Cottage Poems

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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***
Transcribed from the 1893 J. M. Dent edition of "Poems of Charlotte,
Emily & Anne Bronte with Cottage Poems by Patrick Bronte" by
David Price, email [email protected]

COTTAGE POEMS.
EPISTLE TO THE REV. J--- B---, WHILST JOURNEYING FOR
THE RECOVERY OF HIS HEALTH.
When warm'd with zeal, my rustic Muse
Feels fluttering fain to tell
her news,
And paint her simple, lowly views
With all her art,
And, though in genius but obtuse,
May touch the heart.

Of palaces and courts of kings
She thinks but little, never sings,
But
wildly strikes her uncouth strings
In some pool cot,
Spreads o'er the poor hen fostering wings,
And soothes their lot.
Well pleased is she to see them smile,
And uses every honest wile

To mend then hearts, their cares beguile,
With rhyming story,
And lend them to then God the while,
And endless glory.
Perchance, my poor neglected Muse
Unfit to harass or amuse,

Escaping praise and loud abuse,
Unheard, unknown,
May feed the moths and wasting dews,
As some have done.
Her aims are good, howe'er they end--
Here comes a foe, and there a
friend,
These point the dart and those defend,
Whilst some deride her;
But God will sweetest comforts blend,
Whate'er betide her.
Thus heaven-supported, forth she goes
Midst flatterers, critics,
friends, and foes;
Secure, since He who all things knows
Approves her aim,
And kindly fans, or fostering blows
Her sinking flame.
Hence, when she shows her honest face,
And tells her tale with
awkward grace,
Importunate to gain a place

Amongst your friends,
To ruthless critics leave her case,
And hail her ends.
To all my heart is kind and true,
But glows with ardent love for you;

Though absent, still you rise in view,
And talk and smile,
Whilst heavenly themes, for ever new,
Our cares beguile.
The happy seasons oft return,
When love our melting hearts did burn,

As we through heavenly themes were borne
With heavenward eyes,
And Faith this empty globe would spurn,
And sail the skies.
Or, when the rising sun shines bright,
Or, setting, leaves the world in
night,
Or, dazzling, sheds his noon-day light,
Or, cloudy, hides,
My fancy, in her airy flight,
With you resides.
Where far you wander down the vale,
When balmy scents perfume
the gale,
And purling rills and linnets hail
The King of kings,
To muse with you I never fail,
On heavenly things.
Where dashing cataracts astound,
And foaming shake the
neighbouring ground,
And spread a hoary mist around,
With you I gaze!--
And think, amid'st the deaf'ning sound,

On wisdom's ways.
Where rocky mountains prop the skies,
And round the smiling
landscape lies,
Whilst you look down with tearful eyes
On grovelling man,
My sympathetic fancy flies,
The scene to scan.
From Pisgah's top we then survey
The blissful realms of endless day,

And all the short but narrow way
That lies between,
Whilst Faith emits a heavenly ray,
And cheers the scene.
With you I wander on the shore
To hear the angry surges roar,

Whilst foaming through the sands they pour
With constant roll,
And meditations heavenward soar,
And charm the soul.
On life's rough sea we're tempest-driven
In crazy barks, our canvas
riven!
Such is the lot to mortals given
Where sins resort:
But he whose anchor's fixed in heaven
Shall gain the port.
Though swelling waves oft beat him back,
And tempests make him
half a wreck,
And passions strong, with dangerous tack,
Retard his course,
Yet Christ the pilot all will check,
And quell their force.

So talk we as we thoughtful stray
Along the coast, where dashing
spray
With rising mist o'erhangs the day,
And wets the shore,
And thick the vivid flashes play
And thunders roar!
Whilst passing o'er this giddy stage,
A pious and a learned sage

Resolved eternal war to wage
With passions fell;
How oft you view with holy rage
These imps of hell!
See! with what madd'ning force they sway
The human breast and lead
astray,
Down the steep, broad, destructive way,
The giddy throng;
Till grisly death sweeps all away
The fiends among!
As when the mad tornado flies,
And sounding mingles earth and skies,

And wild confusion 'fore the eyes
In terrors dressed.
So passions fell in whirlwinds rise,
And rend the breast!
But whilst this direful tempest raves,
And many barks are dashed to
staves,
I see you tower above the waves
Like some tall rock,
Whose base the harmless ocean laves
Without a shock!
'Tis He who calmed the raging sea,
Who bids the waves be still in
thee,
And keeps you from all dangers free

Amidst the wreck;
All sin, and care, and dangers flee