calling life to joy, and youth to love;
While Age, charm'd back to rosy hours awhile,
Hears the lost vow, and sees the vanish'd smile.
And does not May, lone Child, revive in thee,
Blossom and bud and mystic melody;
Does not the heart, like earth, imbibe the ray?
Does not the year's recal thy life's sweet May?
When like an altar to some happy bride,
Shone all creation by the loved one's side?
Yes, Exile, yes—that Empire is thine own, Rove where thou wilt, awaits thee still thy throne! Lo, where the paling cheek, the unconscious sigh, The slower footstep, and the heavier eye, Betray the burthen of sweet thoughts and mute, The slight tree bows beneath the golden fruit!
'Tis eve. The orphan gains the holy ground, }
And listening halts;—the boughs that circle round }
Vex'd by no wind, yet rustle with a sound, }
As if that gentle form had scared some lone
Unwonted step more timid than its own!
All still once more; perchance some daunted bird,
That loves the night, the murmuring leaves had stirr'd?
She nears the tomb—amaze!—what hand unknown
Has placed those pious flowers upon the stone?
Why beats her heart? why hath the electric mind,
Whose act, whose hand, whose presence there, divined?
Why dreading, yearning, turn those eyes to meet
The adored, the lost?—Behold him at her feet!
His, those dark eyes that seek her own through tears,
His hand that clasps, and his the voice she hears,
Broken and faltering—"Is the trial past?
Here, by the dead, art thou made mine at last?
Far—in far lands I heard thy tale!—And thou
Orphan and lone!—no bar between us now!
No Arden now calls up the wrong'd and lost;
Lo, in this grave appeased the upbraiding ghost!
Orphan, I am thy father now!—Bereft
Of all beside—this heart at least is left.
Forgive, forgive—Oh, canst thou yet bestow
One thought on him, to whom thou art all below?
Who could desert but to remember more?
Canst thou the Heaven, the exile lost, restore?
Canst thou——"
The orphan bow'd her angel head;
Breath blent with breath—her soul her silence said;
Eye unto eye, and heart to heart reveal'd;—
And lip on lip the eternal nuptials seal'd!
The Moon breaks forth—one silver stream of light
Glides from its fount in heaven along the night—
Flows in still splendour through the funeral gloom
Of yews—and widens as it clasps the tomb—
Through the calm glory hosts as calm above
Look on the grave—and by the grave is Love!
FOOTNOTES
[A] Where now stands St. James's palace stood the hospital dedicated to St. James, for the reception of fourteen leprous maidens.
[B] Charles the First attended divine service in the Royal Chapel immediately before he walked through the park to his scaffold at Whitehall. In the palace of St. James's, Monk and Sir John Granville schemed for the restoration of Charles II.
[C] The Sanscrit term, denoting the mixture or confusion of classes; applied to that large portion of the Indian population excluded from the four pure castes.
[D] According to Eastern commentators, the march of the Israelites in the Desert was in a charmed circle; every morning they set out on their journey, and every night found themselves on the same spot as that from which the journey had commenced.
[E] The Tilt-yard.
[F] Since this was written, to Buckingham Palace has been prefixed a front which is not without merit—in thrusting out of sight the other three sides of the building.
[G] The reader need scarcely be reminded, that these lines were written years before the fatal accident which terminated an illustrious life. If the lines be so inadequate to the subject, the author must state freely that he had the misfortune to differ entirely from the policy pursued by Sir Robert Peel at the time they were written; while if that difference forbade panegyric, his respect for the man checked the freedom of satire. The author will find another occasion to attempt, so far as his opinions on the one hand, and his reverence on the other, will permit—to convey a juster idea of Sir Robert Peel's defects or merits, perhaps as a statesman, at least as an orator.
[H] Lord Stanley's memorable exclamation on a certain occasion which now belongs to history—"Johnny's upset the coach!" Never was coach upset with such perfect sang-froid on the part of the driver.
[I] Written before Sir Robert's avowed abandonment of protection. Prophetic.
[J] "One of the most remarkable pictures of ancient manners which has been transmitted to us, is that in which the poet Gower describes the circumstances under which he was commanded by King Richard II.—
'To make a book after his hest.'
The good old rhymer—— … had taken boat, and upon the broad river he met the king in his stately barge. … The monarch called him on board his own vessel, and desired him to book 'some new thing.'—This was the origin of the Confessio Amantis."—Knight's London, vol. i. art. The Silent Highway.
[K] "What a picture Hall gives us of the populousness of the Thames, in the story which he tells us of the Archbishop of York (brother to the King-maker), after leaving the widow of Edward IV. in the sanctuary of Westminster, 'sitting below on the rushes all desolate and dismayed,' and when he opened his windows and looked on the Thames, he might see the river